Until yesterday afternoon, I thought I’d got a handle on you lot. But you never cease to surprise me.
I’ve sat and listened to you justify your behaviour. I know that you think ‘class system’ is a dirty phrase, but that’s what you’ve got. Well, that’s what you describe. You’re delusional. All of you.
Let me try to explain. You’ve been very clear that there’s a natural order to this universe. There are beings at the top who deserve to be there and they’re the ones that shoulder the most responsibility. On each rung down the ladder, the responsibility decreases, but everyone is happy with their position. For some it’s to help those at the top, for others it’s to entertain and for others it’s to be food. You tell me there’s no other way, but I find it revolting and I hate the way it’s all kept in place with the thing you call money. The upper classes, which is only a small proportion of you, can own money and that keeps them and their descendants at the top. If you’re born into a class that’s not allowed it, then you have to rely on the upper classes to look after you. It’s so demeaning and I don’t understand why you allow it, you’re brainwashed. And you don’t have to go too far down the ladder before they stop using names and just call you by your species. It’s wrong.
At least, that’s what I thought.
Yesterday afternoon was one of those sparkly afternoons and someone told me that the Heath was a pleasant place to get away from it all. There was a sprinkling of water on the grass and a fresh wind cutting across the lakes. It felt good. I was walking along by the side of a wood admiring the lumps and bumps of the ancient trees. The rich smell of the soil and the moss hung in the air. I turned the corner and there were six couples walking along the paths that criss-crossed the green space in front of me.
I sat and watched.
Each couple was made up of one upper-class being and one middle-class being and it was the middle-class beings, the so-called pets, that were running around, leading the way. Every now and again their companion would re-assert control by calling them back with morsels of food. And then I noticed something that blew my mind.
The middle-class beings were shitting wherever they wanted and their upper-class followers were scurrying around to pick it up as quickly as they could, congratulating them by saying, ‘Good boy!’
I thought your class structure was pathetic and you were deluded, but now I’m not so sure.
Did I stumble across a weird fetish group on the Heath – an aberration – or is your universe more complicated than it first appears?