A child is told by his parents from birth that he is above the beasts that roam this earth. Pliable, as most infantile minds are, he absorbs this information readily. Raised as a properly gracious human, he treats his subjects (the animals and the plants of his backyard, and then later his ‘patients’ in the lab) with undeserved respect if not kindness. He is in turn tolerated by his patients and admired by his coworkers.
His peers admiration and subsequent subservience leads to a rise in his position. His once peers are now on par with his patients. He is now untouchable, an unmerciful but none the less welcome figure in his world. His kingdom has expanded to include other humans now, other beasts so to speak. Having gained the power he was guaranteed at birth he now turns his attention to his heir, or rather obtaining the necessary materials to create his latest perfection.
Not much longer and he has accomplished his goal, a perfect child, above the imperfection of humanity and the beasts beneath them. The child is all at once what he expected and what he detested. The child has none of the emotional restraints of its predecessor; it is instinctively smart, it cares not for humans or animals on a whole. It does not even care for its family; it does not shed tears when its father falls ill, or when the empire so carefully built fails as a result. No, the child is not at all interested, it is feral in a refined but not in the least understated manner.
It watches him with fierce eyes, mirroring its bestial ancestors, its lips curve in a toothy grin that is more threatening than joyful. It is on his death bed, staring up at his creation that he realizes it; in achieving a ‘perfect human’ he has merely concentrated the beast beneath his skin and the skin of others into one creature. One small, detached, little child who was born a master at the façade so many humans struggle to achieve.
The child is a beast that has evolved (by his hand!) enough so that it may blend in with its predators effortlessly. It is not prey to the trappings of humanity but now it is instead the hunter. It uses its abilities (its mind, its perfect hands and feet, its false but seemingly true phrases and expressions) to manipulate its kingdom so that it may thrive where others have fallen.
It feels no jealously, no love, no anger. It feels nothing, has never felt anything, but fear and primal lust, and anticipation. It has watched him, stalked him within the confines of his kingdom. It has waited patiently as he has weakened, its fear ever decreasing as his realizations grew. He was its rival, and now its prey. He has become just as human, just as beastly as the subjects he had so readily dismissed. Content with his throne and his perfection he has steadfast ignored what he could have prevented.
In his efforts of perfection he has created this beast.
In his arrogance and confidence he has let it learn and thrive.
In his weakness and in his realization, he has become human.
And this (his) humanity has been but a farce in the face of instinct.
The child was just as human as he was.