--next to godliness, isn't that what they say?
only every time i'm in here.
i'll tell you at the end of the week.
the most unremarkable of events. jerome morrow, navigator first class, is only days away from a one-year manned mission to 951 gaspra in the outer asteroid belt. nothing so unique in that. last year over one thousand citizens from every walk of life embarked on some space mission or other. besides, selection for jerome was virtually guaranteed at birth. he is blessed with all the physical and intellectual gifts required for such an arduous undertaking, a genetic quotient second to none.
no, there is truly nothing remarkable about the progress of jerome morrow, except that i am not jerome morrow.
i was conceived in the riviera. not the french riviera.
the detroit variety.
they used to say that a child conceived in love, has a greater chance of happiness. they don't say that any more.
those were early days--days when a priest could still persuade someone to put their faith in god's hands rather than those of the local geneticist.
of course, there was nothing wrong with me. not so long ago i would have been considered a perfectly healthy, normal baby. ten fingers, ten toes. that was all that used to matter. but now my immediate well-being was not the sole concern.
my destiny was mapped out before me-- all my flaws, predispositions and susceptibilities - most untreatable to this day. only minutes old, the date and cause of my death was already known.
i was born vincent antonio luca. and from an early age i came to think of myself as others thought of me - chronically ill. every skinned knee and runny nose treated as if it were life-threatening.
and my parents soon realized that wherever i went, my genetic prophecy preceded me.
they put off having any more children until they could afford not to gamble - to bring a child into the world in what has become the "natural" way.
it meant selling the beloved buick.
that's how my brother, anton, came into the world - a son my father considered worthy of his name.
by the time we were playing at blood brothers i understood that there was something very different flowing through my veins.
and i'd need an awful lot more than a drop if i was going to get anywhere.
our favorite game was "chicken". when our parents weren't watching, we used to swim outside the flags, as far out as we dared. it was about who would get scared and turn back first.
of course, it was always me. anton was by far the stronger swimmer and he had no excuse to fail.
my genetic scarlet letter continued to follow me from school to school. when you're told you're prone to learning disabilities, it's sometimes easier not to disappoint anybody.
i was popular enough until it got around that i wasn't a long-term proposition.
those who didn't know already could easily find out for themselves. it was certainly no problem coaxing the information out of me.
i didn't blame them. you need to know if a prospective husband can qualify for a mortgage or life insurance or can hold down a decent job.
my father was right. it didn't matter how much i lied on my resum, my real c.v. was in my cells. why should anybody invest all that money to train me, when there are a thousand other applicants with a far cleaner profile? of course, it's illegal to discriminate - "genoism" it's called - but no one takes the laws seriously.
if you refuse to disclose, they can always take a sample from a doorhandle.
or a handshake.
even the saliva off your application form.
but for the most part we know who we are. and if all else fails, a legal drug test can just as easily become an illegal peek at your future in the company.
i didn't blame anton for his free ride. you can't blame someone for winning the lottery.
it was the last time we swam together. out into the open sea, like always, knowing each stroke towards the horizon was one we had to make back to the shore. like always, the unspoken contest.
it confirmed everything in the minds of my parents - that they had taken the right course with my younger brother and the wrong course with me. it would have been so much easier for everyone if i had slipped away that day. i decided to grant them that wish.
like many others in my situation, i moved around a lot in the next few years, getting work where i could. i must have cleaned half the toilets in the state.
he fell. lucky it was only the second floor.
of course the best test score in the world wasn't going to get me in the front door unless i had the blood test to go with it.
for the genetically superior, success is easier to attain but is by no means guaranteed. after all, there is no gene for fate. and when, for one reason or another, a member of the elite falls on hard times, their genetic identity becomes a valued commodity for the unscrupulous. one man's loss is another man's gain.
i confess, at first i wondered if i had rescued a man who was already dead.
i have to know where you come from.
what about this?
you had to be a right-hander.
myopia is a dead giveaway - one of the earliest and most justifiable of the quality-of-life corrections. anybody with impaired vision is certain to be suffering from all the other deficiencies of a "nonadvantaged" birth.
more than that. you'll get used to it.
leave? just a few million years ago every atom in this hair--in our bodies--was a part of a star. i don't see it as leaving. i see it as going home.
it's not too late to back out.
what about you? what's in this for you, eugene?
what about the interview?
the majority of people are now made-to-order. what began as a means to rid society of inheritable diseases has become a way to design your offspring--the line between health and enhancement blurred forever. eyes can always be brighter, a voice purer, a mind sharper, a body stronger, a life longer. everyone seeks to give their child the best chance but the most skilled geneticists are only accessible to the priveleged few.
anyone who is the product of an altered dna is proudly referred to as a "dan", "self-made man or woman", "man-child".
those parents who, for moral or, more likely economic reasons, refrain from tampering with their offspring's genetic makeup or who fail to abort a deprived fetus condemn their children to a life of routine discrimination.
officially they are called "in-valids"*. also known as "godchildren", "men-of-god", "faith births", "blackjack births", "deficients", "defectives", "genojunk", "ge-gnomes", "the fucked-up people".
they are the "healthy ill". they don't actually have anything yet - they may never. but since few of the pre-conditions can be cured or reversed, it is easier to treat them as if they were already sick.
by means of a donor i have cheated the system for the last four years to open doors that would otherwise be closed to me.
in the guise of jerome morror i have risen quickly through the ranks of gattaca. only one of the mission directors has ever come close to discovering my true identity.
strange to think, he may have more success exposing me in death than he did in life.
we're still going ahead as planned?
no bother.
last night? i was at home.
no it can't be verified. yes i was alone.
looks bad, doesn't it, irene? what about you? where were you last night?
were you alone?
so we don't know for sure about you, either.
why don't we say we were together?
i have better things to do this week than answer the foolish questions of some flatfoot. don't you?
well, shall we say we spent the evening together?
the mission director.
they found him in his office this morning-- beaten so bad they had to check his nametag.
he was still warm when they confirmed.
the place is crawling with hoovers.
that's not the point.
you're going to have to earn your supper. i've got my final physical tomorrow.
not as much as i'll miss your stroganoff. i'd like to take one of your chefs with me.
let's get out of here.
you drive.
keep going!! keep going!!
and drinking it. it's like evian by the time it's filtered.
11.15 to the port. a maintenance crew.
a day or so.
you should be going instead of me.
up there they wouldn't be a problem.
it's okay, eugene.
--what car?--go to sleep.
it's all right.
you must be drunk to call me vincent.
director, napoleon's helping me today.
don't worry about it.
we were looking at each other. you stopped.
we were just looking.
sorry, the wind caught it.
have they found our friend?
it was a mercy-killing after all.
where?
does it have a name?
perhaps we ought to celebrate, irene.
call german.
we can't stay here.
they think i offed the director.
they found my eyelash.
in a corridor.
come on--we're taking off.
--you don't understand, they'll make the connection, they'll hoover again. we should cut our losses.
they'll recognize me.
i'm sorry. i think i was crying.
you really had other offers?
mind if i borrow a tie?
you're the one who said not to change anything. she's my ear to the investigation.
i've got enough on my mind without that.
good choice.
not thirsty? we've got enough virgin samples to last us the week.
never stopped you before. and for god's sake stop plucking your hair. someone went to a lot of trouble to make sure you wouldn't go bald.
yes. yes.
why would i be angry? it was beautiful.
better not. don't want to give you a contaminated specimen. if you get my meaning.
thanks. you never know where those swabs have been.
come on. we'll miss it.
you'll be next.
what exactly is wrong?
of course.
complicated. i couldn't stop her apologizing.
you know how it is with these altered births --somebody told her she's not going to live forever and she's been preparing to die ever since.
of course not. but she's have to know eventually.
i wouldn't get your hopes up, commander.
it's not yor fault, director. if your predecessor were still around we may not be going to gaspra at all. that's what i would call inconvenient.
what's with the plungers, lamar? what are you doing, opening a blood bank?
damn!!
you must be out of practise, lamar.
need any more, you can always get it off his shoes.
i guess somebody beat me to it.
i'm sorry. i've got plans.
she's already got her doubts. i have to act like nothing's wrong.
michael's.
everybody goes there.
will you be okay?
we'll still be able to talk when i'm away. the conversation will just keep getting longer.
by the time i'm at the belt, you phone and say, "how are you?" forty-five minutes later i reply, "not bad. how are you?"
you've never been here? let me order for you.
so sure of what you can't do. do you even know what it tastes like, irene?
those checks take forever.
let's walk.
it's not safe. i shouldn't have brought you here.
come on.
we'll get it later. irene, please.
you just did.
you remember the '99 chrysler lebaron? it's the exact height of the front fender. looked right instead of left.
but "if it came to it" then it couldn't have your-- --nose. how perfect does your child have to be?
that's precisely what scaresme--that they won't do anything foolish or courageous or anything--worth a goddamn.
i forgot something--something at home. i'll see you later.
we could go together one day.
how would you like to be yourself for the day?
how are you, jerome?
how the hell did you get here.
irene.
not yet, i'm afraid.
i guess i'm a slow learner.
i'll see what i can do.
by the way, i left some trash in your locker.
from vincent.
maybe it's you who's forgotten. what are you doing here, anton?
you almost sound like you believe that.
there are a few million miles to go yet.
is that the only way you can succeed, anton, to see me fail?
god, even you want to tell me what i can't do. in case you hadn't noticed, anton, i don't need rescuing. but you did, once.
well? you have all the answers. how is that possible?
who are you trying to convince?
now is your chance to find out.
too late for that. we're closer to the other side.
you wanted to know how i did it. that's how i did it, anton. i never saved anything for the swim back.
here, take it.
if you're still interested, let me know.
a year is a long time.
have you forgotten? i don't need any samples where i'm going.
why have you done this?
where are you going?
thank you.
what's this, lamar?
there's a problem, lamar.
just remember, lamar, i could have gone up and back and nobody would have been the wiser--
we came from the stars so they say, now it's time to go back. if i was conceived today, i would not get beyond eight cells, and yet here i am. in a way they were right, i don't have the heart for this world. the question is, why am i having so much trouble dying?