THE END OF LUCKY CHARMS?March 31, 2047 It’s official: the four-leaf clover you’ve been carrying around inside your wallet is useless — but your genes might not be. By now, you’ve certainly heard of Aurora Zeinallah. Eighteen months ago, the Sudanese scientist put her small town on the map when she came on the record about a curious study — the genetic traits of luck. With an already large pool of volunteers, Zeinallah came to the public to invite people who might be interested in participating in her research and ask for funds. The unusual theme coupled with the Doctor’s impressive resume garnered a lot of attention from the media and some eccentric billionaires. The scientific community, however, laughed and turned their back on her. Apparently, though, she who laughs last, laughs the longest. Notice: JavaScript is required for this content.
I wake up early, in time to watch the first rays of sunlight shyly reach the wall. From the bed, I can see the bright blue sky through the window, almost as if the snowstorm that threatened the city last night was just an illusion. I get up and walk over, curious to assess the damages. My eyes hurt with all the white reflecting the sun — everything is covered. The back garden looks more like a cloud. I dress up quickly, skipping over coffee, and go straight to the front porch. A shiver runs down my spine, more due to the eeriness of the sight than the cold itself. I don’t feel the cold. Notice: JavaScript is required for this content.
“Jesus Christ,” Annette gasped as she entered the room. “How many decades has it been since you’ve been here? Yurik laughed but also gasped when he saw the amount of stuff there. “Brother…” Nikolai let out a low whistle. Natasha and Andrei made similar jokes as all of them crammed into Yurik’s attic. He was glad his friends accepted to help him but also regretted spending such a beautiful afternoon stuck in there. Notice: JavaScript is required for this content.
“Ethel! Ethel!” Emmet yells-whispers into his sister’s ear. She doesn’t wake up. Or, rather, she does, but pretends she didn’t as she usually did when Emmet tried to wake her up in the middle of the night. She knows this can only mean one thing — trouble. “Come one, Ethel, it’s a serious matter this time!” With him, it’s always a serious matter. Like when he decided to hide a stray dog inside his room. Or when he thought it was a good idea to climb on the roof to see a meteor shower. Ethel doesn’t move and, when the room becomes quiet, she slowly opens just one eye to see if her brother has decided to walk away. He hasn’t. Notice: JavaScript is required for this content.