EVERYONE HATES THE GRAYS

Okay, I promised one of my “message” stories, so here it is … I quiver to the notion that this is downright insulting, but it proves a point. No matter how smart you think you are, it is kind of stupid to try and make a point … or maybe you’ll like it, a lot of people did.

Everyone Hates The Grays (Just not at Christmas) by Kael

Look, my life didn’t change the day I met Randy; it’s not quite that dramatic. My politics, and my religious views are the same today as they were yesterday. Honestly, I have to say if I were faced with the same situation again, I probably would not have done the same thing again. I’m not one of those politically-correct bleeding hearts who have their token Gray friends, and pretend they are the same as everyone else. My sister Amanda and my brother Gunter are positive I was just feeling guilty. You see when I was younger I went to school with a “Gray” and I spent a good portion of my day tormenting him. I never thought about that until yesterday, so I couldn’t have felt guilty about it. I feel guilt about smoking and peeing in people’s shampoo at parties. I do not feel guilt about some f-ing Gray whose name I don’t even remember. Furthermore, for all I know the guy wasn’t even a Gray at all. They’re normal when they’re younger; you know they all have blue eyes until they’re about 14 or so. We just call people Gray cause it’s the worse thing a person can be, and if you really want to cut someone down, that’s what you call them. Everyone does it. I felt no guilt.

I was working the third shift at the hospital that night. I was outside smoking because we don’t get much business in here this late, and blowing up rubber gloves is only fun if you have helium (helium is always fun). The ambulance drove up, and the police piled out first, with the EMTs wheeling Randy out on a bed behind them … strapped in and sedated. They’re always sedated when they come here.

Randy was different from the other Grays they bring in. First off he looked like everybody else. Although he was wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night, it didn’t seem odd on him; it almost seemed a bit cool. He was tall, and handsome (not that I noticed). He was wearing clothes that I probably would wear during my off hours, and when he yelled at them to let him go, he didn’t have that Gray lisp that they all seem to have. The cops asked me where to bring him, so I put out my cigarette, and gestured for them to follow.

They don’t seek out the Grays anymore. I mean this is the Forth Reich after all. In fact if the Grays keep to themselves, and don’t attract attention, no one ever would think of making them undergo the treatment. Obviously Randy didn’t lay low. Most likely he was caught driving. Driving has been a hot issue lately. The Grays say they should be given government licenses to drive. I’m not sure where I stand on this issue, but I’m not sure you can say you have the right to do something when you have never had the right to do it in the first place. I mean Grays have never been allowed to drive. They mostly have poor vision, and don’t see things the same way we do. They’re weak and they don’t react quickly enough. Religious scholars say they see with the eyes of Satan, and the more they see, the more evil has a chance to spread. I’m not sure I buy that, but I certainly respect their right to believe it.

When I glanced at his arrest record I found out I was correct. He was caught driving … at night, and for the fifth time. 100 years ago any Gray breaking the law would have shot on the spot, but we live in more humane times now. Dyeing the eyes blue or brown is the standard treatment for gray eyes these days. It does cause blindness in almost every case, but it’s better than having those gray eyes staring at you all the time. That’s just creepy. And truth be told, it’s better for them not to be different. No one likes the Grays.

In my defense to all this, I was bored, and he was carrying a pack; a good pack, not this government crap you get issued every week. He offered me one, and who was I to turn it down. I usually wouldn’t share a smoke with a Gray, but it was Christmas Eve, and I was Jone-ing big time for one. At first I was nervous, but I was curious to see what a Gray looked like up close. Even under sedation he never made it easy. His gaze would fixate on things other than my eyes, and unless I looked down and around, I would have never seen that his eyes were gray and not blue. It made perfect sense to me that he would have gone this long without being discovered; he was an expert at deception … a liar by birth, no doubt.

The fact that he never looked directly at me, and his lids were always covering his eyes gave me the impression that he was standoffish, or rude. I realized, however, that he was doing this even under sedation, so it was probably a trait he devolved as a kid to appear more like everyone else. The smoke made his eyes even more undetectable. I asked him how he learned to do that, and he just looked at me. He looked straight at me, not over to the left or right, but right into my eyes. I had never seen gray eyes look straight at me before. It was an eerie feeling, but also one that didn’t scare me for some reason. It was creepy though.

I asked him casually why he wasn’t with his family this Christmas eve, and he just looked at me and said he had no family. After he told his parents that his eyes were turning from blue to gray, they never treated him the same again. He said holidays got harder and harder for him because no one would ever looked at him. They figured that if they pretended his gray eyes didn’t exist, everything was fine. I asked him if he could blame them, and he said nothing. I asked him if he had anyone else to spend the holidays with, and he said that he did not. It was illegal for the Grays to be with anyone but other Grays, and he found that most Grays hated themselves … thus other Grays. It was a vicious circle, but one that made maintaining relationships haphazard. That made sense to me. He asked me if he could put his sunglasses back on, and I said sure. I could see eyes open wider under the shade, and it occurred to me that perhaps his eyes were more sensitive to light than my own. And he wasn’t really hiding his eyes from me, but rather from the light.

I told him that he must be relieved that now that his eyes would be dyed, he could go home and his family would finally look him in those eyes. He turned to me and said, “What’s the difference?” He said that the reality of being a Gray is that no one truly looks past it. No one will ever see anything but the gray. His life would always be about that. If I dyed his eyes blue tonight, he’d be blind, and his life would never change. He still would never see anyone looking into his eyes, and his whole life would still be about being Gray. The only thing that would change is what other people saw, not what he was.

In our society we have ruled out genetic disorders as excuses for defects a long time ago. The official word from the government is that although gray-eyes are a deviation in our superior genetic make up, they are merely a shade of blue. Gray-eyed people are like this because they never devolved the ability to play sports which stimulated the eye muscles and caused the blue pigment to dominate the gray. They also very rarely look up, thus not enabling the sunlight to penetrate their irises. I believe that. I really do.

I let Randy go that night not because the spirit of Christmas moved me so much that I needed to. I didn’t feel guilty like my brother and sister said. I didn’t let him go because I thought he’d go out into the night and find someone to look into his eyes, because he wouldn’t have. I let him go because I did look into his eyes. I took a long look and I saw him. So few people are honest, and the Grays are truthful because Gray is their truth. They wear their entire existence in the color of their eyes. It determines everything they do and say. It determines who they are, and what they become. Every aspect of their lives will come down to the gray. And when I looked into his eyes, I saw myself. I saw my fears, and I saw a reflection of who I was. I can’t explain it, but even while I was seeing all that, I was only seeing gray; maybe when you’re gray that’s all there is.

I didn’t do Randy any favors anyways. He will be caught again and eventually his eyes will be dyed, I did nothing but give him more time to spend looking at a world that doesn’t want to look back at him. Who’d want that? He shouldn’t have chose to be that way.

Leave a Comment

Please note: Comment moderation is enabled and may delay your comment. There is no need to resubmit your comment.