> Seth Underwood Stories: Dawn Mason’s Extreme Hatred Bias

Dawn Mason’s Extreme Hatred Bias

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Editorial Note- If you, or someone you know, is seriously contemplating suicide please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 (US Only).


“… passionate love and passionate hate are 2 sides of the same neural coin!”
Dr. Henry A. Nasrallah

Mr. and Mrs. Mason were sitting in Dr. Edwards, the school counselor’s office. They had a 10:30 AM appointment with her, but the wall clock showed a time of 10:45.

“Paula, I don’t think she’s going to show up.”

“Gene, the secretary said she had an emergency meeting with the administration.”

“Fine, I’ll give her another ten minutes. But then I’m going to see the secretary.”

As soon as Gene had said this, Dr. Edwards rushed into the room, tossed the infopad onto her desk, and spun her chair around to take her seat.

With a release of her breath, Dr. Edwards placed her elbows on the desk and rested her chin on her interlocked hands. She stared at both Gene and Paula with narrowed eyes. Gene and Paula both felt they were being judged. Dr. Edwards pulled her arms back and crossed them as she sat back in her chair.

Gene was about to speak when Dr. Edwards uncrossed her arms and raised her hand. “Dawn was created using a standard CRISPR IVF system with an artificial womb?”

Paula rested her hand on Gene’s leg. “Yes. That’s correct.”

“Were you both aware that Dawn was taking the Cogina A.I. assessment test last week during her online preschool classes?”

Both Mr. and Mrs. Mason sat there with blank looks on their faces.

“Based on your reactions, I’m going to assume no.” Crossing her arms once more. “Dawn’s Cogina coefficient scores came back earlier this week. And there’s a problem. Her results show she has Erida Syndrome, or commonly known as Extreme Hatred Bias.”

Gene became flustered and Paula pulled her hand away. “What do you mean?! The system that made her filtered out any bad genes.”

“That maybe, but sometimes Erida Syndrome can have an epigenetic source from the home environment.”

“Are you saying we are negligent parents?! Dawn is only two years old! How’s that possible for someone so young?!”

“Mr. Mason, your line of questioning demonstrates to me you may have imprinted certain factors onto Dawn’s home environment that could have led to this possibility.”

Gene collapsed forward, hanging his head between his knees while Paula rubbed his back.

“What do we need to do?”

“Well, Mrs. Mason based on her scores, I’m recommending that she be moved into a group home for the severe psychogenic.”

“At such a young age?”

“There are many kinds of group homes all over the state. The state designed them to care for different age sets and conditions. You need to understand that Dawn is going to be on the state repression drug program for her full life and will receive the best care in the group home. The state will take care of her needs, and your parental responsibilities will cease.”

“I see. So, what you are saying is we need to hand Dawn over to the state for her benefit?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

Fourteen Years Later…

Dawn Mason was lying awake on her bed. The morning light was streaming through a crack between the cloth curtains above her bed. She could hear Kathie screaming again through the walls. Kathie was four years older than her and had issues with her repression medications. She would have these delusions that caused her to scream. As if something was killing her. It caused the aides to restrain her in her bedroom.

Since she was two, Dawn had lived in five different group homes. Some had more people, and some less. The one she was in now had Kathie, and one other girl, Lottie.  Lottie was the same age as her. Lottie did nothing but sat in a mobile chair all day. She wasn’t paralyzed or anything. Her repression medications were so strong that Lottie was in a vegetative state. Some aides would joke that Lottie must be a psychotic killer, and that’s why they have her like that.

The home had three aides that rotated in three shifts, plus two nurses that visited daily. One nurse for the day and one for the night. The aides planned activities along with a daily schedule for online schooling.

Dawn knew nothing of her parents. Her entire life up to this point was a series of aides, psychiatrists, nurses, and others like her who were on the state repression drugs.

Dawn could hear two of the aides trying to restrain Kathie onto her bed. She got up and pulled out from under her bed a paper sketch pad with a pencil pushed into the rusty spiral binding. Dawn had found this in the last house she was at and knew it was old. She flipped through the drawings in the front. They were of wide-eyed pony-tailed women dressed in skimpy skin tight suits. Dawn did not understand who they were, or what kind of art it was, or who drew them. Dawn then made her own additions. They were nothing more than doodles of geometric patterns. But then she had added objects around her, like chairs and food. No matter what she drew, she felt no emotional connection. It was like school work or chores to be done. She derived no deep pleasure from it, nor did she despise doing it.

This is how she felt about everything around her and herself. She’d go for many days without bathing. Sometimes she would urinate on herself and go around the complete day with wet pants. Some days she felt no desire to eat and would skip meals. So, she was thin compared to others who were on the state repression program.

She voiced no concern to have her hair cut, and no aide ever pushed the issue. Now at sixteen it had grown all the way down her back and was tangled in parts. An aide from time to time would brush out the tangles. But unlike a normal person who would complain about having their hair pulled when the tangles were undone, Dawn didn’t. She didn’t care what the aide was doing to her.

Dawn pulled out the pencil and flipped the pad to a blank page. She sketched the house’s pet cat, Saki. But as she did, she added details to the drawings like a kitchen knife and a large oval near the cat’s body. Hearing the aide opening the door, she crammed the pad back under the bed.

“Phew! Dawn, it stinks in here. When was the last time you washed your bedding?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, wait. That’s not the bed, that’s you. Girl, you need to get a shower this morning. Afterwards you can have some breakfast if you’re hungry. Then it’s online school. After school, wash your bedding and some of your clothes.”

Dawn shook her head in acknowledgement. The aide left the room.

Dawn took her clothes off, walked naked to the bathroom with no particular concern about her nudity. In the bathroom, she repeatedly pressed one of the shower’s buttons to start the water.

She got into the shower. The water was freezing. She realized she must have started only the cold water. She shivered but continued to bathe herself, lacking concern for her own comfort or wellbeing. Getting out, she was still shivering despite drying off as best she could. She was so cold her lips had turned purple. Her long hair was still wet even after wringing it out twice. She put the towel back up on the towel bar and walked out of the bathroom, still cold as her wet hair stuck to her back.

“Dawn, what the fuck! Your hair is still wet! And you’re shivering! What did you do?!”

“I got a shower like you told me to do.”

The aide grabbed Dawn’s hand and walked her to her room. “Did you use any hot water?”

“No. It was freezing.”

“I don’t know how many times I’ve shown you how to use the shower. I’m going to ask the nurse to double check your pump to make sure your dosing is right. Let’s get you dressed for the day and brush out that hair.”


Later that afternoon…

Dawn was in the laundry room loading her bedding and clothes into the dryer when an aide came into the room.

“Dawn, have you seen Saki?”

“She was outside.”

“But Saki is an indoor cat. What’s she doing outside? Did you or someone let her out?”

“No. She wasn’t moving.”


“She’s by the tree in the backyard.”

The aide left Dawn. Only to be followed by Dawn hearing through the open door, the aide yelling about Saki being dead. The aide was saying Saki was killed, like an animal did it.

The Following Tuesday…

Dr. Reniece Clark, the staff psychiatrist, visited the group as part of her normal bi-weekly rounds. She saw Lottie and Kathie first. Dr. Clarke wrote new scripts on her infopad for both.

Dawn was lying on her bed staring at the ceiling when Dr. Clarke came to see her. Dawn sat up against the wall. Her legs pulled up to her chin and her arms wrapped around them. She avoided looking at Dr. Clarke, who was sitting on the corner of her bed, and stared at her toes instead.

“Dawn, how are you doing?”


“Can you tell me about the cat?”

“It died.”

“Did you see it die?”


“Did you kill the cat?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I took it outside. Then I saw it dead.”

“Why did you take it outside?”

“I thought it wanted to be outside.”

“How did you know that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I see. So, how does this make you feel?”

“I feel nervous.”

“Nervous that I’m here, or nervous about not knowing?”


“How did you feel when the aides found the cat?”

“I felt nothing. I was doing laundry.”

“You weren’t nervous then?”


“I see. Let’s change the subject. How are you doing with the shower? Have you figured out how to use it?”


“So, you are no longer making it too hot or too cold?”


“That’s good to hear. I think I’m done. It’s been nice talking with you Dawn.” Dr. Clark got up and left the room. Dawn flattened her legs along the bed as her arms went limp along her sides.

As Dawn grew older the staff psychiatrists would ask her ever more probing questions about her feelings and thoughts. This made her nervous to be around them, but she never knew why. It was like they were trying to discover a clue to show she was a bad girl. Except she already knew this since she was seven, or at least that something was wrong with her.

It happened during an outing at a park. A group of parents with their children were present when the group house encountered them. The parents pulled their children away. She overheard one parent say to their kid, “Those kids are terrible children. You can’t play with them.” From that day on she knew she was different, and either broken or bad as a person.

The Following Sunday…

Saturday night she heard Kathie having one of her episodes, and the aides tying her down to her bed. During the entire night Dawn laid awake unable to stop thinking about Kathie being restrained in her bed. Whatever new medications Dr. Clark was giving her was not working since Kathie was still having episodes.

It was one o’clock in the morning when Dawn pulled out the drawing pad and drew up Kathie being tied down to her bed. She drew a big X through Kathie. Then added herself to the drawing with a circle near her left arm.

Dawn stopped drawing. She got out of bed and opened the door. There was only one aide this night. Sometimes this would happen when people called out and the staff couldn’t be replaced in time. This happened with the overnight shift more than the other shifts. Like usual, the aide was sound asleep on the sofa.

Dawn walked into Kathie’s room. Kathie’s arms and legs were bound so her body formed an X on the bed. Dawn climbed on top of Kathie’s chest and took the pillow from behind her head and covered her face with it. Kathie awoke and freaked out. She thrashed and pulled against the restraints. Dawn could hear Kathie’s muffled screams through the pillow. Dawn pressed the pillow harder into her face. During what seemed an eternity, Kathie’s breathing became labored as Dawn continued to press the pillow into her face and sat on her chest. Then all at once Kathie stopped moving. Dawn pulled the pillow back. Kathie’s mouth and eyes were open. Her face and lips were blue tinted. There were tears that had run down the sides of her face and stained the sheets below.

Dawn got up and placed the pillow over Kathie’s face and left the room. The aide was still asleep. She went to the kitchen and got the big, serrated knife from the drawer and left through the front door.

By this point the full moon was high in the sky with no clouds present.

Dawn walked two blocks to a small park. Sat down with her back against a large oak. Her legs stretched out before her along the pruned grass. She looked at her feet, now dirty from walking barefoot.

She then looked at the knife. Holding it in her right hand, she sliced into her left wrist. She felt the pain of the serrated edges tearing into her flesh. Then there was a numbness in her hand followed by a pain shooting up her arm as blood squirted out. She flinched but pressed on, sawing back and forth with the knife. Until she had even more blood coming out. Dawn could feel her heart starting to race. Sweat began to drip from her face, and she felt cold as the blood was now squirting out from her wrist with a pumping action. She stopped, dropped the knife, and laid back with her arms to her side as the blood continued to drain from her body.

Her vision was becoming blurred. She felt the cybernetic pump on the side of her abdomen pumping more chemicals into her. Maybe it was trying to keep her alive. She didn’t care. She had enough of the pump. Enough of living in a world that hated her. A world that hated all like her. A world that saw her and the others as monsters to be caged away. She didn’t ask to be made. She didn’t even remember who her parents were. None like her did.

As Dawn sat there, with a pool of blood forming next to her, her mind was slipping in and out of consciousness. Dawn realized for the first time in her life she absolutely and firmly hated society for making her into their monster. She blamed all of society for what they did to her. Dawn felt no love for them, only pure hatred. A society that was to care for her but had loathed her instead. The only love she felt was that in her death she would be free of this hell created by society.

It wouldn’t be until around six o’clock in the morning when a jogger would find Dawn’s body. The jogger noticed the sweet coppery smell of the pool of blood next to her. The jogger’s gag reflex kicked in upon getting a whiff of Dawn’s blood, and she moved away from Dawn to call for help.

There was no formal investigation of Dawn’s suicide or of Kathie’s murder. It was not uncommon for these incidents to occur at teen group houses. State authorities looked the other way for the betterment of society. The program had experts in pediatric medicine and developmental psychology showing its effectiveness in controlling the seriously mentally ill, despite the random deaths.

Dawn was not alone in having Extreme Hatred Bias. It had been the goal of medicine, since the end of the First Age of Humanity, to use science to eradicate such hatred from society, at whatever cost.


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