I shower, dress. First undergarments, then slacks, dress shirt. No need for false beauty. No use in playing a doll. Makeup lays untouched. The thought of love’s too painful. Whether it be deep or platonic. So no show to put on. No spectators to be mindful of. I am me. That’s all that matters. Before I leave the quarters, I carefully spray myself in three heavy layers of sun-retardant cover. Grabbing my sun-suit, I exit the building. “Mindful of the sun. And carry on. Carry on.”
It could melt your skin like butter in a frying pan. I never used to believe that old wise-tale. Thought it was just another government ploy to control the masses and poison our minds. That is, until I witnessed it. The most horrifying sight my eyes had ever seen. A man – poor, disheveled, dressed in nothing but rags – leapt into the heat. Penniless and unable to afford the government’s fancy sun-suits. No cover, not even a foolish attempt at using waste bags to hang over his skin, as others had unwittingly done and failed at. And he disintegrated. Right before my eyes. First his hair, like a flaming torch. Then his eyes, which fell from his sockets and melted before they reached the length of his chest. His leathery skin withered away in a matter of seconds. The sun so hot that it didn’t even leave his bodily fluids behind. It was all evaporated, and nothing but the driest of ashes from his bones lay behind. Even those quickly scattered in the sweltering wind and heat. Never again did I doubt the need for sun-retardant cover or suits. Maybe the government did have motives. But obviously, if I wanted to stay alive, I had to play into them.
[...TO BE CONTINUED...]
Edited 10.8.09 @ 11:55 PM
Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM
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