We are immigrants.
We left the land of our mothers, because we rejected it, and the ways that our mothers lived by. We went like our fathers to a different land, a different state to inseminate and colonize, even by force, the very ways we rejected, because these new means of life are of no meaning to us. The way we have rejected where we came from, the ways of these people rule to reject us.
However, they do so not without reason. A people can never act without reason. People do not work that way. They are, as is said, rational animals.
And as animals they attacked us.
As people we will retaliate.
They've shown us how it feels to be disposable.
They've attempted disposing of our culture, our language, our god, and our identity. Our identities are worth nothing to them unless it reflects to them a replica of what they believe they portray. They want us to see in our mirrors what they believe they see in theirs.
How about we show them what we see in their faces? After all, they've never really looked upon their own true features, now have they?
Shall we show them how it feels to disposable?
Somewhere in this voracious, condense city is a bank that holds a collective database of every identity honored under this state. Very few are aware of its existence and even fewer of its mechanics. This city is swarming with people working to enhance and protect their identities. But who is the keeper of their beloved persons? As we were told time and again, this state honors no person as a person without an assigned identity. You would think these identities would be better cared for and tended to.
This city holds its money closer to its bosom than it does its people. The hatchlings follow their mother duck as the people follow suit, tugging to keep their money closer.
Paper rips. Fibers tear.
Just like that.
Stone sublimates and metal flows; wires singe in harmony as it passes.
Just like that.
Now what do they tag their identities upon? Who do they hold so close, so dearly?
Who is it they see upon their silver glasses?
Now, run with your money tucked between your toes. You've been given what you've longed for all along.
Just like that.
It isn't quite so disposable now, is it?
Rise those who remain within identities in tact.
Brother. Are you my brother? Ah well. So what will your name be? Mine will be so as well. Sister. How are you? What would you be called?
So it will be.
Just so there will be none.
