“C’mon Rachel! You’re going to be late for school!” yelled David, my four year old brother. “I’m coming!” I shouted. School was always pretty much the same for everyone. I would always sit with my friends at lunch in the cafeteria and would go check on my brother in the kindergarten room. But today was different. Just days before this the law was given that anyone over the age of 12 was aloud to know your DDK. Today was silent, you could hear a pin drop. No one was talking, except the teachers of course. And that was only because that was there job. No one was smiling or laughing, just a glum or straight face was all that was presumed. Amongst the speakers, kids in seventh and eighth grade were being called. They were calling kids by first name, alphabetical order. Lucky for me “Rachel” is near the end. Finally “Rachel Heckter, please come to the first floor meeting room, Rachel Heckter.” That was it. I was told my DDK Mar 14, 2097. Ninety-Five years, huh. Since most DDKs are from genetics, I wonder what my parents received as there DDK.
That afternoon, people were relived. Most got the average of 80-90 years, while others (such as myself), did not.