Free Write, 06/23/15

Prompt: I was born in a laboratory, grew up in a factory, and died in an asylum.

“I was born in a laboratory, grew up in a factory, and died in an asylum,” Genevieve said, raising her china teacup to her lips, little finger extended. “But enough about me, what about you?”

“Well,” Jackson answered. “I was born in an asylum, grew up in a factory, and died in a laboratory.”

Genevieve’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, my perfect yin.”

“Hey,” Jackson protested. “Why can’t I be yang? I am a man, after all.”

“Are you really?”

“Well, I was a man,” Jackson conceded, looking down at the androgynous, flowing robes that covered him. “I suppose I still am, though I haven’t thought to check.”

“You can’t check,” Genevieve said. “Trust me, I’ve tried. Your hands just go straight through.”

Jackson grunted. “You’re right. What a strange feelings, or rather, not feeling.”

“I know,” Genevieve said, setting her cup down. “It takes quite a bit of getting used to, but I suppose it’s the only way to make sure everyone feels safe. These robes hide gender and body type, so there can be no discrimination on that account.”

“But our faces are still visible.”

“Are they?”

Jackson blinked. “Well, aren’t they?”

“What race were you, when you were alive?”

“Caucasian,” Jackson said slowly, “just like you.”

“No,” Jen said, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I was Chinese. I look white because that’s what your mind sees. To me you look very Chinese.”

“That’s…fucked up.”

“It surely is.”