Dear readers, I have had a horrible week.
Seeing the love of your life being hit by a truck is traumatic enough. Add to that trauma, the pain of not knowing what has become of him. It's a grinding emotional grief that can only be described as a living hell.
......
Tyler and I are sharing a two bedroom apartment situated over the gay bar. It has everything we need. The other five Ts are living in apartments along the street. Every week, food and drink supplies are left for us in a nearby café. All our essential needs for daily living are being given to us; and I am grateful for that. But it's what's being denied us that's hard to handle – the lack of information being worst.
I have shouted, "PLEASE TELL ME IF HE HAS SURVIVED OR NOT?" But I am hollering into a great void of silence.
Tyler and the other Ts are doing their best to comfort me, but it's cold-comfort. I keep anguishing over what Kade's last image of me might have been. You see, when I begged Kade not to come forward when I saw the truck coming; I was aware that Tyler had his arm around me. So I fear Kade's last image of me was with another man in a romantic situation.
T6 mis-read our situation in the bar, so I'm sure Kade would have read the same.
......
What is keeping me sane right now is still being able to express my feelings and write. This is the only platform I can access. I'm writing and posting, it seems to publish, what I don't know for sure is if you guys out in the wider world can actually see this. What I do know is my comments have been disabled, so I can't communicate directly with anyone.
......
The world beyond the glass wall continues on. The public seem to have lost interest in us now. It's game over for them and they continue on living their free lives. We are just an empty street to them now.
......
How I long to hear that man's voice boom and tell us something, even if it's something bad. All I want to hear are words from this authority that has taken away our liberties
I wander up and down the street staring at the pavement and realise this isn't living, this is existing.
I stop and say aloud, "I exist, I no longer live."
But, there's no one here to hear me. Tyler and the others are no doubt sleeping. That's what we do to pass the time: sleep.
How sad is that?
......
I walk into a pre-loved clothes store. My eye is drawn to a red dress, "Hello, I hope you don't mind me saying but you look really pretty in red." For the first time since being here, I chuckle – I'm actually talking to a dress.
But I leave it at that, talking to clothes is an insanity too far.
They've taken my liberty, but they will not have my sanity. Sanity is the only freedom I have and I won't give that up.
Maybe that is their strategy, to make us go insane. That thought actually gives me strength, a purpose: The protection of my sanity.
So, no more talking to clothes, Tanya.
I'm actually afraid to say my name aloud. Imagine being punished for saying your own name. I walk out the shop and say aloud, "Come on T2, go chat with the other Ts in your Grade-3-Margin."
But before I reach the door I'm stopped by the boom, the man's voice, "T2, it is good to hear you address yourself with your new branding so enthusiastically. For this I commend you," he says.
I'm so happy to hear this voice that I splurge, "Please, can you tell me if K..." I stop myself, in case I get in trouble for saying his name..."if the guy who got hit by the truck survived?"
There is a pause that is agonising; then he replies, "T2, he is whom I am here to talk about."
My heart pounds so loud in my ears I'm afraid I won't hear him.
I lower my head to try and slow the pounding.
He continues, "I am pleased to announce that against all the odds the young man survived."
The relief knocks me off my feet and I drop onto my fanny.
He continues, "His remarkable physical fitness served him well; a lesser mortal would have been annihilated by such a forceful blow."
I take a deep breath and find my feet; my throbbing beats have slowed a little.
He continues, "If all goes to schedule, the young man should be in a fit state to join you here in your Grade-3-Margin, next week. And I trust you will all give him a warm welcome."
Now my head throbs with – 'wait' 'what?' – No – we need Kade out in the world if we've any chance to escape this place.
I realise they've made a mistake and I shout out, "No – he's not transgender – he's a cis-heterosexual-man!"
In the pause, Tyler rushes into the store and mouths silently, "What the fuck!"
I swivel my head in response.
He continues, "T2, I must correct you. The young man formerly known as Kade is indeed transgender, which is why he is to be placed in the Grade-3-Margin with the rest of you Ts."
My head is spinning, and Tyler grabs me before I fall, again.
He continues, "When he arrives next week, you shall refer to him as 'T-Zero' – we have successfully isolated his brain.
He is the world's first – TRANSHUMAN.
