Sci Fi Saturday: The Secret Weapon

There's only ever one way to defeat
The Great Regression Field, that pulls us down
Below our sentience. We cannot cheat
Or trick a way on through. The Chosen, brown
Of hair and eye, was born for sacrifice.
From birth he was prepared for this one task,
Trained only to destroy the fell device.
No language did he learn, or skills. We asked
One thing alone of him, our brute, our dumb
But vital boy. He set off yesterday.
When all else hit the field, their minds go numb
And ne'er recover, witless beasts of clay.
Thus we are governed. But, should he succeed,
This planet can be ours again, indeed!