thought right. Please, come in .” This time, Katherine turned on the lights, washing the room in too-bright light before Mable’s eyes could adjust. When they did, the woman’s piercing, black eyes stared back at her.
THEO
KAUFMAN RESIDENCE, LANCASTER, NORTH AMERICA
AUGUST 7, 2232
Calloused fingers strummed the strings of his guitar. It was metal thin and flawed enough to imitate the sound of wood, but Theo didn’t know the difference. He’d never seen a real one.
His room was utterly silent.
Music resonated into his ears via his homemade audio strips. When music piqued his interest two years earlier, Theo had designed a pair of slim plastic devices no larger than six millimeters in length that would sit at the base of his jawbone and emit vibrations up into his ears. The precise frequencies allowed his auditory nerve to perceive the notes and rhythms of his favorite artists with considerable clarity. He had hoped to finish the final prototype before Selection, before he was assigned a mentor and given other, more useful projects toward which he should direct his studies and his time.
But those thoughts were for later.
His favorite band, Daisy Red, streamed into his ears as he played along on his guitar. The chords were complex and difficult, one of the hardest songs to play, but Theo had practiced hard. He hit every note.
He closed his eyes and let the sound flow through him. Vibrations penetrated every cell, reverberated in the deep, dark parts of his mind, the parts where only he could go. The lyrics, the melody, the bone-tingling beat. Theo loved every moment of it.
Then his bedroom door flew open in a flash.
Howard Kaufman stood with arms crossed, his mouth moving, but Theo only heard the music. He swiped at his wristlet to replace the music with his father’s stern voice.
“—Selection is in four hours. You are supposed to be getting ready and reviewing the list of mentors down at the Hall.” One of the most prestigious astronomers of the day, Howard sported a thick salt-and-pepper beard that twitched as he spoke. He squinted hard to see Theo across the room, though if anyone asked him, he would say it was from too many hours at his telescope.
Theo set the guitar against the bed. “I have four hours. That’s plenty of time.”
“I won’t have the last Kaufman showing up to Selection looking like that. Get yourself cleaned up and get to the Hall.” Howard leaned in and squinted harder. “Do not embarrass this family.”
Theo ran his hand through his shoulder-length hair, black as onyx and perfectly straight, wishing that were the biggest embarrassment his father would face today.
Selection came for everyone, whether through completion of a fourteenth year of education, or arrival of the sixteen birthday. One way or another, everyone declared their path for the future.
The whole affair took on a rather perfunctory air considering Theo had been genetically engineered to succeed in academia. After all they’d been through to create him, his parents had definite ideas about what constituted success. For him, Theodore Kaufman, second child of Howard and Cheryl Kaufman, the life of the Scholar had been selected from birth.
Theo’s sister had done little to help. She’d Selected Scholar without so much as a wavering moment and gone off to her prominent career in cosmic research, the Kaufman specialty.
He picked up his guitar and set it across his leg. He moved to switch his music back on, but Cheryl appeared in the open doorway.
“Theodore, what did you say to your father?” She planted a hand on her hip and waited. Her sleek black hair was spun into the usual Scholar bun.
“I didn’t say anything.” It was true. Mere sight of his guitar was enough to send Howard into a lecture.
“He’s proud of you. This is a big day for you and for us. We worked hard to give you the best possible opportunity.” Rather, they let a geneticist pick the best possible combination of
THEO
KAUFMAN RESIDENCE, LANCASTER, NORTH AMERICA
AUGUST 7, 2232
Calloused fingers strummed the strings of his guitar. It was metal thin and flawed enough to imitate the sound of wood, but Theo didn’t know the difference. He’d never seen a real one.
His room was utterly silent.
Music resonated into his ears via his homemade audio strips. When music piqued his interest two years earlier, Theo had designed a pair of slim plastic devices no larger than six millimeters in length that would sit at the base of his jawbone and emit vibrations up into his ears. The precise frequencies allowed his auditory nerve to perceive the notes and rhythms of his favorite artists with considerable clarity. He had hoped to finish the final prototype before Selection, before he was assigned a mentor and given other, more useful projects toward which he should direct his studies and his time.
But those thoughts were for later.
His favorite band, Daisy Red, streamed into his ears as he played along on his guitar. The chords were complex and difficult, one of the hardest songs to play, but Theo had practiced hard. He hit every note.
He closed his eyes and let the sound flow through him. Vibrations penetrated every cell, reverberated in the deep, dark parts of his mind, the parts where only he could go. The lyrics, the melody, the bone-tingling beat. Theo loved every moment of it.
Then his bedroom door flew open in a flash.
Howard Kaufman stood with arms crossed, his mouth moving, but Theo only heard the music. He swiped at his wristlet to replace the music with his father’s stern voice.
“—Selection is in four hours. You are supposed to be getting ready and reviewing the list of mentors down at the Hall.” One of the most prestigious astronomers of the day, Howard sported a thick salt-and-pepper beard that twitched as he spoke. He squinted hard to see Theo across the room, though if anyone asked him, he would say it was from too many hours at his telescope.
Theo set the guitar against the bed. “I have four hours. That’s plenty of time.”
“I won’t have the last Kaufman showing up to Selection looking like that. Get yourself cleaned up and get to the Hall.” Howard leaned in and squinted harder. “Do not embarrass this family.”
Theo ran his hand through his shoulder-length hair, black as onyx and perfectly straight, wishing that were the biggest embarrassment his father would face today.
Selection came for everyone, whether through completion of a fourteenth year of education, or arrival of the sixteen birthday. One way or another, everyone declared their path for the future.
The whole affair took on a rather perfunctory air considering Theo had been genetically engineered to succeed in academia. After all they’d been through to create him, his parents had definite ideas about what constituted success. For him, Theodore Kaufman, second child of Howard and Cheryl Kaufman, the life of the Scholar had been selected from birth.
Theo’s sister had done little to help. She’d Selected Scholar without so much as a wavering moment and gone off to her prominent career in cosmic research, the Kaufman specialty.
He picked up his guitar and set it across his leg. He moved to switch his music back on, but Cheryl appeared in the open doorway.
“Theodore, what did you say to your father?” She planted a hand on her hip and waited. Her sleek black hair was spun into the usual Scholar bun.
“I didn’t say anything.” It was true. Mere sight of his guitar was enough to send Howard into a lecture.
“He’s proud of you. This is a big day for you and for us. We worked hard to give you the best possible opportunity.” Rather, they let a geneticist pick the best possible combination of
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