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A red afternoon
A red afternoon


François said, We have to do it. For the kids. Through the window, Jeanne could watch the children playing ball with their two uncles. On this side of the horizon, the redness of the world had been so sweet, so natural, so benevolent for its inhabitants. And for her. On the other side of the horizon, the emerald country probably seemed as nice to its own denizens. Now that we knew, what would become of our children ? The news had appeared two months ago. The red, the red of our lives, the unquestionable red, this red was a health hazard. A first, we had taken that for a joke. We'd been living in the red for centuries, swallowing the colour, wallowing in it. We were chauvinistically proud of the red. Then we were shown some hard data. The incidence of cancers. Of cardiovascular diseases. Of warts. Higher here, lower on the greenies' side. The smaragdine world had immediately closed down the border, a brownish, forgotten zone unbeknownst to most people until now ; and now François, Jeanne and many others were contemplating emigration for.