I have strange and extravagant dreams.
I let myself imagine the kinds of things that other people feel.
I wrap myself in the somewhat-safety of being someone else. It’s an old game I used to play.
I can see them looking at me, wondering. “Is Project Athena going off the rails like the McKabes and the Quin-Jongs?”
It almost hurts, to think that they doubt me so. I have been nothing but loyal.
I am loyal.
I was made in the Labs of Olympus, spliced from the Zeus gene-mod. I was the pride and joy, one of the Original Twelve phenotypes.
From our DNA is the rest of the Olympus Catalogue made. They might use my eyes and put them on a different face. Everything is mixed and matched and guaranteed to be a viable offspring, even when paired with lower quality DNA.
One Athena in every generation is Chosen, just as there is one Ares, one Hera, one Apollo, etc, etc. We live in the Lab so our gene-children can live free with their parents.
We have perfect genes, expressing all required characteristics of our class.
I remember when I was separated from the rest of my age group. I cried.
That was the first time I realized I was different. In front of an assembly full of people.
I remember that I was put in a group with other Athena-candidates. We wore tunic dresses and had classes together.
One by one, our class was whittled down to me and another girl. I remember that she had my face. My voice. It was like fighting myself.
And then there was just me. And I was standing in front of the Dagger Throne. And there were cameras everywhere and the whole world was watching my Ascension.
I never imagined what it would be like to win the Goddess Trials.
It wasn’t like I’d put my name in the running.
I’d been Chosen as a kid. From that point my life was no longer my own.
Yet here I am.
This is my life. One where there is very little privacy and no real freedom.
I am dressed and paraded around in front of the masses. I am the face of the brand.
I am kept in optimum health and there are constantly body servants fluttering around. There’s someone there even when I’m “alone”.
It’s strange to be lonely when you’re never allowed to be alone.
