The therapy came from a respected underground lab. On their doctor’s recommendation, Harry had additionally paid for longer term enhancements that would reduce his chances of going bald, improve memory, eliminate susceptibility to several viruses, reduce the risk of early-onset dementia and – most crucially – repair a faulty section of his genome that gave him a one-in-four chance of developing bowel cancer by age sixty.

Harry did the whole thing behind Kirsten’s back. She only found out when an auto-immune reaction made him pass out in school. She broke down in tears and grounded Harry for a thousand years, but Harry was fine after three nights in hospital, a change in auto-immune medication and a couple of weeks’ bed rest.

He began outrunning Matt with ease, hit the weights to max his enhanced physique and started catching the eye of some seriously fit Queensbridge girls. Around the same time, Kirsten sheepishly asked Harry for the clinic details. She had the same cancer-causing defect as her nephew and while that got fixed she had a few other mods, including a controversial one that was supposed to slow down the ageing process.

Harry stepped out of the shower and kissed Gemma before she hopped into the cubicle to clean up. He was towelling off in his bedroom as Matt strode through the open door.

While Harry’s fragile ego had led him to gene therapy, Matt had registered his unaltered DNA with the United States Athletic Federation and stood to lose a USC athletics scholarship if he had any mods done.

‘Have you spent the whole day in bed?’ Matt asked as he mischievously hooked Gemma’s panties on the end of his pool shoe and flicked them deep under the bed.

‘Not all day,’ Harry grinned. ‘I went to the kitchen and made grilled cheese.’

‘I sent you a message after training,’ Matt said. ‘I changed the top story on Vegas Local and Reno Local to the Chinese soldier thing.’

Harry looked baffled as he took briefs out of a drawer. ‘What Chinese soldier thing?’

‘Your back’s bleeding,’ Matt pointed out. ‘How can you not have watched it?’

‘You said you’d handle this morning’s updates,’ Harry said defensively. ‘I didn’t get home from the house party till three. I’ve not seen the news all day.’

‘Matilda,’ Matt said, addressing their apartment’s AV system. ‘Open the Vegas Local home page on Harry’s bedroom screen.’

The web page popped up on a big projector screen.

‘Matilda, play the video at top right, full screen.’

The clip began after a WARNING: Graphic Content banner. It was taken from a surveillance camera in a bleak sports hall, draped with banners written in Mandarin. A time code in the top corner of the screen suggested the clip was a couple of years old. The video quality was excellent, but there was no audio.