The Visionaries

22

I woke up in a much nicer room the next day. It was a hotel compared to my previous chamber. It was a nice bed with mint green sheets. The room itself was gray with a vanity and a nightstand besides my bed. There was a rack with clothes. All dresses and just....1950s housewife dresses. I was still in my prisoner scrubs. I don't want to get changed. But I smell and I could use a shower. And there was a bathroom to the side with a shower.

There's a knock on the door.

"Good morning, Alma." Michael said. He was wearing a blue dress shirt and dress pants. Yuck. He looked too happy to see me. So I guess I am his. Fuck me.

"Good morning." I don't want to see him. I really don't.

"Why haven't you changed?" he asked. "I had Jennifer pick the nicest dresses for you."

I don't want to wear that. He probably used slave labor for that shit. Or stole it from someone's closet. Maybe I can convince him to let my family live if I play along with him.

"I just woke up. I'll shower and change when you leave the room." I say.

"Of course, I'll step out." he gets out and closes the door behind him. I get in the shower, shedding the scrubs. I stare at my body. My bruises are almost healed and the burn marks on my arms, torso and legs are almost gone. You can easily count my ribs and I have some loose skin from the rapid weight loss I've experienced from the last month or so. I used to be a good weight. I get in and turn on a button for the hot water to start.

I can't help feeling drained instead of energized. I feel my emotions I've pent up for the last three months. I let out, sobbing and tearing up. Then I pressed the button for shampoo, which was some brand I didn't recognize that smelled of rose, body wash which didn't really have a scent besides soap and finally the drying option that dried me completely and almost fully dried my hair.

I tried to brush it. My roots really need a touch up but not now. I pulled on a simple red dress and put a headband on my head. I walked out and they escorted me outside. Michael was waiting in a car. I was escorted to the passenger side.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"To one of my projects. Buckle up." he said. What? I don't think I ever agreed to this. We drove past corn and soy fields until we reached a town. It looked like the set of an old black and white movie. Alsace, a sign said, "The future of the New State, today!" Oh Creator.

It was a town. There were beautiful historical buildings restored. There were people walking on the sidewalk and eating outside of restaurants. They were all white. The women wore the kind of dress I was wearing. The little girls wore dresses too and the boys wore dress shirts and pants. The people looked at me, angry and hateful. A child pointed to me and her mother fussed. I am a freak among them. All pale, blonde, blue eyed, staring at a brown, dark haired woman with dark eyes.

"This is paradise," he said. "What America was meant to be."

"America isn't even a country anymore." I say.

"Of course not, degenerates like your friends and you destroyed it." He continued to drive.

"Destroyed? You're hilarious. You destroyed our nations, our homes, our families. You built this with the blood of our people." He says nothing. He's proud of that, of course.

We pass a school where teachers in brown Sunday suits lead a line full of little girls and boys.

"Children no longer learn the doctored history that they used to teach. They learn of the glory of

Our empire and those who destroyed it. They learn to serve their empire faithfully and dutifully. The boys will learn of their role to uphold the empire by serving in wars and their kind. The girls will learn the duties of motherhood and marriage." he said.

"And what is their fate after that? Child soldier? Child bride? Die at 16 from a LED like Six? Die at 15 from pushing out a baby they were too young to carry?" I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster out of me.

"I would appreciate it if you stopped being sarcastic." Michael said. "I don't expect you to understand it."

"Michael, you literally want to kill us all. And me being the fast swimmer of my siblings does not make my hatred for you die any faster."

"You are my blood and that makes you better than your kin." his face wrinkled at that word.

I am trying my hardest to have a neutral expression but I could not do it.

"From the depths of my heart, go to hell." I say. So much for my plan.

Then we passed by a neighborhood. People walked out of homes, gardened, kids played or got out of their cars. It reminds me of a horror movie. The ones where everything seems normal until something fucked up happens.

"That used to be 'the hood', as your generation would have called it. Everyone of those houses was falling into disarray." he said.

"What happened to the people that used to live here?" I ask. Stupid me, I know the answer.

"We sent them all to camps. Those who were unfit to live were taken care of." I feel bile rising in my throat. He continues to drive. Of course, he's showing me this. He wants me to break. I will not. I will not break. I am my ancestor's revenge and their wildest dreams and I will gladly continue my current plan for them. Everyone is depending on me for this.