TRAYVON 2.0: The Valley of Dry Bones
…thus, saith the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live…and they lived – and stood up upon their feet, an exceedingly great army.
The trio sat, cross-legged, at the feet of their master as he stood before them, supported by his ever-present, crystal walking stick, which reflected a rainbow of colors with each measured, yet graceful, movement of the man’s wiry frame. ‘Skittles’, the stick was called – and it was rumored to be a rod of immense power.
“Long have we awaited this day,” the old master said. “The wise diviners foretold of three young warriors rising up to one day defeat the Zimmer-Men – and here you sit.”
“We live only to serve!” The three youth replied in unison.
“And serve, you shall,” The master replied. “But to serve well, you must know yourself, your enemy, the time and what must be done. Do you know these things?”
The young warriors had memorized the answer to that question long ago, for it had been recited to them every night, at bedtime, for the past thirteen years.
The trio leapt to their feet and – as one – recited ‘The History’: “On the first day of The Resurrection, the Final Sacrifice was slain by the Zimmer-Man.”
“Continue,” the master commanded.
“On the thirtieth day of The Resurrection, anger over the slaying of the Final Sacrifice and anger over the portrayal of Black people in major roles in the film, ‘The Games of Hunger’, begat the Great Riot.
“And on the thirty-third day of The Resurrection, a group of racist scientists in Atlanta poisoned the water supply with a new disease, comprised of rabies, leprosy and the rhinovirus, or common cold.”
“And did this disease work as the scientists planned?” The master asked.
“No, master,” the trio replied. “While thousands of Black people died, as the scientists planned, non-Blacks suffered also.”
“How so?” The master inquired.
“The disease mutated, transforming them into creatures possessed by a terrifying rage and an inability to feel pain – the monsters we call ‘The Zimmer-Men’.”
“And what did the Zimmer-Men do?” The master asked.
“They set out to infect the world…to remake it in their image and their likeness.”
“So, you are telling me these monsters are intelligent?” The master said, feigning surprise.
“Incredibly so,” the trio answered. “And wickedly wise.”
“And did the Zimmer-Men succeed in their twisted mission?” The master asked.
“They have infected nearly half the population of the United States, thus far and would have succeeded in infecting the entire nation, had not all the Black, Native and Hispanic organizations within America set aside their petty differences, joined together and fought…but many Hispanics have turned to Zimmer-Men, so our numbers are dwindling fast.”
Then, all is lost?” The master asked.
“No, master,” the trio answered. “For it was prophesied that three youth would don hoods made from the blood-soaked cloth of The Final Sacrifice and these hoods would give them power to destroy the Zimmer-Men once and for all.”
“Very good,” the master said, smiling. “Now, place the hoods upon your heads and tell me who you are.”
The three young warriors slipped the black hoods over their shaved heads and then shouted, in unison – “I am Trayvon Martin!”