RapVerse.com Community - Untitled..... Short story

A jail cell I call home. A home they call a cage. I can’t tell you what I don’t know because I am not a prophet, but a simple owner of a mistake, so I will tell you what experience has whispered into my ear over these years. The scars I have on my back, discipline strikes hard and swiftly, for they are quick to set in line those that may fall off their tightropes, for they, too, cannot afford the mistake that I once made. My cellmate - I mean, roommate – is in the same disposition: despondency at it’s best. Squeezing off every last breath of hope there may be in his lungs, and just before he withers away to a forgotten void of lost souls, they shock his heart with a voltage of despairing reality. Several times throughout the course of a day I hear him praying to God, begging for His help. God never replies. Only in the Scriptures does Moses ever come to the rescue. This is a second Age of Enlightenment, as some have called it, though I doubt that we have ever ventured away from the first Age.
Sometimes I, myself, wonder why God never replies. Some say He is dead. I personally think He has just abandoned us, too many years of us forgetting about Him and what he has done for us and one day He just screamed, “To Hell with you!” Of course, I can’t imagine Hell being much worse. I no longer have a desire to live, my lungs breathe out of habit now, a daily dosage of wake, work, sleep, and repeat is enough to drive any man crazy. Though crazy people still have control of some part of their bodies. There is that one trigger that will make them stop and regain control of themselves. I have no control; I don’t even have control over my own death. I would know, I have attempted suicide many times before with little jagged objects that I find in the fields, but this device they have planted into our brains slows down the blood flow enough so that no harm will be done. Just a simple scar where it occurred and back to work. You can tell how long someone has been in this organization by the number of scars on their wrists.
My life is a grim story wrapped up in whatever is left of morality. My story begins with a mistake and follows it, as the characters never learned from it until it was too late, myself included. This is a “Terminator” mixed “Planet of the Apes” bred reality in which I helped create, forever a memory that haunts me. I was part of a team of scientists, there was twelve of us, and we are now known as “The Twelve Disciples,” mockingly called that by our peers. Except, we are all Judas: we all sold out mankind. And though the creatures know that we created them, they don’t worship us like a God. Why should they? We created them to be just like us, and when it comes to disrespecting deity, they learned from the best. Every night, a tear will roll down my cheek, I count tears instead of sheep, and it helps me sleep better. Then I like to recollect the events leading up to this dump.
I don’t remember exactly when we conceived the notion to actually try and pull off this insane stunt. This idea was a by-product of the everlasting love between stupidity and laziness. I remember the room vividly, its walls shaking their heads as the words echoed out of our mouths and into each other’s ears. If only one wall was capable of reaching out and smacking some sense into us at the time, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened. See, where other people blame us, I blame the walls. We had this idea to take a fertile dolphin, and genetically alter human sperm so that it was compatible with the dolphin egg. All for the sole purpose of reducing the workload and making life much easier. But why did we choose a dolphin? They were smart enough already, so we didn't have to spend so much time trying to train them in their trade. They were strong mentally, and physically, plus were capable of having sexual pleasure. An universal slave, if you will, that will bow to the superiority of the human race and thy will be done, in the fields or in the bedroom. The first experiments proved to be instant failures, the offspring only living for two days or so, a week if he was strong, and then slipping into a coma where he would die. We spent months trying to figure out what the problem was, until a slight change in the sperm solved everything.
By the year 2023, we were able to mass-produce these dolphins for every man’s use. We crammed them into boats and shipped them over seas, and loaded them up into cattle cars to transport them across land. It was a sick mirror-view of the Triangle Trade and the Holocaust side-by-side, and we were the White Devil Germans. I wished I had paid enough attention in history class now to hear the fact that the minority won, and the Germans became society’s bitch. In 2024, there was a mass recall on the slaves, and everyone turned theirs in to have the new disciplinary chip implanted in their brain. This chip was a monster, directing the body in what to do, regulating adrenaline and aggression levels, and took over everything up to and including free will.
Sure, we had our detractors. A group of angry “purists” as we called them who “were out to destroy the cause of science and advancement of society,” now a group that everyone wishes they had listened to. They had participated in “barbaric rituals” that lacked civilization but contained every amount of common sense. I attended one before, and was appalled at what they did: the ritualistic chanting and caging and slaying of my creation! They were stealing the dolphins from farms and factories, and destroying them in the name of humanity! There was no way to stop it, these rituals were taking place all over the world in secret. Now I only wish they had gotten their hands on more of these damned things. The truth in the matter is that we did not know what we were doing, and we had no idea what we were tampering with. These dolphins we created evolved very rapidly, very dangerously (to us and not them), and started to get organized. We didn’t realize that they were capable of organizing, and with the help of some human sympathizers, they had the means to remove their disciplinary chips.
A science experiment gone horribly wrong, the older generation experienced a pre-apocalypse, and the younger generation are born into the horrors, totally unaware of what was, but fully conscious of what will be. That’s how it has been after that dreadful day, August 29, 2036. Franklin Roosevelt’s “Day of Infamy” and God’s “Judgment Day” rolled up tightly into a day of Hell and smoked in the face of the human race. I don’t recall a single day after that date because it just didn’t matter anymore. All hope was lost, all freedom was stolen, and God had abandoned us. Many have tried to rise up against this second Nazi Fascist Regime, but all have been captured and subjected to years of torture and hard labor. Those that were lucky died within the first two years, whereas the others lived on to endure a decade’s worth of sheer pain that even makes the Devil cringe. The men harvest crops and do the hard manual labor. The women make the clothes and cook the meals. We are allowed to have four children: two boys and two girls. The first born male is seized in it’s waddling clothes and sacrificed for their gods of carnage and gluttony. The first born female is raised by them in a camp, and at age fifteen is taken out and sold to the highest bidder for his own sexual pleasure. The other two become slaves at age ten, and work until their age of demise. Any child that is born to make three children of the same sex is seized for whatever they wish: sacrifice, food, hard labor, sexual fantasies, or pets. I’m sure God is somewhere tending to his new and improved creation, laughing at the failure he called humans. Laughing at the race that would, like no other, work hard for laziness.
However, I must tell you that there is something to be said for echolocation and satellite dishes.