THE PERFECT SOCIETY

BY ALLISON DAO, AGE 12, 2015

Having any imperfections was considered a shame and curse. We were always told that we were all perfect. In fact, we were perfect. Everyone was beautiful or handsome, smart, athletic, and had absolutely no physical imperfections.

Our immune systems were excellent and we did not catch colds, have allergies, or become sick in general. This was a great improvement, for we had all learned that in the olden days, our kind could be killed by anything. Humans died of cancer, which was incurable back then, along with many other sicknesses. In my entire life, I had not seen anyone with so much as a crooked nose; though many people did have two different-colored eyes, for that was considered appealing. Because we were all considered “perfect” we also did not seem at all remotely human, at least not by twenty-first century standards. Though our immune system was almost inhumanely strong, we could still be killed by the blade of a knife or the metal of a bullet, just like during the olden days.

In history classes, we learned that society before our era was a lot different than society now. People would steal things from each other and would kill each other for what they wanted.

Over the years, scientists had managed to figure out how to make everyone perfect, in their eyes. It had started during the time that my great-great-great-great-great grandparents had been alive.

Everyone had been injected with a special formula the scientists had come up with. I never found out all of the details, but what I do know is that everyone underwent a transformation from the formula and they all suddenly became perfect. After the transformation, they all had the genes and DNA of a “perfect” person. Therefore, when they had kids, their kids would be perfect and have the DNA and genes inside of them that they could pass onto their kids.

Our society was considered to be perfect. No one was poor, there was complete honesty, and there were no such things as killing or stealing. The governments, being fairly wealthy, kept the streets and public attractions nice and clean. There were many different types of jobs, ones that paid a large amount of money and some that paid a little less.

Of course, there were different social classes, but they were nice to each other and nobody worried about their health or wealth. Being a part of the medical field or also the law field would make you part of the high class and many would respect you. Though we did not usually have murders or theft, there were still the occasional disagreements for which lawyers were needed to sort out.

Even though doctors did not do much, they would occasionally see a patient who had cut himself or herself or had gotten a broken bone.

Everyone in our society was perfect, except for me.

My parents were both lawyers and were very high class, though they cared about their appearance a little too much. They always told me they loved me, but with one look into their eyes I always knew that they wished that I could just be a normal, perfect person like the rest of the people around me.

I sometimes felt very alone in my life, though I had the best of friends. My three friends would always stick up for me when someone said something about my condition and would always be there for me to talk to when I needed them. Even through all of this I always had my moments every day at night when I felt all alone.

I knew that deep inside, my parents partially didn’t want me, the government wanted to find out what was wrong with me or get rid of me, and my friends didn’t understand what I was going through. I didn’t believe that there were others just like me with imperfections, but sometimes I would dream about meeting other imperfect people and finally feeling that someone out there understood me.

The soreness of being poked and prodded when I woke up made me grimace. Because of my condition, I would see a doctor almost every week to be examined and tested to find out what was “wrong” with me. Sometimes I felt that there was nothing wrong with me, only a mistake in their science. But other times, I felt that maybe there was something wrong with me and that fate hated me, just like how sometimes I hated myself.

Getting dressed, I thought about how my parents were normal, perfect people in our society and the rest of my family was too. But when I was born everything had changed for them.

It all started when one day during the third grade, I felt sick and had to go home. I remember all of my classmates looking at me curiously while I, sweating and ghostly pale shakily made my way out of the classroom. I could see the question in all of their eyes, “What was wrong with her?”

Since that day scientists have looked at me with hatred, for being an imperfection in their perfect society. Some of my classmates have never looked at me the same either. The only three that stuck by me besides my family were my current friends, Maggie, Trevor, and Elizabeth. Only my grandparents always told me that they were proud of me and looked at me with true love, not longing for another person, or sadness over an imperfection. I was sometimes bullied at school and people would make offhanded comments about me when the subject came up.

Making my way downstairs, I took a deep breath and readied myself to greet my parents. Putting on a happy smile every morning was very tiring. That day started out normal, but it would turn into one that I remembered forever.

School went as usual, and it was an average afternoon until I came home and noticed that both of my parent’s cars were still there and there was a government car parked right in front of our house. Suspicious, I decided to not let them know that I had come home.

I snuck in through my open bedroom window. I always left it open in case of emergencies. Tiptoeing down the stairs, I pressed my ear to the wall and tuned into their conversation. I heard my name a couple of times and tried to concentrate harder on their conversation.

I then heard the words, “…problem to society... we have to do something about her… do away with?” Letting out a soft gasp, I turned and ran back into my room, not wanting to hear more. Theyweregoingtokillme?

I had known that being an imperfection was bad, but never had I thought that it was so bad that they would have to kill me. I suddenly hated the world more than ever.

I suddenly started to wonder how they would kill me. An accidental car crash? Or just taking the easy way out and having someone “kidnap” me and kill me that way? Either way I would end up dead.

My anger turned towards the government, who only cared about whether or not our society was “perfect” and how they loved to have control over everything; our lives, education, and almost everything else.

My anger morphed into extreme sadness. I wished that there were others like me who had to experience what I experienced every day. Feeling alone was never a fun feeling, but this time, the reality hit me with force, and I started to weep. After about two hours of soaking my pillows, I grew tired and let myself drift off into a soundless sleep.

That night, I dreamed about being perfect and normal and how it must be like to have everyone like you and smile at you with true kindness in their eyes.

I dreamed about making my parents truly proud and having more than three friends. However, a good dream can never just stay good, and it eventually turned into a nightmare.

The people who looked at me with kindness suddenly glared at me with hatred and disgust. My parents gave me a look that told me they wondered how they had gotten so unlucky and my friends were all looking at me with pity. Suddenly I heard the squealing of tires and turned around, just in time to see a big, black van barreling towards me. I couldn’t move. As it came closer, I heard a high-pitched scream pierce the air.

Realizing it was me, I started to panic, as the van came even closer. Suddenly, I bolted up in bed, sweating and panting.

Whatanightmare, I thought, then I suddenly remembered the recent events. Walking into my bathroom I started to think of ways to avoid being killed and to find other people like me in the world. Then, I suddenly got it, I would run away.