The answer was no before she could finish. The investors said it could never be done but she dare to defy their odds. They threaten her career, the future of her and her family. The recruiters rejected the possibility but their doubts where merely their own. No, over a million times over, was the message she received across the monitor without ever meeting face to face. No was her answer before asking the question. “They reject only who they fear,” and fear was the right choice for them to make for no dream was worth the nightmare. So, their answer remained constant. Their word was final, no.
But, she continued to walk the path they set before her. The path she was never meant to pave though a Texan always sets the trend. She, native born, rose to the occasion only to remind the nay-sayers of whose land they thrive on. She, of native blood whose father an African American civil rights lawyer and mother whose tribe stems at the sole of the old America, stood alone in a state full of hacking thieves masked as activist. One brave African American Native woman challenged their amendments and called for a better government for she has seen enough corruption in the inheritance her people lost.
She, Eon Blackmore, against all odds ran for president in a nation crumbling from within. No more would she see her land whiter. No more would she stand in silence as her people be reserved the rights they rightfully deserve. Blackmore ran on an empty ballot. Many annexed the idea of a native for a president, let alone an African American woman at that, but what better choice did the nation gain to lose? Another liar? A suitable corporate mouthpiece puppet? Even she knew how lost the American officials where. Why else would they be keen on monitoring the public, thirsty for a guide?
“We see not in black and white.” Blackmore began as the United States watched the presidential debate unravel. The crowd chattered in the background as they voiced their discriminatory opinions towards a woman for a president while she spoke. Eon wondered corner to corner, hearing the denial in their tone. Her color counted against her. Her background failed her as well but she hoped somewhere out there would be someone like her. Someone who shares her optimism for a better solution. Someone who sees not in black and white but a world of color.
“We lived not as separate but as equals.” She raised a hand, gesturing unity and prosperity in a divided nation. She did everything she could to make them realize her dream. Like an artist stroking a brush to paint a picture, she moved about corner to corner; connecting with the distant voter. Sharing of a world where there are no borders, no weapons and no evil. “We long for a paradise to fall from the heavens. We pray for a deliverer, a unifier, to shepherd us to a promised land and though we are divided, we dream the same dream.” She looked beside her opponents and paused.
“I am not your deliverer.” Blackmore continued as the room fell silent. “Nor will I promise you a promised land because we have forgotten that we are living in this paradise we long for. We lost our way and have forgotten earth was that Promised Land. As former governor of Texas, I have done everything in my power to keep my services for and to the people.” She turned to the crowd once more, “We stand here before the American body debating over whose more fit to run this nation when there are far more issues at hand.”
“We criticize each other over whose administration is more corrupted than the other then question why our young voters don’t vote.” She addressed the nation through the watchful lens, “People know if no one voted, America would still have a president. Our young voters steer away from the ballot booths because they know how corrupted their politicians are. They’re wise beyond their lies. They don’t praise us for our humanitarian services, they damn us for limiting their rights denying them their freedom.”
“You may not know what my fellow colleagues you see here standing before you hidden agenda may be,” she ended her speech searching for a spark among the crowd, “But you can rest assure you will know mine.” The other politicians smirked while applauding her stance. A small crowd cheered and chanted her name in unison while waving her flag, her symbol. Tall wide screens mounted behind them televised the woman who dare defy her officials in a time when evil prevailed, but who’s to say they never did?
Once the debate was settled and the crowd had dispersed, Eon escaped the public eye to enter a small convention isolated from common people. She invited a group of private wealthy investors to extend the presidential debate behind closed doors. Through the course of her political career, Blackmore had devised a scheme to purge the world of all evil. The xenophobic discrimination and bias she encountered as a native woman the past fifteen years were hard to swallow. She couldn’t believe the extent of her corrupted colleagues and the horror they’ve commented in the name of their liberty and justice.
The private figures she called forth were the victims of hate crime. These prominent aristocrats were wrongfully discriminated by the Arian community simply because of the color of their skin. They’ve been restricted, deprived, of their future forced to succeed under their Arian shadows. Blackmore took these victims of injustice and gave them a voice. She gave them hope, a light at the end of the tunnel; a prosperous future.
As the last guest settled in their seats, Eon stood behind a small podium and waited. She looked them square in the eye and felt their pain, their scars. She noticed the history of oppression marked in their faces left by their righteous Arian heroes. “Brothers, sisters,” she called them, “How long must we stand and watch our race be oppressed by the white powers that be? How many of our people must die before we say no more? History tells of heroes who rose against the status quo only to be beaten or killed.”
“There once lived a man who had a dream,” she commented, “And that man died in vain, why? Because he was African American? Because he was a reverend? More and more, we hear of law enforcement targeting these people of color, discriminating the colored skin unjustifiably. More and more, we see the front page news glorify their acts of service, riding the world of the Arian nuisance because that’s all we are to them. ‘You only succeed in life if you’re white,’ according to who? These Anglo-Saxon oppressors? If that’s the new way of life in this modern age, then I have no remorseful regret over what I’m about to propose.”
“Ladies, gentlemen, let’s go back in time,” she proclaimed, “And recall one man’s journey to establish a country where succession is achieved by the will of one race.” Questionable remarks appeared before her guests as they began to connect the dots. Surely she wasn’t suggesting what they had in mind. “Let’s fully analyze his accomplishments and try to decipher where he went wrong and where we can succeed from his mistake.” Few of her guest abruptly stood from their seats and attempted to leave.
“Preposterous!” They called as they made their exit. “He was insane. We won’t be any better than them. This is maddening!”
“Preposterous!” They called as they made their exit. “He was insane. We won’t be any better than them. This is maddening!”
“Statistics say white people are more prone to oppress than any other race.” Eon stated. “No other race has a history of oppression like the Anglo-Saxons. That man may have been insane, but so are our officials. They are no better than them, in fact they are worse; they are American. That man did not die in vain because his legacy reigns supreme as the American dream. People have grown tired of the Arian oppression. They’re wise to their propaganda. People want peace, freedom, justice!”
“And what about what they want?” One asked.
“We know what they want.” Eon answered. “They want the world for themselves while the rest of us simply want our share of peace. How long did the African American stay a slave before they finally mustered the courage to stand up against their masters? How much blood was slaughtered before the natives caved to the white devil? Most of all, who’s to say their oppression will never end?”
“Why?” Another asked. “Why specifically them? How do you plan on achieving this without suspicion?”
“Because only they turn brother against brother, sister against sister.” Eon replied. “All can be accomplished. As I mentioned before, gathering them won’t be a challenge. I myself have carefully studied Hitler’s steppingstones. We will succeed where he could not because we won’t operate like they did. There are ways to go about things, that is where we will succeed where others could not.” Her guests turned to one another, tentatively listening for their rapture.
Weeks turned to months and a year had passed before Eon could see her revelation grow. Diving into the root of all evil was no picnic. Money was her only obstacle, luckily she utilized her connections to her advantage. It began with the purchase of a hundred thousand acres deep in the heart of America. Construction work soon followed as she began to build a promised land for her Arian brethren. A town where no crime is committed, where there are no borders and no laws. Just a simple obligation for its residence to maintain, unity and prosperity.
This is the world they want, and so, they shall get. Once the perfect town was completed, Eon made sure certain people knew where to go and how to get there. With the aid of Eon’s administration, this lonely peaceful town soon came alive with the sound of merriment. Its monotone residence lived happy among one another. No crime was ever announced on the evening news. No deaths were accounted other than the dying old and no horror was ever recorded. Peace and prosperity was dealt with a heavy hand, unbeknownst to the residents.
“Welcome!” Billie greeted the new arrivals. A moving truck parked in the street closed the driveway of a recently vacant home down the neighborhood. “We’ve been getting new neighbors recently,” Billie commented as she handed her new neighbor a homemade banana bread with double fudge brownies on the side. “I didn’t get to say goodbye to the last owners who lived here, but they travel a lot.” She mentioned a couple had moved into another vacant house down the corner and how mysteriously they too left without saying a word. “News must be spreading, huh.”
“News?” her new neighbor replied.
“Yes,” Billie exaggerated, “Manor Estate is relatively new, it’s been about two to three years since they opened this part of town and it looks like they're constructing more town homes over by the hills. My husband and I were a bit skeptical when we first moved here but this town has it all. There aren’t any hoodlums in this neighborhood I’ll tell you that. I can’t recall the last time I locked my front door without worrying whether or not my things are secured.” Billie laughed while waving to a passing car.
“Really?” her neighbor added. “That seems too good to be true.”
“Oh stop,” Billie teased, “You’re sounding like one of those paranoid journalist out looking for a story to exploit.”
“I am journalist,” she answered, “I’m more aware than paranoid though.”
“I’m sorry,” Billie confessed. “I didn’t mean to offend you doll.”
“No, don’t sweat it.” She laughed. “I’ve been told worse.”
“I didn’t get your name.” Billie remembered.
“Jolin.” She introduced herself. “So you leave your doors unlocked?”
“We all do.” Billie proclaimed. “You see those lamp posts?” She pointed to the corners of the neighborhood, “They’re rigged with motion sensors that record live feed and sound. In color too! Keeps the neighborhood safe. I’m telling you Jolin, you have died and gone to heaven and the best part is you’re still alive to experience it. Night guards patrol the neighborhood streets once the sun sets until morning of course. You’d be a fool to try to break that peace. No one has tried though because we don’t have to. This town has no laws but one simple obligation, we take care of each other.”
Billie lingered around Jolin’s lawn before she went back home to prepare a feast for her loving husband. All evening Billie waited as the bread winners returned home after a long day at work. The neighborhood streets came alive with busy motors and cheerful kids. She had noticed Jolin seemed suspicious but in time she would drop her guard and come to realize Manor Estate was the place to be, as she had once done.
“How was your day?" Billie’s husband, Connor, asked once he arrived late in the hours of night. “What did you cook, it smells delicious?”
“I made some banana bread and brownies for our new neighbors.” Connor looked surprised. “I know, the Masons left as well and already people are flocking here like there’s an apocalypse to avoid.” They both laughed for they were too mesmerized, entranced, by the Promised Land that is Manor Estate. "Word must travel fast, I just hope we don’t get bad seeds. We left the city for that reason.”
“Don’t you worry you’re precious little head,” her husband assured her, “This place only shelters decent honest people like us. That’s why we got that letter, because we abide by the rules and pay our taxes. That’s enough on that, it’s only but a distant nuisance now.” He pulled up Billie’s seat, then made his way to the head of the table. They said their grace before eating. Together, they eat in peace while soft classic traditional melodies pranced above their heads.
As they said their goodnights, Billie and Connor rested in their king size bed while the house began to operate. Hidden cameras in every corner of the house monitored their location. The wall beside their bed post began to emit soothing waves, pushing them further into a deep sleep. For the first time, their doors locked; including their windows. Slowly, their vents began to pump toxic airless fumes into their oxygen, killing Billie and Connor in their sleep. The house killed its residents and disposed of their bodies soon after.
The drawers emptied as their clothes slid down a hidden tunnel that led to the trash. Their pictures and frames were knocked down, disappearing in the floor boards that had mysteriously opened. The house itself cleaned out all remnants of its host as it prepared to shelter a new wholesome family. The night guard outside whistled silently as he patrolled the streets. He turned to the new vacant house and questioned when the new owners would arrive.
The following day, Jolin stepped outside to greet her enthusiast neighbor but she never came outside. She noticed their trash bin was out in the drive way though the trash doesn’t get picked up until the end of the week. “It’s only Tuesday.” She told herself as she unknowingly approached their small picket fence. Jolin peeked inside and noticed the house seemed empty. You’re doing it again, she thought. A month without snooping, she reminded herself, it’s why we’re here. “Try to relax.”
All evening, Jolin waited on the patio for her neighbor, to greet, but no one came out. She waited until the sun set. “Jolin?” Rex, her husband, called in the shadows. “What are you doing outside? It’s late, let’s go inside.” Jolin woke to find her husband returning from work. She startled herself as she realized she dozed off in the afternoon, waiting for her neighbor to show up. As they made their way inside, Jolin peeked one last time and noticed nothing had changed. The house next door stood silent, dark and empty.
“What were you doing?” He asked as they made their way to their room.
“I was waiting for the neighbor but she never came outside.” Jolin explained. “I don’t think they ever stepped outside. I think they left. Their house looks vacant, all the lights are off. Do you suppose something happened to them?” She stood by their window and felt a slight chill crawl up from behind her. Her gears began to move, her thoughts raced as her imagination led her wondering the worst.
“Stop,” Rex replied, “You’re going to give yourself a migraine again.” He handed her two pills and a glass of water. “Here, take this. I’m pretty sure there’s a perfectly good explanation, just don’t get carried away.” He stood by her as she took the pills and swallowed the water. “They’re probably off to their parents or they went on a vacation, you know like we did.” Jolin stayed by the window overlooking their lawn across the field to an empty house where life once lived. He massaged her shoulders and embraced her worries. “They’re fine. Everyone’s fine. We live where there is no evil, try to remember that. Okay?”
Jolin smiled and dropped the subject. Once they settled in their beds, Jolin’s mind began to trace back her conversation she had with Billie. Not once did she mention a trip or give a hint that they were planning to leave. As a matter of fact, Billie loved her home. Why would they leave, Jolin asked herself. Then suddenly a light appeared before her. Jolin remembered Billie informing her of her unlocked doors. She turned to her husband who was sound asleep and kissed him goodbye.
She crawled her way downstairs and out through the back. The night was cold and silent. No sirens echoed in the distance. No screams of trouble lingered in the air. The town was at peace, sleeping in their perfect homes. Jolin made her way to her neighbors home, careful not to make a sound. She peeked into their window and noticed the house lay vacant. No pictures, Jolin noted, No sign of anyone. She checked inside the garage and noticed there were no cars either. “Where did you go?” Jolin whispered.
Off in the distance, the night guard whistled casually as he made his rounds. Jolin hid behind a bush as the guard flashed his light around. Once he turned the corner, she made her way to the back and proceeded to enter the house. Jolin grabbed the door knob and entered. The house smelled cleaned, though no presence were felt. She swiped the counter and touched no dust. But where could they be?
Jolin made her way into the kitchen. She opened the drawers and pantry to find them all empty, no food or utensils. Slowly, she moved into the empty living room. The furniture lay as it should but no pictures decorated the lonesome room. No sign of life recorded the people who resided in this house, where Billie and her husband once lived. Jolin’s suspicion became alarming as she ventured further into her neighbors home.
Up the stairs and down the hall, the master bedroom stood deserted. Jolin opened the door to find the bed made and empty. She slid the dresser and found no clothing, no nightstand decked in murals or books. Jolin stood in the dark as her mind conjured conspiracies to the whereabouts of her missing neighbor. She quietly went downstairs, exited through the back from where she entered and made her way back to her home. As she lay next to her husband, her mind began to question everything. Where could they have gone? What could have happened? How?
Jolin would never get her answers as she mysteriously fell into a deep slumber. The doors locked and once more the toxic airless fumes pumped into the air vents, killing Jolin and Rex on impact. Like before, the house began to clean itself. It emptied the dressers, disposed of the bodies and cleared the room for the new arrivals. Jolin and a few other homes were now open ready to shelter a new family.
Eon and her administration kept a close eye on their residence. With the advancements technology kept producing, ridding the world of all evil became a simple task. Gathering evil was no greater feat, nor was it to rid the evidence. More and more people kept flocking to the heart of America for their share of peace. With each coming arrival, new families were gassed, killed, and disposed; leaving plenty of room for more to come. Eon’s revelation was a success, the rapture came only to those who deserved it. Only to those whose history of oppression is seen as a divine act for some God.
Eon Blackmore was never inaugurated as president. She never made headline news as the first native African American woman candidate for presidency. The media never depicted her as a hero, a legend, for her name would never go down in history; nor would she want to. Winning was never her main objective because winning is where they went wrong. Having her name go down in history would only have exposed her ulterior motive to purge the world of all its evil.
Eon Blackmore had far more greater schemes in mind. Their demons were no match for her Satan. Their oppression was merely her validation for the new holocaust that would soon take its place in the history of modern times. The Arian race, the Anglo-Saxon oppressors, were long gone by the tenth year. The world spun ignorant to the slaughter of a single race. The only ones who knew, who grew suspicion in sight, were found and gassed. History would never mourn the loss of one race as the others prosper in a world of color.