Of a Different Color

Cameras flashed everywhere. Flutes of champagne hovered. The lights dimmed in this posh space. Some bursts of laughter arose like rockets of glee exploding in the Newark, Delaware evening. Mostly, the patrons mingled in the ballroom. Everyone wore thousand to ten thousand dollar gowns, and white ties with tails.

“I heard they’re going to keep the system of thought closed for a millennia. We are being punished,” Portia sipped. She had sharp features over black skin.

“We’re going to have to deal with being in black formal clothes for the rest of our lives. We’ve got caviar to eat. It’s just something we’re going to have to get used to,” Hayes said. He was somewhat lighter in his appearance; he grinned and then quickly grimaced as he sipped.

“C’mon. It’s not that bad!” Faulkland declared. “We have the best threads money can buy. We go to the store, or have our outfits shipped to us. We don’t have to worry about ever wondering what we will put on for the day. Our diet is steady. The caviar is packed with protein. The champagne keeps us in a steady mood. This is our only work.”

“But if we get drunk….” Hayes interjected.

“That’s not going to happen, sir. We’re far too responsible. So we meet here and we discuss geopolitics, the weather, and the latest play. All of which involve people wearing these exact outfits over and over again. It’s a beautiful tapestry of black and white!” Faulkland nearly shouted. A few members of the party looked in his direction. He recovered by sipping more champagne.

“What I just want to know is why did the government even implement such a rule? I can’t remember wearing anything but this expensive, uncomfortable evening wear,” Portia pointed out.

“It’s our nature,” Faulkland explained. “America has to show the world that the nation is one big party. Laws were written to maintain the illusion we’re the most prosperous, advanced, and engaging country on the planet. We have to show we can be classy and elegant,” he said.

“That’s a goddamn lie,” Hayes said.

“I agree with Hayes,” Portia announced.

“You two stand there with your ears attuned to an exquisite band. Every morsel and drop you put in your bodies comes from the labor of almost a billion people. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves for even fixing your mouths to say what you just spewed.”

“I don’t think so,” Portia rejected Faulkland’s statement again. “I know and you’re too wrapped up in the government to see just how damaging all of this is. It is an affront to all of the Americans who are sweating to bring a bright spot on the once bountiful America. This country was par excellence in terms of rights and liberties. Individuals could live their own lives and not be burdened by anything. They could use their minds to excel, and carry themselves based on their own indomitable spirit. Now, we see a wasteland with no beacon in—” Portia stopped her spiel. A spotlight shone on a man in a mauve suit. It showed spotless fine lines and contrasted with his white dress shirt. He wore no tie. In a sea of black and white, the suit stuck out like a tulip pushing up from the dark soil, all alone.

“I am Marcy Jecks. I come from the world that supports everything and everyone in this room. I’ve been in sweatshops and on shores in different states. I know how the golden, sparkling drink you have in your hand gets made. As you can see, I’ve broken away from the stranglehold to tell you trade is open. No longer will you have to concern yourselves with the idea there is some unknown and unknowable force driving us like slave masters.” The door opened wider and the rest of the workers, all in mauve, filed through the room. It was like more flowers shooting up and surrounding the blackness.

“Here are the men, women, and children who have broken not only our chains, but allowed you to decide to unfetter yourselves. Once we show that America is the best when the individual is free to be his or her best, then we will know this country will be more perfect. Thank you.”

The sound of glass shattering and applause arose from the patrons in their black garb. The mauve swallowed up the entire scene.