Sylvia Chapter 18 (WIP)
Latifa bristled as the door to the lower section of the room opened to admit two tall natives, her eyes flashing with anger that overrode her customary veneration for the Hosts.
"You are Latifa Jones?" The voice of the black man in the hover chair was deep and stern.
"Yes." She folded her arms over her chest. "And I know who you are. You're the old President."
"I am Mr. Paxton," he corrected, his single eye paling slightly. "This," he indicated his companion, who was an air capable model woman the colour of the skies of Earth, "Is Jabez, the social worker in charge of your family's case."
Latifa scowled. "And what's that supposed to mean? 'Social worker'?"
Jabez's voice was very shrill, but she seemed to try to make amends for it by speaking very softly. "Social Work is a professional and academic discipline that seeks to improve the quality of life and well-being of an individual, group, or community by intervening through research, policy, community organizing, direct practice, and teaching on behalf of those afflicted with poverty or any real or perceived social injustices and violations of their human rights."
"Oh really? So you're here to give me back my daughter? Because taking her from us was an injustice to society and a violation of my and my peers human rights."
"No," said Mr. Paxton. "It has already been made clear by yourself and your peer group that if Kaneesha is returned to you that you will be party to her death."
"You..." Latifa clenched her fists at her sides and felt her vision swim at the unaccustomed stress of anger. "You bully. What kind of monster forces a child to live when she's so damaged that she can't even function for the good of society? What kind of monster abuses people and causes them so much stress that they can't even function at their accustomed levels??"
"Society is not the defining factor of existence," countered Mr. Paxton quietly. "Life is far more important."
Latifa stared at him, unable to process such insane sentiments. Then, finally realizing that the two of them were waiting for her to speak, she shook her head. "Society functions for the good of all. If society is upheld then everyone will be happy, prosperous, and safe."
"Then your society is a failure."
"What?" she gasped, horrified by the cruel and condemning words.
"What of the people who spend their entire lives locked in so called 'correctional institutions'?" demanded Mr. Pax. "What of the elderly who are given no choice when their families send representatives from 'life management' facilities to take them away to be murdered?"
Latifa gaped incredulously, unable to believe that a Host could be so misinformed.
Then she folded her arms again. "The people in the correctional institutions are in those institutions so that they can have help in contributing to society. The only thing that might cause them any unhappiness or stress is the knowledge that they were too badly damaged to contribute on their own. But the institution authorities make sure that they receive the supplements that they need to avoid thinking about that. And the elderly... I don't understand how you can say something so horrible. No one murders anyone else anymore!"
"An existence spent drugged beyond the ability to remember one's own name, which may be terminated at any time should a member of your society require organ or tissue donation... is not a happy life. And injecting someone with a toxic substance for the purpose of killing them is murder," returned Mr. Paxton relentlessly.
"You're insane." Latifa stepped away from the railing. "And you're hurting me with all the stress you're causing with your crazy words. I don't want to talk to you anymore, so I'm going back to my peers now."
"To do what?" The old man's single eye narrowed. "To ingest mood altering substances? To engage in holographic simulations of torturing other human beings to death?"
"I'm not talking to you anymore! I don't have to! It's causing me stress!" Latifa's hands went up and hovered near her ears, then flailed as her continuing progress caused her to run into a closed door instead of passing through an open one. "Gah!"
"Stress is a normal part of life," rumbled Mr. Paxton. "It is the pressure that makes diamonds from coal. You came here to discuss custody of Kaneesha. That discussion has not yet occurred."
"I'm not talking to you!" cried Latifa from where she now hunkered on her knees with her bruised face in her hands. "Bully! Someone help me! I'm being abused!"
"Latifa Jones, look at me."
"NO!!!! Let me go! Let me go!"
* * *
Grandfather winced as the woman's voice rose in a piercing, incoherent wail, his eye going white as concern and alarm replaced his anger.
"We'd better let her go, sir," said Jabez softly. "She has no resources for coping with this, and the stress could very well cause her permanent damage."
Grandfather sighed and gave the door command, then turned away. "Velocia is correct. We have failed these people."
"You are Latifa Jones?" The voice of the black man in the hover chair was deep and stern.
"Yes." She folded her arms over her chest. "And I know who you are. You're the old President."
"I am Mr. Paxton," he corrected, his single eye paling slightly. "This," he indicated his companion, who was an air capable model woman the colour of the skies of Earth, "Is Jabez, the social worker in charge of your family's case."
Latifa scowled. "And what's that supposed to mean? 'Social worker'?"
Jabez's voice was very shrill, but she seemed to try to make amends for it by speaking very softly. "Social Work is a professional and academic discipline that seeks to improve the quality of life and well-being of an individual, group, or community by intervening through research, policy, community organizing, direct practice, and teaching on behalf of those afflicted with poverty or any real or perceived social injustices and violations of their human rights."
"Oh really? So you're here to give me back my daughter? Because taking her from us was an injustice to society and a violation of my and my peers human rights."
"No," said Mr. Paxton. "It has already been made clear by yourself and your peer group that if Kaneesha is returned to you that you will be party to her death."
"You..." Latifa clenched her fists at her sides and felt her vision swim at the unaccustomed stress of anger. "You bully. What kind of monster forces a child to live when she's so damaged that she can't even function for the good of society? What kind of monster abuses people and causes them so much stress that they can't even function at their accustomed levels??"
"Society is not the defining factor of existence," countered Mr. Paxton quietly. "Life is far more important."
Latifa stared at him, unable to process such insane sentiments. Then, finally realizing that the two of them were waiting for her to speak, she shook her head. "Society functions for the good of all. If society is upheld then everyone will be happy, prosperous, and safe."
"Then your society is a failure."
"What?" she gasped, horrified by the cruel and condemning words.
"What of the people who spend their entire lives locked in so called 'correctional institutions'?" demanded Mr. Pax. "What of the elderly who are given no choice when their families send representatives from 'life management' facilities to take them away to be murdered?"
Latifa gaped incredulously, unable to believe that a Host could be so misinformed.
Then she folded her arms again. "The people in the correctional institutions are in those institutions so that they can have help in contributing to society. The only thing that might cause them any unhappiness or stress is the knowledge that they were too badly damaged to contribute on their own. But the institution authorities make sure that they receive the supplements that they need to avoid thinking about that. And the elderly... I don't understand how you can say something so horrible. No one murders anyone else anymore!"
"An existence spent drugged beyond the ability to remember one's own name, which may be terminated at any time should a member of your society require organ or tissue donation... is not a happy life. And injecting someone with a toxic substance for the purpose of killing them is murder," returned Mr. Paxton relentlessly.
"You're insane." Latifa stepped away from the railing. "And you're hurting me with all the stress you're causing with your crazy words. I don't want to talk to you anymore, so I'm going back to my peers now."
"To do what?" The old man's single eye narrowed. "To ingest mood altering substances? To engage in holographic simulations of torturing other human beings to death?"
"I'm not talking to you anymore! I don't have to! It's causing me stress!" Latifa's hands went up and hovered near her ears, then flailed as her continuing progress caused her to run into a closed door instead of passing through an open one. "Gah!"
"Stress is a normal part of life," rumbled Mr. Paxton. "It is the pressure that makes diamonds from coal. You came here to discuss custody of Kaneesha. That discussion has not yet occurred."
"I'm not talking to you!" cried Latifa from where she now hunkered on her knees with her bruised face in her hands. "Bully! Someone help me! I'm being abused!"
"Latifa Jones, look at me."
"NO!!!! Let me go! Let me go!"
* * *
Grandfather winced as the woman's voice rose in a piercing, incoherent wail, his eye going white as concern and alarm replaced his anger.
"We'd better let her go, sir," said Jabez softly. "She has no resources for coping with this, and the stress could very well cause her permanent damage."
Grandfather sighed and gave the door command, then turned away. "Velocia is correct. We have failed these people."