The A-Negatives

We've been called psychic, possessors of alien DNA, extraterrestrials, lab rats, science experiments, unnatural, deviants, renegades, and rogues. No one can seem to explain our condition. We don't factually know why our genetic make-up is pre-disposed to extra sensory perception. Supposedly, we have weakened immunity to various types of conditions and syndromes, yet for what affects the rest of the population we have greater resistance and immunity. We are a paradoxical anomaly within society; misunderstood, underestimated, and mysterious. We are the A-Negatives.

"They" say blood type makes up a very important part of human existence. Donation centers thirst for O-Positive and O-Negative donors; the most universally resistant to disease and illness, and the ones most compatible for transfusions. Their function has always been essential to the preservation and perseverance of the human race. Why, then, are there other diverse blood types within the population? Shouldn't the strongest of the species survive? Yet, something about these other blood type variations has shown resistance, strength, and the will to survive: until now.

No warning came on the day the inevitable happened. No voices of protest were able to be uttered. Little did we know that the rulers of our time had already joined forces with a much more powerful anonymous entity. Travel of space and time has been a barrier humankind has always wanted to surpass, and what was opened that fateful day created division and unison all in one. Children were separated from mothers and fathers. Spouses were split apart from one another. Relatives and friends from all locations, races, lifestyles, and backgrounds were to be further divided. A simple cell phone could no longer keep them in touch with an interconnected world: A world that was now not so interconnected.

Dignitaries were already appointed as rulers of this new world order, though they were not initially revealed. Everything had been planned and initiated in secret, away from the concern of the ignorant and meddlesome public. We still do not know how long the leaders of this age have possessed this technology and ability. We do now realize that the division within the public had already started back before this event's occurrence. Humanity always realizes its warning after it is already too late.

What we thought was mere classification with a scientific purpose was actually segregation, but in a medically necessary and acceptable form. Why would we have ever questioned it? The RhoGAM injections were said to protect us negative blood types, especially childbearing mothers. Factually, this is true. The injections did protect us and our unborn children. The same injections used to be especially important after an Rh- mother's first pregnancy; however, we no longer require them unless our former society can once again be restored.

RhoGAM injections are longer necessary. Blood donation centers are now a stabilized government entity; blood donation is now required payment for your citizenship. Now, no one in each of the kingdoms can perish of blood loss as blood stores and supplies are plentiful for everyone. Diseases that affect each of the blood types are more sufficiently monitored and even prevented since we are no longer exposed to our varying blood type counterparts. It sounds ideal on the surface, but it comes with several theoretical holes.

Not if, but rather when a disease affecting our individual blood type comes along wouldn't we be wiped out entirely? What if rulers in a differing kingdom chose to wage a war? It would be easy to target our genetic composition through biological warfare; however, the opposing kingdom would have the same issue in counterbalance. For all we know, each leader possessed the technology and knowledge, as insurance, in case one needed to wipe out the other. Our transference to our appropriately designated planes likely occurred after they had already established such weaponry and armaments.

Such benevolent intentions are often paired with somewhat crueler means of ensuring their success. Humanity, as a whole, often prepares for the worst while hoping for the best. Pairs of concepts and realities are quite interesting when you consider that the universe as a whole adheres to a balance of sorts: good and evil, light and dark, and day and night. Why then, should we be surprised when life is now a dystopia and a utopia, preventative and consequential, divided and together, and scientific and spiritual?

On that fateful day, humankind was separated into eight different planes of reality. We were all sorted into our corresponding blood group and Rh types. My husband and I had once found it joyous that our child had inherited a combination of each of our blood types; receiving "A" from myself, and the positive Rh factor (+) from my husband. Now, it filled us with dread. I only hoped our son could find his great-uncle; the only other A+ blood type I knew within our family and friend group. Perhaps, he would care for him until one of us or both of us could figure out a way to reach him. In the meantime, many of us mothers in similar situations had to "take our child's care and wellbeing on faith." Though, none of us knew what to have faith in anymore.

Countless children had been seemingly orphaned, but not by choice. To find some sort of comfort or solace, a few babies who had not yet been weaned were adopted and nursed by mothers who had recently lost their own children in the existential divide. These mothers would try to put the worries of their own children out of their minds, and reassure themselves that this was now the right thing to do; as their child's substitute suckled. It was an adjustment for both parties, but seemed a necessary psychological feat to overcome. The two would eventually grow to love and care for each other as if they were their own. These heartfelt mothers could only hope that the mothers of these same babies were doing the same for their babies as well. They hoped that one day they would all be reunited; that their children would gain brothers, sisters, friendships, and that the mothers would find comfort, solace, and a community that faced and endured such hardship. If not, the mothers told themselves, the state itself should surely have sufficient supplies of formula in storage or another means for providing for their children. "They" had seemingly thought of everything else.

Other mothers fell into such an unstable depression and were temporarily institutionalized for an "adjustment disorder" or "postpartum depression." The latter was a lie; their mental state and physical wellness was something completely separate from the realistic and normal "baby blues" of postpartum. While neither should be taken lightly, the mothers had their child or children torn away from them, and their very sense of reality was shattered. To use such diagnosis to comfort the minds of others and aid in political correctness during a time of such transition disgusted me.

A few select families, by contrast, were lucky enough to have stayed together, or rather, somewhat together in pieces; a father and daughter in one plane, a mother and son in another, etc. Many, however, weren't that lucky.

In the weeks to come, those who entered these rehabilitation or "care" institutions who had lost loved ones and partners would be encouraged to move forward by finding a partner of their same blood type classification within this new plane of reality. The idea wouldn't be posited for at least a month after the transition, but it would become the main coping skill for the current trauma. New identities, new relationships, and a new level of existence would replace the old for its ready and willing converts. The rest of us would look in horror at how easily replaceable their lives were. Then again, loss, grief, and mourning can change many things.

Each kingdom dealt with insurrection, turmoil, and upheaval in its own way. Such natural acts of aggression were expected and even encouraged in some locations; the leaders in charge felt it necessary to occur. Measures were already in place to stop it from getting too uncontrollable. Distress, outcry, suicides, and violence were considered normal for what had just occurred. In a sickeningly amusing way, violent clips from other blood type planes were displayed on buildings and screens throughout the cities. This sort of propaganda was to help quiet the public, and provide a sense of nationalism and pride in their own plane. This worked at controlling some of the populous, while worrying the others who had families there. Still, it was a form of entertainment and a way for us to think that "we didn't have it so bad." Many of us, however, saw through this façade.

Our leader was a mystery for some time. She had deemed herself queen, but held her cards very close to her chest. At times, I saw her in public. Wasn't it unusual for a person of her stature to be among the common plebs? Her actions both awed and stupefied me. Something about this wasn't right. Then again, what was right anymore? On one occasion, I saw her stop a woman preparing to commit suicide. She was garbed in a long black robe much like a villainess. While from afar, I saw the glint in our queen's eye as she stooped to help the distraught woman. The glint in her eye was as sharp as the dagger the woman held to her throat. I overheard the queen whisper comforting words, and take the young woman by the hand as she escorted her to the royal vehicle. She looked at me with a smirk and a nod, but said nothing. Wasn't she too involved for a queen? The glint in her eye told me that she knew far more than the rest of us were privy to, and just maybe she wasn't against us as much as it seemed; either that or she was the living presence of doom incarnate.

I wondered whether that woman's life was taken as a sacrifice or if she was entered into a rehabilitation center to have her memories wiped clean. I saw the same woman return to her home several days later, but in much better spirits. She said nothing of the incident, and instead waved at me as if I was a long lost friend. I wanted to interview her, but the peace and cheer she now presented in her demeanor made me hold my tongue. Her distinctive change made me wonder if she had indeed been reunited with her loved ones briefly. One thing was for sure, she knew something the rest of us didn't. I made a mental note to visit her again, and question her on a few things. For now, I had duties elsewhere.

I had always wondered whether I would be part of a rebel or insurgent group when a state had taken things too far. I wondered if I would "go native" for a cause and people I supported instead of favoring the leadership of the state itself. I wondered what side I would have been on throughout pivotal events throughout human history. I had always hoped I would have the strength to rebel against injustice and to protect those who deserved or needed it in times of great adversity and tribulation. I had often thought of myself as a foolhardy and clumsy individual. I had once wondered whether I would be just as bad as the oppressors or go along with the tide for the sake of security and my own life. Now, I no longer had to wonder.

The side I would choose found me, and in the most unlikely of places: the children at G Orphanage and Foster Care. The foster center was run by Mr. and Mrs. Garrett, a couple who was fortunate enough to have remained together despite the transference. While others and I were jealous of the situation this couple found themselves in, these two served a far greater purpose together than could be achieved apart. Why some are separated and some are placed together in times of disorder and chaos is often revealed in time and fate has a way of setting things straight if you let it.

Though normal in appearance, pleasant to interact with, and deemed upstanding by many of us in this situation, the two were harboring some true secrets. Within those secrets was an underground operation those currently in power were hopefully unaware of; a scouting and recruitment mission to aid in humanity's restoration back to the original world order. The children and I had no idea we were dealing with spies of this new world, nor did we have any idea how it would affect us in the beginning. We merely came to find a place to belong in this new existence. We came for coping, family, and support.

The Garrett's guise and cover was not a separation of their personalities into different forms, but a clever and genuine sense of self they applied to both operations. Both the acceptable center and unacceptable underground operations came from the same hearts and mindsets; and both were for the benefit of the common public.

On the surface, Mrs. Garrett was a plump, joyful sort who reminded the children and me of Mrs. Claus. It didn't help that her husband's name was Kris as in Kringle, and Mr. Garrett was equally round. Still, they were in good health for their age; and never ceased to provide meals, supplies, and experience for the children and parents who doubled as staff. The couple was incredibly human, and notably benevolent. They held onto old-fashioned concepts and notions now frowned upon by the soldiers of this world who were currently keeping order, or as they called it "peace." However, as long as no true rifts or open affronts were made, it appeared that the queen and her goons would overlook a certain level of dissention, including adherence to former values. We were thankful for this; as not everyone, myself and adoptive children included, could so swiftly adhere to this new state of being.

I was tending to my eldest adoptive son's wounds in one of the center's separate rooms; his lip was swollen and his nose was busted by a young soldier he had apparently offended. Just as I finished cleaning the blood from Alex's lip, Mrs. Garrett walked in. I was expecting a barrage of questions regarding the incident, but received an interview of various other moral and personal-based questions instead.

She was purposeful about encountering both Alex and I separately from the rest of the children and parents in the other room. Alex was a distinctly different boy from the rest of the children. He was self-assured, well-disciplined, and resilient. His fighting spirit reminded me greatly of both my husband and son, and it made me proud to know that they were likely still fighting against this new world order as well. After approaching and questioning us, Mrs. Garrett revealed a pendant that clung tightly around her neck, and at its core it glowed like a mood ring. She swayed the stone toward Alex and I, and it lit up in a vibrant green aura.

"Come with me, and don't tell the others." she urged.

Alex and I looked at each other, and then followed her down a hidden passageway. At its end was a wired machine with green energy emanating from all around it. The machine was tended by a wiry grey haired man with missing teeth. He reminded me of the scientist from Back to the Future, but I doubted Alex would know the reference.

Mrs. Garrett introduced us to the man, and he extended his hand to us.

"There is more to what exists than the eye can see." the man said with a twinkle in his own. "I may be the scientific sort, but I have no doubt of extra-sensory perception, especially in our kind."

I felt a thud in my chest as Alex reach for my hand.

"Mrs. Garrett, did you explain to our guests why they are here?" he inquired.

She shook her head horizontally, before holding up her pendant once more.

"You two have been gifted with extraordinary capabilities that we believe may lead to contact with the outside world. More specifically, you are imbued with psychic powers that have yet to be developed." she announced, "We are recruiting people of your kind to help us contact people and powers of the other realms. We are hoping to discover more of what actually is, and at minimum a way for us to contact our loved ones. Will you help us? Is there someone that you can contact in one of those other realms; someone who hasn't given up on you or won't? Is there anyone who you believe shares the same faith in society's restoration that you do?"

I moved forward, assuring Alex with a nod, and pressed my hands to the designated location on the machine. I attempted to contact my husband though I desperately longed to contact my son. An electric shock went through my body, and the sound of static filled my ears. I felt pain, and then all went silent. A picture of the queen was seen in my mind's eye. The picture was talking, no, it wasn't a picture: it was the queen herself. She was moving her lips, saying something, but what was it? I breathed in deeply and concentrated. One word: "Welcome."

I gasped and pulled myself away from the machine and panted. The three individuals in the room surrounded me. Had I given away our position? Were we all now in danger? A green and black smoke cloud filled the room, and a portal opened in its center. My husband stood in the center of a land filled with rock and sand held by authorities with weapons in hand. He was saying my name, the name of our son, and crying before he shouted, "I hear you!" The authorities in his realm did not slay him, but gave up and took pity on the crazed man. I saw hope in his eyes, and the glint of determination. "We will come together again. Trust me. Believe in me. I am not alone; there are many others."

The portal closed, and was replaced with our queen's dark face. She smirked once more before an arm extended from the smoke cloud in the room. She stroked my face, and said, "Ah, dear child, you are one of us: You and your sons." She turned to Alex who was still standing upright. The whole of the room looked upon her presence, unsure whether or not to fear or love the being before them when she remarked, "The A-Negatives are a paradoxical anomaly within society; misunderstood, underestimated, and mysterious. We are the rogues, renegades, and psychics of society. Why would you think I would be any different?"