Adam Goldberg, seven years old, sat quietly in the plush waiting room of the clinic beside his parents, Rachel and Stan Goldberg. The space was a gleaming display of high-tech luxury, clearly tailored for affluent clients seeking to design their ideal children. In the corner, a plasma screen looped an advertisement featuring a doctor with flawless teeth and a nurse equally perfect in appearance.

  “Make your child the best version of you,” the overly cheerful doctor declared. “Eliminate inherited diseases, cognitive impairments, and excess weight. Customise your child to be intelligent, attractive, athletic, and more! Whatever traits you desire, we likely have a gene for it. And don’t worry—we’ll keep the best of your traits too!”

  Rachel and Stan, both in their forties and slightly overweight, were highly intelligent. They also knew their family histories carried physical and mental health issues—common enough, but burdensome. They adored Adam but regretted the genetic risks they had passed on. To them, this technology felt like a gift—a way to give their next child every possible advantage. They were wealthy and saw it as a logical, even moral, investment in their family’s future.

  Adam, however, felt a growing unease. He understood that any sibling created here would likely outshine him—taller, more attractive, more athletic, and certainly more outgoing. The idea of competing with a designer sibling was overwhelming. Being a gifted child, Adam’s confidence rested solely in his intelligence.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  His parents offered one concession: he could choose any pet he wanted—if he agreed to having a sibling.

  Adam loved animals. They were loyal, predictable, and easier to understand than people. The promise of a pet offered him a small comfort in the face of looming change.

  When the doctor finally entered, he looked nothing like the polished figure in the advertisement. He appeared to be about the same age as Adam’s parents—clearly from a time before genetic design had become common. Still, his teeth were as perfect as promised, a result of cosmetic work that helped him maintain a youthful facade.

  Adam looked at him with quiet disdain. In his mind, anyone who created genetically engineered babies but wasn’t one themselves was a traitor, especially to the so-called Darwin Children, those born naturally, without lab selection or designer genes.

  The doctor smiled warmly at Adam and his parents—a genuine smile, though clearly fueled by the hefty fee he was about to earn.

  “Please, follow me,” he said, motioning toward the consultation room.

  Adam sighed deeply, a final gesture of protest. He sensed that his relatively carefree childhood was coming to an end.