“It’s not fair!” Cody said. He thumped his fist on the Director’s desk. It trembled with the impact.
The Director, her arms crossed, raised a finely shaped eyebrow, but said nothing.
Coach put her hand on Cody’s shoulder. It seemed tiny there, like a child’s. “Cody, this isn’t helping,” she said.
Cody leant towards the Director, his chair emitting a plaintive creak. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But it still isn’t fair. Where am I supposed to compete, if I can’t compete here?”
“This was all in the mail we sent you,” the Director said. “The rules of the competition are quite clear. You’re not a genetically enhanced athlete.”
“My dad was enhanced, though!”
The Director put out a hand to stop him. She had very red nails. “Cody, we know this. Your father was genetically modified for intelligence and empathy, yes, but not for athletic performance,” she said. “I have access to all the relevant files.”
“Your mother, meanwhile, was pure Adam and Eve.”
Cody glared between the Director and Coach, wide-eyed. “But I’m good! I’ve cleared two-twenty in the clean-and-jerk!”
“Why don’t you apply for the ordinary Olympics then?” the Director said.
“Honestly, Director, you know they won’t permit Cody to compete,” said Coach, shaking her head. “For the same reason you won’t.”
The Director exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “The rules are firm. Only enhanced athletes allowed in the GenGames.”
Cody sat with his head bowed. It took Coach a minute to realize he was crying.