"Cancer is a class of diseases or disorders characterized by uncontrolled division of cells and the ability of these cells to invade other tissues, either by direct growth into adjacent tissue through invasion or by implantation into distant sites by metastasis." (Source: Wikipedia)

Stella smiled as she gazed into the night sky -- a perfect shade of dark blue tinged with stars. "The night is young," her mother would say. She blinked as she noticed a red dot forming in the sky. It blinked thrice before pausing, then blinking again.

The Society of Betters was meeting today -- the red blinking in the sky signified that. They were a huge, international organization of Better people devoted to helping others just like themselves. Stella didn't know much about the Betters -- after all, she wasn't one of them. She was one of the under-privileged people, living and breathing in a substandard condition.

"I wish I was one of them," a voice next to Stella sighed. She turned and saw John; a fellow under-privileged person.

"Yeah. I'd like to know what they do at those meetings," replied Stella. She leaned forward to balance her elbows on her knees.

"CAT scans and chemo?" John suggested.


They fell into silence. John shifted his feet, then looked around the park only to find it empty. Nobody went to the lower parks now. Most everyone was a Better nowadays; they enjoyed high-level suites only a Better could access, special hospitality centers, special bus passes, access to the newest technology... If only because they lived a few years less. Nowadays, "health" was a relative term.

Stella sighed and stood up. Then she looked at John and frowned.

"Why are we the lower class? We live longer. We don't live in pain. We have better lives."

Lifting his gaze, John shrugged and answered, "It's just the way it's always been."

"But why? My mother was a Better, but she was kind to people like us."

"Well, I guess there just aren't enough of us," John replied, irritated. He stood and began to walk away, but Stella followed him.

"Look at me. Do you think I'm pretty?"

John stopped and stared at her. Of course she was, with long, silky blonde hair and the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. She was tall, and thin, and she had a light sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks.

"Of course you're pretty. Why?"

"Did you know that it used to be people who were pretty were the privileged? People like me and you. Not people with their hair fallen out and holes where the needles pinched too many times. Not people who are sad and dying," Stella cried, staring up at the sky. It was blinking red again, this time with an air of condescending superiority. The Society of the Betters -- the Cancers -- the Privileged.

A/N: Pardon if I've offended anyone. Just a thought on how life might be.