[ WP ] In the far future , people are genetically engineered to be `` perfect . '' Occasionally this produces defects , but instead of being cast out of society or destroyed , the `` defects '' are sold for millions of dollars to collectors .

The most unnerving part of Aurora's day was catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She had long ago grown accustomed to seeing the identical faces of women and men that lived today. 
 
 It all started many years ago with customer dissatisfaction. People would all wander into a supermarket with their different faces, different hands and different shades of skin and they'd spend their precious minutes looking for a perfect banana or a perfect tomato. Scientists threw hours into making these minutes less stressful by creating tomatoes that were identically beautiful. Then they did the same for bananas. Soon people wanted their faces to have the same treatment as well as their children's. It was n't long until the gentle erosion of time had etched the old faces away entirely. Everyone looked the same and that was going to be the end of it. 
 
 Every few years, an unfortunate day arrived and the process would n't go perfectly with, say, a child born with a single large, unusual freckle under their right eye or, god forbid, eyes green like a long extinct species of sour apple. With Aurora, one of the most extraordinary differences had occurred. When she emerged into the world, she had the traditional blue eyes, the blonde hair, but her skin was a deep brown, like the forgotten soil. Her parents, with their identical peachy faces looked to one another like a confused person in a mirror. They had signed the form much like every other parent, knowing but not considering the risk that old, strong genes could manipulate the process and leave them with a truly unique baby. Parenting a unique baby used to be a difficult road but with the Museum open and a rising interest in these `` deformities,'' a couple could stand to make a great sum of money from the simple sale of their child. This was preferred to raising the accident themselves and many simply funneled the funds back into another attempt at the process, hoping blindly that the genes would n't warp the identical face they desired once again. 
 
 Aurora spent her childhood by herself in a tiny playpen in a large hall of the museum. She never saw children like herself because every living soul who passed through the room looked exactly the same. Children parroted their parents' excitement. `` Have you ever seen skin like that in real life?'' they'd exclaim. `` The poor thing, all alone,'' a pair of women would lament. From Aurora's side, it was impossible to tell who was mother and child, sister and sister, sometimes even brother and mother looked frightfully similar if dressed the same. Even more impossible to imagine was the concept of family itself. The only ones closest to her were the ones who fed her and even she had trouble telling if they were the same person or not with each passing day. 
 
 As she grew older, she began to take stock of her room. She examined the bed as they studied her. She grew frustrated at receiving the same meal every morning, noon and night with the same identical fruit from the uniform markets that had grown very popular. 
 She knew very little of the surrounding rooms but knew the doors to them well; heavy as they were, people hungrily threw them open every other minute or so. 
 She could n't speak because no one had ever taught her, but she knew that she was the brown girl. That's what people called her and the words hung proudly above her pen. Her body grew more unique every day. Her curls were difficult for people to wrap their confined minds around. She had freckles that littered her face, each like a hidden star on a foggy night. She elongated, her neck longer and more beautiful than anyone in her crowd of clones. Her curves expanded from her over the years with seismic energy, new mountains and valleys unlike any seen in years. 
 
 In all this time, no one had taken a genuine interest in her. Not more than a few half-hearted glances or the occasional long stare like one might experience at a zoo. The young boy who first called her Aurora looked like all the others. Apart from his museum uniform, it'd be hard to spot him in the crowd if not for the way his eyes never let go of her. Their strong grip. 
 
 When she slept, she usually slept alone behind locked doors, smothered in air conditioning. Waking to the sound of shuffling feet, she hears murmurs about the brown girl and starts her day. The day he called her Aurora, she had stirred early. Even though she'd spent her whole life being watched, this felt different. It was like he had taken his eyes and touched her skin with them. In stolen moments, they would begin the day. For the first time in her life, she was able to learn about the inside of a person. And Jon's insides were the same color as hers as far as anyone knew, but who knew what color his soul was. 
 
 When she finally spoke her first words, they were questions and Jon told her what she wanted to know. He explained the girl with no eyes in the room to her left, the incredibly small boy with black hair in the room to the right. He avoided the subject of what laid outside the walls of the Museum and practically ran from the room to escape the conversation about the sum of money that she was worth, the price of admission, and what it would take to buy her freedom. He would put his finger to her mouth and tell her not to let anyone know that she could speak. Maybe he feared losing her or maybe he feared losing the easy money the Museum offered. 
 
 Once the pair had gotten close, it became difficult... exploring new emotional terrain when forced to stay on separate sides of the room. They shared those traditional blue eyes, but her soil skin kept her behind a fence and rotten fruit had begun to take seed beneath those pores. She resented that she could close her eyes and love his insides but, upon looking at him directly, could only see the waves of identical faces that jeered at her for years. In the mornings, she would n't want to wake early to see him anymore and separately they would cry identical tears. He was a child and so was she. She told him that she knew he had to marry another girl who looked like him and have babies who looked like him. He told her that he loved her and she knew he only loved the skin. Her life had n't given her the opportunity to explore the same rooms that welcomed his face. 
 
 So when he left the job and her behind, it was a surprise that she wished to keep the name. One day, after white face and white face washed over her, she would say her name aloud to her audience. Confused spectators would read the plaque in front of her pen, wondering how she learned to speak. Children pointed their sharp fingers and remarked loudly that they did n't want a speaking exhibit. The employees brought Aurora new fruit to shut her up, but this made her speak louder. 
 
 Eventually patrons no longer wished to see the Brown Girl and having earned them a sizable amount of revenue, the Museum happily opened her pen and said `` Good Luck.'' Pulling the door open, she tiptoed past the blind girl who would never read the banner above her tiny cell. Another heavy door led to a room where a tired creature with two blonde haired heads rested clumsily. Siamese was printed in beautiful calligraphy across the wall. Room after room of people behind tiny little fences. Finally she reached the entrance and made her way outside where the world looked like it was covered in fresh snow. Everyone looked at her like she was gon na melt their world with her heat and she worried deeply that she'd never know another person's insides again for even she was frightened by her own face.
