The Silent Horizon: a Love Story
In the near future, the world had achieved what was once thought impossible: a society free of disorder, suffering, and, most of all, unpredictability. Genetic scans had become the norm for every fetus, detecting diseases, disorders, and neurodivergent conditions before birth. Chief among the targets for “removal” were those identified as autistic. The state had perfected a system using advanced generative machine learning techniques, similar to the once-theoretical 3D Transport-Based Morphometry (TBM), to predict not only the presence of autism but its potential manifestation. The decision was swift: predicted autistic fetuses were terminated to maintain what they called “neural uniformity”—a world where everyone fit the mold.
CCTV-like scanners, known as GeneCams, were as ubiquitous as streetlights, their red beams constantly sweeping over public spaces, detecting hidden pregnancies in a flash. The moment a fetus was detected, the scans would commence. The parents would be informed of the results within hours. If the scans indicated even a whisper of potential autism, the verdict was immediate: removal.
It was under this grim shadow that Ella found herself running.
Ella had always been a quiet woman. She lived on the fringes, in the forgotten parts of the city where the GeneCams rarely swept. Her partner, Starr, had been taken years ago, during the first waves of purges when the government tightened its grip on those who didn’t fit. They were autistic—quiet, brilliant, and deeply misunderstood. Ella loved them for their mind, for the way they saw the world in patterns and beauty that others couldn’t. And when they came for them, the reasoning was simple: “Their genes are a threat to the state.”
Ella had promised herself, and Starr’s memory, that she wouldn’t let them take another life.
The day Ella learned she was pregnant, she had been careful. She felt the soft flutter of life inside her and knew what it meant. In a world where bearing a child was the greatest risk of all, Ella’s first instinct was to hide. She knew the scan protocols by heart—the streets, the shops, even her own building were dotted with GeneCams, and any time she passed through them, they would capture the signs of her growing child.
She had been running ever since.
The world outside was a vast web of surveillance. Public places were dangerous; even the corners of alleyways had hidden GeneCams waiting to catch anyone who might be trying to avoid the state’s all-seeing eye. For months, Ella kept to the fringes, moving from safe house to safe house, each one more desolate and dilapidated than the last. The old world was still there—abandoned buildings, forgotten stretches of farmland where nature had begun to reclaim its territory—but it was a harsh, unforgiving place.
Every so often, she’d hear stories of others who tried to flee, pregnant people who were caught mid-escape, their babies taken before they had a chance to breathe their first breath. The punishment wasn’t death. No, the state preferred something more insidious: isolation in sterilised, white-walled facilities where pregnant people were held, their children forcibly removed, conditioned, or, most often, erased from existence entirely. They called it “The Cleansing.”
Ella refused to let that happen.
As her belly grew, so did the dangers. The GeneCams became smarter, their detection radius expanding. The city, once her home, had become a labyrinth of red beams crisscrossing every street, every exit, like a spiderweb trapping all who dared stray too close.
Her salvation came in the form of an old friend, a doctor who once worked for the state but had fled to the wilderness. Dr. Maren had helped women like Ella before—pregnant, desperate, and determined to defy the system. Maren sent word through a secret network, telling her of a remote location deep in the mountains where she could deliver the baby safely, far from the reach of the scanners.
It was risky. The journey would take her through checkpoints, through zones where the GeneCams were thickest. But Ella knew she had no choice. If her child had inherited Starr’s genes—if her baby was autistic—she would protect that life at any cost.
Ella’s heart pounded as she walked through the outskirts of the city, head down, moving swiftly but not so fast as to attract attention. The scanner beams danced around her, sweeping over others who passed by, lighting up their bodies in red. She had layered herself in loose clothing, wearing a heavy shawl that obscured the shape of her belly. But she couldn’t hide forever.
The checkpoints loomed ahead. Guards stood at attention, monitoring the GeneCams, their eyes trained on the holographic readouts that showed the internal workings of every passing person. A woman ahead of her stepped through the barrier, the GeneCam briefly scanning her before she was waved on. Ella’s pulse quickened.
It was her turn.
Steeling herself, she stepped into the beam. The red light traced her form, lingering longer than it should have. She held her breath. The guard squinted at the scanner, muttering something to his partner. Ella felt her throat tighten. But before they could react, a commotion erupted behind them. Another person, visibly pregnant and panicking, had been caught by the beam of another GeneCam. The guards turned away from Ella, rushing toward the person. In the chaos, she slipped through the checkpoint unnoticed.
She didn’t stop running until she reached the edge of the city.
The mountains loomed ahead, jagged and cold, but they promised freedom. Dr. Maren had told her of an old cabin, a relic from before the surveillance state took over, where no GeneCam could reach her. The trek was brutal. The forest was thick, the air cold and biting, but Ella pressed on, her resolve unshaken. With every step, she could feel the life inside her growing stronger, kicking against the walls of her body as if urging her onward.
After days of walking, her body aching and weary, Ella finally reached the cabin. It was old, weather-beaten, but solid. Safe. She collapsed inside, her breath ragged, her heart pounding with both exhaustion and relief.
In the quiet of that hidden place, she felt the first contractions begin.
The birth was long and painful, but in the end, Ella held her baby in her arms, a tiny, perfect life. She gazed down at the child’s face, wondering if the state’s predictions had been right. Would this child be like Starr? Would the world see her baby as a threat, or as a wonder, as Ella did?
It didn’t matter.
In that cabin, far from the scanners and the purges, Ella’s child would be free. The world outside was cruel, but inside this hidden sanctuary, love and freedom reigned. She whispered a promise to the child—a promise to protect and nurture them, no matter what the world outside said.
For now, they were safe.
But the world wouldn’t stop searching. The GeneCams would keep sweeping, and the state wouldn’t rest until it had eradicated every hint of neurodiversity. Yet Ella knew that as long as there were those willing to resist, to run, and to hide, there would always be hope.
And in her arms, hope had just been born.
The article “Discovering the Gene-Brain-Behavior Link in Autism via Generative Machine Learning” explores the use of advanced machine learning techniques to identify potential markers for autism in brain scans, linked to genetic variations like 16p11.2 CNV. The study’s ability to ‘predict autism’ from these genetic and brain patterns, though not exact in determining ‘severity’ or ‘presentation,’ raised concerns for me about how such technology could be used in the future. It evoked thoughts of a Minority Report-like scenario where the state uses similar predictive tech to identify and target autistic fetuses for removal, enforcing a eugenic drive towards “neural uniformity.” This dystopian vision of preemptive elimination inspired the story of one brave pregnant person who fights to protect her unborn child from this oppressive system.
I hope that I’ve give you some food for thought. I hope a future like this never occurs. But, it seems like those that engage in such research are hoping for a time where people like me are never born in the first place. Dystopian, isn’t it.