The Kids in the Plastic Bubbles
There they were, the poor children, placed inside inflatable bubbles, and sent out into the world. If you look at the video, it’s tragic. They cannot even stand up inside these inflatable prisons. They keep falling down. But they are not hurt.
How can they breathe, I wondered?
It was a strange dystopian universe I stumbled upon in my Star Trek-like intergalactic travels. The people in this land called themselves Breeders. They bred beautiful offspring, children so gorgeous and innocent that the Breeders were sent into horrible anxieties — what if something happened to them? What if they were injured, or worse, killed? The Breeders were beside themselves with dread.
So they invented these magic bubbles to put them in. I have no idea how their children breathed inside the bubbles. The Breeders explained the science of it to me but it was beyond my knowledge level.
“How long will they stay in the bubbles?” I asked the Breeders.
“It used to be until they were 18 and left the house, either for college or to start their own families.”
“Oh, we have that on my home planet earth too,” I remarked.
“Yes, but we were worried about them even after they left, so now they stay in their plastic bubbles even for college and for about ten more years afterwards, where they live in our basements in the bubbles. And they are safe.”
“Do they ever learn to stand up on their own or walk?”
“No, it’s impossible inside the bubble to do anything for yourself,” the Breeders explained. “Only in their thirties do we let them out of the bubbles and they learn to stand and walk on their own two feet.”
“So when they are in their thirties you no longer worry about them so much,” I asked the Breeders.
“No,” they explained. “We are sick of them by then. The very sight of them makes us wretch. We’re finally ready to let go.”
“I see,” I said.
The poor children. I looked at them in their bubbles, and I thought of my own childhood, where I was free to run around in nature, climb trees, ride bikes, take all my clothes off in the woods and masturbate to pornographic magazines. I was heartbroken that these children would never learn the joys of independence, self abuse, and wankery.
“The bubbles are see through,” the Breeders explained to me, “So we can watch them at all times.”
“What about romances?” I asked. “Do they happen between the older youth?”
“Of course,” they said.
They explained to me that occasionally you will see a male bubble bumping up against a female bubble. But that’s as far as it goes.
I began to worry for the safety of the Breeder’s society. After all, there was another colony of aliens living a few parsecs away who were known to go around marauding civilizations and warring and taking slaves. They were called the Rednecks because the necks of those war-like people were always painted red with dye from their native red berries.
“What about the Rednecks,” I asked. “When you grown-ups are all dead and gone, and only these children who have been kept in these bubbles are left to defend your world, how will they protect themselves against the invasion? I mean, they look so soft and weak inside their little bubbles. Aren’t you worried?”
The Breeders were in fact worried about that. Which is why they had their greatest minds attempting to fashion a gigantic bubble over their entire planet that would keep the Rednecks out.
“You guys really like bubbles,” I said.
“Bubbles will keep us safe.”
“But bubbles can be punctured,” I said. “All the air can be sucked out them.”
“Then we will place that bubble inside an even greater and stronger bubble that can never be broken.”
They were obsessed. I decided to tell them what I really thought, that they needed to stop being so protective of their children, that they needed to accept the horrific risk of their children being injured, and that they needed for their own good and for the good of the civilization to set their children free.
But before I was even halfway through that speech, I saw forming before me a kind of rippling force-field in the air, and I realized they were placing me into an advanced kind of bubble that protected them from uncomfortable truths.
Soon they placed this bubble into a rocket and sent me jettisoning light years into space, and I never found my way back to that strange world again.