A land of Lethal Sameness

There had never been a more heavenly summer afternoon. The water in the pond that Cole kneeled by was clearer than he had ever noticed it to be before, seemingly beaming at the beautiful day displayed on its surface. Normally, sitting in tall grass would bother him, but today, he enjoyed the gentle brushing of the sweet foliage.” Cole? Where did you go? Didn’t you say you’d be in the yard?” Hearing his mom’s voice piercing through the serenity startled him. “Yes mom, don’t you see me?” Cole says while rising from the ground. “Thank goodness,” his mother sighed. “You just blend in too easily, don’t you?” Cole chuckles. “I’ll come inside for dinner, Mom. It's not like I was going to disappear into the grass.” “Well, it sure looked like it.”

After some dinner and a book, Cole felt a coaxing of slumber. He was unusually spent. Meandering to his bathroom to sleepily take a shower, he pondered what to do the next day, if the weather was as angelic as it was that day. “Night Mom, night Dad!” he croaks, massaging the last bit of lotion into his fern green skin.

Everyone on Earth had green skin. Everyone. Fern green. Cole had green skin, his mother, father, and sister did, his neighbors did too. That’s just the way the world was. Each school had a unit about it, to teach the youth about how their skin makes living life better for everyone. By the time you were out of primary school, you would know that green skin helps people to blend into the earth, and how sameness is how society functions best. The government even has schoolchildren recite a pledge every day, to remember their precious education; “We will cooperate and support our government, in keeping oneness and sameness. We live in harmony when differences are not present.”

Cole loved this unit in school. Since he was 15 now, he only got to go over it once a year, but when he did, he savored every morsel of information he was taught. Since he was three years old, he yearned to work for the government so that he could lead and help other people. He vowed with all his heart to work there someday.

It was early morning, and Cole awoke much earlier than normal. The sun was still dormant, and a dense fog sat among the sparse stars. Cole swiftly changed out of his pajamas and headed out of the door. “It must’ve rained overnight,” he murmurs to himself. The dirt trail was damp and smelled musky and anew. His sweater clung to his back from the omnipresent fog. Cole loved the outdoors, but seldom had time to explore it. Today was good though, even though it was not nearly as divine as yesterday's weather. After getting to a clearing on the path, he stops to seek out a critter from his favorite river. As a small child, he would come here all the time, and often found eccentric creatures in the humidity.

The stream raged with power from extra rainwater. Cole’s reflection became a sage blur dancing on the choppy surface of the stream. Unsatisfied by no apparent creatures in sight, he took a rest on a nearby bench. In the distance, an unfamiliar bird call echoed through the forest, ricocheting through the trees. Cole nearly turned around to investigate, but a glint of light instantaneously captured his attention. Surprised, Cole whips around to inspect the river. “Maybe it’s my lucky day, even despite this weather,” he mused. Cole went over to the river and broke into a jog to keep up with the current, which was taking the shimmery object along with it. With his brow littered with beads of sweat and condensation, he finally dips his hands into the water, with expertise that would only come with eleven years of practice. “Gotcha,” he wheezed, expecting to hold a wriggly creature. Instead, he found himself cupping a delicate, ancient locket, that took the form of a heart. He’d never laid his eyes upon something like this in his life. It looked so old yet overflowing with life and history. Now Cole had to be careful. He knew that anything not approved by the Board of Consistency would be destroyed, and any person who possessed something bad enough could even be killed. The list of safe items was in every home, and had plenty of objects that were allowed, only if they were not unique to any individual. Same white clothing items as everyone else, same household white and grey chess board, et cetera. There was no reason for anyone to want, everyone had happy lives. But this locket was so uniquely made, so idiosyncratic, that it would never fit into those guidelines. It was a warm copper color, with blots of pale tarnish, and smelled of weathered metal – sharp, yet comforting to Cole. He knew having it was wrong, but his entrancement wouldn’t let him leave it to sail away in the river. With his hands aquiver, now recognizing how lethal or glorious his new find could be, Cole’s throat went dry, and the clearing eerily got quieter. He daintily placed the locket into his pocket, took a deep breath, and bolted home.

Later that day, after playing some games with his neighbors, Cole recalls his newfound discovery is still in his pocket. “My apologies guys, I have to...um...do my daily chores.” A concerned look washed over one of his friends' faces. “But didn’t you-” “Sorry - just go on without me,” stammered Cole, sprinting down the cul-de-sac.

After stiffly taking a seat on his crisp, white sheets, he started to question his keeping of the locket. His hands clammed up, as he imagined how things could go wrong. Cole wasn’t used to dealing with things that were unique, or remotely noteworthy. Nevertheless, it was like he couldn’t control his intuition and curiosity, and he tugged the delicate trinket out of his pocket. It’s an odd little thing, Cole thought. With its rounded edges and etched paisley pattern, it was a beautiful mess to him. All he’d ever been surrounded with were straight, clean lines, sterile, white rooms and furniture throughout each house, to him, the locket was a quirky thing. Even the one necklace permitted on the safe item list was a plain white beaded string. Cole sneezed, and when he did, something inside the locket shuffled from the jerk. Curious, he noticed a small latch on the side of the locket. It took him a while, but soon, he was able to pry it open. There were two papers, folded up so compactly, that they stayed in the same form when Cole removed them. The first paper completely took his breath away. The thick paper bitterly smelled of mildew, but somehow was not damp. Cole unfolded it to see a picture, from what seemed like, a long time ago. On the paper seemed to be an image of two families, but they seemed otherworldly compared to those on Earth that Cole had seen. In the first family, there was a mother, father, and two sons. The mother had skin that was dewy and fair, like the cream roses in Cole’s Garden. She was smiling next to the father, who had rich, deep mahogany skin, that beamed radiantly. The sons they were embracing both had a regal light golden skin tone, that paired perfectly with their smooth, black hair. Cole was in awe, yet his stomach was uneasy. No one in this photo had green skin like him, even the people in the background had their own, unique, full tone. Were these people really – people? Looking at the other faded paper in the heart locket, Cole shakily sought answers. The other paper was an article, like the ones he saw daily. It read Breaking news- government found out to be changing skin color in vaccine with traces of amnesia inducing drug, people forgetting own cultures.

Cole read on with more confusion and horror than he’d ever [felt in his life. He slowly got restless as he read about how the government gave every single person an “immunity shot.” people hired by the government would creep into the houses of those who refused to get the shot, and would be give it in their sleep. Even little children were snuck up on at parks and given the vaccine. No person went uncounted. After a few years, people’s skin colors started to fade and turn into a green color, and any memories of their culture were blocked out. Often, the vaccine would get too strong, and the people would forget who they were, where they came from.

Cole’s breaths were shallow and raspy. He looked at the pictures in the article estimating the cultures that would be forgotten after 1 week, two weeks, three weeks. He was in shock. Vivid pictures of people celebrating, cooking, dancing, and fellowshipping lingered in his mind. “Why - why would they take that al away from them,” Cole forced through tears. He had never seen something so unique, emotional, or remotely lively as the faded cultures on paper. Everyone in his life was so bland, so ordinary, he thought, and he realized that he must've been too. His sadness turned into seething anger as he reread the article. It was the people in power who did it. The people in the government that he had trusted all his life had something to do with this. And he had the audacity to strive to be one of them. Cole was ashamed to the bone by his ignorance, even though before now he had not known any better. Rising from his bed with a new perspective of his skewed world, he left for the capitol.

When Cole left, he left with no shame. Furious. He could care less if his parents wondered where he went. He needed answers. Getting into the capitol building was easy, no one ever questioned what went on. That was another thing that was a rule. Curiosity is danger. Might as well break that rule too, Cole thought. Now it all made sense. All along in school, they had been indoctrinated to believe the government was looking out for them, out of loving care. Nothing could have been further from the truth, Cole realized. They’ve been showing themselves as heroes when they’re criminals.

The building was all glass, so Cole could see the conference room where the president was. All of his anger had been built up to this moment, and he abandoned any insecurities or fear. Barging into the room, with the locket around his neck, he demanded “What happened to culture?! What happened to our skin color?!” The people in the room acted like he didn't know what he was talking about, that he was simply blaspheming like a child does. After Cole held up the picture of the families and demanded, “What happened to these people!”, their unfazed temperament withered away. Instantly the adults paled and, knew that Cole knew. About what their grandparents did. That what was taught in school was far from the truth. “Did this really happen?!” Cole prodded, waving the article in the air with rage. The president became unphased again, as if he had remembered something. HE calmly ordered “Bring him to the room.” Before he knew it, Cole had been seized, knocked unconscious. He awoke, strapped to a stretcher in a bright white room, that smelled too sterile for comfort. Anxiety instantly ran cold through his veins. The president came back with a large needle, labeled batch 17480-g ethnicity/memory withdrawal serum *immediate result. When Cole saw the syringe, he intently know what would happen, and became overcome with fearful hate. “YOU CAN'T DO THI-” he yelled, only to be stopped by the needle being jabbed into his leg. Silence. Cole saw black. In a few seconds when he awoke, he asked, blankly, “Who am I?”