It is the far future of the year 2060. The white oppressors have all been bred and murdered out of existence. A young man sits hunched over a bench, paint tubes strewn about, stone in hand.
The others in his community look down on Ja'Tarius for his hobby, painting rocks in the likeness of 'food' long past. They say he dreams of things that can no longer be, and even worse he wastes precious daylight hours doing it. Light is a precious commodity, once the sun sets there is none, barring the sporadic fires.
The oldest in the village tell of a time when one could get food and clothes and other such things freely, at a place the white devils called a 'sto'. The elders say how the sto's were filled with treasures whitey would'nt share, how the white mans magic even made light out of nothing! Many times Ja'Tarius sat around the bonfire listening to tales of magic and adventure, bruthas past being forced to steal from the sto to get the Air Jordans that really belonged to them anyway.
He knew the story of the last white man, they all did. When the last white devil was finally killed, with his dying breath he said a spell that made the food dissappear from the sto's, and made the light something that can only come from the sun. That's why theres no food and bruthas be raping and eating each other. It was all whiteys fault, and everyone knew it!
Ja'Tarius' brush flitted across the stone, put the finishing touches on his current piece, a can of baked beans. He closed his eyes and tried to guess their taste. In his world food was whatever you could find, usually rats or members of nearby villages. Ja'Tarius cursed the white man for his endless evil as he cleaned his brushes and put his paints away, and with them his childhood. Today Ja'Tarius turned 14 and as the second oldest in the village he was required to take a leadership role.
Turning to leave he cast one last look at his small pile of food rocks, feeling first longing and then anger. "Damn the white man!" he grunted, feeling the same oppression all his ancestors suffered.
"Damn the white man!" someone outside yelled back in agreement.
Still holdin' a brutha down.