Reflections

I swear, her face then kind of contorted.  

Cold and expressionless, I felt like I was staring into the face of something Demonic.

I mean, she did not budge.  

Not only did she demand that I sign the contract granting them the right to put me in a box* she made it clear that any answer other than unconditional agreement would be subject to a result tantamount to sudden death.

Devil and consequences notwithstanding, I could not believe what she was asking me to do.  

First of all, I knew for damn sure that I was not getting in the box (or on the ship or in the cage). 

And, I was not putting anyone else in there either.

Upon recognizing that we were indeed at an impasse, and that the expected deal with the Devil was impossible, I became fearless.

Death was the result, either way.

Not too long after that, I could hear my ancestors in the back of my mind talking about things done in the Dark and the Light.

It felt like every powerful Female I had ever known was singing it and saying it and humming it all together, united and in unison.

At that point, my relatives and all the Black, Brown, Poor men and women you lured from the South to go work "up North" in the auto industry with the promise of working on brand new cars stepped forward. 

Seeing the looks of betrayal on their faces and the hatred in their eyes, I wonder how different all our lives would have been if you had told them the truth you knew even then -- which is that all those good-paying jobs would soon be gone, replaced by machines.

I imagine that the brother in the photo (who bears a striking resemblance to my Uncle Charles) was looking up because he had spotted their recording devices. In that moment, he is probably realizing that they were all hired so that their movements could be observed, tracked, and recorded for the purpose of training "their" machines.)

After writing the words, my grandmother (named Rose and whom we called Nana) looked over my shoulder to confirm that I had written the words exactly as they appeared on the page, including the placement of each period, punctuation, and comma.

And, then my grandfather Nathaniel (whom everyone called "Jack") leaned in to confirm that I had included the correct numerical references for each chapter, verse, and line.

It's so interesting how "history" repeats itself, over and over again, yet curiously involving facts and circumstances that bend to their favor.  

In fact, “they” are still using the same tactics to lure black, brown, and poor bodies to their ships even today.

Read the contract, people. Please, read the contract. When you do, you will realize that "All that Glitters is Not Gold.”

In exchange for their money and “guidance” have you sold your soul? -- which these days is referred to as “data." By signing the contract -- authorizing them to interview, record, monitor, and track you -- what they really want is "data" to feed and train their machines, now known as "AI." Once they own your data they will declare ownership of you. They will then use their technology to control you. (Sound familiar?). 

They use legalese and coded language to disguise the truth behind their “generosity.” But in reality, it is a modern-day "Tuskegee Experiment" in which they are seeking to mold you to their liking. 

In fact, behind closed doors, it is called "taming" -- an extraction and infusion process aimed directly at us based on their belief that we need to be “trained and tamed” in order to be more amenable to working for "them." 

Read the contract, people. Or, better yet, go and watch Get Out, Antebellum, and the recent film They Cloned Tyrone. The seemingly outlandish facts discussed in these films are true:  the success of their future depends on the theft of black bodies (again).

At the end of the lesson, my people told me, "Don't ever say those words out loud." 

I knew exactly what they were referring to — they are chastising me about the profanity. I tried to explain that I don’t “cuss” in real life, only here on these pages, in the voice of an Avatar, but they still don't like it. 

"Next time," they are telling me, "think the word in your mind and see the number in your vision. Thereafter, it is done.”

My Aunt Ruth then came forward, standing there proudly and confidently beside her mother, my Grandmother Ruth, and said, “Baby, never again play their game, not even one more time." 

My beloved Aunt Lillian then added, “You, my dear, are a rare diamond. Leave these things behind you (pointing to the specs of flesh on the ground below). 

Another elder, my Uncle Bud, then asked me "You play checkers?" 

Instantly, I saw their entire game. 

I knew exactly what not to do next.