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墨書 Inktalez
As the propeller's airflow sliced through the air, I caught a glimpse of the third button on the female officer's uniform flashing with the red light of a miniature camera. The serpentine tattoo on her wrist peeked out from her sleeve, sharing the same scale pattern as my Stepfather's tattoo.
"Hold on tight!" Her grip suddenly loosened by three millimeters, and her diamond-studded manicure sank into the scar on my wrist. The night wind howled past the twelfth floor, filling my Patient Gown, while the kicking frequency of the fetus inside me synchronized with the thrum of the Police Helicopter's rotors.
My Mother screamed as she leaned over the rooftop railing, her freshly styled hair taut under the spotlight like a noose. From the Unsealed Package she tore open floated my floral dress from Junior High, dark brown stains on the fabric forming the logo of my Stepfather's company. A falling Stuffed Toy burst open, and a miniature camera reflected the glint from Director Wang's badge.
The officer's Service Pistol suddenly pressed against my Temples. The magazine latch was engraved with "Commemorating the 2003 Drug Bust"—the year my Stepfather's logistics company received its Customs permit. Static crackled in her earpiece: "Traffic Broadcast reports that the Victim of the accident on Jianshe Road was an undercover officer; the face of the body was destroyed by concentrated sulfuric acid..."
The speed of my descent abruptly slowed. Fragments of a consent form pieced together before my eyes, forming Director Wang's signature, with the last stroke piercing through a newspaper headline from Twenty Years Ago—"Enthusiastic Citizen Mr. Wang Assists in Breaking Up Major Baby Trafficking Case." In the accompanying photo, a bespectacled man in gold-rimmed glasses was stuffing a leather Paper Bag into a police car's trunk.
"They prepared a warmer Uterus for my daughter." The officer suddenly hummed a Lullaby in my Mother's voice, while the Black Snake on her Uniform Epaulet reflected my Stepfather's Wedding Ring. A half-bloodied Nail was caught in the diamond band, a memento from when I dug it into his back on my fourteenth birthday.
The orange hue of a Firefighting Air Cushion burned into my Retina, creating blind spots. A sudden surge of pain in my abdomen tinted my vision with a dark red reminiscent of Menstrual Blood, as fetal movements traced out the shape of a freezer's combination lock beneath my skin. When the tactical belt buckle on the officer's waist popped open, I caught a familiar scent of mildew mixed with whiskey wafting from the attic.
"The client really enjoys watching your Pupil constrict while you struggle." Her knee forced apart my spasming legs, and the recording device Camera slipped from its cover, revealing a fingerprint lock identical to that in my Stepfather's study. The death alarm from the Fetal Monitor erupted deep within my cochlea, this time in Director Wang's voice: "The cervix is fully dilated."
My descent came to an abrupt halt three meters above ground. My Mother's high heels hovered above me, their Heels smeared with shards of glass from the operating room Floor Tile. Her newly done Crystal Nails were beginning to peel, with inscriptions inside resembling my Birth Certificate’s forged Number. "Look at Mommy, baby," she swayed her phone Live Streaming Interface, "the audience is sending you rockets."
My Stepfather’s Crocodile Leather Shoes stepped into the shadow of the Firefighting Air Cushion, his Serpent Tattoo slithering down his suit sleeve to his hand. The inside of his torn tie bore the logo of Maternal and Child Health Hospital, with threads connecting to the seal needle of my Cord Blood collection bag. The hem of Director Wang's white coat brushed against my face, mingling disinfectant smells with sandalwood from a postpartum care center.
"The live organ transport box is ready." The officer’s lipstick melted in the night wind, dripping scarlet like the rubber gloves I had bitten through that night in the operating room. As she tore away my Patient Gown, the Electrode Pad from the Fetal Monitor stuck to my faux pregnancy belly Silicone layer, displaying temperature codes identical to those from years ago in that freezer.
Suddenly, Mother threw a Gilded Lighter into the air cushion. In that instant of explosion, I saw clearly in the flames swirling ashes—the case files from Twenty Years Ago that had been destroyed in connection with baby trafficking. The flame-retardant fabric of her uniform curled under high temperatures, revealing an inner lining marked with shipping documents from my Stepfather’s company Watermark.
"The client wants a complete Uterus." Director Wang's Scalpel pressed against the scar on my real abdomen, the blade's reflection glinting off the ceiling vent. The rusty iron chain patterns perfectly matched the security bars of my childhood attic, with a half-broken pencil inserted into the keyhole—my first whistleblower letter.
The Fetal Movement Monitor suddenly emitted an order alert. On my Mother's phone Live Stream's donation leaderboard, the top user ID was a familiar string of numbers—my Social Security Card number before it was lost. Her bloodied Fingertip traced over the virtual gift list, as the "Carnival" effect obscured the Saline Solution seeping between my legs.
The female officer's Pupil split into Compound Eyes in the firelight. The wiring under her uniform's armpit burst open, revealing the tattered fabric of my Junior High school uniform. When the fire hose shattered my collarbone, I finally saw the back of her Badge—it bore a totem identical to my Stepfather's Wedding Ring, featuring a Black Snake.
In the last half meter of my fall, time was dismantled into thick asphalt. Director Wang's glasses chain entangled my real six-week pregnant Umbilical Cord, while my Mother's newly grown eyelashes brushed against the Cervix's aged sutures. As my Stepfather's Crocodile Leather Shoes crushed the fake pregnancy belly made of Silicone, I heard the freezer compressor restart with a Buzzing sound.
"It's just a Live Streaming Incident." The female officer's Service Pistol pried open my spasming jaw, aiming its trajectory at Director Wang, who was signing for a Check a hundred meters away. My Mother's high heel dug into the position of my real Uterus, and from the Shoe Tip emerged a Scalpel momentarily displaying "Product No. 48" laser Security Code.
In the instant of touching down, as my Retina detached, I finally saw the full view of the abyss—it was a massive Incubator, its glass walls crawling with embryos resembling my own appearance. Their Umbilical Cords connected to nutrient solution tubes adorned with expired labels from the Maternal and Child Health Hospital and freight tracking numbers.
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