I had always walked down the street slowly, taking my time. Always looking in each broken window, in each dilapidated doorway. Even the corrosive, dismantled alleyways weren’t safe from my gaze. I saw the faces of the men and women as they looked upon mine. The foreboding, the reluctance, especially the fear. It was all there, and it was all I ever saw by then. In each run down building, and in every single dark alcove I knew that they were always watching me, just as I was always watching them. It was my job after all, and I was damn proud to do it. But it does come at a price.
Seeing me coming was no hard task, as I was immediately recognizable to every citizen, me adorned fully in the tall black boots laced in white, and fine dark suits worn by all government employees of my position. My chest was embellished with chains of silver and gold, the tag on my suit read Hugo Boss, and my lapel wore the symbol of our cause, a righteous golden phoenix, rising from the ashes of rebirth. We were given the finest in order to maintain the law, and as such we were expected to act accordingly. For a long time I had been doing this work, for a long time I acted and did as I was told.
It had been a number of years since this all began, this effort to save the world. It started small, as a mere idea, but quickly gained momentum once people really saw what we were up against. Hunger, poverty, children and women dying in droves in the streets. There simply was not enough food for all of the people in our world, and by the end of the debating everyone agreed, it was what had to be done.
The concept was simple enough. For a number of years, perhaps four or five, the citizens of the world were to completely cease procreation. It all seemed harmless enough. At first people were even excited; the Centralized World Government even began heavily subsidizing powerful birth control: people were able to have relations unencumbered with worry, families were able to focus on themselves and the children they already had, young workers were able to devote themselves uninterrupted to their work. Yes, at first it all seemed wonderful, and within the beginning few months, our economy flourished. People we’re happy, they felt free from the realities of the world, free to have sex and to work, and to play, and to be whoever they wanted to be. Free from the everyday life that they had known for so long. It could be compared to a heavy drug trip, first it seems nice, it seems playful, it can teach you things about yourself you could have never otherwise known… But sometimes, by the end all you want is for it to stop. The only difference here is, this trip didn’t.
Seven years. That’s how long it had been since this all started. Seven long, stretched and wanting years. I had a wife; hell I almost had a family. Had we met each other just a few months sooner, maybe decided to try just a month or two ahead, it might have all been different. It might have all been okay. But alas that was not what life had in store for the two of us, my wife and I. Just three days after we finally decided what we wanted, after we finally decided to try and have a child, the CWG put their law in effect. It was everywhere, the papers, the t.v. news, on every web page the message, the world was dying and we all needed to help, we needed to stop having children. The blow was immense to us, more so than most simply due to the timing. Our relationship couldn’t handle the strain. It wasn’t long before we broke. So many relationships did then. What was the point if you couldn’t have a family? I see now that that was the whole point, for them to make us alone and weak, and then one by one, to take us.
She just couldn’t handle the strain. Her whole life, this is what she had wanted and she had almost had it - and now, it was gone. She was dead within a month of the news.
I was left alone and confused. They told us this law would bring prosperity and bounty to all; and at that time, against all odds, I still believed them. And so, out of what I like to think was loyalty, but what may truly have been something closer to spite, I enlisted for a role in the CWG. I thought I wanted to help the world, and I thought that that was what they were doing. I just wanted to be able to save something.
My job was simple at first. Myself and another officer were to be partnered up and together we would respond to calls of reported pregnancies, and subsequently help the families deal with their mistake. It was a bit of a morbid job, but one that we knew had to be done. Everyone knew it had to be done, the fate of the world depended on it. It was rare in day that we did not receive at least a few calls, people at that time were happy to let us know of their situations, and happy to let us help them. It felt like good work, and for a short time it allowed me to feel some semblance of happiness again.
Over the years, however, things changed. More was beginning to come clear. At first it was the women who noticed something. Over the years many families had been visited by myself and my team, and over the years we had sent many women to receive help for their pregnancy. It began to seem however, that once those women had been there, they had never had to return again. Shock and public outrage ensued once the idea that the CWG had been sterilizing people without their consent, and subsequently, a rebellion was born.
All over the world, men and women threw down their reverence for laws of the CWG and began to once again in secret, procreate. The day the first baby was born was the day my job changed. We were brought in a large room, and told what had to be done. No longer would we only help abort pregnancies, just as we would no longer simply take an idle hand in this rebellion. We were each given a small knife, a handle of black adorned with a golden phoenix, and a paper thin, three inch blade. Some of the men looked at this weapon at first as though it would not be enough, not a strong enough weapon for what they imagined themselves to be doing with it. Those of us who understood what we were meant to do, certainly did not feel the same. Before long it was explained to us, and all was clear. We were to exterminate the babies.
Some among us were too weak to handle our new task, and so they were discarded. We were to be the protectors of the new world, and it was on our shoulders to ensure the survival of the human race. Those men didn’t understand that. Or maybe they understood more than we did, looking back it’s hard to tell.
It wasn’t long before the news of our intent had spread. Word travels quickly when guided by misery, and so by the time we had begun our ghastly duty, all those we encountered were prepared for us. This made for particularly gruesome work, chopping and hewing and cutting our way to our goal. Some men were better suited to it for others, and for years my partner and I were some of the best. Many times we had to cut down entire families in order to eliminate our babbling target. Many times we had to kill far more than just the one. But the CWG didn’t mind. In fact they seemed to relish in it. It was not uncommon for a man to receive a particularly fat christmas check after a particularly bloody year.
And so in this manner my life continued. Year after year of bloodshed and misery, dealt out by my heart and my blade, and by the ones who ordered me. Countless lives I had taken, all for the ideals of my country. All for the greater good. But the greater good can start to strain on you. It had been seven years. Seven goddamn years since it had all began. Since the CWG introduced their laws, since the world stood still before me… since she died. I visited her grave every so often, always bringing her something from me, and from what we may have had if it had all been different. A small blue babies shoe, an old pacifier found in the trash, a little rattle adorned with polka dots. I don’t know why I left those things there. Maybe I just wanted to know that I still cared.
“Alcohol is always a fine way to quench such memories, and so I drink. I'm drinking right now, sitting alone at this shitty bar. Can’t believe I’m here again. It’s cold, even though it’s so fucking hot outside. Why the hell do they do that? For the beer I guess. Fuck it.”
Dan Parsons had this thought flash through his head at the speed of a bullet, right as he had gotten to stand up from the dank musty barstool he had been perched on. That’s how all of his thoughts ran lately, too fast to make end of. His cell phone was ringing but he didn’t want to answer it, he knew who it was. The third time he called Dan had to pick it up. God knows he didn’t want to, God knows he was sick of all of this bullshit, but he had to. Work is work. His partner's name was Scrant Kelly. A fucked up name, yea, but it fit him well. He was a fucked up guy. Over the years Scrant had taken some sort of piece out of this job and had put it in himself. Before he was a nice enough guy, sure kind of an asshole but you got used to it. Now he’s just bloodthirsty. The kind of things the guy could do with that little knife you wouldn’t believe. The first time Dan had seen Kelly really give it to someone, really cut them up good… Man it stuck with him. Messed him up worse than that guy was, at least that poor sucker didn’t have to live with it.
Dan answered the phone. Sure enough, it was Kelly’s mousy, sickening voice, smoothly explaining in plain terms that they had a real sicko on their hands, and it was time to do some dirty work. Whatever that meant, Dan had no idea, but he was sure Kelly would explain.
“I’m at Mac’s, come get me.” It was all Dan had to say.
Kelly was pulling up not thirty seconds later, with a knowing little look in his eyes, as if to say, “Had a feeling I was gonna find you here, buddy.”
His true words weren’t far off.
“Knockin’ back a few to ease the old nerves before a big one, huh Danny?”
Danny… Dan hated when people called him that, but he just looked over at Kelly, and sat in the seat beside him. It usually wasn’t necessary to reciprocate conversation with the man anyways, he seemed to have a fine time doing it all on his own. And sure enough,
“So get this one Danny, these two sick fucks apparently have been on the ole’ CWG’s radar for some time, I guess they’ve even sent in a guy or two after ‘em, neither of ‘em came back. They say these two must have some tricks up their sleeves.”
After that one Kelly gave a sort of silky chuckle, and slowly felt the place where Dan knew he kept his blade. This gave Dan some sort of sickening feeling alright. He wasn’t sure if he could do it again. But what could he do to stop it? Nothing. Dan had begun to see things for that they really were, and he was scared. Five years ago walking down the road in his gallant uniform, all eyes on him seemed appreciative, even comforted by his presence. Now shutters slammed and doors were pulled shut as their car passed the people's houses by, and no one gave looks of anything other than contempt.
It wasn’t long before the long, slick black Mercedes sedan the two rode in had reached it’s destination. Kelly and Dan got out, took one look at each other, and began up the steps. The building was decrepit. A single story high, but deep and sprawling. Dan could see pieces of the ceiling caving in in some spots even from the outside, and pieces of the windows lay shattered and askew on the ghostly green grass. Whatever was about to happen here, it wouldn’t turn out good. Kelly and Dan approached the door to knock, but just before they did. A cry. Stifled and muffled but a baby's cry none the less. Dan’s heart sank, but Kelly was excited. With all of his might he smashed the door open and yelled in a dangerous, bullhorn voice,
“CWG Officers, everyone remain calm, we are here for the child!”
As soon as the words had left his mouth, a shadow moved. All at once a man had appeared brandishing what looked to be an old cracked and tarnished wooden baseball bat, with about a dozen long metal nails dug into its flesh. Covering one side of the bat was a deep, smoldering red, peppered with what looked to be human hair. At the sight of this Dan gasped and faltered, and in doing so happened to notice a small woman hiding in the corner of the room, bundled in some musky rags. It was over in an instant. The shadowed man swung, Kelly ducked, and Kelly lunged. As this happened, Dan’s eyes met the dirt covered woman’s and she began to scream. Dan followed her terrified eyes to Kelly, standing resolutely over his kill, his knife still trembling in this woman’s husband's throat, fighting to hold back the blood.
Seemingly without thinking, Dan whimpered aloud. Kelly seemed not to care, or more likely not to notice. Slowly Kelly pulled his blade from the neck of the man he had killed, and slower still he approached the wretched woman, lying shaking in a puddle of her own tears. And then something made a noise. A small cry, the same the two had heard before entering. The child was wrapped within her arms. Kelly immediately attacked. Wanting nothing more than to sate his bloodlust, Kelly lunged his blade as fast as he could, and struck. Dan watched as the woman coiled, and as the bundle of rags held in her arms fell to the floor. Out of the rags fell a doll, still sputtering its muted cry, and out of the woman's hand came a knife, three inches long, emblazoned with the burning phoenix of the CWG. It went deep into the meat of Scrant Kelly’s chest, and stuck in strong. Both fell almost as quickly as it had all began, two identical phoenix's, adorning the geysers of blood from two hearts, set a world apart.
The scene was horrific. Dan didn’t know what to do, so he did nothing. He just stood and stared. It seemed like a long time that he gazed upon the scene, looking at all of the blood, and at all of the death. He wondered why. Why had all of this happened. Why had it been done. Why couldn’t it have all just been better? Het got to thinking about Marissa, his wife. He missed her so much. Why couldn’t it have just been okay? And then he heard it, quiet at first, barely audible over the still sputtering baby doll the two dead lovers had used as a rouse. Crying. A baby crying. Dan was struck dumb. After all this, it was still left up to him. He couldn’t do it again, he just couldn’t. But he had to do what was right. Dan gathered the child, and left.
The baby was screaming now. Dan couldn't wait for it to just shut up. Each time he brought the emblazoned phoenix knife down with a bang, the screams intensified. The cutting board was becoming a real mess.
“Soon now baby, real soon now” Dan mechanically crooned, as he continued to chop and chop. Soon he was finished, and the crying had ceased at last.
Dan slowly picked up the baby girl, and addressed her.
“There you go, all better now huh?” Dan said playfully. His stolen daughter giggled. She agreed, a belly full of chopped carrots is much better than a belly full of nothing at all. Dan smiled as he went to shut the blinds. Outside a long black Mercedes sedan passed his house, and Dan knew two men wearing dark Hugo Boss suits, and long black boots sat within, both carrying knives just like the one he had just been using. Dan shuddered, finished closing the blinds, and returned to his smiling daughter.
![[Literature] Charles Dickens: The Wreck of the Golden Mary #8/47](/assets/noimage.svg)