THE MONOTONOUS LANGUOR, part 4 of 4

Daddy's little girl.

I hear muffled voices behind the door and other indecipherable noises. It will not be long now.

The buzzer sounds and we push in, and there she is, my Gladys. She is wearing the standard-issue yellow jumpsuit. Gladys looks much older than the last time we visited. She is nine.

Hi, Gladdy, how is my sweet pea?

Before she could move a step in my direction, the shrill voice of her counselor, a birthing person named Wolf, punctures the moment.

Denizen Verlaine, we do not address the wards in that manner. No nicknames. No abbreviations. Address your ward as Gladys or affiliated-non-cohabitating other (ANCHO).

Yes, of course, I respond, warming. Still stooped, I hide my HVs with my hand.

My OCH speaks up. How is school, Gladys? What did you learn today?

Wolf repeats the question.

I learned that all men are not created equal. Men, or man, is a word that implies a structural hierarchy that supports colonization and inherent inequity. Wolf moves her lips as Gladys speaks.

I took my dog to training once. Wolf reminds me of the trainer and Gladys the dog they brought to model proper form, commands, and corrections. The training dog, a Labrador, had no personality, no spirit. It sat, it stayed, it laid down and it rarely blinked.  The prong collar likely had something to do with it. But it was not a dog. It was an appendage of its owner, its master (that is also a word that we cannot use) and I see my girl (another word we cannot use) being absorbed into a yellow world. She does not wear a prong collar like that Lab, but she is eager to please. Her vitals show barely a trace of movement. I will count how many times she blinks.

That’s terrific, Gladys, says my OCH.

She is doing well, Wolf offers unsolicited. Your ward shows some stronger-willed tendencies, but we see that a lot in nine-year-old’s. But not to worry. We have solutions for that.

Wolf turns to Gladys and asks her to recite our pledge. She sweeps the room with her right arm as if to create a gentle breeze for the forthcoming words to waft and settle on our heads—again I think of the Gates Incident and the cloud seeding he funded, using microscopic particles of seawater to whiten the clouds. It rained fine sandy soot for days. He’s still determined to solve climate change, and the rivers run a dingy gray.

Gladys snaps to attention. Arms straight to her side. Palms to her body. Chin up. Eyes wide open.

She begins. Again, Wolf’s lips move in a silent waltz with what she hears.

I pledge allegiance to our North American Federation.

We have the rights we are granted.

Ours is to serve and acceptance is belonging.

We hold these truths to be self-evident.

Truth to you and truth to all.

On this, I swear.

The overhead light flickers. I check my watch.

11:55 a.m.

Suddenly it clicks. A deer. That was a deer fleeing my headlights this morning—wild and breathing heavy, fur heaving. Running for its life, free.

My HVs flatline and I smile, and I pity them.

All.