“Haven’t you heard that old saying, ‘stone walls do not a prison make’? And this is not like the bad old days; since the Ozone Emergency, AA children are a precious resource. You should be glad to see them in such good homes.”
“But they are prisons. I’ve seen them.”
“So what? Does an NB, that’s newborn, know the diff? And it’s for the child’s own good as well as the good of the society. Do you realize the culture shock for African American youth when they find themselves in prison at age sixteen or so? If they are raised in prison from infancy, the TA or Transitional Adaptation goes much more smoothly.
Besides, they get out as soon as they marry, anyway.”
“What if we don’t want our kid to go to prison at all?”
“Whoa, Akisha! Do you mind if I call you Akisha? Are we back in the Dark Ages here, where the parents decide the child’s future even before it is born? This is a free country and kids as well as parents have rights. Sure you don’t want a cigarette?”
“I’m sure.”
“Suit yourself. Let’s cut the BS. You’re nice kids, but under the Melanin Distribution Provisions of the Ozone Emergency Act, the law is clear. If you want to raise your own children, you’ll have to marry legally.”
“Which means marry a white person.”
“As a white person myself, I’ll overlook your racist tone of voice, which I’m sure you didn’t mean. Is there something so terrible about marrying a white person?”
“No. I don’t guess so.”
“Okay. Now why don’t you get with the program. Don’t you know some nice white boy to marry?”
“Then I can keep my baby?”
“Not this one, but the next one. This one’s double M and belongs to Uncle Sam, or at least to the Natural Resources Administration of HEW and M.”
“But what if I don’t want to marry some damn white boy!”
“Jones, I was hoping we could handle this without emotional outbursts of naked bigotry. I see I was wrong. You are in danger of making me feel like an inadequate counselor with this racist attack on my professional self-image. Is it because I’m white?”
“It’s because I want to marry Yusef.”
“Who just happens to be black? Let’s get real, girl. There’s nothing subtle about you same-race couples. The way you strut around, as if daring the world to rain on your disgusting little intraracial parade.”
“But—”
“Whoa! Before you go blaming all white people because of your personal problems, let me warn you that you are already in violation of several applicable federal Civil Rights statutes. I’m afraid you’ve taken this matter out of my hands. I have no choice but to send you up to see the Colonel.”
“The Colonel?”
“The Civil Rights Prosecutor. In the big office on the top floor of the main building.”
“What about me?”
“You can go with her if you want, Yusef. But if I were you—”
“You’re not.”
“—I’d find a nice white girl and get married. Fast. Before you both get in more trouble than you can handle. Dismissed. Next!”
“NEXT!”
“We’re here to see the Colonel.”
“I am the Colonel. I’m here to help you if I can. And let me begin by warning you that anything you say will be used against you.”
“Will be?”