The Color of the Force

For... somebody... anybody who's reading this and likes it. Just tell me who you are so I can honor you specifically. And this piece is completely from a discussion about Ken I had with LizMystic.

Don't mind me. I just remember that song too. It's the only thing I remember clearly about mother: her lullaby. I hear it on the radio sometimes, and it really is sad. But, while we're talking about family, I might as well tell you about MY perspective growing up about family.

Remember how I told you that sometimes the things DeeJay said to me really hurt, even though he didn't really feel angry or upset or anything and he was just programmed to say those things? It was more because I was being too big of a baby to deal with it. It started when I learned how to read.

Reading came completely by accident to me: Chip and I had been looking through files in the Jedi library, having fun by mixing them up so DeeJay couldn't find them in the same order as before... I know, that was childish, but it didn't do any damage, really... Then, we found a file that was all pictures, except for the letter that the word began with. I was curious and asked Chip what the file meant and he explained; even if he was programmed to be like me, he still held knowledge about how to read and add and write.

Once I'd learned how to read, I couldn't stop. I wanted more. I read little words at first. The first story I've ever heard was a creation myth... you know, one of those 'In the beginning, there was chaos' sort of thing. The first story I ever read was something like 'The Cat in the Hat' or some other really simple book, but it was funny.

Those stories weren't enough, though. I had to read! It was incredible, the things I started to read, when I was just five: Cinderella, Puss in Boots, The Ugly Duckling, I even tackled a few chapters of The Wizard of Oz, but DeeJay had to explain a few things to me. I'd take files from the Jedi Library and sneak them back to my dome house and hide them under the pillow, reading under the covers when I was supposed to be asleep.

With Chip and DeeJay's help, I read the whole story of Oliver Twist. That's when I started to think: In all the stories I had read, the characters always had families. The child would always have a mother and a father and a sister or brother or maybe a few of both or either. The old woman always had children and grandchildren and often a husband, or the old man had a wife and similarly children and grandchildren. The young married couple always had a father to give away the bride and the mothers would be in the crowds, sobbing that their little babies were all grown up and getting married.

Surely, I had to have a family, too. Maybe... maybe I was like little Oliver: just waiting for someone to come and take me away so I could meet my family. Or maybe I was like the Ugly Duckling, different from everyone around me and one day, my mother and father would come find me.

I took the file with Oliver Twist on it and took it home with me. The next day, I wandered over to the tubular transport for the first time. I took that file with me and I sat there, just sat and sat and sat, waiting, because I was sure my family would come... any day soon... any hour... any minute... any second... and no matter what time it was when they came, I wanted to be the first to meet them! I wanted to give them a big hug before they could get any farther into the City! I wanted them to pick me up and spin me around in circles in the air and hug me and kiss me and whisper into my ear they'd missed me and I was going to go home...

DeeJay eventually noticed that I was missing, so he went looking for me. He found me on my second day of sitting and waiting. I was tired and hungry and thirsty and dirty, but I didn't care because my family was coming. I mean, they had to be! They wouldn't just LEAVE me here and forget about me.

"Ken, what are you doing here?" DeeJay had asked me. I looked between him, the file of Oliver Twist, and the tubular transport a few times before answering.

"I'm waiting." I said. DeeJay's face was always smiling, but his eyes would grow dimmer or brighter depending on how he was programmed to feel about something. This time, they lit up with curiosity.

"What are you waiting for?" DeeJay asked, very patiently. I blinked at him a few times. Wasn't it obvious?

"My family." I answered. DeeJay's face never changed. He continued to stare at me with those ruby eyes glowing and his white face smiling. His voice box produced something like a sigh.

"Ken, you don't have a family." He told me. That was it. Those were the few words that taught me what true agony was. It was like... like... I don't know! Like something cracked. Everything I believed, suddenly just came crashing down, burying me beneath the debris. It HURT. That's what it was like, it just HURT even more than the deepest cut could have ever hurt me, because at least a deep cut would kill me and end the pain but this.....

All I could do was stand there and stare up at DeeJay, not wanting to believe, trying to stop myself from crying in front of DeeJay- he'd always told me that only babies cry, that it was immature to cry for any reason less than a physical wound- oh, but God this wasn't less than a physical wound anymore than someone who you love dying is less than a physical wound, it was so much more, more painful, more betraying, more cruel than if DeeJay had ever struck me. And he never did, so suddenly... it just killed me. I couldn't even argue. I tried, but I couldn't. Or at least, I couldn't win. DeeJay wouldn't let me win that argument.

"But... but... everyone has PARENTS, right? They're a family. I have to have parents, a momma and a papa, right? In all those stories, everyone had mommas and papas." I protested. DeeJay's smile never faltered, because is was sculpted into his face. It was almost as though he'd been maliciously happy to tell me this, although I know he wasn't.

"Ken, they're gone. Your parents are gone. They're dead." But... No, I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to believe anything that DeeJay told me... I understand now why he even said you were dead: because you killed the part of yourself that had been my father, that had been with my mother on the day of my birth... You know, kind of how, from a certain point of view, Anakin Skywalker was dead and only Darth Vader remained... that kind of way.

Chip was reprogrammed on that day. DeeJay said that I was old enough to start being schooled and I needed to have a more grown up companion, so I couldn't even talk about it to Chip, like I had when I was trying to figure out where my family could be, when I had been reading those stories and hadn't been able to understand a certain word... Chip became the snobby, snappish droid he is today on that very day.

I went to bed, crying, and that's how I spent my first hour of being six years old.

Six years old, and feeling like I was just six months because of what DeeJay taught me about crying.

sniffs So sad. Such a sad chapter. I cried while I was writing it... course, my tooth did hurt, so that might have something to do with it. Please, leave feedback... if you're out there.