The Human Zoo

By Kasey Rocazella

Jax Cooper lives a comfortable life, maybe too comfortable. Born into a powerful family. Jax is the son of the largest mogul in the world. As a journalist for The Globe, he takes on a unique, self-assigned piece: to investigate his father's empire, The Human Zoo. Disguised as one of the animals and stripped of his identity, wealth, and eugenic luxuries, Jax is challenged by what it means to be human when he meets Priya.

Born into the zoo's captivity, Priya has only known two things; she does not belong here, and she will do anything to escape, but freedom always seemed impossible until an unusual new animal, Jax, arrives.

A gripping investigation turned life-changing, Jax is forced to make a decision. Will he risk dismantling society by exposing who-or what-being an animal means...or succumb to his only living protection, his family's empire?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publishdrive
• Release date: May 4, 2021
• ISBN: 0578798484

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

PRIYA

Thirteen Years Earlier

I sit in a corner. My knees touch my chin, and I pick at my fingernails. When they start to cry red, I stop. Benjy, my only friend, sits cross-legged next to me, staring at the floor. His fingers draw pictures against the rough cement. Today I’m five, I think. That is what the people in the blue clothes say when they come in and do tests on us. One at a time, we are being taken by the tall lady who has a dark circle on her left cheek, short black hair, and green eyes. They call her Aerion. No one has come back, but they all go through the metal door that makes a whooshing sound like sucking in air. I watch as each kid grins at her, but I’m not smiling. I know she is bad.

The soft yellow of the room I call home makes my tummy flip. I breathe in through my nose, and out through my mouth. My tongue licks my lips. The metal door opens again and cold air rushes in. Aerion locks eyes with me. She doesn’t come for me though. She reaches for Benjy, snatching his arm, pulling him up to his feet.

Clinging to him, I pull him down by grabbing his arm. 3-5-6-8-5-3, let go, Aerion says.

Where are you taking him? I ask. For a second, she looks confused.

It’s okay, Priya, Benjy says, patting my hand.

My head shakes no as he nods yes.

He pulls me off his arm, and I look into his brown eyes.

Come back? I whisper.

I promise, he says.

He holds his hand up, his five fingers wide, and I place my hand against his.

Bye, Priya! he says walking away with Aerion. His brown, curly hair bounces as he giggles and jumps through the metal door. I rub my thumb over the number on my calf, 3-5-6-8-5-3, thinking, my name is Priya. I sit for what feels like hours as those who remain are taken.

One hour. Two hours. Ten hours. No one comes for me.

They don’t want me. I start crying as wet tears slide down my face and into my mouth. Then she comes in.

3-5-6-8-5-3, it’s time, Aerion says soft and sweet. My body freezes.

Where are we going? I ask as her green eyes squint at me.

Somewhere better. She says looking at me, then slightly turning her gaze toward the black panel in the ceiling. She reaches for me, and I bite her with my teeth. She screams with her mouth open wide and eyebrows touching one another.

You will mind, she yells slapping me across the face.

My fingers claw at her.

She kicks me in the stomach and grabs me by the hair, dragging me toward the door. My tiny hands can’t reach hers as I scream wildly, pain shooting across my head. I kick out, twisting my body toward her. My foot hits her shin and she lets go. Scooting away, I huff out of my nose. My eyes dart around, looking for a way out. My heart beats against my chest so hard I look down to make sure it’s not going to pop out.

ANIMAL! Aerion screams at me.

I’m not an animal! I scream back.

She presses behind her ear and says, Guardians, do your job and get in here. Now! A few seconds later two men dressed in all black enter.

Both of their faces have shiny black masks over them, showing only the straight lines of their mouths. The taller one stands by the door as the other Guardian walks toward me, his short frame identical to his dark uniform. I keep scooting until my back touches the wall behind me. As the man gets closer to me, he stops and turns around, waving his hand at the other Guardian. A man at the door comes and stands by him. Slowly, I rise, then start running, hoping to squeeze between their legs, but their strong arms pick me up, tossing me on the ground. The world looks upside down as I’m thrown over a shoulder. The metal door reaches out for me. I thrash and fling myself against the Guardian’s clothes.

Reaching out, I grip the edges of the door, straining to dig into the metal door. Effortlessly, my fingers are plucked off. I bite down, and my teeth clash with metal. The world is dark for a moment, and then I see the light. My eyes squeeze shut. We enter a long, glass hallway.

People stand on the other side of the glass with their teeth showing. I can hear them laughing. Bright flashes of light bounce off the glass and tiny faces like mine press up to it. I’m still—confused, scared—wondering why these people are on the other side. Why they are free?

Help me! Please! They are taking me! I try to shout, but it comes out as a whisper. I keep squirming, reaching my hands out, waiting for someone to help. No one comes. Warm tears fall down my face.

Out of the mass of people, a little boy appears and steps up to the glass. He has brown hair and bright blue eyes that stand out against his skin. His lips curl down into a frown. I watch as he raises his hand and places it against the glass, five fingers spread wide. Reaching my hand out, I copy him. He smiles at me and I stare at him until the Guardian takes me through another door. Then he’s gone, and I am lost.

CHAPTER TWO

JAX

Seated in the back of the class, I sit surrounded by clean, uniform, off-white walls. It feels like a surgical room in a hospital. In front of me, words scroll endlessly across the screen on my small, transparent desk as the professor lectures. Schooling doesn’t interest me, especially history. Why do people insist on reliving things they can’t change? Our whole future needs guidance.

My attention is diverted as a message scrolls across the screen.

Oculus tonight? -Deice

I grin at the message from my best friend. Most nine-year-old boys like to go to Oculus. It’s full of junk food, candy, and video games.

I reply, Uh yeah, duh. Time? -Jax

You have to ask? After school, DUH -Deice.

Class suddenly becomes exciting, and I begin to count down the minutes until the day is over. As the professor switches textbooks, I look back down at the screen. A new title pops up: The Era of Eugenics.

Eugenics, I whisper out loud, the word leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. The professor’s voice becomes more powerful as he begins his lecture. "The Era of Eugenics, an outstanding time in our history. In fact, it is the pinnacle of the evolution of human beings."

My ears perk up. The concept is familiar, but I can’t place it. Pictures flood the screen in front of me: fires, human skeletons, some green, square machinery I have never seen before, and a cloud that looks like a mushroom.

This is what the world used to be like, the professor adds, a time when our animal instincts controlled our human ones. These pictures show a time when destruction, starvation, and war ruled our everyday lives.

Involuntarily, my hand shoots up. What’s the green thing?

Jax, it’s good to know that you’re paying attention for once. My eyes roll. To answer your question, that’s what an Original would call a tank. It was a staple in their military as a weapon to destroy everything in its path. The mushroom cloud next to it was even worse. A bomb that could destroy entire cities.

Many of my classmates gasp in shock. I sit mesmerized as the professor continues talking about The Originals.

People finally realized that we couldn’t go on like this; then an amazing man by the name of Dr. Emerson started the purification process, otherwise known as the Pure Beginning. An image popped up of a man in a white coat holding a small vial of purple liquid. The Emergers, as they were known, were the first pure, genetically modified humans. There were thousands of them. These people were smarter, more athletic, and more beautiful than their predecessors. They were gods. My body stiffens at the word god.

We tried to live happily with The Originals, but they were animals, vile beasts, murdering our people. Relying more on raw instinct than logic to dictate their world. Eventually, The Emergers decided it was time to ratify the situation. It was during this time, The Final Hunt, that the people of Eugenics hunted Originals until they were almost extinct.

An image of two men came on the screen. Underneath it, the caption read: THE WINSTON BROTHERS. Both men had brown hair and brown eyes. The one on the left had dark skin like coffee and the other, on the right, had light skin resembling my professor. My gaze moved from their eyes to their smiles until it reached lifeless bodies draped over their legs. The image disappeared.

The remainder we keep to forever remind us of what we do not wish to be. The animals now reside in safe havens in zoos across the world, where they can live as the happy animals that they are. The screen goes blank. I sit back in my chair as questions whirl through my mind. My stomach churns with nausea. Classmates ask questions but their voices are drowned out by a ringing in my ear.

The screen to my desk flashes brightly. I look down. A new textbook pops up, Mathematics. Grumbling, I put my head down as the professor begins a new lecture.

About an hour later, he stops, and the class looks around, confused. The school day is only halfway through.

Today we’re cutting class short due to a surprise. A field trip to the Zoo! The professor says grinning.

It takes a minute but finally, it registers, and all my classmates start to whoop and holler with excitement.

A message scrolls across my screen.

Oculus after the Zoo? -Deice

Sure, I reply, feeling a wave of sickness.

❦

Deice and I sit on the transit, examining a map given to us outlining the Zoo. The first electronic page makes the Zoo seem like it’s an oasis among the tall buildings creating the city. As I flip to the next page, there is an aerial view of the layout. Three circles placed together to form a triangle with another smaller circle set on top. I look at the map key. There are four gates labeled.

The first, marked A, is the main entrance. The other gates are labeled gate C, Caucasian sector, Gate D, Mongoloid Sector, and Gate E, Negroid Sector. A giant tower labeled B sits in the center for recreational activities, restaurants, additional entertainment, and more.

Zooming in, I realize all the sectors have the same layout broken into six sub-sectors: Africa, North America, South America, Asia, Europe, and Oceania; then further by direction. I zoom back out.

So, it’s like three big circles shaped like a triangle, divided into six little circles broken down into four smaller parts. Easy enough, right? I say to Deice.

Yeah, easy! He chuckles. Can you imagine if we didn’t have a map?

Nope, I shrug.

You don’t even need a map, right? Doesn’t your—

The transit slows to a stop. I hear a soft voice singing through the intercom.

Welcome to the Zoo! Please enter on your left-hand side. Enjoy!

Like a swarm, everyone files out in unison. Two tall marble gates open wide as we approach it. It’s intimidating, yet mesmerizing. We scan our ID cards and walk up the extended, rectangular area until we enter a lush area full of vibrant flowers. My eyes soar up the looming, slender tower that sits in the middle of the flowers. A tall man with dark brown hair and sharp blue eyes greets us. We have similar physical features.

Hi son, he says, bending down to shake my hand. My father, Matías, owns this place along with a few others. People see him as a businessman and a hero. His work is well known throughout the world, but I couldn’t look at him now: the disgust growing stronger each second thanks to the knowledge shared with me today in history class. My father always told me that the Zoo was a haven for animals. That our people are saving them by keeping them locked away. After the history lesson today, and learning animals lived like us until they lost a war, has my mind whirling with questions and my gut turning in on itself. It’s too difficult accepting father’s huge impact in this.

I’d like to start by thanking every one of you for coming today. Here at the Zoo, we encourage all people, especially children, to come and see the message we are trying to spread. Normally, we’d have a tour around the Zoo and a meal at the end. Today, though, we have a special surprise for you all, Matías said, standing and addressing my class. As tradition stands, when teachers start teaching the lesson of Eugenics, all children are sent to witness the atrocity that used to be The Originals. For many of you, this is not your first time at the Zoo, but it is the first time you will understand its necessity. We are doing these animals a favor by saving them from extinction. Even wild beasts deserve sanctuary from the dangers of the world. He pauses. Now as I mentioned, the surprise. Follow me.

My father leads us toward the Caucasian Sector. Many of my classmates jump and skip with delight as we make our way forward. We walk straight until we come to a simple building with no labels. My father holds the door open as we all crowd in. After going through a few additional security measures, we stand before a brightly illuminated glass hallway. My eyes squint shut, adjusting to the brightness.

The surprise today is the transition from the nursery to the outside. The permanent removal of the cubs from the inside to outside begins at age five. This is the age that our scientists have deemed appropriate to release them into the enclosures with their kind. Feel free to capture as many moments as you wish. Enjoy, my father says beaming with joy.

As if on cue, one by one, cubs are led through the glass hallway in front of us to another door. With intrigue, I watch as a woman with sleek black hair and a mole on her left cheek holds the hand of, what looks like, the runt. She smiles at us as she goes, but the creature—err, boy—looks nervous. We continue to watch cub children walk down the hall until my stomach starts to growl from hunger. A few smile and wave but most keep their eyes downcast with tears staining their cheeks. When it seems like the last child has passed, everyone cheers. I look around and see bright eyes and flushed cheeks from lingering adrenaline.

Don’t you think they look just like us? I say confused to Deice.

He looks at me from the corner of his eye and nods in nervous agreement.

Oh, hold on, everyone. There’s one more cub. It’s a fighter, my father says excitedly, regaining everyone’s attention in the room. We had to call in the Guardians. Military personnel responsible for the safe transfer of all animals.

Two men come out carrying one more child. She’s screaming, biting, and kicking at the space around her. People ooh and ah at her wild behavior, soaking it up, reveling in her fear. I can’t see the girl’s face as her hair whips from side to side. Then she comes to an abrupt stop. Her thin and tiny arms reach out to the glass. Her mouth moves void of sound.

She looks around with saucer-wide eyes that drip with tears. They long for comfort and compassion. Yet her face hardens. She knows there is no one to help her and her gaze turns to me, light brown eyes wide and wild. I feel the power of her stare.

For reasons unknown to me, my feet step closer to the glass and I press my face up to the transparent wall between us. I raise my right hand onto it as to give her an air high five. She copies my movement. My lips twitch into a smile. I never lose contact with her—not even for a second, until she disappears through the final door. Then, she’s gone, and I am lost.

CHAPTER THREE

PRIYA

Present Day

The sun warms my skin. Goosebumps crawl up and down my legs, and my hands cushion my head with the grass beneath me. The sound of Benjy’s fingers scratching dirt reaches my ears.

What’cha drawing? I ask, sweetly tilting my head his way. When he looks back at me, he raises one eyebrow and gives me a crooked smirk. His brown eyes are bright and alive.

Oh, you know . . . drawing this and that, and making sure to add them in. The picture would be incomplete without prying eyes, he says, gesturing to the people above us.

My gaze follows his finger up to the crowd above us; their greedy hands reaching over the onyx fence, the structure separating them from a fifteen-foot drop down to our home.

In polite society, it’s rude to leave anyone out, I spit as shocks of annoyance surge through me.

The people above us continue to look down, giggling and snickering. Huffing, I stand up and place my hands on my hips hoping they reach over the barrier a little farther, enough to accidentally fall into our home.

Pen is more accurate of a word. This place is simple. There’s an inside with three separate rooms; an outside which is all dirt minus some patchy grass, and a tunnel that connects the two. There are a few trees, the biggest one is in the valley, and the lowest part of the enclosure. We also have what the caretakers call luxury, water troughs—strategically placed by the door of life. The threshold where caretakers come and go with food. From above, I’m sure it appears vast. But down here, it feels like we live in a bowl, especially with that stupid black fence that looms overhead, skirting the perimeter

Sighing, I look up at the big blue sky. It’s open and free, and for a moment I feel as if I am too. But then I see the jagged rock walls around me caving in, and I remember that I am trapped, caged in this place. One day though, I’ll get out. I’ll fly away like a bird with no one to hold me back.

A small child smiling at me catches my attention. His rosy cheeks noticeable even from down here. It’s difficult not to laugh as his little hand reaches up. I think he’s going to wave at me and for a moment, I regret my harshness toward these people. That is until something falls over the fence. The grayish object drops fast and lands in front of me.

Grabbing it, I turn the jagged object in my hand.

Ben, that little bastard just threw a rock at me. He’s like three! I say.

Only three and he aims well already? Damn, impressive, Ben retorts.

There’s no time to respond to Ben as a rainfall of rocks start to pelt me from above. Crouching down, I cover my head, knowing running will only make it worse. My body feels as if it’s beginning to bruise under the barrage of rocks as they continue to pelt me. Suddenly there’s a loud snapping noise as a massive rock hits my left wrist and adds a sharper pain up my arm.

Shit, I seethe, tucking my arm under my stomach.

I stand up among the now still stones and hear the chipper tones of laughter. My blood boils, and I start throwing the rocks back, my lousy arm folded over my stomach. The viewers above squeal giddily and scatter in amusement. Not a single stone makes it up over the fence.

What’s wrong with you! I yell, throwing my arms up in frustration. A hand latches onto my shoulder and jars me.

Priya stop. You know there’s nothing we can do except try to be better than them, Benjy says.

I know, I know. But shouldn’t you ask me if I’m okay first before giving me a moral lesson?

He crosses his arms and rubs his chin.

My eyes roll as I lean my back against his chest while chuckling. The throbbing in my wrist distracts my attention. It’s already starting to swell.

What do you think is bigger, your ego or my wrist? I asked holding it up for comparison.

Tough call. But, I’m gonna go with your wrist.

Of course. What would I do without a friend like you, Ben? My eyelashes bat at him.

You would probably keep throwing rocks at people. I mean, if I had to guess. That’s just speculation though.

Shut up! I say, swatting him on the chest. Let’s get out of here. I start walking, then stop as two men dressed in black attire charge toward me.

Priya, I know what you’re thinking. As your best friend, wait as your only friend—

Thanks for rubbing that in, Ben, I say.

"As I was saying, as your only friend, I highly recommend not doing what you’re about to do. Besides, it’s not like you can go anywhere without it ending badly. Let it be easy this time."

My head shakes. It fills me with joy to make them work. If they are going to keep me trapped in this cage, I might as well have fun with it. Who doesn’t like to have fun, Benjy? He doesn’t respond. That’s what I thought.

They approach me as they always do, with an air of authority and boredom. The Guardian’s guns are aligned menacingly in their belts and the sun shines off their black visors. I stand still, waiting for them to get closer. When they are about three feet away, I lean forward on my feet—an athlete preparing for her run, the shot gun goes off with their faces now closer to mine. I sprint through the space between them, running to the farthest corner of the enclosure. The fresh wind whips my hair behind me and my eyes sting with tears. Their pathetic feet pound into the ground as they chase me.

As I approach the end of the enclosure, I turn around and run back the other way. The people above cheer and laugh as I head directly for the Guardians. When I’m a few inches away, I slide through the gap between them again, stand back up, and continue to run.

Looking back to see their smug faces, my body slams into something hard. I look up and see the third Guardian. I sigh, never look back, Priya. He grabs my hair and tosses me to the ground; I realize he must have come outside while I toyed with the other two. The Guardian picks me up and forces me to my knees. No sound escapes my lips as I wince from the pain. He pulls harder— I think the strands are going to come out. Still, I remain silent. The other Guardians catch up and I see their annoyance with me in straight, grim lines on their faces. They take turns smacking me across the face. Blood fills my mouth and I spit the dark crimson at them as they carry me inside. I can’t help but smile.

See you in a bit, Ben! I shout as blood spills out my mouth while they drag me away.

❦

Chills cover my skin as I lay restrained to a table. My gray dress slides up to my thigh from me struggling against the translucent restraints that are holding me down. The door on my left-hand side opens to escort Dr. Jenkins to where I am. His skin, an earthly brown, and the brightness of his gray-blue eyes compliments the smile seated beneath his sharp cheekbones on his chiseled face. He always has this look of knowing something those around him don’t. But he’s been my physician since I was five, and his presence brings a peace and security my body can rest in.

Welcome back, Priya, he says smiling.

He comes over to pull my dress down for me before scanning the code on my leg, 3-5-6-8-5-3. My mind traces back to the pain the tattoos brought as each number marked my calf. I feel the strapping down of my body to that table, the needle hitting my skin with high-pitched squeals. I remember the person who wrapped bandages over it and reminded me of words any two-year-old would understand: you’ll never escape now, Priya. Never. Then, my mind returns to the present. Dr. Jenkins releases the restraints.

It’s good to see you again, Doc, I beam at him and reach my arms up around his neck to hug him. He gently hugs me back and kisses the hair on top of my head.

Priya, every visit with you is a pleasure, but I swear you get in more trouble than any other person in here. What are you in here for today? Dr. Jenkins asks, bringing me back to focus.

Please, if it weren’t for me, you’d be bored!

Debatable, he says.

My eyes dart down as I rub my arm with guilt. My voice comes out small. There was another rock shower. I did what you told me this time, and I stayed still. The viewers became bored quickly and stopped.

The lines by his mouth droop and his eyes shift to the ceiling as if he’s looking for some retribution. I’m sorry, Priya, he says looking back down to me while squeezing my hand.

Don’t apologize, Doc. They ought to know better but choose not to change.

Well, we can’t all be like you, now can we? He winks.

What a shame, right?

Well, at least your sense of humor is still intact.

Always.

Now, lean back for me so I can examine you. Dr. Jenkins checks my ears, eyes, and throat, then my blood pressure and temperature. Finally, he reaches my wrist that has bruised and swelled significantly since the shower.

Does this hurt? He squeezes the purple flesh.

Shit! Yes! Don’t do that!

He laughs. I’m sorry! It wasn’t intentional. I think you may have a stress fracture. Being the brilliant doctor I am, normally I would have fancy machines and pain meds to do all my work for me. However, they don’t share those types of resources for . . . 

For us animals, I finish his sentence. You can say it. I understand.

For your people. All I can do is wrap it for now. He grabs white gauze out of a metal drawer and gently covers my wrist. His deft fingers are gentle and quick.

We sit in silence as he finishes. No sarcastic comments from me and no guilty apologies from him.

Thank you, I whisper when the exam is over. Dr. Jenkins, do you mind if I ask you a question?

Sure, anything you’d like.

Why do they have doctors for us? Wouldn’t it be easier just to let us die? He rolls back in his chair to look at me better and I study his kind face.

There are things that genetics can’t change, Priya. No matter how many times we alter someone, certain human aspects will always remain. There’s also a standard that must be maintained here—as horrible as it may be—to keep the visitors happy and complacent. When people visit here, they’re entertained and reminded what happens when they’re less than anything but genetically pure. I’m here to maintain the entertainment part. You’re here for the visual reminder. Together, we form a perfect union. So, I guess you can call their decision to help you a human error. A human error I thank every day I was chosen to deal with rather than someone else. Dr. Jenkins’s eyes dart back and forth before he leans in; we are so close that his breath tickles my nose. Quietly, he says, Sometimes, though, I can’t tell who the real animals are.

CHAPTER FOUR

JAX

The sound of pounding rain against the glass distracts me from the news bulletin. The tiny droplets trickle down the window as if clinging by the last bits of their strength. My feet are up on my polished white desk with my hands behind my head. A stranger would think I’m relaxed; I’m not.

Today marks my first full year at The Globe, the leading journalistic organization for the world. Since I started writing columns and articles a year ago, my reputation, as well as The Globe’s, has grown drastically. My inclination to stir ideas and test the limits is what landed me this job; now, my reputation is being tested. Year one reviews are the most important here. Without a solid first annual review, future promotions are ten times harder to receive. The intercom on my desk lights up a vivid blue to signal a call. My thumb jams a black button before I press the glowing blue to stop the incoming hologram, forcing a voice conversation instead.

Jax speaking, my voice quivers. So much for keeping calm, Jax.

Oh, so you are alive. It’s a statement without question. Interesting, considering three days have passed, and you have yet to send any details to me on this assignment, a sharp voice gripes.

I . . . uh . . .  Fuck. Syl, look I’m sorry.

Don’t use nicknames on me, Jax, I can hear an audible sigh and imagine the harsh rubbing of fingers on her forehead. I know a lot is riding on this annual review and you’re more than capable of succeeding, but please don’t make me regret this opportunity I’m giving you. A lot is riding on this, on you and me, I pinch the bridge of my nose.

"Sylvia, I promise you won’t regret this, but giving me only three days to come up with a world-changing story right before my annual review? It’s not like I have a list of absurd ideas waiting to use when The Globe needs a fresh idea. Give me an extension―another week or so—and I’ll have something by then. Please? I’ll buy you coffee every day next week."

Silence. I know full well I don’t have the standing to ask such a thing, especially given my lack of seniority, but I refuse to let pressure ruin the prospects of something great.

One day is the best I can give you and make it TWO weeks of coffee. I’ll talk to the board and convince them you are finalizing the project so that you can present it on Friday. I can’t give you any more time than that. I’m sorry, Jax. My boss, Sylvia, is a force not to be reckoned with. Her figure is slim and petite, but her bold eyes and stern look could make anyone wither.

Thank you, I say finally, ending the conversation. Clicking off the screen, I slump back in my chair.

A knock on my door interrupts my thoughts. Come in, I say and in strides my best friend, Deice. At six-four, he stands about one inch taller than me. He has bright blue eyes and dark brown skin, and on top of being brilliant, he’s charismatic and charming; he also happens to work with me, a couple of floors up.

I stand and hug him, slapping his back. Perfect timing. Sasha was just in here looking for you. Something about rescheduling a date?

Deice stops and crouches down as he looks all around him. You’re joking.

Nope.

Jax, Deice says sternly.

Yeah, I’m lying. Sasha’s not here. You should have seen your face though. Worth it to make you think your ex was looking for you. Not sure that joke will ever get old.

Very funny. Remind me why you didn’t pursue a career in comedy again?

My jokes were too funny.

Ah, yes. Jax Cooper, a man too funny for the common person.

I am a man of the people.

Tell me, can one be matched with their ego during the matching ceremony? I sure hope the computer program leaves that as an option for you.

My eyes roll. When a person turns twenty-five a computer program chooses the future mate based on a myriad of traits, mainly genetics. It’s flawless to most, except for Deice and I. We’d prefer for a program not to tell us our lifelong partner.

We still have three more years to wait and see. I’ll get back to you on what it decides then.

Can’t wait!

Oh, I’m sure, I say laughing.

So, you want to head to Oculus? Deice asks, changing the subject. I need a break.

Almost every day after