of solitary.
Nowhere to go.
The system had
resumed his farm
some
thirty years
ago.
He was
a common
criminal.
Had steadfastly
refused to use
the modified
genetic
seeds.
In court
he did
defend himself.
All in
the name
of justice
for us all.
He talked about
the terminator gene,
a seed that dies
on ripening.
And then you see
the man
at the
Monsanto Shop,
to buy again.
There is a Traitor Gene
which actually
ends its own life.
But leave it to
the wizards
at…you guessed it,
they have the
antidote
to certain death.
A chemical
reversing apoptosis.
The farmer pointed out
that this
did constitute
a crime against
humanity,
suppression of
the human spirit.
He said it was
a genie
from Satan’s bottle
that, once it was
released
would never be
returned.
The judge
whose name
was
Monte Santos,
did find
sufficient grounds
to throw him in
the clink.
To give him time
to think.
He was a man
all changed
through the ordeal.
He volunteered
to travel
through the land
as an ambassador
for GM foods.
Which was a bit
too little
and too late,
of course.
But they appreciated
the friendly gesture.
He had consumed
some twenty tons
of modified
and stratified
new foods.
And he was proof
for this brave world,
which had,
by sheer coincidence
solved fully
the population glut
which had consumed
the last resources.
Officialdom had stated
that the life expectancy
had reached the
magic number
of fifty-one.