Speeding, yet seemlessly still are two spacecrafts moving through space carrying sentient beings from two different regions of a now burning planet, escaping fate to the next suitable planet. In the gremamolach—the spacecraft in front, carrying the specie from the colder region—a discussion is going on in a cabin, a discussion where only greens are allowed.
“We can’t go to a new planet like this, continuing the age old tradition of hatred towards each other.
“If we all come together and make an agreement to work together, they’ll tell you yes now, but in the long run they’ll fall short and crumble to the bottom of our new society. If we alert them to the truth that they’re only good for physical labours, they’ll argue and say we’re trying to put them down, then they’ll hold grudges for years, make us feel guilty, poison their children’s mind towards us and distabilise the future of the society we’ve worked for.
“They’re still making us feel guilty about the incident that happened some six centuries ago and we can’t have that in a new society. So I propose a solution to protect our future society. This is more than being green or being yellow. It is for the survival of Kotans in general and we can’t survive if we are always at each other’s throats on a new planet.”
“What exactly is it you propose” voiced a rapt listener with his antanaes standing upright, denoting his utmost attention in the discussion.
“One of us has to go.”
“What are you suggesting.” Yet another antentive listener directing his questions to the person who called the exclusive meeting.
“As you know, we are the superior race, intellectually we’re beyond them by far. So the ones to go will be them. My plan is to wipe them out, starting with the few that are on this spacecraft and then blow up Bikulada. Ending their race and ensuring the continuity of ours.”
“I don’t think we can do that….I mean the guilt will be too much on our conscience.”
“What of those of us who are married to them?” This question was thrown with unbalanced voice, voice weighed down by emotions of the actions being considered, but the meeting’s chairman was stoic and resolute.
“Yes, we’ll feel guilty, but only us will, not those from the generations after us. To ensure that, we’ll make sure nobody writes about it and nobody speaks of it. Ever!
“And to those who are married to the Yellows, they’ll get other partners, and to the females pregnant with the Yellows’, they’ll get another chance at motherhood.
“These things must be done, we don’t know how much the resources are on planet Xuka and we can’t afford to waste years dealing with problems that we could have dealt with.”
The chairman ends the meetings with a voice that was continuously booming in the heart of the religious listener, keeping their antanaes straight up till the end and keeping it low while the deed was being done. Door after door, silent-screaming in a metal husk in an eternal black space. Tearing into sucklings in front of distraught mothers. Loosing child, loosing wife, all in one hour. Then a beep, beep, launching a torpedo toward the Bikulada and turning it into scraps as it spills out its Yellows.
∆Sixty years later∆
“Give it to me Swtzxk.” Says a paling skin blond man behind a desk in an office that serves as the administrative office of the state.
“I can’t fully give you word for word what our head scientist said, his lingos are beyond me…….”
“If I needed it word for word, I’d read the files he sent, gimme the break down.”
“Yes sir, he said that the early death we’re experiencing is as a result of something deficiency in our DNA.”
“Is there a solution, a cure.”
“The only solution he gave was that if we could mixed our DNA with a DNA similar but different at the same time, then our future generations will have a better chance at survival.”
“Was that all the solutions he gave?”
“That’s all he said, minus the big words.”
“Swtzxk!” Raged the president, holding his head as if to bend his antanaes backward. “If the information in the secret folders could be trusted, that means our solution are extinct.”
“So it seems sir.”
“We can’t give up, our survival depends on this, tell him that.”
“Yes sir……….sir, what do we do about the fanatic factions tearing through the streets.”
“This is a rather delicate situation, religion is always is…………even got a report that a hat fanatic tore off the antanaes of a body paint fanatic. Don’t you think it’s stupid and undignifying to cover our antanaes with hats. You’re not making the antanaes job easy that way.”
“Sorry to disagree, but I don’t see anything stupid in putting on a hat, what I considered stupid is painting ones body………”
“Say that one more time and you’re fired……now go get my message across to the head scientist.”
“Yes sir.” Says the secretary, standing up and closing the door as he walks out into the purple hall with the president watching him as he thinks, ‘as long as kotans can be grouped differently, they’ll always be a cause for hate’.