I recently became very familiar with DNA, RNA, and chromosomes
thanks to a certain Red Plague that nearly wiped out half the population of
Califia. But I don’t recognize these sequences. They aren’t even vaguely
familiar. But Kyle does.
“You’re kidding?” I ask. He shakes his head and proceeds to
describe how the anomalies are actually genetically engineered enhancements to
improve strength, speed, agility, endurance, eyesight, hearing, and more. And I
thought Olympic athletes who indulged in blood doping were extreme. This makes
that look like taking a Flintstone vitamin. Who would have the knowledge, skill,
and equipment to do this?
“What are you guys looking at? Modern art?”
I turn around to see René with an obscenely large bucket of
popcorn in on arm and an obscenely large handful of popcorn in the other. How
he manages to get it all in his mouth without dropping a single kernel I will
never understand. You would think with his steady diet of snack foods he’d be
the size of a hippo, but somehow he never manages to gain weight. I wish I were
that lucky. I have to watch everything I eat and nearly kill myself every morning
training with Kyle so I can still fit into my clothes.
“It’s the DNA of one of those … things that attacked Kyle.”
“Things? Someone’s become very pajoritive.”
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