The Naked Child

    George Hemshaw maneuvered his considerable bulk between the cages with care.
    There were three varieties inside the cages: for rent, for sale, and sold. Hemshaw looked at the newest child in the oldest cage. It was small, bald, and faintly slimy. It almost glowed with a fetid smell. But so did they all--this was just a younger, uglier version. It was supposed to be seven years old. He could not believe it, seeing it huddle there. Fuck it. It was not his problem. He was there to serve the slop, and he only did that when it was necessary.
    He laughed to himself and splashed the thing with the rancid bucket.

*
   
This took place in a building on a major city street.
    Outside, the slidewalk billowed with concentrated puffs of breath. Millions of people were on the slidewalk. They cringed in the shadow of the building. So high was the building, at noon it eclipsed the sun. At night it was a garland of stars stretched toward heaven. It was the world’s tallest edifice of JOY.

JOY FOSTERS LOVE
   
This was the official motto.

*
   
JOY was a company that specialized in children. Children were a valuable commodity in this Future Era of Peace.

*
   
In this Future Era of Peace, the family is disposed of. There are places where children are raised en masse. Indeed, the term “raised” has lost meaning. They are simply and effectively programmed, fed, and informed; punished and rewarded.
    Yet some people desire children of their own.
    This is a jealous streak that the government has worked hard to erase.
    But every erasure leaves a blank, and there the black market thrives, like bacteria in a wound.   

*
   
Hemshaw wasn’t worried about shit.
    That was his motto.
    He knew greasy joy when he tasted it, and everything else followed suit. His gut was, in its way, a buffer between him and the wretched cages he worked every night.
    The work was worth it--that is, money and dope. His brother had got him the job--or half-brother or whatever. Hemshaw did not care for the bastard, but the work was worth it.
    But this night was different.
    Shit in the air like salt on a wounded pork thigh--this was Hemshaw’s thought.
   
Why?
    Because all the cages were in shards and gore soaked the floor.
    The pale slimy child he had immediately disdained was lying engorged like a snake. Its eyes flickered yellow and black. Its body was splattered with blood.
    “Shit,” said Hemshaw aloud.
    Now he was worried.
   
He got out of there.

*
   
The naked child digested the meat. It was a hyper-process; it deflated like a balloon. It became small and grey and tiny once again.
    It slept.

*
   
When he heard his half-brother’s explanation, Jordaine flipped. Fortunately for Hemshaw, the two were separated by miles. Jordaine cursed and spat into the phone. Hemshaw threw the phone out the window and pressed on the accelerator of his rusted orange sedan.
    He was headed west. West was the only way to go. West was OUT.

*
   
When Jordaine came into the room he grimaced with disgust. Rancid blood was in the air. It was congealed on the floor, and the steel cages had been ripped apart.
    This is ridiculous, thought Jordaine. This is insane, was his next thought.
    The only thing untouched in the room was a slimy baby curled as if catatonic in the ruins of a cage.
    He approached the baby and looked closer. There was a skin of mucus-grey clinging to it. As he studied it he saw blue veins and red arteries branching. It was some kind of membrane enclosing the child, forming as he watched.
    And there was something at the crown of its bald head. A lump, creased like a closed eye. There were even lashes. He looked closer--they were not lashes at all but small writhing tendrils like the palest nightworms. As he stared a bead of reddish gold glistened on the closed lid. Then it was broken as the eye opened.
    It was no eye. The strands of fluid stretched and broke across an empty, night-black hole. It was darker than a cave mouth. It was unreal.
    Jordaine stared at it. He could almost imagine something star-like and wondrous in its depths. He leaned closer. The distant star glittered brighter. It became almost like a gentle female hand on his scarred and pitted face. He leaned closer. The worm-white tendrils writhed.
    That mystic far away light brightened and Jordaine opened his mouth in awe.
    A column of flesh thrust itself into his mouth. His eyes became milk-white. His oily skin paled. His white eyes bulged.
    In slow stages he began to collapse inward like a rice-paper doll. Jordaine withered. He was sucked into the child’s third eye. The eye closed without a sound.
   
Then the child lay down, satisfied for a while.


Finis.