it was like this how they were going to live. every morning the father would wake up , and for five minutes, try to quieten the painful buzz of questions that his mind was full of. he had decided, when he chose to live the way he lived that he would not question , he would not stop , he would not be unhappy .
the questions had become mushed together , like a giant flea attacking you again and again in perplexity .
the mother would then wake up - they had no children , yet they were called father and mother , they called each other that too, and all the letters which should have bourn their name bore the same . it was just the way they decided to live - and if living meant being called father and mother , then so be it.
the mother was a lesser creature - she accepted her place as a docile , meek pair of breasts and had lived , the un-fecund life of a mother with no children.
they lived , like the way they did. they met no one , they spoke to no one . even magazines had been banned in their house. there were no newspapers ,and there was no stepping out of the house. they had two cows who breeded and in their incestuous cycles of unions had given them that milk which they drank , the dung which they used to fertilize their crops , and the occasional meat of a genetically mutated calf.
everything they would require , was sent to them, sealed of any new information , any new colour , by those who had decided that this is how they shall live.
they never wondered, they never talked about the way they lived.
they never pondered the queries of life or death.
they payed their taxes, from whatever money the father could acquire from whatever work he could manage to do in the afforded land, avoiding any great skill , requiring next to no information.
there was however one bright thing about them, in the house that they had lived the way they did - hung on the mantle one huge, bright national flag. and next to it , was a picture, of the two of them , marked in characteristic unpersonalised letters - THE PATRIOTS.