Thursday, March 12, 2009

Being Poor And Jobless Doesn't Suck Enough? Welcome To The Genetic Underclass

By Darryl Mason

It seems like only yesterday we were being told, "Don't be stupid, insurance companies will never get access to your DNA, and even if they did, they would never examine it before they decided if they'll cover you. That will never happen, it's science fiction stuff, you're just being paranoid..." and so forth.

It's going to be weird enough when our DNA becomes our identity, a string of numbers, without even getting into just how many government and private agencies will get access to your DNA because you will have no choice but to make your DNA available for scrutiny simply to exist in society.

If an insurance company can demand to examine your DNA before they'll do business with you, why not then anybody else who is taking a punt, in some way, on your continuing good health?

The boss of your new job will need to access your personal genetic database to determine if you are likely to keel over in his building from an age-triggered condition that has taken nine males from your family over four generations.

The Department of Aerial Transport will need to know if you're fast approaching an age where your uncorrected DNA may time-trigger in you sudden, unexpected attacks of vertigo before they issue with a liscence to fly that new convertible SkySoarer XV Flubble, unsupervised.

Offering up instant access to all the secrets and predictions of your DNA will become as everyday as how we now show photo ID cards to see a fucking rock band, the kind of ID that so many of us never believed we would be forced to carry. In a not so distant reality, you won't be able to get any ID cards, or credit cards, without revealing your DNA. Because your DNA will be right there, on that card, so whoever needs to know who you are can also find out if they are running a risk of having you die in their nightclub, or restaurant. Or hospital.

But getting rejected from a restaurant because you're there for the Butter Fried Platter and your DNA ratings warn that, at best, you should be served nothing heavier than a salad and a loud argument follows, won't be the worst of it.

Being identified by your DNA, and everything it reveals about you, will infuriate mostly for all the little ways it will intrude on your life, and change your plans :
Liquor Store, 7pm

"Sir, there's a problem here, on your card...."

"Oh, what the fuck is that thing telling you guys now?"

"Your card says that you have a propensity towards alcoholism rating of 5.7. That means instead of selling you two bottles of Wild Turkey, I am legally bound to recommend you try a half bottle of white wine, or perhaps some lovely fruit juice instead."

"Forget it." - exits muttering...