'Murderess! Murderess!

Del Clara! Del Clara! '

The boy who said this was twelve years old and was probably the leader of the group.

At least, that is what I guessed at the time.

'Huh? What does Del Clara mean? ' I asked the pretty girl who was helping me

escape.

'Absolutely nothing!' Nin Joyce exclaimed excitedly. We were all panting. 'It's just

something that we say to confuse the guards. '

All of us jumped over bushes. It was night time and the sky glittered away - sort of

like how a glow in the dark keyboard looks like. We, a group of four, were out, and

were making our way to the cave. Understandably, you might be thinking is it or is it

not a group of convicts, or prisoners, or wrongly accused yet innocent people making

a run for it? And not to mention, escaping prison like territory to their freedom? If you

were, then you are fifty per cent correct. (If there is another possible conclusion, it

may still be valid, just not in this book). The group of people, one girl and two boys,

was not escaping charges or a prison. In fact, they were the children of the most

elitist, successful and rich couples in all of Silverns Town, and they were simply

escaping their estates. It is a sport of fun and games. However, the activities in the

cave depict a reality tinged with something more ... a disagreement with the system

they have been born into.

The estates are all so beautiful: diamond doors, emerald grass and ruby ​​floors - not

to mention gold furniture. These people are rich! I'm new to the town and people

often question my questions (I ask too many), as the style of my surrounding is very

novel - more so than it being merely because of my lack of acquaintance with the

norms and procedures. There is truly something different about it.

Take my new friends for example. I will simply explain what they look like and that

in itself is going to paint this town’s life. Jeter Kit, the oldest and not to mention, most

precocious boy of the entire group has black arms and black two halves on his chest

save for a strip of white that comes down like a cascading waterfall. His neck has a

white collar and his legs are black too. His body looks like he is wearing a suit. Jeter

Kit looks like a businessman. There is a tiny shiny clip inside his perfectly coiffed

chocolate hair that says “banker” – but only if you look at it very closely. But

remember, I said it only ‘looks’ like he is wearing a suit; his body’s design is such

that it resembles clothes. It is merely his skin that is the way I have described it.

Nin Joyce, the eleven and a half, and second oldest of the group has a beautiful splat

of permanent purple eye shadow around one eye and various words scribbled over her

arms. They are like calligraphic sentences tattooed all over. Her hair is like red wine

and free flowing, till about her shoulders. She looks like an artist, a writer, a creative

evangelist.

The third boy, whose name was Harris Rafi, had skin like a long white coat and had

a stethoscope hanging around his neck. Indeed, you guessed it. This one was a doctor.

Sure enough, we ran past the big guards. What was it with those empty words that

left them so confused, anyway? Maybe it was the strict deviance from their code of

conduct that this group discovered. See, when you are born a guard, there is a very

specific education that you receive – as with all the occupations. And of course, if

your adult brain is exposed to new bits of knowledge you were not told to identify

with during the time of your cognitive development, it is only natural that you

stumble and fumble. Stand by the gate, watch and observe, make sure no intruders get

into the premises of the mansions. This set of instructions seems just about right,

except, nobody mentioned the nuances of this particular job – that maybe you needed

to stop someone trying to get out too. Flexibility under all circumstances was a key

proponent horrendously missing from all schools, excluding the elitists or the eliteratti

as their schools were most literally called.

The eliteratti is this group of privileged individuals who were born into high class

professions: lawyer, engineer, banker, doctor, scientist, artist, and who looked the part

– very, very literally. The most significant characteristic about Silverns Town is the

biological ability of the foetus to morph into the required style and identifying

features of the career they have their genes decide for them. Naturally if an elitist

marries an elitist, then their combined genes will produce an elitist baby. These

people then get their high end education that paves the way for their rich careers. Of

course, variations occur within the aesthetic sense of how they look – some colour

differences may be adopted, like a doctor might want to wear a lime coloured coat, in

which case the extra flab of skin that protrudes out of the legs, by the knees in its

natural doctor-lab-coat colour, can be artificially tainted lime.

Every predator needs a prey, right? Or every alpha has a beta, or every jock has a

nerd or burnout. In this town, the eliteratti has the miscellaneous. It is a group

consisting of the so called ‘not so important careers’ like social worker, constructor,

fire fighter, police officer, teacher, or even a clown. Provocative, is it not? Well,

Silverns society has no choice – nobody can choose what they want or as a matter of

fact define how great they can be or how indispensable they are to the community at

large because the forefathers of the town were the eliteratti. One of them was a

miscellaneous however – a teacher, but because of differing viewpoints and

arguments over discriminations, that teacher was excluded from the golden quartet

that gave birth to the place I am describing to you. And so there it is, bias that rules

the land. Also to think nature makes that more potent through both the physical and

metaphysical aspects of life.

The golden quartet came from four regions, which got together to create a place

where one would be more abstract and expressive in the way they governed life; in

short, they would be artistically orderly, imperfectly perfect. The stoic businessman

emerged from the US, the lawyer from Great Britain, the doctor from Pakistan and the

teacher from Africa. They sought to combine all their cultures and have a region of

absolute freedom govern their lifestyle. But more than these politically correct

statements, the land they discovered was enchanted. Any human form born there took

on the appearance of a career – the career of their fathers: an immensely misogynistic

and racial world. So there you have it, with the circumstances explained it becomes a

little understandable why my new friends looked the way they did.

Perhaps, I should introduce myself too, only that there is no name to call me by. I am

the son of a father who loves me dearly and a mother who always supported me in

every manner possible. Also, my father is a clown who wishes more than anything to

be a lawyer – it is his dream. My mother, the extraordinary woman that she was,

possessed a resistance gene, which is what I inherited and came about into this world

looking the way she did – a normal human being with a peaches and cream

complexion – a normal human being that has become virtually extinct in this label

leaden world.