2.6

Since I hadn’t eaten in almost a week, and, last time I did, it wasn’t very much, Dearka started me off nice and simple.

An apple and some juice.

He promised me something more for lunch, provided I held this down, and still had an appetite. I thought he was joking, making fun of me in some way.

That was until- to my shock-I found that I was actually FULL after that small excuse for a meal. He ate his meal of meat of undetermined origin and bread with me in his room, which had become my own. Dearka-ever the gentlemen-refused to speak of business until our stomach’s were full, and partially digested.

2.5

The bright light burst upon my eyelids, waking me from dreams I could not remember.

I had no idea where I was, or how I got to where I was. The walls were white, pure white, the curtains on the window a pale green and open, letting the-from what I could tell-early morning sunshine in.

I realized with a start that I couldn’t feel my body.

The beating of my heart increased, choking me, my beating coming in gasps. What if something went wrong with the modifications? Or, worse yet, what about the eggs that were removed? What if something went horribly wrong?

2.4

If there is anything written about my exploits in the future, I hope that this part of my life, my journey, my story, is erased.

At this point, I do not regret what I have chosen for myself, nor do I see myself doing so at any point during my life. However, I have to admit that I did not take the procedure with as much strength and resolve and stoicism as I would have hoped.

2.3

I stared at Dearka, at a loss. My eggs? Did he mean…. Yes, I suppose he had.

This was a course of action that I had not thought of. This should have crossed my mind, but, the thing is, this wasn’t a normal, common practice. History has taught me-and anyone else who was paying attention-that the females of this new world LIKED having kids, being baby machines.

2.2

Fuck fuck fuck. I had thought about this before coming here, of course, but, well, I hadn’t banked on HIM thinking of this. His whole practice was fairly illegal, so,  I figured one more law broken wouldn’t be a big deal.

Fucking astute mother fucker.

2.1

“Princess, my ass.” I snorted. My arms crossed each other, and I got more comfortable in my chair.

I’ve had this type of conversation before, and I knew that I was in it for the long run. I was not one to be turned out on her ears, as they say.

Dearka brought his upper body downwards in a bow of sorts. He was well built, his thick arms coming from a tight T-shirt, tattoos and self modifications visible. This man, clearly, was not accustomed to bowing to anyone, or, as it would seem, being in the company of anyone above his station.

2.0

I shouldered my way through the streets, being careful to avoid contact with the other people. I wasn’t just being prissy, I was being careful, safe. People in this area of town didn’t seem to grasp the idea of a personal bubble.

Or personal hygiene.

The stench of grime, bodily fluids and worse assaulted my senses, making me reel. It wasn’t pleasant at all, but, it couldn’t be avoided.

1.9

The rain-if it could be called that-had stopped by the time I had worked my way into the city proper. It was a well protected city, simply because it wasn’t easy to get in. Besides the pipe lines, there was only one road that snaked its way up the steep walls around Guardian City.

I made my own way down the steep decline, choosing to descend in my own way, and at my own pace, rather then have everyone who chose to look see me.

1.8

The rain was soft, a caress across my skin, dampening, but not soaking. It was refreshing, and uplifting, but failed to bring relief. I looked out across the city-if this wasteland could be called a city-as it was washed in the setting suns light, darkening with the storm above me.

Guardian City wasn’t much of a city, but it was home. The only one that I have known, and, as such, the only one I could base any of my ideals against.

1.7

The year: 2106. B.C. It was, technically, March, but not the way it always was. Since the Great Dissent-as it was commonly called-nothing is as it once was.

March was no longer the transitioning between the cold Winter, and the life-giving Spring. In this part of the world, as with most of the populated area, there was no Winter. No Spring, no Autumn. Only summer.  Blistering,  sweltering, feverish heat. The nights brought a sweet cool release, but it was short lived.

Nothing was what it had been.

The days were long, and dry, but not like the ones that my grandmother reminisced of her younger years. Her stories lulled me to sleep when I was a child, soothing and promising, filled with such hope and joy.

I knew better now. But, as a child, they were like a security blanket, wrapping my mind in hope for the future.

I knew better now.

So did the remaining 10,000 people on this planet.

We all knew better.

[xox]