There were two paths for natural selection.
Either you were born winning the genetic lottery or you were smarter.
I was born crippled and bound to a wheelchair from the moment I was born. So you can guess which one I was.
I was sitting at my desk at work late at night. The rest of the office was empty, people taking the opportunity to spend Christmas with their families and friends, but I used the chance to get ahead on my work.
As I looked over finance graphs a quiet voice sounded behind me.
"Are you still working, Arthur?"
I turned my head to see a young woman with light brown hair. She had a helpless smile on her face.
"Deadlines don't care about holidays so why should I?"
"Because you're a human being and not a machine. Holidays are a good time to spend with your family."
My hands stopped moving on the keyboard. The mood went through a palpable shift.
"My family hates me."
After a short silence I decided to end the conversation before it wasted any more time.
"Happy holidays, Angela. You should leave before the trains shut down for the night."
She looked like she wanted to say something but ultimately decided against it. She turned and summoned the elevator. When the doors opened and she stepped in I heard her voice before they closed.
"Merry Christmas Arthur."
Once the office was drowned in silence again there was a period of silence as I was lost in my thoughts.
I thought of my family. My mother and my father who lived thousands of miles away. The last time I saw them.
"It has been almost four years since I last spoke to them. Alan's funeral..."
People often say that someone was the 'glue' to a group but that was an understatement for my brother Alan. He was a miracle worker for being able to make my our family get along so well. My father was stubborn and my mother was often too emotional. I would get into arguments with my father frequently because he always wanted me to be more like Alan but I wanted to be my own person.
Alan would always mediate. Going to do great things on his own to make my father proud while also comforting me that I was deserving of being recognized as an individual.
I loved him for that. Even though he was the exact opposite of me while being wildly more successful he still made me feel like I had things worth being jealous of.
Alan was a professional athlete and an incredible businessman. He had a heart of gold and spent a lot of time raising awareness for good causes.
He was the exact opposite of me.
But like all good people.
He died too young.
To make things worse it was my fault.
We were celebrating me graduating from high school when a flash flood struck our town. Alan and I took refuge on a high ridge. We thought we had taken a safe position but when the ridge collapsed in a landslide that turned out to be a mistake.
Instead of leaving me Alan swam with me on his back until he got to a nearby rooftop and safely put me on it. Before he could climb up a rush of water swept him away.
That was the last time I saw my brother alive. The next time I saw him was at the coroner's. That was when the rift between my parents and I became so large we could never come back from it.
My parents blamed me for Alan's death. Saying that it should have been me who died.
After that I moved as far away from them as I could.
The sound of keys clacking resumed in the quiet office. I didn't want to think about my family anymore. I just buried myself in my work. The one thing I was good at.
As I was sending the finalized report I felt my hands tingle. At first I thought it was nothing. So I continued typing the recipients in the email and as I hit send the tingling went away.
I went to steer my wheelchair to the elevator but my hands refused to cooperate. Panic began to set in as I felt, or rather didn't feel, a familiar sense of unresponsiveness from my limbs.
I looked down and found that my arms refused to listen to me.
I felt my chest tighten and a single thought filled my head.
'I'm dying... After all this I am going to die from a fucking heart attack. I almost want to laugh.'
I would laugh if it wasn't for the vice grip in my chest.
There was only a couple seconds of struggle before my vision went black.
****
"Sir... This worthless old man is sorry... I couldn't serve you well enough... I hope.. that you this body... can at least serve you in death..."
[System activated.]