[ WP ] An abnormality in the brain is discovered that leads scientists to predict who will become a serial killer with 90 % accuracy . Everyone is checked on their 18th birthday .

`` Do you have any hobbies you had as a kid, that you still practice today?'' 
 
 Arg, no. I probably should, though. I took piano for six years but quit as soon as my parents let me. Have n't played since. 
 
 `` Any pets, Jacob?'' 
 
 No, I mean, not by my choice. My mom never let me have a dog. I guess there's always college; do dorms allow that? 
 
 
 
 *He remembered the contrast. The smell in his nose was deep and earthy, the slight bitter tones of fresh cut grass. The cool spring breeze on his neck. The bright green of a perfectly manicured lawn. All broken by the squirming, the pathetically mewling rabbit that Jake had torn open. The smell of flesh, unnatural warmth of some thing's innards spilling onto his hand, and the garish hue of red, staining that perfect lawn. That garbage, ruining his perfect afternoon* 
 
 
 
 `` Any sports? Neighborhood pick up games?'' 
 
 It's kinda old school, but we played stickball a lot as kids. Like we did n't have a huge field, too many trees around where I grew up. So we kept the field small by using a stick. 
 
 Who was your first'best friend'? 
 
 Actually it was a girl, Samantha Christianson. 
 
 
 
 *There had been a boy, three houses down, the cut off t-shirt boy. Wore old sport tees, sleeves always torn off by hand. Used to steal his brother's dip, sling a pouch in his mouth, and go off into the woods to harass the wildlife. A rock or a stick thrown and down would go a bird or a snake. Quick and messy and stupid. Breaking his hand was simple. After practicing on left over dinner bones, Jacob had grown adept at it. The hard part had been slipping the hood on the boy so he'd remain unseen. * 
 
 
 
 `` That's all for today Jacob. You'll parents will receive the results of this round, shortly.'' 
 
 Jacob sat in his room, grinding a knife into his arm. It had been weeks since he relieved this pressure. The procter had check his arms and chest and back. Such a damn nescience. His skin has been crawling. He could feel the bugs below. Endure. Endure. Endure. He had light inside him and would n't let some fucking bastard bring him down with a few questions. 
 
 The floor clicked with the split splat of his blood as his mother called from down the hall, he had passed. 
 
 10 % is such a big number.
