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nickjonson

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Millions gathered before his balcony. Thousands of organized lines of people. Millions of faces in a sea of gray. All cheered as he came out to the balcony. A loud cheer roared from the crowd, the earth trembled, and birds fled in fear. It was not just the noise that scared them. "My brethren!" the man on the balcony shouted. He was on old, frail man. He had short, neat, hair. A well tamed goatee, and a silver halo crown floated above his head, glowing brightly. "We are perfect! We are the supreme race!" he shouted, "Disease free and immune to inabilities, we are supreme!" Everyone cheered. The man smirked, growing larger in his black suit. "Today is a glorious day! Our warriors, our knights, our protectors, our fellow brethren, will go to the filth infested areas of the lower city and the undercity! And we will, once and for all, forever remove the stain of the Fallible! Disease, weakness, and all the rest of their ilk shall forever be cleansed from the face of Taris!" Everyone raised their fists, saluting their leader. In unison, they chanted, "Weskof! Weskof! Weskof!" Again he smirked, and raised his fists in the air, urging the crowd on. Behind the shadows, eyes glimmering in fear watched. The spy turned and ran. He ran to the edge of the platform, looking down at the lower levels of Taris. Taris was just a mass of buildings. Platforms isolated the layers. The "Fallible" lived in the lower platforms; blocked from the sun, fighting disease every day, madness filled the air in the lower city. The man climbed down the rope he came on, and reached one of the shady, run down, lower platforms. He ran as fast as he could into the four story building in the center. He ran through the doors, and into an office, "They're coming," he gasped. The man on the desk looked up. He was an old man with short, pure white hair. His face was covered in the scars of aging and dirt. "Who is?" he asked. "Weskot's Army. He is finally going to exterminate us," the spy gasped. The old man got up, "Minister Ara, what do we do?" the spy begged. "We flee Taris," he said, looking over his shoulder. "We flee to the small tribes in the wilderness." Ara's adviser, Jenkil, looked stunned. "Are you sure about that?" he asked, bewildered, "We're barely surviving here. The entire colony would decay of disease after a few days out in the wilderness." Ara sighed, "And if we stay, we'll be slaughtered," he said, "Better to go out to the fatherlands and die with courage then stay here and be slaughtered like cows. How much time do we have?" The spy thought, "The army was marching out the barracks and forming up when I left. They should be here by nightfall." Ara sighed, "Then we don't have much time, tell everyone to pack up and head to the main square in the undercity." Jenkil bowed, "As you wish, sire," he said. "What have we ever done to them?" Ara said to himself, "I guess science has a price, as well."

Twenty years ago, humans were born naturally from their mothers. Born with the grace of God. But now, everyone was either a clone or a cyborg. Free of any possible weakness mentally or physically, they considered themselves to be supreme. Five years after clones rose to power, the normal humans, or as they came to be known "the Fallible", as they were considered weak by the "supreme race". Any human, homosexual, or diseased was instantly thrown into the darkness of the lower city. In the outskirts of the undercity, there was a huge pile of bodies, still not fully decayed, from the clones' massacre three years ago. There were ancient cities far away from Taris, cities that were abandoned a few years after clones began architecture. Taris was now the utopian city. Everyone left their homes and moved to Taris, only to be segregated a year or so later. Weskof, Ara's clone brother, rose to power as soon as the clones took control, and has been ever since. Each generation of the genetically engineered people harbored more and more hate for the "Fallible". "The people have begun to evacuate, half the population is already in the plaza," Jenkil said. "Jenkil," Ara said, looking out the window. "Yes, sir?" Jenkil asked. "Why do they hate us so much?" he asked. Jenkil seemed astonished, "Sir?" he asked. "We never hurt them. We gave them life. We brought them to this world. We lived in harmony, and they shunned us. Why?" Ara asked again. "Who knows," Jenkil said, "Weskof is very persuasive. He got the people to think, 'Why should we take orders from our inferior?'." Ara sighed and shook his head, "Let's go," he muttered, walking out the door.