SPECIFICALLY bred to be a young genius, I am an academic hybrid; father a theoretical physicist (directly descended from Hawking) and mother an award winning neurological scientist, with an impressive background in social science. 

I was born into the highest societal class--the top of the pyramid. My height, stature, and other genetic traits were meticulously chosen by the most brilliant scientific minds in the world. Put simply, I was genetically modified to be the best of the best. Not to be egotistical.

At 17 years of age, I learn and sustain information ten times as quickly as the average middle-class student; naturally, it is necessary to attend an educational institution that can adequately encourage such advanced learning. I am subdued in an environment that stimulates academic excellence, my peers high-class intellectual masterminds like I. However, a large fraction of them lack the social skills I have genetically, due to my mother's background.

Our classroom discussions are rather interesting in my perspective. Although a majority of our classes focus on mathematics and the sciences (which do not typically involve a vast amount of speaking), it is mandatory for students to be enrolled in an English along with a social science class such as psychology or sociology, among others. My peers are greatly educated about the processes and makings of the brain; however, in regards to social interactions, they find themselves quite uncomfortable. As for myself, I am quite content with being unaccompanied, possibly because I have grown accustomed to it, or because I tend to encounter people who, no matter how earnestly I attempt to relate to them on an intellectual level, do not understand my thinking. For some, it is as if the words I express are being spoken in a foreign language. It can become rather frustrating, I am sure you can imagine.

"Metro Riverton. 17 years and 4 months. Campbell Learning Institution--Academic Division."

Public speaking has always been my favorite leisure, along with chemical experiments and proving the legitimacy of scientific or mathematical theoretical arguments. While many fear it, I thrive on the energy and psychological pressure that comes with knowing that the attention of tens, to hundreds, to even thousands of individuals are focused on the delivery and content of your words.

"Mr. Riverton, what is your chosen topic of debate?"

"The Psychology of Intelligence," I state to Professor Rupert, the Dean of Campion University, the largest academic university in the world.

I am not intimidated by his commanding demeanor, for confidence is key to success and convincing a person to conform to your opinion. If I allow even the slightest hint of intimidation to present itself in my body language, Professor Rupert will surely take note, and I will most certainly be docked marks.

"Proceed in your own time Mr. Riverton."

I nod.

"Thank you, Professor Rupert."

I take this opportunity to study his self-presentation. His tall, lean trunk sits completely perpendicular to his seat, slender fingers tapping the large touchscreen notebook on the table in front of him, a thin stylus sitting in his right hand at the ready. He is anxious for me to begin, prepared to enter marks on the introduction to my speech. He has high expectations for me.

My educators tell him that my words will leave him with a new perspective; feeling not only educated but entertained as well. My introduction must be strong.

I see black coffee residue dried on the bottom of three white ceramic cups by his left arm. Crumbs from various refreshments are scarcely seen scattered across the large steel table, painted white. He stops tapping and proceeds to poke at the crumbs with his fingers, pressing them between his thumb and forefinger, then flicking them across the room. His eyes are sunken. He attempts to look optimistic about my speech but cannot hide that he is exhausted.

Being that I am his last contestant of the day, he is dying to stand and stretch his extremities. Today Professor Rupert has seen many talented speakers, good topics, and reasonable theories, but nothing exceptional. It shall be a challenge to continuously provoke his interest, I must admit. I have the disadvantage of being last, for my words could easily put him to sleep. But I must take this as an advantage; I am going to be the last contestant that he hears, a lasting impression. With my words I must amuse him, educate him, and cleanse the aftertaste of stale coffee from his palette. Many men of his class are not impressed by comedy, but I decide it is an appropriate risk to take. I must alter my speech slightly in doing so. I clear my throat.

"As a young man, being on this earth for 17 years, I have been told many things," I begin, speaking slowly and clearly. "The most common being that I am destined to be a genius..." I pause. "Apart from being told I am intensely attractive, naturally." I give a short hair flick, wink, and my most charming smile.

The audience laughs. Professor Rupert smiles. I have succeeded in winning his favor. The plaque of honor I am due to receive hangs on the wall of my imagination.

"But in all seriousness," I continue. "From my first hour on this earth to present day, it basically has been decided that I am going to be not only successful in an academic field, but a scientific--mathematical genius."

I continue speaking, scanning the audience occasionally but constantly making eye contact with Professor Rupert. A single yawn or non-engaged glance could mean I have lost his crucial attention. I continue speaking of my experiences from being born as a child of the highest upper class.

On the day they are born, every child is put into a class category, dependent on the status of their mother and father. The upper class, Class A, are those like I. The "purebreds" (put in slang terminology) are bred to be excellent in a certain field. I was bred to be phenomenally intellectual. There are also those bred to be great musicians, athletes, artists, engineers, etc. Our parents, also "purebreds", are partnered in order to fulfill needs for certain skills. In my case, my mother and father were matched because there is a need for scientists who are able to communicate and understand human psychology.

The middle class, Class B, are the "mixed breeds". Their genes are not as specially bred and they work in less crucial positions. Their parents and grandparents were not as specially trained as those of the upper class; rather, they possess a mixture of skills and are not highly specialized in one specific skill.

The lowest class, Class C, are the "mutts". They have no prioritized skill whatsoever and have a complete mixture of genetic coding. They are seen as people who have no particular talent; they cannot succeed in any singular skill.

Each class attends a school specialized to their abilities. Class B and Class C minors attend a school specific to their class and learning ability, and take various subjects controlled by their instructors and guardians. As for the Class A students, we are put into specific schools based on our primary ability. Certain classes are required for every student, such as basic mathematics, English, history, etc., but we focus more on classes that attain to our skills. In my case, I was enrolled in an academic division. In my school, Campbell Learning Institution, there is also a Fine Arts Division, an Athletic Division, a Medical Division and a Technological Division. The crowd is highly aware of this, so I do not go into great detail.

"I have never been one to simply rely on the theories and opinions of others," I continue my speech, pacing across my stage, observing each eye in the room as they follow me. "I want to be able to accurately come to my own conclusions." I stop. "The common idea in our society today is that we are born intelligent or unintelligent, skilled or not skilled--it is that simple. But after much thought and research, I want to disagree."

I glance at the crowd. They appear confused at my statement but continue to watch in wonder, knowing that my next words will surely enlighten them. However, if I disappoint them now, it will be a horrible failure on my part, and would not only cost me the prize but my dignity as well.

The topic of my speech could, in some ways, be considered quite controversial. I am practically denying every belief my society holds today, which could easily offend certain individuals, especially those who hold authoritative positions. A risk, yes, but certainly worth the chance of being completely humiliated if you are a person of great words and body language.

If you question why I would even bother taking such a risk, consider the following: my topic is incredibly unique. It will most certainly be something this room has never heard in their lives, allowing me to easily engage their minds beneath their thick skulls and the closed-minded attitudes a majority of them hold, without much concern.

"You may find it repulsive that I can completely deny the entire structure of our society today, and I am most certainly not denying you your personal opinion. After all, this is how we are programmed to think in this day and age; that we are bred to have certain abilities, and if we are not, we are not as important as the ones who are. And, to a certain extent, it is correct.

"Who could successfully argue that genetics do not play a critical role in determining ability or strengths and weaknesses? Perhaps society is right in classifying us our by our parent's genetics. We all excel in certain areas and fail in others, do we not? However, we seem to know what we excel or fail in before we are even born. What is the psychological effect of this pressure? Does this constant expectancy actually determine our abilities?"

I study the audience once again. I see I have gone on a bit of a rant and forgotten to assure their understanding.

I am a deep thinker. My thoughts are like an intensely wooded forest, the branches of the trees thick with leaves, blocking the sunlight, allowing for minimal vision. As I explain my ideas, I am taking these people through my thought forest, in which only I know the path that must be taken to reach the end. If I speak too quickly or fail to explain in a way they can understand, I leave them behind and they are lost in the darkness, with little hope of escape. In this moment I see they are slightly lost, as if I have taken a sharp turn and left them a few feet behind. I decide to use an analogy to veer them back in my direction.

"Let us take two children. A Class A boy, parents both skilled painters, and a Class C boy, with parents who both do odd jobs that are not occupied by higher class citizens.

"The Class A boy is, naturally, expected to be an exceptional painter, even before birth. The Class C boy is not expected to become much at all. We will say that, for whatever reason, these two children were mixed up at birth. The Class C boy is raised a skilled painter, the Class A boy raised a mutt.

"Will the Class C boy, raised to be a great artist, be any less successful than his Class A peers? Or is it simply because he is told he will be a great painter that makes him one? Do the words we tell a child, the expectations we have for people born of certain parents, determine their futures? Do we set limitations on people because of what we expect of them?"

The audience understands now. I glance at Professor Rupert, who squints and anxiously taps his stylus on the desk. The room is completely silent, all in deep thought. I see disgusted looks, appalled at the idea that a foolish teenager could have the courage to deny what has been programmed in the minds of everyone for generations and generations. I do not give much thought to their opinions, however, the only opinion that matters to me is Professor Rupert's, who now glances at me, notices my attention on his body language and gives an encouraging smile. I conclude my speech.

"I am highly aware that you will not all share my opinion. All I ask is for you to consider my words, giving them your deepest thoughts. Consider yourself--how easily you conform to the opinions of others. Do those opinions challenge your thoughts, your decisions? Do you find yourself doing what others expect of you, whether intentionally or not?

"I often question myself with these ideas. Am I an exceptional academic because of my genetics, or am I successful because I was told I was going to be?"

The audience is silent. I pause to allow them to think, and further anticipate my next words.

"I do not mean to put myself on a pedestal by saying this, but I am sure all of you are aware of who I am. I have entered many of these speaking contests before and won nearly every time. Perhaps you expect me to win this competition."

A few people glance at their neighbors and nod. A quiet murmur fills the room, but they are silent once again when I begin to speak.

"If you are wondering how these deep thoughts came to me, it was the day I was waiting at City Hall to receive some papers. While I was walking down the corridors I saw clusters of people pointing and speaking among themselves--not an unusual occurrence. When I sat in the waiting room I heard one of the cleaners speaking with her coworker. She said to her, 'Don't you know him? That's Metro Riverton. You know. The superkid.'

"It is no secret that I have heard others say similar things, however, this encounter struck me differently. I questioning my abilities intensely. I took my mind to a place it had never been before; filled it with deeper thoughts about my intelligence, and questions." I pause. "In that very moment, I thought to myself, These people simply expect me to be a 'superkid'. They assume I am smart simply because of my parents.

"I realized that, when I walk into a store or give a speech at a university, I expect people to notice me. And when they call me a 'superkid', I assume that role. I accept it without thought."

I walk to center stage and stand still. The audience anticipates my concluding words. They watch my every move in awe; my words filling them with doubts they never had before.

"That allowed me to question whether I physically have the genetics of a 'superkid', or whether it is all in my head; a psychological trick. If it is all a trick, I was not simply born smart. I was brainwashed to be a brainiac."

I bow, thank the audience and exit in complete silence. Not one pair of hands gives a single clap.