Read Genosimulation (A Teen & Young Adult Science Fiction): A Young Adult Science Fiction Thriller for Free Online

mature curves, unseen by him - until that second.
    And without knowing why, and without giving a reason, he
left behind the backstreet, his stunned friends, and his former life. The blue
fairy soared up the alley, her long steps marching through milestones, Zomy
panting after her.
    The race went uptown, passing between the cracks of streets,
between dubious addresses that didn’t formally exist, between tiny stores, worn
baby strollers, pungent scents, shouts in Yiddish, old discarded wigs and torn
black plastic sheeting.
    The fairy didn't slow down, didn’t look back, didn’t
hesitate for a moment. She kept a very fast rate, on the verge of running. The
pace forced Zomy to run, walk a little, jog a little, stumble forward, just to
keep up. Another street, another turn, another ascent, more steps, and Zomy
felt he could not go any further.
    "Hey, wait a minute!"
    Blue Fairy stopped, mid-step, in the middle of a narrow
alley. Looked back, smiled at him, surprised. Zomy was glad to know that she
breathed heavily, though only slightly. In a heavy, tired, step, he covered the
few feet separating them.
    "How much further do we have to go?" he panted.
    "We're here," the fairy smiled. And tapped lightly
on the side door, hiding in the shadows to her right. Zomy looked at her
incredulously.
    "It's here. Come," she raised her voice a half
octave, to convince him to come up the remaining stairs to her.
    The door opened from the inside, and the fairy went in, then
stuck her head out, her eyebrows like question marks over the blue lights.
    "Are you coming?"
    Zomy held his nerve, and climbed the remaining steps.
     
    *
     
    At first glance, the house of Rabbi Eligad was exactly as he
remembered. Whitish linoleum floor, well-washed. Red carpet finely poised at
the entrance. Total lack of pictures on the walls, light aroma of food cooking
over a low flame - lentils, barley, rice. Three doors, one of which led to the
kitchen, through which went the fairy. The other was open, leading to a larger
room, where guests were received. The third was closed.
    "Come in, please," an old voice was heard from the
front desk.
    Zomy slowly moved inside. Yes, the reception room was as he
remembered. Bright wicker sofas along one wall, wicker chair isolated on the
other wall. Blue carpet, more ancient than the red, it seemed. And white walls,
in which one window overlooked a hidden garden with a lemon tree.
    Rabbi Eligad stood under the window.
    A small-sized man, he was very short, only slightly taller
than young Zomy, and very thin - but without the hardened quality, typical of
the elderly. With a white beard and a simple white robe, he showed flexibility,
stability, poise. His eyes were completely black, two dark holes on white
background. His feet were encased in white cloth shoes, in which he stepped
without making any noise.
    "Sit down," he said, and Zomy sat immediately on
the spot, on the carpet, a meter away from the sofa usually used for sitting.
Zomy liked to sit on the floor. Felt more connected to the earth, safer. Only
later in life would he develop sympathy for chairs.
    "You've grown since then," the rabbi continued to
send sentences into the air, and Zomy heard and said nothing. "You became
wiser."
    "Not wiser, Rabbi." It was the boy’s voice he
chose to answer the rabbi. "On the contrary. I got away from the
Torah."
    "You've stayed away from words, but not from the
Torah," replied the rabbi and made his way to the chair. "The Torah
is all around us, in everything we do, in all that surrounds us. How can you
stay away from it?"
    Zomy weighed the words in his mind, knowing they were right,
but still afraid to adopt them. You cannot get away from the Torah, he thought.
The Torah is around us. God is within us. In our lives, in our deaths,
anywhere. At any moment.
    "Why have you called me, Rabbi?" It never occurred
to him to ask how the rabbi knew how to find him. Zomy, as is the way of people
who aren't yet fully mature, accepted the