Jaxon RadioHead

The Radical Connection

Ms. Bluu plunged into the throng of people, a sea of bobbing heads, a chaotic symphony of chants. A massive screen flickered above the stage, displaying a menacing robotic soldier – the Xo Skele G15. Dr. Dubar Thomson, a charismatic man with a fiery gaze, boomed from the podium, his voice resonating through the cavernous hall.

"We must liberate our people!" he declared, brandishing a clenched fist. "The European man has his hands on a new kind of war power, the Xo Skele G15!"

The screen pulsed with an image of the colossal machine, its metallic form radiating a sense of unease. A younger man, Gregory, Dr. Dubar's right-hand man, mirrored his leader's fervor.

"It's only a matter of time before these war machines become accessible to the general public!" Gregory roared slamming his hand on the podium. "And we know there's white nationalist scum out there who will use this power to take back control of this country!"

Dr. Dubar shouted "That is why we have a vendor who is going to supply us with our own war machines, those crackers will never see it coming, the day of revenge". 

Ms. Bluu navigated the charged crowd, her heart pounding in her chest. Anxiety gnawed at her as she finally spotted Gregory, his face illuminated by the harsh stage lights.

"Gregory!" she shouted, her voice barely audible above the din.

Gregory froze mid-sentence, recognition dawning on his face. "Lisbeth?" he stammered, a flicker of surprise crossing his features.

"You came to join the movement?" he questioned, his voice laced with a hint of hope.

Ms. Bluu shook her head, determination hardening her features. "No, Gregory," she countered, her voice rising above the roar. "I came to talk to you about your son, Jaxon." A bitter taste filled his mouth. 

The stark light filtering through the dusty window cast long shadows across the room. Portraits of black historical figures lined the walls, silent witnesses to the heated exchange. Gregory sank into a worn armchair, his face etched with disbelief.

"Lisbeth, you're telling me our son was bullied by a white boy, shoved in a locker, and then just... vanished?" His voice was a low rumble, laced with a dangerous edge.

Lisbeth, perched on the edge of the opposite chair, nodded tightly. "Yes, that's what the school said. But then we found him, and he claimed to have been at a theme park with someone named June."

"June?" Gregory spat the name out with disdain. "Lisbeth, none of this makes sense! And who the hell is this June?"

"He says she's his imaginary friend," Lisbeth replied, her voice strained.

Gregory threw his hands up in exasperation, a deep sigh escaping his lips. "This is why I told you, that boy needs a strong hand, someone to toughen him up!"

"We talked about this, Gregory, He needs his father and mother oin his life" Lisbeth countered, a tremor of defiance in her voice. "I don't want Jaxon around any of this."

"Around what? His heritage? His roots?" Gregory boomed, his voice rising. "He's a black man, Lisbeth!"

"I know that," she interjected with a wavering voice. A tear glistening in her eye. "But you know what's coming for this country in the next few years, the violence, the bloodshed. I don't want Jaxon to grow up in a world like that."

Gregory scoffed. "So you think sticking him in a school with white folks is gonna make a difference? Come on, Lisbeth, you're smarter than that. You have our child running around with an imaginary white friend – a woman, no less! He should be here, with us, watching the Afro people fight for what's rightfully theirs!"

"That's not what I want for Jaxon," Lisbeth whispered, clinching her jaw, tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't want him to grow up hating people because of the color of their skin. I.. see thwe way he plays with Taylor. They're just kids, friends."

Gregory let out a derisive snort. "That's exactly why I left you, Lisbeth. You believe we can just coexist with them. You used to be a firebrand, a woman who'd fight tooth and nail for our people. But the first time you held that boy, it's like you became...colorist. I don't want to be around when Jaxon grows up and realizes the evil those people are capable of, thanks to his soft mama leading him astray. I'd rather be seen as a deadbeat father than raise a son who forgets where he comes from."

With those harsh words hanging heavy in the air, Gregory stormed out of the room, leaving Lisbeth alone with her tears and the ghosts of a fractured past staring down from the walls.