All rights reserved. This story is published subject to the condition that it should not be reproduced or used, in any manner, without the consent of the publisher. Any infringement of this is a violation of the publisher. Any infringement of this is a violation of copyright law and will be subject to fine. This is a work of fiction. Any character, names, businesses, place, event, or incidents are used in a fictions manner or of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual person’s living or dead or any factual events are purely coincidental. I do not own any images or songs referenced throughout this book. The image of G. Tallchief is a borrowed image and not of the author themself. If the rightful owners to said images, songs, or videos would like their work removed from the story they will be removed upon request. Strong language and/or mature content such as sex and violence will happen throughout this book. Reader discretion is advised.
“…and for once bravery looked a-lot like running away.”
Outside of a single chair, the gleaming white room was void of any additional furniture.
James had arrived early and was alone.
He had been waiting to conduct an interview in response to the staggering decrease in childbirths all over the country.
The proposed ’Reproduction Strike’ in response to the newly released film by Bridgetta Green had struck a chord nationwide.
Women everywhere stopped having children, and it was said that the proposed ’Reproduction Strike’ was a direct threat to the country’s future workforce and military presence.
A booming voice came from above him.
“Yes?” The voice bellowed, addressing James.
James jumped in his seat and turned around in the chair.
“Yes?” The voice bellowed again.
“Uh…my name is James”, he stated, “I’m a reporter from ’The Blue Elephant,’ and I just wanted to ask you a few questions,” he ended, still turning around in circles in the chair to locate the voice.
He was now standing as the room darkened around him.
He then reached out his arms to see if he could make contact with a wall or at least a door handle.
“Yes?” The voice above him said again.
“Ughhh…lights, please. I can’t see,” James panicked.
“What is your question?” The voice in the darkness persisted.
“Uh…Ummm”, James muttered, still reaching out into the darkness, now looking for the chair he was sitting on.
There was no use.
His heart began to race.
He lowered himself to the ground.
The ground was familiar.
“I just have one question; we all have one question, sir,” James said, now sitting on the ground in the middle of the dark.
“Yes?” The voice offered once more.
James let out a despondent sigh.
His shirt was slightly drenched with his sweat.
“Can …can you tell me, if you can,” James was now stuttering, “can you tell me, I mean tell us…why? We just want to know why,” James ended and then laid on his back.
He didn’t sign up for this shit.
A loud reeling sound suddenly came from above him.
James sat up in the darkness with his eyes closed.
It was a projector screen.
A film had started.
The screen’s brightness had now blinded him.
It was a slight relief.
His eyes finally adjusted to the light.
He was now aware of his position in the room and crawled back to the chair.
He turned his attention to the projector in front of him.
James could see the back of two heads on the screen.
The head belonging to the person to the right was slightly higher than the person to the left.
The person to the left appeared to be a woman sweating and panting.
The image circled the two heads to present their two bodies. They had been talking to one another indistinctly.
The film was silent and continued.
The person on the left was emerged in a blue kiddie pool.
The head to the right appeared to be offering comfort.
The woman to the left was breathing heavily and sweating. Her breasts were exposed, and her legs were sprawled open in preparation for her child’s arrival.
The woman in the bathtub inhaled and bore down.
This didn’t work.
The woman in the kiddie pool then turned over on all fours. The film’s silence could not negate the loudness of what was happening.
Her facial expression was in agony.
She had placed one hand between her legs to feel her infant’s head waiting to be moved further out of her vaginal canal.
She inhaled for the third time, bore down, and then pushed.
Another woman appeared from behind the woman to the right. There was more indistinct talking.
She walked around the woman in the kiddie pool and turned on a mini flashlight.
She pushed once more and rested her head on the side of the kiddie pool, now moving both of her hands between her legs. The sound of the infant crying was the only sound that the film provided.
The cry was alive, promising, and persistent.
The picture then faded to black.
The following silent film opens with what looks like a wedding reception.
The bridal reception had been saturated in the most beautiful red he had ever seen.
There had to be hundreds of people in attendance.
The video then pans on the bride.
Her feet were so small.
The gray-haired man sitting next to her was the groom.
He was apparently overjoyed with his new wife-to-be.
The mother of the bride lifted the bride’s red veil.
James’s heart sank.
The bride was a child.
The video proceeded to pan closer and closer to the child’s eyes.
Tears had fallen to her cheeks.
She then gently touched the side of her veil and looked to the left.
There was no one to save her.
The screen then faded to black.
James put his head down.
He didn’t understand what he was watching and certainly was not prepared to be entertained.
He had had enough and now stood to his feet to leave.
The following silent film had started.
James’s back was now turned to the screen.
He was in preparation to walk out.
The screams from a 911 call startled him.
“911. What is your emergency?” the dispatcher said.
“Please send someone,” the woman on the other line pleaded.
She had been sobbing.
“Ma’am, what is your emergency?” The dispatcher continued.
“My boyfriend shot our son. I came here to pick him up, and I found him dead. He’s still breathing,” the woman screamed, “please help me.” she continued to yell.
“What is your address and location?” the dispatcher requested.
“Who the fuck are you on the phone with?” a man’s voice appeared in the background.
“Jeff, we need help. Please, Jeff, please put the gun down” the woman pleaded.
The next sound was a shot and then silence.
The next sound was another shot and more silence.
“Ma’am? Ma’am? MA’AM?” the dispatcher yelled, “Oh my God. All units, all possible units, double or triple 187 in the Bedford Stuyvesant Brevoort Housing Projects. All units proceed with caution, all units proceed with caution, all units proceed with caution…” the phone call then fades.
James turns to face the screen.
The pictures that flashed before him were of the mother, child, and boyfriend, all dead.
James saw the images of the mother and child shot.
He burst into tears and then ran to the nearest corner of the room and vomited.
“Jesus Christ,” he yelled, wiping his mouth, and repeatedly retching, “enough,” he cried, getting up off the ground, grabbing his coat, and heading to the door.
“Lemme out. Lemme out,” he said, now banging the door to leave.
The lights in the room suddenly turned on.
“Sit,” said the booming voice from the ceiling.
James stopped banging on the door.
He paused and then turned around to the chair.
He walked towards it and sat down.
He was now annoyed and wanted to leave.
His shirt was drenched in sweat, and he smelled of vomit. Now exhausted, he sat down. He leaned back in the chair, put his things on the ground and his head in his hands.
The sinister monotone voice from the ceiling started:
“You know, we never really needed the mothers.
Outside of actual reproduction and consumerism, they were useless.
Our goal was to separate the two.
Child and mother.
Mother and child.
Some studies suggested that this connection was by far the strongest universally.
We aimed to discourage this connection.