Under a fractured sky, in a world rewritten by time, power had shifted. The year was 1824, but not as history remembers it. Here, the lands of the West were fields where white men toiled under the watchful eyes of black masters. Emeka, a man of striking presence, stood at the edge of his estate. His dreadlocks, golden in the sun, were a crown—a reminder of the resilience of his ancestors who once walked barefoot on these lands, building empires they would never own. He was silent, his gaze fixed on Thomas, a pale-skinned man kneeling before him, hands calloused from years of labor. Thomas’s eyes darted up briefly, meeting Emeka’s. Fear, shame, and exhaustion flickered in his gaze, but also a question—one he dared not ask aloud. Emeka noticed it. He always noticed. “Do you think I wanted this?” Emeka’s voice was deep, steady, but carried the weight of centuries. “Do you think I enjoy holding the power you once wielded?” Thomas looked away, unable to respond. He remembered the stories his father used to tell—how their ancestors ruled over the dark-skinned people brought from across the seas. How they claimed ownership of men and women as though they were cattle. Now, Thomas bore the weight of their sins, working these lands to pay back a debt no one could truly settle. Emeka walked closer, his boots crunching on the dry earth. “History has a strange way of balancing itself,” he said. “But this isn’t balance, is it?” Thomas flinched as Emeka knelt beside him. “Do you think this will heal what was broken?” Emeka asked, his voice softer now. “Do you think trading places erases what your people did to mine?” Thomas finally looked up, his lips trembling. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t know what will heal it.” Emeka stood, his shadow falling over Thomas. “Neither do I,” he admitted. “But this… this is not the answer.” He turned and walked away, leaving Thomas in the dirt. Above them, the sun burned brightly, unbothered by the struggles of men. And as the day wore on, the fields stretched endlessly, holding the weight of a history no one could rewrite—but everyone was bound to carry.
