The year is 2053.

Away from the power-hungry cities ruled by a mass of new technological advances there was a town. A town that was yet to be engulfed by the growing metal paradise known as the cities of the world. A town that's technology was at least thirty years behind all the other areas consuming the great floating hunk of iron. A town that was believed to be of English origin, but the was buried along with the name of all the countries years ago. A town that was driven by one thing; human perfection. Perfect in body, perfect in mind. The town of Thwartover.

To be conceived naturally is to be born of the devil.

Due to the large demand for genetically engineered children it was legalized in the eastern world in the fairly early twenty-first century. During the technological revolution of 2032 Thwartover ignored the pulses of the advanced contraptions that over-threw the cities, and let themselves grow unaccustomed to the new age. Instead of investing in the mechanical aspects of the new and supposedly improved Earth, biological enhancements were made in their place. Using micro-technology and intensification of the hormones of the human body scientists were able to not only edit the physical aspects of offspring but could engineer a perfect personality as well. They could change every trait and pick out their future child's preferences to the dot. For this new decade this was the norm in Thwartover it was more than the norm, it had started a segregation. It was commonly known that within this time space there was no more than four children born without being engineered. It was also commonly thought throughout the town that all or the majority of these children died at a young age of incurable childhood diseases. If still alive they were thought to be in hiding or living in between to 'normal' families, avoiding as much public appearance and human contact as possible. Hospitals. One visit to a hospital and the 'normal' charade for the not engineered was over. Five minutes in the long corridors or the disinfected rooms you'd be found out and after that nothing would be the same.

She sat hunched over herself her blonde hair flopping precariously over her gently ageing face. Odd strands of hair stuck to her cheeks due to the tears steaming done her cheeks. Any on-looker would think that she was merely a concerned mother, but to be true these tears were nothing but selfish. She sat collapsed on her knees on cream ceramic tiles, her polished work shoes abandoned aimlessly beside her. Now hidden from her sight due to her hiding her tear-stained eyes behind her hands was a large projection projected from the back wall into the middle of the room, displaying what seemed to be the cause of the woman's distress. The majority of the image was white light except a small paragraph of typed writing.

Fifteen Years Engineering Success Report

Name: Alfred F. Jones

Date of Birth: Sunday 4th July 2038

Genetic Engineering: Failed

Idiosyncrasy Engineering: Failed

The Thwartover abnormality. The one that didn't work. Smug, lazy, arrogant; all traits never wanted in a child all appearing at once in a child that was engineered nonetheless. Every engineered child would receive a report at the age of fifteen-years after the thorough examination they would have had but half a year earlier. The worries began when Alfred was nothing more than four-years-old. His personality began to shine through, a bold, daring and rude child, but the authorities swore that it was simply a phase and he would begin acting normally soon enough. His parents' worries only increased through his ageing, his behaviour worsened and at the age of eight it was confirmed that the young Jones boy needed glasses. This is what confirmed it for everyone. The boy was a mystery, but a hero in spite of it. It confused but mystified the whole population of Thwartover, how could he have lived, how does he not have some crazy disease or birth marks, how was he perfectly normal looking? But instead of being look down upon like his father had feared, the reaction was the exact opposite, he was treated like a celebrity, sympathized upon by all. The report they'd received confirmed it all, he was in fact everything he seemed to be, a failure.

"How did you get those?" said the blonde teenager, his expression wavering, looking like he was trying to decide whether he was disgusted or impressed.

"My mum works out of town, Jonesy. She has her ways." the taller boy said, smirking. Alfred stared down at the packet of cigarettes the other held in hand before stepping back and outstretching an arm, leaning against the wall.

"Hand us one over," he said peering over his thickly-framed glasses.

"No way, Al. I'm not being responsible for 'the special child' coughing up a lung."

"Come on Gilbert, please. My mum is gonna be a wreck today, my report coming through or whatever, that means that I can get away with anything 'cause she'll be too disgusted or something to even look at me." he said using dramatic hand gestures.

"Fine," the albino said handing over a cigarette, "but if you start hacking up tar or shit, don't blame me." Alfred let the older boy light him up before inhaling the smoke after lifting it cautiously to his lips. The harsh smoke stung his throat causing him to cough violently. Gilbert raised an eyebrow, smoking one himself with ease.

"Y'know it's nice to hang out with someone who isn't a complete pussy." said Alfred thinking about all the 'perfect' kids in his class, who would be currently having a geography lesson while him and Gil had a smoke 'round back.

"You can't really talk, but I guess you're better than that lot. Mum said she made me this way, 'cause you always need a rebel, no matter how amazing everyone else is. She pretty much left me alone. She told me growing she prefer me not to be a faggot, but if I need a screw and the only one that isn't a strict virginal freak is a guy, she won't mind. To be honest if you were a bird, I'd fuck you into this wall, right here, right now, but because you're a dude, I have a little more control." he stared down at Al with his red eyes, smirking as he got used to the sensation of smoking.

"Thanks." Alfred said with a large dose of hesitation. "Remind me to hide the next time you're horny." he added laughing. Silence followed except for the sound of the boys exhaling after drags. They dropped the stubs into the puddle by their watching the small burst of smoke rise slowly before artfully entering the main building without being seen just in time for the last bell to ring.

"Bye Gil, wish me luck?" Alfred waved, heading to his locker, laughing as Gilbert smirked at him.

Alfred opened the front door, the smell of smoke slightly masked by some kind of girly deodorant he nicked from some girl's Phys Ed kit that was on top of some lockers, he knew no one in his family would be coming close enough to him to smell him today, but better safe than sorry. He didn't bother calling for his mom, he knew that she'd be wallowing in her sorrows in the middle of a room somewhere. His suspicions were proved when he saw her collapsed in the middle of their living room, his dad would take the news better than his mum but obviously he 'couldn't be there due to important meetings' or similar crap. He grabbed a doughnut from the side in the kitchen and went upstairs to read comic books, at least superman wouldn't judge him.