It was late afternoon, the old yellow shafts of light slanting on the plastic gray sidewalk. On the steps leading up to the dark recesses in some forgotten alleyway the boy sat, eating out of a large styrofoam cup with a spoon.
The girl who came by and settled beside him was several years younger, perhaps ten. She tugged her skirts over her knees as she sat. "Hey, Jem."
"Hey, Elle."
"Whassat?"
"Some new synthpro gruel that Jake cooked up. Want some? This good stuff."
"Oh, I can't. It'll ruin my dinner."
"Your loss." He wolfed down another spoonful. "What's in? You look kind of down."
"Oh, nothing.... just... It's my mom. She won't let me go to Sam's party. 'S nothing."
"No, kid you? Why not?"
"She..." The girl shrugged. "She says there's too many--"
"Just say it. I'm not like the others, I don't mind. Too many rowdies, eh?"
"Yes. She says it's not good for me. My psychological development."
"So you're not going?"
"I guess not."
"You out there, Elle? It's Sam's sixteenth, you--"
"I know, I know. But I can't, Jem."
"Why, because you're mom says you can't?"
"Yes, and I have to listen to her."
The boy smacked the spoon into his gruel in exasperation. "So what, Elle. Just because she's your mother doesn't mean you have to listen to her, you know."
"But--"
"Look, I'm always saying, any halfshit cunt can become a mom, right? It doesn't 'matically mak'em good moms, you know. And your mom isn't one of the good ones, trust me. Control freak. Hypocrite. Always taking her issues out on you. Fsha, mine was like that too, that's why I'm out here."
"But I have to listen to her."
"Bullshit. You don't have to, Elle. They can't make you listen to them if you don't want to. Don't let them beat you around, man."
The girl was silent, and he continued. "You really got to stop thinking of your parents as the all-on-high, you know. They're just like you--human, is all. They only see things in their own narrow-minded way, and they all want you to be like them, just like them. But that's just old-school imperializm, you catch my savvy?"
The girl sighed and her brow creased. "But--"
"I know what you're thinking, that because they're older they should know better, right? Myth. Times change, Elle. That kind of thinking is so last century, so nineteen hundreds. They belong to the old, they see things like the old. You give them the chance, they'll make you just like them as well--old, tired, angry. That would suck, yes? You've got to stop letting them take advantage of you, stop letting--"
"Jem, stop," she said, voice quavering. "I know. You've been through this a hundred times before. But all I got to say-- they're my parents, you know? They've always looked after me, fed me, made sure I was okay. And I can't ignore that."
The boy was silent for a moment, then: "But you didn't choose. Damn it, Elle, you didn't choose to be born, you didn't choose to be born to them. You had no choice, you know? Don't buy their excuses about all the sacrifices they had to make to bring you up, man. It's always about them, them, them Did they ever stop to think about how much you have to sacrifice just to conform to what they want? Nooo, ma'am. Just because you gotta go through your developmental stage they think they can slap you around, you know."
"My mom doesn't like it when I talk about things like that."
"No, none of them do. Adults. They're scared, see. They're scared of people like us, like me. That's why they keep us out of sight, that's why they deny us proper education. Because they're scared, you know. They know we're smart. And if they don't try to stop us they know we're going to expose them, once and for all."
The girl rose. "My mom doesn't want me to talk to you anymore."
"But you don't want to, do you?"
She shook her head. "You got good ideas, Jem. I like talking to you."
"Then don't stop doing it. What's the worst she can do to you? Put in more restrictions. More restrictions means more to break, and then what? She'll throw you out? Perfect, then you can come live with the rest of us rowdies. Newbies always welcome, you know."
"I have to go. It'll be dinner soon."
"Yeah. You sure you don't want any of this stuff? Jake's a brilly with the protein synther--this nearly tastes like real, beef stew. Not that anyone really knows what real beef tastes like anymore, but yeah."
"No, I can't. You've forgotten I was geneered for minpro diets?"
"Yeah, that. Must have slipped my mind. Yeah, this would ruin your dinner. Sorry. Tatyl?"
"Tatyl." She turned and walked away.
Halfway down the sidewalk, she turned back. "Have you ever been loved?"
"Love? What's that? Just a word. Don't let them use it as a weapon. We're better off out here without it. Trust me."
"I see." She walked away. And in silence, the boy continued eating his synthetic meal as the sun continued its way downwards.
The Speaker For The Dead
2004-02-19
4:22 p.m.
