Sheila was born to be unusual. The doctor who assisted with the birth noted some odd qualities in the record book: wide, spatulate head, wide-set eyes, fused third, fourth, and pinky fingers on both hands. The adults who had designed her were unsure what to do with their creation.
They put her in a ward with other genetic sisters, a crib with barbed wire at the top. Interaction with adults was both rare and brief. These kids had it rough. Nobody loved them, and they even mistrusted each other, though like twins they developed their own verbal language. It was when they came up with a written one that they devised their escape.
Sheila was chosen as the best digger. She was shaped well for that function. Some thought she had a dirty mind, but they didn’t understand why her hair became soiled.
She was a hero. She died today, though, when the group of misfits emerged into civilization after having been missing for months.
They had all changed. Now most of them have perished.
Let us now pray for Sheila. Amen.