My parents hated me since before I was born. You would think otherwise, as they left me their biotechnology fortune, but that was to give me the means to be afraid. Or they just wanted a last achievement and I was at hand.
None of my laboratories can say what the million interlocking modifications to my genetic sequence will do. Cell cultures grow in ways I have nightmares about, yet it was large-scale modifications what they excelled at.
The smart move would be to kill myself, but something stops me, and I know what, and dread what for.