“Hello, I’m not even sure we’re in the right line. We want to get one of those special certificates. To get married.”
“A same-race certificate. You’re in the right line. But under the Equal Access Provisions of the Melanin Conservation Act, we can’t just hand those out. You have to have an Ozone Waiver to even apply for one.”
“I already have the application filled out. See? That white girl over there told me about it.”
“She told you wrong. What you filled out is the application for the
“Can’t you just stamp it or whatever? We’ve already been standing in three lines for hours, and my feet are—”
“Excuse me? Maybe you know more about my job than I do?”
“No.”
“Good. Then listen up. I’m trying to be helpful. What I’m going to give you is an appointment slip to see the marriage counselor. Take it to Building B and give it to the clerk at the first desk.”
“We have to go outside?”
“There’s a covered walkway. But stay to the left, several panels are missing. Next!”
“NEXT!”
“We have an appointment slip.”
“For what?”
“Counseling. To get a waiver, so we can apply for a certificate, or something. So we can get married.”
“Sit down over there. The Sergeant Major will call you when he’s ready.”
“The Sergeant Major? We were supposed to see a marriage counselor.”
“The Sergeant Major is the Marriage Counselor. Has been ever since the Declaration of Marital Law, under the Ozone Emergency Act. Where have you been?”
“We don’t get married every day.”
“Are you getting smart with me?”
“I guess not.”
“I hope not. Take a seat, in those hard chairs, until I call you. Next!”
“NEXT! At ease. State your business.”
“We need to get the counseling for—”
“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to him.”
“Me?”
“You’re the man, aren’t you?”
“Uh, yes, sir! We, uh, want to get married, sir!”
“Speak up. And don’t call me sir. I’m not an officer. Call me Sergeant Major.”
“Yes, sir; I mean, Sergeant.”
“Sergeant Major.”
“Sergeant Major!”
“Now tell me again what it is you want.”
“This is ridiculous. Yusef already told you—”
“Did I ask you to speak, young lady? Maybe you think because I’m black I’ll tolerate your insolence?”
“No. Sergeant. Major.”
“Then shut up. Carry on, young man.”
“We want to get married. Sergeant Major!”
“That’s what I thought I heard you say. And I guess you want my approval as your marriage counselor? My blessing, so to speak?”
“Well, yes.”
“Well, you can forget it! For Christ’s sake, boy, show a little backbone. A little social responsibility. You kids are the kind who are giving our kind a bad name. You don’t see white folks lining up trying to evade the law, do you?”
“They don’t need to line up.”
“Watch your mouth, young lady. And nobody told you to sit down. This is a military office.”
“She’s been standing for hours, Sarge. Major. My fiancée is, uh—”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Will you quit butting in, young lady! Now, let me get this straight. Is she pregnant?”
“She is.”
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
“That’s why we want to get married. Sergeant Major.”
“You’re in the wrong office. I’ll need to see a Melanin Heritage Impact Statement and a release from the Tactical Maternity Officer before I can even begin to counsel you. Take this slip to Office Twenty-three in Building C.”
“Outside again?”
“Only for a few yards.”
“But the sunscorch factor is eight point four!”
“Quit whining. Show a little pride. Imagine what it’s like for white people. Next!”
“NEXT!”
“We were told to come here and see you because I’m—”
“I’m a woman too, I can tell. At ease. Sit down, you both look tired. Want a cigarette?”
“Isn’t smoking bad for the baby?”
“Suit yourself. Now, how can I help you? Captain Kinder, here; Tactical Maternity.”
“All we want is a certificate so we can get married.”
“Negative, honey. No way. If you were both sterile, or overage,
“Each other?”
“Very funny. And watch our kids fry. But seriously, you don’t have to get married to have a child. You can have all the AAs you want OW. What’s the problem?”
“We want to keep it.”
“Keep it? Negative. You know that under the Melanin Heritage Conservation Act, Out-of-Wedlock African American children must be raised in Protective Custody.”
“You mean prison.”
“Haven’t you heard that old saying, ‘stone walls do not a prison make’? And this is not like the bad old days; since the Ozone Emergency, AA children are a precious resource. You should be glad to see them in such good homes.”
“But they are prisons. I’ve seen them.”
“So what? Does an NB, that’s newborn, know the diff? And it’s for the child’s own good as well as the good of the society. Do you realize the culture shock for African American youth when they find themselves in prison at age sixteen or so? If they are raised in prison from infancy, the TA or Transitional Adaptation goes much more smoothly.
