Playing God in the name of science? International summit courts controversy.

BERLIN — In a series of talks, scientists from 17 countries weighed current regulations surrounding genetic editing in humans. Debate became heated as the topic of genome-edited embryos took centre stage. Conservatives urged caution while progressives called for reform. 

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Fun fact: each one of us shares 99 percent of our DNA with the rest of humanity. The remaining one percent makes us who we are when five million unique chromosomes burst onto the scene at conception. Thanks to unnatural selection, my one per cent was hacked.

"I'm proud of you, honey." Mom reached her arm behind the passenger seat to grab my hand. I gave her fingers a half-hearted squeeze, then let go and silently counted to ten.

Outside my window, gulls skipped over frothy clouds in an optimistic blue sky. I wrinkled my nose; the picture-perfect coastline made me nauseous. I missed my old life; I missed the old me.   

Our move had been seamless if you don't count my broken heart. Mom and Dad wore perma-smiles, raving about organic produce and local vineyards while I survived on a diet of memories and texts. No matter how hard I tried, I secretly hated my friends for carrying on back home without me.

When school started, I wouldn't be there to share their dramas, slights and social victories. Instead, I'd wade into a sea of kids I didn't know, studying things most people would never understand. That's where the highway was taking us: Orientation Day at Mendel Prep.

"How much further is this place?" Despite the air conditioning, my cheeks burned, and the back of my knees were damp. Shifting positions, my thighs made a soft thwack sound as I unstuck myself from the leather seat.

Mom double-checked the GPS and frowned. "It shouldn't have been this long, but we took the wrong exit. We'll be there soon."

"Good thing we left early, huh?" Dad winked, catching my eye in the rear-view mirror. He'd been looking forward to this day for weeks. Too bad he wasn't the one going to school. I pushed a pair of shades onto the bridge of my nose, rolled my eyes behind their tinted lenses and leaned against the window. I couldn't decide whether I wanted the trip over and done with, or if I never wanted to arrive.

As we turned down a road shaded by massive redwoods, the blue sky disappeared. Dappled light filtered through the boughs, and ferns raised curling leaves to catch random droplets of sun. Fingering the silver locket that hung around my neck, I chewed the inside of my cheek as our car rolled through the shadows.

Dad turned on the radio, and a squealing guitar riff ripped through the speakers. Ferocious notes snarled, climbing an octave and kick-starting my heart.

Shit.

Hands clenched, I sucked in a breath as an angry red tide flooded the space behind my eyes. A wave of color rose and crashed to the tempo of the song, turning my field of vision scarlet. My heart stuttered and I saw stars.

"Dad! Turn it off!"

It had been six months since I turned sixteen; six months since my senses started to swirl; six months since musical notes were accompanied by color, sparks, and light; six months since I learned nothing would be the same.    

Hastily flipping the volume dial to zero, Dad extinguished the musical assault.

"Sorry, Marin. I forgot." Running a hand through his sandy hair, he cleared his throat. In the absence of wailing guitar strings, the red flood evaporated and my vision cleared.

"Breathe like we practiced, Mare, and the sensation will go away." Mom's soothing tone scratched at my nerves, forcing my fingers into fists.

"I know! I'm trying, ok?" I didn't mean to snap. The exercises she'd taught me were starting to help, but unexpected flare-ups still left me breathless. I gulped for air, and my stomach lurched. Nothing was worse than losing control.

Down the road, an inky black iron gate appeared through the greenery. "I think this is it." Dad glanced at Mom, and she gave him a hopeful smile.

Tall, blonde and tanned, they could pass for a real-life version of Barbie and Ken. Me? I'm small, dark and fair. A month spent in La Jolla made my parents glow, while I just burned, peeled, and burned again. 

Large golden letters representing the school's initials were carved into the gate's heart. Reaching out the window, Dad pushed a call button, and the doors slowly opened, revealing a sign that announced: "Welcome to Mendel Preparatory School: Teaching the Leaders of Tomorrow, Today."

Cruising up a sun-splashed hill, we passed a curving sculpture of DNA's double helix that rose up from the manicured grass. Beside the structure, letters carved in polished stone spelled the word, "hope."

As the school came into view, I sucked in a breath; Mendel Prep was an impressive feat of glass, wood, and steel, set against a gorgeous coastal backdrop.

Wow.

Shaking my head slightly, I pursed my lips. No matter how nice it looked on the outside, I was not going to fall for my parents' assertion that I'd be happy here.

For the seven hundredth time, I listed the reasons Mendel Prep and I did not compute.

I didn't ask for this.
I was happy before.
I won't make any friends.
They lied to me.
It's not FAIR.

Sighing, I leaned my head against the window again, pulling memories before Mendel close. I didn't want to think about what life after Mendel would look like. No matter what my parents thought, I wasn't ready for this. Not by a long shot.

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