Preface

‘“He’s livestock,’ Steven said with a cold smile. ‘The law is very clear. All clones are classified as livestock because they’re grown inside cows. Cows can’t give birth to humans”’, a quote from “The House of the Scorpion” by Nancy Farmer, my introduction into the complicated world of cloning, genetic modification, and the ever prominent concept of what truly makes someone themself. My name is Valeria Gusarova, and I have always had a fascination with biomedicine, starting from the 6th grade. That book truly was the spark that lit a fire of passion for this topic within me. What was it that would truly separate a clone from an original human? Genetically they were one and the same, so what was that hidden factor that separated them, if it even did truly exist? As I learned through extensive research, genetic modification, first invented half a century ago, is a popular concept with a world of possibilities ahead of it. As of right now, it's perfectly balanced between on that point before the experimentation goes too far. Because everything has the potential to become unethical, and this technology is no different. It all started with bacterial modification, to produce insulin in mass quantities. Then, animals and plants followed. Bigger meatier cows, disease resistant corn, etc. etc. And now the focus is on humans. The eradication of all genetic diseases, wouldn’t that be an improvement for human life? But who’s to say that’s where the editing will stop? In a world where money can buy anything and anyone, can a line be drawn? Perhaps it will just start with a small change, a simple change of eye colour. And then another, and another. Why not change some personality traits as well? Increase intelligence, perhaps make a child more joyful or polite? Of course, this would be an incredibly expensive process, so only some could afford such luxuries. And with such a visibly stark gap between the rich and all others, it is not an impossibility that completely blocked off communities would appear. This story explores the inner mind of a young girl who was born into such a sheltered community. Her mind filled with the propaganda of those around her, an accidental glimpse of the outside breaks the fragile illusion implanted within her. Realising the changes that her parents had made to her in the past she grapples with the question, is she truly herself? For as the age-old question of the Ship of Theseus asks, if all the parts of the ship are changed one by one, is it truly still the same ship? 

 

Who am I?

Perfection, that was my name. And that was what I was. I was the epitome of beauty, grace, intelligence, anything one could ever desire. We were all named after what we were. There were Beautys and Strengths and Braves, and me, Perfection, for I was all of that. I was ethereally beautiful, like a masterfully crafted doll. Though like most, my hair was pitch-black, my skin fair, and my eyes silver, I still shone brighter than anyone else. Sure we were similar in some ways, but anyone could see how my raven locks glistened oh so perfectly in the sun, how my body effortlessly moved. Even my freckles were placed so delicately it was as if someone had meticulously painted them one by one. And I wasn’t just perfect on the outside, I was on the inside as well. There is a common saying, “Jack of all trades, master of none, still better than a master of one”. Well, I was like Jack, except I was the master of all. I was a prodigy in everything I did, whether it be school, music, or sports. I had collected so many first place medals and trophies that I lost count. Truly, I was perfect, hence the name. I was my parents' pride and joy. We lived in the most beautiful palace in our community of E.L.I.T.E (Extraordinary Largely Impeccable Tycoon Elites). My family had been the leader of E.L.I.T.E for as long as anyone could remember, and so it was never a question as to what my future would be. And plus, I was born faultless, what else would I be if not the leader of all the other, less perfect, people. I was the best, and that was it, there were no questions about it. That was, until I found out the truth.

The first crack appeared that day when I went out on a regular school trip. We had gone to examine the wall around our community. From a young age we were taught that the wall was built by our distant ancestors to keep us safe. “Why?” or “From who?” were questions that were never to be asked or answered, but why would I question my teachers, who were smarter and wiser? That day I had wandered off a little for some peace and quiet when I noticed a distinct crack in the wall. It was coming out vertically from behind some bushes, as if a vine crawling its way to the sky. I carefully stepped into the bushes, so as to study the crack a little closer. What I found was unthinkable, it was a hole. How, how could our great wall have a hole, and what dangers had already entered? What if we were all in danger right now? I thought of telling a teacher but then a small voice in my head told me, I was already 16, almost an adult, and the future leader of E.L.I.T.E.. Who would I be if I couldn’t even solve a small problem like a hole in the wall? I mentally marked the spot in my head to return to later.

4 p.m. I finally left my house and made my way back to that strange hole. Truthfully, it took me almost 30 minutes to find it, it was just so well hidden I kept missing it. Finally, the crack once again caught my eye, drawing me to it. I crouched in the bushes, inspecting the hole. It was just big enough for an average teenager to fit through. Everything within me wished to go through it, to get a glimpse of whatever it was out there. No!, my inner voice commanded, Get an adult, it might be dangerous. I couldn’t argue with that, I mean, I’ve never even heard of there being anything outside of E.L.I.T.E., what if I got hurt? What if I hurt others? But, what if by telling someone they’d get hurt in my stead? I was meant to be a leader, how could I sacrifice someone else? And I couldn’t just leave the hole there, it wasn’t safe. I took a deep breath, I can do this. Just a peek can’t hurt. I slowly poked my head through the hole.

It was mesmerising, captivating. My body moved, as if controlled by someone else, crawling through the hole. I stood up, brushing the dirt off of my perfect, unwrinkled navy skirt. My eyes darted around, unable to focus on just one thing. Of all things that I expected, a bustling city was not one of them. We had learned about them in school, of how they had existed once upon a time centuries before E.L.I.T.E was created, but never did I think that I would see one with my own two eyes. It was astonishing. There were buildings almost as high as the wall I just crawled through, a persistent noise of cars and people and machines, and bursts of colours everywhere. How did I never notice this? I took a ginger step forward, still taking in the new sights.

“You're so pretty! What’s your name?” A squeaky voice jerked me back to reality. I looked down and was greeted by a crooked smile. A little girl of maybe 8,9 years old was staring at me. She was so strange. Her hair was a dull, plain brown colour, her eyes too. And strangest of all was her smile. Her teeth weren’t pearly white or straight and her smile wasn’t of perfected elegance, it was raw and wide. And yet, it somehow shone. I couldn’t describe it, but it was as if a light was emanating from within her, engulfing me with a sense of warmth.

“I- I’m Perfection,” I stuck my hand out for a polite handshake, “And you are?”

“I’m Emily!” She exclaimed, slapping my hand quickly.

“I’m sorry did I offend you? Why did you slap me?”

“It’s a high-five silly!” She giggled. “Do you not know what that is?”

“High-five..?” I had never heard of that before.

“Yeah! You put out your hand like this,” she grabbed my hand and put it out, palm facing upwards, “and then someone gives you a high five!” She slapped her palm onto mine excitedly. “You’re funny, do you wanna come visit my house?”

Well, it can’t hurt to investigate more about this strange place, and she seems like a sweet young girl, I don’t think she’ll harm me. Plus this will give me more insight on how much of a threat this place is.

“Okay sure, I’ll come with you,” I tentatively replied. There it was again, that smile of hers. It was so perplexing, and yet, it made me want to smile too.

“Yay!” she grabbed my hand, pulling me, “Come on, lets go!”

A giggle escaped my lips as I ran behind her, still being tugged by the hand. What a strange child she was, completely different from anyone I’ve ever encountered in E.L.I.T.E. But maybe, that wasn't so bad?

“We’re here!” she exclaimed. I stared in disbelief. Was the shack in front of me really a place where someone could live? It was so rundown, it felt as if a single breath could knock it down. We walked to the rotting door. Emily opened it, “Mom! I’m home!” A middle aged woman opened the door. She was just as unassuming as her child, but her brown eyes had a warm kindness to them.

“Emily”, she scolded, “you should’ve told me you were bringing a guest”. She turned to me, “Hi! I’m Briana, Emily’s mother. I apologize for the mess, I didn't know we were going to have guests”. She smiled, and again I saw that same warmth as when Emily smiled. It was something I had never seen in E.L.I.T.E. There everyone’s smiles were so perfectly cold, it was as if they were baring their teeth.

“I- I’m Perfection, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well”. I began to stretch my hand out to shake but caught myself. I don’t think they do that here, I should respect that.

“Mom! Mom! Isn’t she super pretty! I found her near the big wall! Can she stay with us pleaseeeeee” Emily tugged on her mother’s sleeve. I saw Briana’s eyebrows raise slightly at the wall comment.

“Sweetie, I’m sure Perfection here has her own home and family. How about she stays for dinner,” she looked at me, “is that okay?”

“Yes of course that would be fine” It would be useful to fraternize and learn more about these strangers.

“Now how about you get your sister, tell her dinners almost ready”. With those words Emily was gone, presumably to find her sister.

Meanwhile, her mother waved at me to come to a small table with four chairs. “Come, sit” she said, pulling one of the chairs out. I did so obediently. “Now, I can tell you’re not from here, so please, tell me how you got here” Do I tell her? What if she hates me? What if she's dangerous? I shifted nervously in the chair. Briana must’ve sensed my discomfort. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I know you’re from E.L.I.T.E''.

“How- How do you know that?” What was she going to do to me? This was such a bad idea, I should’ve just stayed hom- My spiral of panicking thoughts stopped suddenly. I looked down and saw that Briana’s hand was on mine. It was very warm. She smiled reassuringly. I wasn’t sure why, but in that moment I felt safe, as if she would never hurt me. I smiled back feebly.

Taking a deep breath I admitted, “Yes, I am from E.L.I.T.E”.

“No way” a voice interjected from behind me.

My head snapped back to see who this intruder was.

“Sorry if I scared you, my name’s Olivia”. She seemed to be my age, and she was so different from her mother and sister. Her hair was a wild bright red and her skin almost as fair as mine. Her eyes were the same brown as them, but they too had a certain shine to them. She wasn’t as kind as her mother, or as bright as her sister. She seemed mischievous and sly like a fox, a smile playing on her lips. “Are you really from E.L.I.T.E? I heard everyone there is a snob,” she smirked.

“Olivia! Cut it with that attitude!” her mother scolded, “I’m sorry, she’s in that angsty teenager phase”. I smiled meekly, not sure what to do. No one I had ever met spoke this way, directly stating their meaning. In my world, every word was a hidden knife in the dark.

“Sorry, sorry,” she smirked again, slapping me on the back as she too sat down. “Now spill, I wanna hear EVERYTHING”.

As strange as it was, her carefree attitude put me at ease. It felt true, trustworthy. I took a deep breath. And told them everything. I told them my life in E.L.I.T.E, how I found the hole, the way it all was new to me. All three of them, Emily, Briana, and Olivia, stared at me, hanging on to every word. The only thing I didn’t tell me was the importance of my family. That was something too valuable to disclose, even if I was to trust them.

“Damn. Sounds depressing.” Olivia’s eyes flashed a hint of pity.

Depressing? I’ve never thought of it that way. I mean, I had everything I could possibly want. I was perfect in every way, what else could one want. And yet, being here I realise that maybe there is something missing. This brightness, this loudness. Everything here is so big, the sights, the sounds, the emotions. Everything’s big and bright and messy and oh so lovely. It’s certainly not pristine and perfect, but it's real.

“By the way, your name, I didn’t catch it” asked Olivia, interrupting my thoughts.

“Oh yeah, it's uh Perfection”.

“Perfection? That’s a strange name”.

“What do you mean? It’s not strange at all. I’m perfect, so my name is Perfection.” My name wasn’t weird, what could she possibly mean?

“Yeah that's weird, you're not supposed to be named after adjectives. Names are special”.

“No, you’re named after your main trait. Speaking of which, what do your names mean? I’ve never heard them before”.

“They mean nothing. They’re their own words. They’re not adjectives, they’re names”. Olivia’s eyebrows furrowed, as if she was confused

“So, your name doesn’t depend on how you are?”

“No of course not, I mean how could you even decide that, you don’t know how a child is going to turn out”.

“How many of these names do you even have?” If what she was saying is true then they must have millions of possibilities for names. It was difficult to even imagine just how many names existed if any collection of letters was believed to be a name.

“Tons, I mean basically everyone has a different one. Sure sometimes there's some name that gets popular and then there's a bunch of people with the same name, but mostly people have different names. Is that not how it works in E.L.I.T.E?”

“No of course not, we’re named after our main traits. For example if you're smart your name is Intelligence, if you’re strong it’s Strength and so on”.

“Dude how do you even know what the child’s going to be like?”

That was a fair question, how did we know? The more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed. It didn’t feel right. I needed answers and I needed them now. I stood up suddenly, the chair screeching underneath me.

“Excuse me, but I have to leave”, I said, a faint hint of panic in my voice. I hadn’t even noticed but Emily had already run off somewhere, only Olivia and her mother were still staring at me. Their eyebrows twitched with concern. It bothered me so much. Why were they so expressive, why did they even care? I was a nobody, a stranger. Why were they so kind? Why were they all so, so bright? So unique? So different? I couldn’t stand it.

“Perfection?” My eyes met Olivia’s at the sound of her voice. They were filled with the utmost concern. “Are you alright?” Never had I seen someone care for me as much as I did in that moment. And it was some random stranger I had known for maybe an hour. In that moment, something within me snapped. I bolted out the door. I ran through the busy streets. The warmth I had once felt began to burn. The brightness that shone blinded. The loudness deafened. I didn’t know where I was or where I was going, all I wanted was to leave, to disappear. Tears streamed down my face.

Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe I’ll wake up and realize there was no hole, no Emily, no city, no Olivia. Maybe. Maybe. A sob burst out of my mouth. Finally I saw the wall. My vision blurring, I frantically searched for the hole. There it is. I crawled through it and collapsed in the bush hiding it from the inside. I stayed there, silently sobbing, hoping no one would hear me. I was a leader, I couldn’t be seen so broken, it wasn’t appropriate. I don’t know how long I was in there, time seemed to stay still.

Finally, there were no more tears left inside me. I stood up, brushing out the wrinkles in my clothes, picking the twigs out of my hair. I wiped my red, puffy eyes, hoping that they would go back to normal soon. I was meant to be perfect, nothing less. And if I was to be leader, I needed to know what it was I saw outside. I made my way to my house and walked through the door.

I found my parents in the living room, my father reading, my mother knitting, as they do every evening.

“Mother, Father, good evening”, I stiffly greeted them.

“Hello Perfection”, they replied apathetically. My father further inquired, “I trust you have a good reason for being late?”

I couldn't tell them the truth, I didn’t know why, but something in me was telling me that it was a bad idea. “I was out surveying the wall, I believe that is one of my future duties is it not?”

“Good girl” My father briefly met my eyes. I couldn’t find a touch of emotion in them, they were cold, almost lifeless.

I swallowed, “I- I have a question. I believe that if I am to be leader of E.L.I.T.E. in the future I must know. May I ask?”

“Yes you may”

“Thank you Father. I wish to know if there is anything beyond our wall? I have heard that there used to be, and I believe that if there is something out there right now I must know about it to see if there is a threat.” Hearing those words, my father’s gaze seemed to turn even colder.

“Perfection, there is nothing outside that wall.”

“But Father, what if there is, do we not need to check?”

“Where is this persistence coming from, I have told you no.” He shut me down immediately. I knew I could not argue with him anymore. Just as I was about to give up he muttered to my mother, “Darling it seems we set her curiosity level too high”.

I froze in place. “What did you say?”

“First of all, Perfection do not be rude. And secondly, I feel that we may as well tell you about this now. For perhaps your child will be even more perfect than you.”

“Father, please tell me everything. What do you mean?” I was trembling, what did he mean setting my curiosity level?

“See, here in E.L.I.T.E., we have superior technology, the peak of genetic modification you could say. In the past, the physical and mental traits of a child were a genetic lottery, a risky and unpredictable thing. Nobody wanted that of course. Decades and decades people worked on perfecting this technology. It started with just finding a cure to genetic diseases and deformations, and now we parents can choose everything about our child”

“Everything?” I whispered, hoping that this was a joke, a lie, anything other than the truth.

“Everything. Have you noticed how many of your peers look similar to you? Well that’s because silver eyes and raven hair were popular at the time. But see, all others can only choose one trait for their child to excel in, which is what they’re then named. We, however, can modify absolutely everything. That is why you’re so perfect, we made you that way. Did you know you were actually supposed to be blonde? Ha! As if. And your personality, well, let’s just say it wasn’t leader like at all. Wild and carefree, can you imagine?” He began to laugh, my mother joining in.

She looked at me, “Aren’t you grateful? Look at how wonderful and perfect you turned out.” There it was again, that word. Perfect. Oh how ugly it was. “And one day you can do the same for your child, make them however you wish.”

I couldn’t move. They were laughing, why were they laughing? Is that why things are so different here? Because we control everything, down to the slightest detail? No, not we. They. They made me. They chose everything, changed everything. I was supposed to be different. And it’s not even that they changed how I looked, I could live without being blonde. But my personality, they made it. The person I thought I was, was nothing but a doll my parents created. Every thought I had, every decision I made was a product of my parents’ preferences. I was made to be perfect. Perfect. PERFECT. Oh how I hated that word. It felt like a stamp, branding me for life as the leader. As the product of a thousand changes. As a fraud, a phony, a robot. I wasn’t even a person, how could I be. I didn’t have anything to make me so. Not a kindness, not a slyness, not a light within me. I was a broken empty shell created by decades of riches and greed. I looked over at my parents, still laughing. It was disgusting, I was disgusting. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I ran to my room, grasping at my hand mirror. I looked into it. All I could see was a shell. An empty shell. My eyes were cold and lifeless, not a spark within them. My skin was dull, my hair as well. It was as if I was staring at a broken doll. There was no light inside to show humanity. I couldn’t look anymore. With a wail I smashed the mirror, my reflection breaking with it. I grabbed the sharpest, largest piece I could and jumped out of the window. I ran for the hole in the wall, searching for that last shred of humanity. My body found it quicker than I could realize I was there. I stared in the mirror shard, wishing that maybe, just maybe, here I could find the humanity that was stolen from me. I was greeted with the same lifeless doll staring back. I grabbed a chunk of my hair, raggedly swinging at it. I cut off locks and locks. And still, I looked perfect. How could this be? Did I even bleed? I grasped at the shard, feeling the pain as my hand was cut again and again. This was bound to make me look human. I mean pain and blood are what defined humans, right? I glanced at my hand, now pouring blood. Why, oh why did it still look so beautiful. It was terrifying yes, but as mesmerising as a river of rubies pouring out. I could feel tears streaming down my face, but I didn’t make a sound. I grabbed dirt in my other hand and dragged both hands down my cheeks, smearing dirt and blood everywhere, mixing them with my tears. Finally, I had to look different now, right? I wasn’t perfect, right? Shaking, I looked in the mirror once more, hoping to see something, someone who wasn’t me. So why? WHY? Why was it that all I could see was emptiness? It didn’t matter that I was dirty and bruised, I could be washed, cleaned up and put back on my pedestal. I could never be human, I wasn’t made to be. Humans are imperfect, unique, wonderful creatures. And I was just a perfect, ideal, doll. Someone to fulfill orders and look pretty. I wasn’t made to live, I was made to exist. Well I didn’t want to exist anymore. I tore my eyes away from the reflection in the shard. I took it in both of my hands and raised it to the setting sun, the point of it facing me. If I wasn’t going to live, I didn’t want to be here. I couldn’t be here. And hell, why did it even matter? My parents could just create another perfect doll, it’s not like it's hard. Of course I was replaceable, I wasn’t a human. I was a trophy, made on a conveyor which would continue on for decades. I closed my eyes, the final tears dropping silently. I braced myself, and with a final whisper of “goodbye” I jerked my hands to my stomach, the shard still clasped within them.

“NO!” A sharp cry pierced my ears as something barreled into my hands, knocking the mirror out of my hand. I looked up to see who it was that stole my freedom from me. I found Olivia staring down at me, angry tears forming in her eyes. “What are you doing you- you- you IDIOT!” she grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to sit there, watching the tears roll down her face.

I looked away and sighed, “Why do you even care, I’m nothing. I’m not even human. I’m just a creature, a robot, a living trophy. My parents made me. They chose everything, every trait. Everything I ever thought was me, was just a setting on a computer that they chose. My thoughts, my mind, my personality, it's not mine. How can I begin to call myself human? I’m something to be looked at, admired from afar. I’m not someone to be loved, someone who lives life by their own standards. Not when I was genetically modified to be exactly what my parents wanted. They changed everything, Olivia. Everything. Nothing about me is my own. Absolutely nothing.” I glanced back up at her eyes again, they seemed soft, comforting, like a warm hug on a cold winter’s day. There was no sly sharpness to them, and yet, they still had that shine, the shine of humanity. I could never have that.

“You are seriously the dumbest person I’ve ever met. I searched this wall for HOURS hoping to find a way to find you again because I just knew something felt wrong. And you have the audacity to say that no one can love you. So what if your parents typed some numbers into a computer. So what if they switched around some genes. You are still you. And no one can ever take that away from you. The way you think, the way you act, it's truly you. When I first saw you, sure, I thought you seemed like a perfect little doll. But then I saw you with my sister. I saw how your eyes lit up, how you laughed. You were radiant. As you told us your story I could sense some tension, some awkwardness, but then there’d be those moments when you let your guise slip a little and I saw a real, beautiful girl. So what if you’re more special than the rest of us? A little more perfect? That’s your uniqueness. You’re not a robot, not a doll. You have human emotions, happiness, sadness, fear, everything. So when I saw you run, terrified, a whirlwind of emotions in your eyes, I knew I had to find you.”

“But I was going to- to kill myself. If I were human I’d wish to live, how could I just give my life up so easily?” I could see a deep wave of sadness and understanding wash through her as I said those words.

“Perfection, I know what it feels like, truly. Sometimes you just can’t live anymore. But that’s what makes you human. That pain, those tears, everything.” She hugged me tightly. She gingerly picked up the mirror shard from the ground. “Look into it”.

Nervously, I turned my eyes to it once again. “Look. Do you see that girl?” She gently wiped the dirt and blood off of my face the best she could. “Look at her eyes, see how they sparkle?” I couldn’t believe it. There in the final rays of the setting sun I saw it, a shine in my eyes. I saw her. No, I saw myself. My true self. Sure she was perfect on the outside, but she wasn’t cold and she wasn’t lifeless. There was pain in those eyes, but also a relief, and just a hint of hope. Hope. Perhaps that was what made us human. I smiled widely as darkness began to creep, the sun leaving the sky behind. Olivia grinned at me, and I knew I was shining as brightly as her. A thought creeped into my head.

“Olivia, I want a new name.” I didn’t want to be Perfection, I wanted a real name, something that was mine, and only mine.

“Hmmm.. Well I do have an idea”, she smiled coyly. “How about Seraphina? I’ve always loved that name. It means fiery or the burning one”.

Seraphina. I loved it. The way it sounded, felt. I could feel it burning with passion. It felt like life, like the fire that I saw burning in my eyes.

A smile spread across my face. “I love it. Seraphina”. I stared up at the night sky, the stars burning as brightly as my new name. I felt that feeling again, hope.

“Come with me, Seraphina. Come live in the city with us” Olivia extended her hand out to me.

I laughed, “How could I say no?”, placing my hand in hers. There was nothing for me here. It was cold and lifeless, a place where even the brightest of fires can be extinguished. I wanted to feel the warmth, to be a part of it. And so we walked, hand in hand, to a new beginning. To the fire that had called to me, the real me. The fire that had melted my frozen heart. To the fire that was inside all of us, flickering in our eyes. To that fire, that light in the dark. Maybe my parents had chosen what genes I had, but my soul was my own. And it burned, fueled by that which made us human. That bright star in the dark. Something that would be found in the terror, the fear, the despair. Hope.

 

Afterword

To anyone who is reading this, I hope that my writing was able to showcase the pain that is felt when one faces the struggle of self identity and the perpetual question, are we ever truly free? I wrote this story to show how greed and the constant chase for perfection could cause genetic modification to be used for unethical purposes. Even in the present the same situation can be seen, just  on a much smaller scale. There is a clear divide between the rich and the poor, with certain communities or areas where only certain types of people live. New York City, for example, has a clear disparity between those who live in Manhattan and those who live in the Bronx. And as for the chase for perfection? Well plastic surgery is an enormous industry, fueled by those who wish to change themselves to be “perfect”. People like Justin Jedlica and Pixee Fox can be seen taking these surgeries to the extreme, undergoing 150+ of them or even removing 6 of their ribs to get the “perfect” figure, face, etc. An even more subtle hint that is present around the globe can be seen in how parents often push their ideals onto their children. Setting them up for certain “prestigious” careers, raising them a certain way, praising certain characteristics while hiding others, are all ways in which parents attempt to change their child into what they want them to be  So when presented with the choice to create a perfect child from the very beginning who’s to say they would decline? The author of the Grishaverse trilogy, Leigh Bardugo, once said “What is infinite? The universe and the greed of men”. History has shown us just how far human greed reaches, greed for money, for perfection, for power. We can not allow it to go as far as compromising our right to individuality, to being ourselves. My writing is fiction, and must stay that way. Because once love is sacrificed for greed, that is when our humanity is lost. That is when we become monsters.