Birth Row

Part Four

When Mark was young and newly in love, the exclusivity of the Gannett family feud was strangely romantic, in a way that few others ever live to experience. However, as years passed it began to gnaw at his conscience more than he dared admit. Clara, on the other hand, had an unyielding zeal for it that bordered on the psychotic, not that he ever let slip that he felt that way.

This was their chance to let a multi-generation grudge fade into the history books. But, he knew she would never let that happen. The torch had been passed to Clara, and she would stop at nothing to carry it through to the endgame.

When they first met, he was intrigued as much by Clara as he was with her family’s place in history. To be accepted into the wealth and notoriety of the Gannett family was exciting for a young man from a middle class neighborhood. But, with the rest of the world constantly watching, that special feeling of inclusion eventually gave way to an isolation and peculiarity that money and success couldn’t soften.

Now that Watkins was approaching the mandatory rebirthing age--again, Mark realized the issue was no longer a distant decision point, but an in-your-face event unfolding on the nightly civilian news.

Since its inception, there had been many rebirthers, but Watkins was the first prisoner to undergo the process, and now he would be the first person ever to reach his third rebirth. Rebirthing was well-established by now, but the Gannett-Watkins story was forever popular with the public, so the media outlets were covering this story extensively.

Spanning more than a hundred and fifty years, theirs was the longest running personal feud in human history. It was also the most popular. Every public screen in the geography carried the story, creating a renewed interest in the number of prison inmates waiting their turn on birth row.

There were over two hundred old men waiting for their first rebirth, and almost twenty waiting for their second time. These were hardened criminals, every one of them feared men in their day. Regardless of their crime, or the strength of their personality, age had a way of wearing down even the fiercest ones. They may be hard men, but time ran over them like a river through a stone canyon.

Waiting on birth row for another lifetime of solitary confinement was enough to break any man.

This rule had one exception.

Watkins was a stand-out, he was the original--that should have been enough in itself, but he was an unusual specimen in ways that weren’t understood, not yet.

Mark said, “Clara, I know I took the family oath a long time ago, but it doesn’t square well with my morals anymore. After all, he’s been in prison over a hundred and fifty years--don’t you think three lifetimes are payment enough?”

Clara glared at him without answering, then lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Mark hated that she smoked. Almost nobody smoked anymore. The proof it was lethal, combined with anti-smoking laws, and the exorbitant cost, pushed smoking to the fringe of society. Only ostentatious rich people smoked anymore, and even then, it was only for occasional effect.

“Do you have to do that?” Mark complained, “You know I don’t like it and it makes the house smell like smoke.”

“It’s my house.” Replied Clara, as she exhaled smoke toward him. “And besides, you’re a pig who always leaves a mess behind so don’t give me any of your shit about the house.”

“For God’s sake Clara it’s 2206, these are modern times, and no one does that anymore. Why do you have to be the only person we know who’s a chain smoker? You know how uncomfortable it makes all our friends feel.”

“I like to make your friends uncomfortable” Clara replied, “They’re all worthless shits with old money who think they’re going to live forever. Old age is for low-class losers who want to live off the state or rich people sucking off their family estates. I’d rather live hard, die young and leave a good looking corpse. At least I have a purpose to my life.”

Mark replied, “Fine, I’ll put that on your tombstone. But, I’m planning to live a long healthy life so please stop blowing that smoke in my face.”

Clara launched another cloud of smoke at Mark and said, “And what’s this about your morals? I don’t believe I’ve met them. Are they hiding around here somewhere, maybe underneath your pile of filthy clothes? It seems they’ve been missing during the last fifteen years of our marriage while you profited from my family’s business. Suddenly your invisible morals become a brick wall when it comes time to pay up? Just remember you’d have nothing if it weren’t for my family. And now, at the moment of truth you want to back away from our obligation because of the money? We couldn’t spend half of our wealth in two lifetimes, and we don’t go beyond our natural lives even if we do have enough money. Rebirthing is only fit for criminals.”