before the end

No one lived anymore. I mean really lived. No one laughed, no one dreamed, no one loved. It wasn't allowed. The sky was gray, such a uniform and unchanging gray that all the color seemed leeched from the world. Gloomy, heavy, and dull. Overcast with a thunderous foreboding of control. I wished for drumbeats, for peace, for music, or dance. I wished that the sky would ever break its formation and let out the ozone, to smell fresh air and feel thunder shake the walls and reverberate in my chest. I wasnt a child when the Black Army took control.I could still remember the thrill of running through a rainstorm, feeling soaked to the bone and the cozy comfort of dry skin and clothes after coming in, as outside the storm raged.

Thoughts like these could get me locked down and punished. As the queen and her men could determine it as magical thinking and a possible threat to their tolitarian control. They didn't like me much anyway. My eyes were green, that being a rarity could already give others the wrong ideas. Ideas about freedom, about beauty, about possibility not being strictly relegated to the Counsel of Moor.( Counsel of boars more like it.) So i was already outcast and pushed into the serving caste.

I cradled my thoughts and ran, exercise was allowed. Three times a week as a reward for good behavior. I had been talking with a friend, he said that he heard freedom wasn't far, he said one good joust from the bioluminesent circuiters and we could possibly come out of the reign. I doubted this but still felt the imminence of change. I ran faster, glorying in the freedom , the rhythmic pounding and rivulets of sweat, this being the only thing tangible and living in this new safer and fairer existence.

The alarm sounded, I felt the energy drain from me and I slumped to the ground."Cadet 307 , that is all for the day, the energy in that enjoyment was far to great for one person, go to the hangar for penance. I will restore your energy at half levels for the next week, in one hour.Have a safe and shared day, Cadet."

My throat was dry, my head was pounding and I couldn't even consider what might have been if I hadn't fled from reality and been here living under a pretense of uniformity. How fast it all changed, I watched wordlessly as they set it up and implemented one mind bending piece of control at a time. Ah well enough of that, what good were thoughts, here we were now,locked in a regime that looked like freedom to outside eyes.

I missed his eyes, the one that insisted I remain here. Locked away in this dungeon of draconian wants, while they fought for freedom, for depth, for life and love. They were bringing salvation from the desaturation of our world. I myself felt the weight of life here. The necklace burned against my chest.

The drones circled overhead, counting us as sheep, "which ones are to be shorn today", my sarcastic mind thought. The wind changed direction, I hadn't noticed. An empty cart skittered by, you know the ones? The ones the homeless used to push their ragged and colorful belongings around in. They were not allowed. She believed they posed revolutionary threats and had them "replaced" with her own versions. I missed them, how they used to be;John the Baptists and Mona Lisas in the dark. What sensory delights. There were no cops anymore, no sirens, no blue,red and white lights. The noise and color were to disruptive to the queen's dreams.

I missed the more colorful queens of the night, as well. You know the ones. Call me damned, but they added much to life. All perfume and make-up, and bangles, calling out to passersby..."honey this and sweetie that in husky voices dripping with unknown taunts and promises. Everyone loved them. I watched them grow smaller and more reserved everyday until the streets are as they are now; silent and hanging with the heaviness of literal violence in all manner of invasive tactics.

I heard the ghost of their voices and felt the absence of their lives as I walked. The respectful drug dealer in his daily place, minding his grounds without violence. Just routine lives that inhabited the city streets. Everyone made their own way in this and respect was dealt by place and life values, a look in the eyes, a nod of the head, an elegance in the stance and words were not needed. Police were commonplace and noninvasive. How I missed the pulse of these lives.

I arrived at the hangar just in time, to wait. All of the queen's men were busy doing the now routine housechecks, maintaining her sense of style, order, and standards;for example, jeans were not permissable, t-shirts with logos may cause one to be executed in the streets. They were deemed to be to expressive of individualities, thereby causing her to feel discomforted about the totality of her control. House checks maintained order and kept all contentments safely regulated.

Houseplants were not tolerated. Paintings and other art was only tolerated at the expense of ones personal enjoyment of them. Thereby assuring complete control of all positives in ones life. Pleasant smells would be noted and adjusted, all pure thoughts and furnishings would be soiled to acceptable standards to "maintain safety". Sex was monitored and filtered through her and her armies. Whatever was left beyond the satisfaction of such, was open for the couples who still remained together by mutual consent. Many people no longer cared. Platonic relationships abounded.

At first glance, it was not that way, it was sold as a whole new world, all flowers and pleasantries and voyuerisms. Freedom and acceptance, and as such,many joined the movement, and were entrapped therein at the onset of reality. They called it shared experience. I sat stoicly,quietly hiding my still defiance at what I missed.I was lonely for the life of humanity, its heartbeat ripping through my veins with life and individualism in moments unbidden. I could taste love on my tongue, a near irrepressible urge to speak, to sing. I resisted.Lives were lost for much less. Beauty in and from individuals outside of the fence of her approval was no longer tolerated.

Artists and artistry being moderated, most of all. We found beauty in the saturated colors and uniformity of unconventially painted houses, in a stolen furtive bow to breathe in sweetness while passing a field of roses, in a few defiant dance steps before the queens army of monitors shut us down, but mostly the beauty was to be found in hidden smiles, and whispered assurances and in the rushing energy of loves comfort, motivation and devotion that was unstoppable in all circumstance.

I felt the cool weight of the heart shaped necklace sitting in the hollow of my neck. I sat there in my approved clothing, a uniform of choice without choices, and thought how I would almost prefer the khaki uniforms of the reformatory I had been sent too. At least they had substinence. Perhaps, there was hope for me in this lackadasical, orchestrated and limited world. I could perhaps find more life comforts within the institutional settings, rather than the outdoor ordered circus parody of nature I found myself in.

At least, she let me keep my locket. I couldn't keep the pictures of my mother and father that were in it. And the diamond dusting was filed off, but I could still feel the cool weight of the sterling heart hanging securely around my neck.