[ 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 .

“ Happy Birthday, darling, ” said Samuel ’ s mother as she kissed him on the forehead. 
 
 She always wore yellow on his birthday, but today she was dressed in baby blue. It wasn ’ t something Samuel had ever noticed before, but nowadays everything seemed more unusual. 
 
 The teenage boy sat at a round dining table, alongside his younger sister, two older brothers, mother and father. 
 
 He looked down at the bacon and eggs on his plate. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The silence was getting to him. His family was usually rushing around and unable to sit down for breakfast, but over the past few weeks they had grown quieter and more cautious over the past few weeks. 
 
 It was the elephant in the room, his 18th birthday. 
 
 Samuel was the problem child of his family, the black sheep. While his siblings would fall in a line at the slightest command, Sam was always the last one to follow orders. Not out of rebelliousness, but out of general disinterest. His mother would watch him in the yard, staring at ants for hours over playing ball with his older brothers. It worried her. 
 
 While his older brothers had moved onto University and gotten their job placements, he would spend his days out in the forest behind their little home, taking long walks. Sam hadn ’ t even begun to study for the Juvenile Opportunity Bureau ’ s placement test. 
 
 If Samuel passed his initial exam, he would be taking an aptitude test to place him in the best possible position for his future. You weren ’ t constrained by the job placement, but it turned out that most people who passed the initial exam enjoyed their placements. 
 
 Sam hadn ’ t really focused on the initial exam yet. No one talked about it, they just said that it wasn ’ t something to worry about, and so he didn ’ t. But his family ’ s faces were telling him otherwise. 
 
 His mother ’ s brow was furrowed and she looked like she ’ d been missing out on sleep. His father looked tense, as if he would jump up from the table at any second. His older brother Robert, the first-born at 23 years old, looked at him nervously, avoiding eye contact. Troy, the second oldest at 20, tried to smile and seem positive, but his eyes held a fresh fear that Samuel couldn ’ t bring himself to ask about. And his little sister, Mary, she looked downright scared. Mary ’ s eyes had a constant tear in them, it seemed. 
 
 Samuel picked at his food for another minute before his father pushed back his chair and stood up solemnly. “ It ’ s time, ” he said, looking to Samuel and then his mother, with worried eyes. 
 
 Everyone said that 90 % was good… Not great, but good. That meant 1 in every 10 of the people he ’ d be seeing today were going to die. Not because they were insane or even dangerous… They were just different, according to the government. They were “ unfit for living ”. 
 
 Samuel grabbed his coat as his mother fussed over his brown hair, trying to pat it down, force it into submission. As Samuel walked out the door he overheard his father, comforting his mother. “ Maggie, he ’ ll be fine. He ’ s not one of them. He can ’ t be, ” his father insisted as his family piled into the car. 
 
 They drove for what seemed like forever, before they approached a massive grey warehouse. Multiple cars were coming and going, dropping off their teenagers. Mothers were frantically crying and car horns were bleeting as people went through the drop-off area. 
 
 Even though Samuel ’ s birthday was technically last week, the government no longer recognized individual birthdates. If you were born between two weeks, you ’ d have one assigned birth date, for when the time came to call all the nation ’ s 18 year olds to the center. 
 
 This was his time, his week. 
 
 He could barely feel the bone-crushing hugs of his family as they cried and held onto him. He lifted his arms to surround them in return, but he felt numb to them. He couldn ’ t cry, this was the way it was supposed to be, right? 
 
 He half-smiled at them as they were ushered back into their car, and his family was forced to leave. 
 
 “ All subjects please move inside and register, ” a megaphone blasted over and over. 
 
 Samuel headed inside the grey monolith, and presented his ID. He was given one of those theme park wrist bands in the color blue and pushed towards a room with other boys his age. 
 
 “ Happy Birthday, ” one redheaded boy sneered as he walked by, giving Samuel a chill down his spine. His wristband was red. He looked around, had they already sorted them? Was he safe? 
 
 He felt his palms start to sweat as a man in a white lab coat led his group into what appeared to be an interrogation room. 
 
 Everyone took a seat, each taking side-glances at each other. 
 
 “ Now, I ’ m going to take attendance and afterwords we are going to talk a little. After that, you will be moved into individual testing rooms where we will determine if you have the Gene, ” said the man in the lab coat. 
 
 They all went around, sharing their names and where they came from. The man in the lab coat looked at each of them, occasionally looking into the mirrored walls behind them, as if he knew who was standing behind the glass. 
 
 Samuel shifted uneasily in his metal chair before they were guided down a long corridor. They all jumped at the sound of shrieks and blood curdling screams. Two young men began to shake and one attempted to run back down the hall. Security guards forced them further down the hall, as one boy cried for his mother. 
 
 Samuel wasn ’ t trying to keep a brave face, he was too petrified to cry or act tough. The screams began to lessen as they approached blue doors. The man in the lab coat began escorting people down the line into rooms. Samuel tried to get a look inside, but they were shut almost as soon as they were opened. 
 
 When it was Sam ’ s turn he squeezed his eyes shut, afraid of what was in the room. When he opened his eyes, he felt his heart quicken. There was nothing in the room but a sterile black chair and a projector on the blank white wall. No one was in the room, all there was for observation was a single camera facing him. 
 
 He approached the chair, and assumed he would have to sit down. Immediately the chair snapped restraints around his legs and wrists. Samuel began to panic, resisting the new metal cuffs around his limbs. He leaned forward, trying to get to his feet, but the chair only righted itself backwards and forced his head against the headrest, where another metal band locked around his forehead. 
 
 He screamed. “ Get me out of here! Help! ” he yelled, his eyes trying to look around, but his field of vision forced to look at the projector. 
 
 Without any warning images and videos began to play in front of him… 
 
 It was almost too fast for him to comprehend. Just images and clips of houses burning, nature, people being slaughtered, people laughing, children screaming, everything both happy and horrific. Samuel begged for it to stop. After what seemed like an eternity he vomited on himself, unable to stop the terror. 
 
 He looked into the lens of the camera in front of him, “ Please, stop it! Help, ” he pleaded hoarsely, his voice raspy from the acid in his throat. 
 
 Then it all stopped. Samuel felt his whole body relax, heaving breaths. His mind was on fire, it felt. He was blinded by a light that was switched on in the room, the projector dead. A different man in a lab coat handed him a new, freshly pressed white shirt. 
 
 Samuel barely had time to process the article of clothing before stripping off his soiled shirt and putting the new one on. He was led down the hall and down an elevator. He felt sick to his stomach, was it normal to be going down… not up? 
 
 He wiped the corners of his mouth for any residual vomit before sitting down at a desk. There, a woman in a green fuzzy sweater with big glasses looked up at him from a computer. 
 
 “ Samuel Warren? ” she asked, her eyes looking him over. 
 
 He nodded and looked around, but there was nothing but blank walls and the woman in front of him. She looked over her computer screen before pushing her enormous glasses up the bridge of her nose. “ Yes… I see, ” she murmured, then sighed before looking up. The woman ’ s eyes met with the man in the lab coat who was standing behind him. 
 
 “ Mr. Warren, you have been deemed unfit. The United States Government has identified Gene # 1034. You have been hereby notified that your life will be terminated following a meal of your choice and the opportunity to write letters to loved ones, ” she recited. 
 
 Samuel felt the words ringing in his ears. “ No… ” he whispered under his breath. “ No! No! No! ” he began to shout standing up, looking at the woman. “ I… I puked! I cried! I.. I didn ’ t like that video, I swear! ” he pleaded as the man in the lab coat approached. This time he used force, handcuffing him like a criminal. 
 
 The woman gave him a small look of sadness before he was being pushed out of the room and down a much darker hallway…
