Good

I am Good 1294-0987-098. My mother was a breeder class B, my father a producer class E. I am 35 years of age. I am on official record as being 90% gene potentiality recognised.

My sister was born two years after my entry into public manifest. Her post-birth scan detected a rare and statistically improbable genetic defect, small, but enough to delist our parents from the register of public Good. My parents were retired to the outfields. My sister was classified as a wombhost class D - suitable for carriage of the likely lower classes of workers, no higher.

I got lucky. My sister's defect did not lead to my being retired. My breeder status was retained, although dropped to a lower level. At the age of 19 my first girl was born, all fingers and toes, perfect in my heart, official records notwithstanding. It was three years before the birth of my son, leading to a reforecast of my potentiality, but no drop in standard. My position in my Patron's household remained intact. Since then I have given my patron further Goods every other year, raising my status again and ensuring favourable standing for my female offspring.

When I am not in confinement I enjoy walking the boundaries of my Patron's precinct. Various labourer Goods defer to me as I pass. Outside the fence I can sometimes glimpse those Goods whose predispositions have led to assignments in roles involving pressed shirts, ties or high heels. I wonder how it would be to sit behind a desk for ten hours per day, and whether the professional Goods have more space for thought than I, whose inheritance was the ability to grow life within me.

So little space for anything other than my main self in this world where we are all defined according to what we can best contribute to the collective. No room to explore that small part of me that could have been a painter, a poet or explorer. Society decided that my place in life was to provide offspring for the ruler Good, and that is what I will continue to do.

However there is nothing against the Good in my being a dreamer, and so that small part of me is allowed to continue. The sadness of this small freedom makes my life both bearable and bittersweet.

My son, Good 2003-5427-2032, stirs within me. I turn back to my quarters and prepare for his emergence.


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