The colour blue was everywhere. My hands were drenched in that colour. The table I was working on would soon get a bluish tinge if I didn’t clean it properly.
I hated this. I hated going through this exact same chore every day.
I got a cloth and a cleaning liquid from the cupboard behind me, and worked on taking of the stain from the table. The cloth was now entirely blue. I had forgotten to wash my hands. And now, on both sides of the cloth, it was entirely blue. It didn’t matter, to be honest. I threw the cloth into the dustbin.
Now that I had separated the head from the body, the Blue Srot was turning black. There was a nerve that connected the body to the head, and once it was torn apart, the dark blue turned into pitch black. It was the blackest of blacks you could ever imagine.
I placed the head inside the dicer and pressed a button. The body, I placed in another dicer. I pressed the buttons on both and then waited. It took five minutes, at the least. The Blue Srots weren’t very tall, about 3 feet tall. So it didn’t take much time, cutting them up.
After a while, the dicers turned green and I took out the pieces one by one. This was my 2345th day of srotting, as we called it, and I still couldn’t get over the smell of it all. I had just put the pieces of the head to boil when the door opened.
“All-Mother, how is it faring?,” the man in the guise of the soldier asked.
“Like the wind on the lower bandwidth,” I replied.
We are a wind-faring race, you see. We have seven layers of winds in which we take flight – with the help of foolproof suit. The lower bandwidth contains the last two layers, the most peaceful of the layers. The five above them have increasing disturbances and fewer traffic.
And yes, I am the All-Mother. I am the mother of the Prime-All, the woman who leads are race. It is my duty, as All-Mother, to produce one cube of Srot Ink every day. It’s supposed to motivate people, I think. There are a 10 men and women in total who produced 5 Srot Ink cubes everyday.
The soldier dipped his gloved finger in the boiling water and licked it.
“The pure taste is exquisite, All-Mother. Why don’t we do something with it?,” he asked.
“Soldier, you know the Srot Ink is a highly potent drug. If you consume it in its pure form, your brain will go into an overdrive and you will fa-”
The soldier suddenly lost consciousness and dropped in a heap.
“-ll down and lose consciousness ,” I finished.
I sighed. Every month there was a soldier who thought he knew too much and decided to taste the pure Srot Ink. I used to stop them in the beginning, but I didn’t care anymore. So I gave them no warning. Anyway, they should know better.
Did we know better though? We, who killed and turned being into a drug just so we could fly better in the air. I don’t think others in our solar system respected us, for what we had done to the Blue Srots. They feared us, for sure. But they would think twice before even thinking of befriending one of us – one of the Green Srots.
I remember the time when we were friends with others though. It was only 50 years ago. I was a 10-year-old. I remember going to a neighbouring planet on a student exchange programme. The visit opened my eyes. It truly did. I began to see our world and the worlds around us in a completely different way. After all, what is the point of living if you live inside your own little bubble?
The equilibrium disbalanced only five years after that. I was 15, and suddenly a petty fight between the two Srots escalated into a political issue. We had lived peacefully, barring a few skirmishes, on this planet for a long time. But for some reason, this fight became a huge issue. There were killings on both sides which, after two years, turned into a full-blown war. We defeated them, being technologically more advanced, even though the Blue Srots had the larger force.
A year later, the Blue Srots attempted to attack our government office. I don’t know what they were thinking. There was no way they could have taken the politicians hostage. There were too many security hurdles in place. But the Blue Srots, known to have the biggest egos in the entire solar system, couldn’t handle the defeat of the war.
The soldiers guarding the office caught them before they even stepped inside the building. They were all tortured and killed, but not before they admitted that several such attacks were being planned. After that, we had no choice. We had to stop them.
Within ten days of the attack, we captured the entire family of their leader. Killed the leader, his wife and his children live on a stream that was broadcast all over the planet, and then gave them a simple peace offering. Every day, they would have to send us 60 people. It could be more, but 60 at least they had to send.
The Blue Srots had no idea what we did with their offerings, in the beginning. You see, an especially enterprising military general, on the second day of the offering, cut up a Blue Srot and cooked him. The Blue Srots were anyway being used for experiments and new methods of torture. The general thought he was being quite innovative when he decided to eat one. It didn’t matter that they were quite similar to us.
So, he ate one Blue Srot. And within minutes of taking the first bite, he lost consciousness. He woke up nearly ten minutes later, high on energy and brimming with ideas. That was the beginning of the Srot Ink project. We had come up on a way to enhance our brains. It was easy, we just had to eat (in small quantities) our fellow planet inhabitants.
The constitution was changed, things were put into place. Some people were not happy with the new project. They were killed. I was one of the many who supported the project. But then again, I had no idea my daughter would one day become the Prime-All, and I would have to become a part of the system. In the beginning, I used to buy ten packets of the Srot Ink, apply a bit of the paste on my lips and enjoy my life. Flying especially became incredible when one applied the ink.
The bones had begun to melt now. I added small pieces of wood in the pot to dim the effects of the Srot Ink and stood in front of the soldier. He was regaining consciousness now. He would be on a high for the next eleven hours. I envied him. I could no longer use the ink, not since I began hating the entire project.
It would take another 20 minutes for the bones and wood to turn into a paste. I went outside. I was shivering, even though both the suns were out today. I walked towards my bedroom, towards the main building. I sat down on my desk, and began to write this letter.
These years of dismembering the Blue Srots have haunted me. I can’t see the colour blue and not feel nauseated. I can’t look at my children and not think about the thousands I have orphaned. I have to tell someone about all I have done. I can’t die. I am bound by the constitution. But I can’t live as well. To whom this letter finds, please, if you have the power, be kind and kill us all.