Author: Sarasi Jayasekara
Sammy could see color. That was the part that bothered me. Not that he had all his organs intact while half my body had been replaced with machines. Nor that mama hadn’t spoken two words to me since he’d been born. All that didn’t trouble me. This was going to be her last baby. Her womb was faltering. Couldn’t blame mama for being happy about Sammy being new and healthy. But he could look at the world and see colors. That was unacceptable.
Every morning, he doodled nonsense on the light wooden floor of our apartment, with crayons of different shades of dark. Then he pointed to the scribbles and yelled “mwountain! flowwer! sky! yelloow!”
Pff.
I bet it’s not even yellow. Kids are stupid.
Anyways, this was a long time ago. This was before Sammy tried to grow up, and his body decided, nope, not gonna.
I wish I could tell you that Sammy lies in a nice peaceful grave on a mountaintop somewhere, like they used to do with the dead, in the before-times. So let’s pretend that’s what happened.
I don’t remember being sad about it. Was I even sad when Mama left? She had saved up enough money to go to a retirement camp. It was a better life―far better than the factories―as far as we knew. So she was gone. And I had no right to be upset. That’s how life goes.
I hadn’t thought about them for years―Sammy with his crayons and mama with her smile. But today, when I got to know I had finally saved up enough money for retirement, I didn’t know who to celebrate it with. The only reason I could make the mark was because I did nothing but work. No talk, no drinks, no friends.
So I walked into that abandoned part of town I used to live in, found our old apartment and sat there, staring at the wooden floors with faded crayon marks.
Flower―Mountain―Sky―Yellow.
#
Merky wasn’t someone who anybody trusted. He made a point of lurking around the factory on pay days, selling smuggled goods to desperate souls.
“Oi,” he yelled when he saw me walk out, “I heard you made the mark yesterday.” He winked.
I gave him a nervous smile, saying nothing. The only way I had avoided being talked into things all these years, was by avoiding the whole talking part.
“I knew a lad with the same eyes as you,” he blurted as I tried to walk away. “I just sold him a color upgrade.”
#
He took my whole retirement fund.
There was little guarantee that it would even work. I had given myself to Merky’s people to do the transplant. I was half expecting to be stabbed in the gut and sold for parts. But somehow they didn’t. When it was done, Merky gave me a wicked smile and shook my hand.
I don’t remember much of that evening. But all these years later, Merky still makes fun of me. Apparently my first words were “Show me something yellow!”
I do remember that he took me to watch the sunset.