Creative Writing: Equality

Term Paper Title	Creative Writing: Equality
# of Words	1052
# of Pages (250 words per page double spaced)	4.21

Creative Writing: Equality

     Nausea.  To describe the whole situation in one word I would have to
choose nausea.  The Expo center was packed with societies elite,  eagerly
waiting the announcement of what the rumor mill had told them to be the most
important invention of the decade.  The air was cold and damp, like that of a
hospital.  Barley audible was the most annoying Michael Bolton song that I could
imagine.  As I got entranced by the dullness of the situation I noticed that the
lights were slowly getting dimmer.  As Michael Bolton's voice became silent, Dr.
Zimmerman spherical body came waddling out.
     Dr. Zimmerman was a very large, gluttonous man.  I had worked with him
many times, and I had lost more than one of my ideas to his fat hands.  He was
ruthless, unemotional, and conscienceless; the perfect scientist.  He
painstakingly climbed onto the two foot platform in front of the podium, making
a little grunt that accidentally found its way into the microphone.  "Hello?
Can you guys hear me in the back?"  He gurgled in his natural grotesque voice.
With the acknowledgment of the audience, he sipped the glass of ice water which
stood on the podium and cleared his throat.  "Ladies and Gentlemen,  I am here
to inform you of a discovery that my team of genetic scientist and I have
discovered."  The more he said the more I wanted to hear. I wanted to shout to
make him blurt it out, but it was impossible to speed him up, attention was the
reason why he became a scientist.  He didn't care about the effects of his
discoveries, as long as he packed the expo center the next weekend.   "The quest
toward perfection is finally over.  Your unborn children now have the
opportunity to be everything you ever wanted them to be!"  A large blue vein
slowly became visible through his cherry red forehead. "Birth defects are a
thing of the past."  Suddenly the severity of the situation slammed into me like
a subway train.   "There will be no such thing as an imperfect child!"  The
sound of flapping mucus in his throat was almost unbearable.   The applause
began, I knew it wouldn't stop for at least ten minutes because Dr. Zimmerman
wouldn't let it.  I ran to the bathroom to think about what had just happened.
     Dr. Zimmerman was referring to the G.A.M.  project, Genetic Alterations
for Mankind.  The team of four was lead by him.  The goal was to alter DNA of
freshly fertilized embryos, to control every one of their physical and mental
traits. We all worked with the idea that our progress would be put to prevent
defects and genetic diseases. As our hypothesizes became facts,  Dr. Zimmerman
started to act strange in the lab.  He began taking second copies of all of the
data, and putting it in a large manila folder which he placed under the Dunkin'
Donuts box that permanently stood on the corner of his desk.  A week before our
completion of the experiment, I decided to confront him.
     "Dr. Zimmerman,  can I talk to you in private for a moment?",  I asked
like a school boy asking his teacher for a bathroom pass.  When he agreed, I
briskly followed him into his office.  "Look Jason,"  it felt weird calling him
by his first name, "I have noticed that you have been acting kind ...

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