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Andrew Roller Presents
AMAZONIA
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Chapter Two
Jillian Anson sat at her desk, practising levitation. From the
viewscreen the little wymen chimed in unison the words she herself had
written for them, years ago:
ÒSisterhood, for our good.Ó
ÒSafety and Community.Ó
ÒWe love Renno. Renno loves us.Ó
The slogans regarding Men had been deleted from the curriculum this
year. The littlest wymen no longer needed instruction in that area, it was
felt. Men were almost extinct now. There were a few. All castrated, of
course.
ÒThank Goddess the new National Morality legislation banned those
awful pink dildoes,Ó Jillian breathed to herself. For a moment she almost
lost her ability to levitate, thinking of those. Then it returned, more
strongly. And no, she felt no twinge of desire perking in her nipples, under
her swathing robes, she assured herself. Good Goddess! To commit a
Thought Crime, no, she hadnÕt done that. SheÕd never thought of Men in that
way since sheÕd lawfully executed her husband, years ago, after heÕd
talked back to her. HeÕd agreed to the execution, of course.
Jillian smiled. The littlest wymen, those just starting primary
school, would never need to learn about such things as Men, and that
outdated institution known as Marriage, thank Goddess. Pope was
scheduled to be executed next year, after he finished his studies. TheyÕd
been cut short. He didnÕt know that yet, but he was a Man, after all, what
need did he have of such knowledge. Let him run his stupid experiments
until the Scheduled Day, when he would be executed. JillianÕs smile
broadened. She knew, in the end, Pope would agree to the execution. All
men had to be eliminated from the society, after all. HeÕd agreed to that
point years ago, over coffee, down in the Clitwit Lounge. Then heÕd gotten
an extension for himself, so he could continue his experiments, on behalf
of the Sisterhood.
Well, next year, all that would be terminated. Pope, his foolish
Ôstudies,Õ and his subjects, of course. No use risking the spread of disease
from his handful of animals.
The singsong voices of the little wymen ceased. For a moment
Jillian wondered why. WerenÕt they scheduled to sing for half an hour? It
was a beautiful presentation, for the benefit of the Sisterhood. She
watched it every morning, and, sometimes, when she was through
levitating, she even masturbated herself to it.
Jillian opened her eyes. She floated back down to her chair.
Gulf was staring at her. Gulf had big, spectacled eyes, and a rather
annoying set of teeth, irregular. She should have those fixed, Jillian
thought for the the thousandth time. But she knew she shouldnÕt think
such thoughts, because being a natural wyman was what all the theorists,
including herself, advocated. Still, GulfÕs irregular teeth were annoying to
look at.
ÒOne of PopeÕs animals has escaped,Ó Gulf said to Jillian.
For a moment Jillian just stared at the screen where a moment ago
the littlest wymen had been singing their morning chants.
ÒHuh?Ó Jillian finally managed to say.
Gulf was head of security and she frowned. She didnÕt like having to
repeat herself, especially to Jillian, though Jillian was above her in the
Sisterhood hierarchy. They had been rivals for another wyman in school.
The wyman, quite a beautiful one, with fine-meshing scales, had betrothed
herself to Gulf. Even though Jillian was above Gulf in the hierarchy the
fact that Gulf had won the beautiful wyman for herself made Gulf feel
superior to Jillian.
ÒI said, one of the animals has escaped. One of that ManÕs animals,Ó
Gulf said. She seemed to spit out the word ÔManÕ as she spoke it, and quite
properly, for men were despised by the Sisterhood, even the few, like
Pope, that they kept alive. ÒAlso,Ó Gulf added. ÒPopeÕs dead. The animal
killed it.Ó
Jillian felt herself settle into her chair. All 352 pounds of her, not
including her robes, were now settled back into her chair.
ÒWell, we wonÕt have to carry out the execution order on him next
year, then, will we?Ó Jillian smiled. She was not going to let unpleasant
news from Gulf, of all people, spoil her day. She was scheduled to begin
dating a very pretty wyman this afternoon and, for all she knew, they
might go to bed this evening. ÒDonÕt tell Renno, of course,Ó Jillian added.
ÒAnd kill the animal when you catch it. Anything else?Ó She reached
across her desk to replace Gulf once again with the singing wymen from
the elementary school.
ÒYes, there is something else,Ó Gulf said, scowling. ÒFive of my
guards are dead. The animal killed them.Ó
ÒImpossible!Ó Jillian frowned. ÒThe animals... there werenÕt many
left. Just the old man, the middle-aged, unreconstructed woman, the two
fags, the ten-year-old girl, and...Ó her voice trailed off.
ÒAnd that boy!Ó Gulf snarled. ÒThe one I said at the Sisterhood
conference last year should be killed. But you intervened and kept him
alive.Ó
ÒOh yes, the boy...Ó Jillian said. ÒWhat was his name?Ó
ÒCum-Andi, plus a number... you want the number?Ó Gulf asked. She
reached for a sheaf of papers, rustled them.
ÒNo, the numberÕs not important. ThereÕs hardly any animals left,
now. Well, catch him. Kill him. If PopeÕs dead thereÕs no use keeping the
experiments going. And kill the other animals.Ó
ÒHe showed his Thing to one of my guards!Ó Gulf said angrily. ÒNow
sheÕs polluted the other guards with talk of it.Ó
ÒOh, God! You mean...?Ó Jillian asked. She felt her nipples perk up
underneath her clothes but denied to herself that she was feeling it.
ÒYes! His... whatÕs it called?Ó Gulf shuffled the papers in her hand.
The wyman with the crooked teeth had a curious habit of keeping vital
information on paper. ÒHere. Here it is. His penis. Yes, thatÕs it. He
showed his penis Thing to my guard!Ó
ÒWell, send her in for Medicinal Psychotherapy,Ó Jillian snapped.
ÒReally, Gulf, the mental state of the wymen you choose to hire as your
guards are not my responsibility.Ó
ÒNo, but when IÕve got half my employees polluted by indecency
spread by one of your protected animals, their mental health *ought* to be
*your* responsibility!Ó Gulf shouted at Jillian.
ÒYes, well, kill the animals. IÕve already said you can do that.
PopeÕs dead, isnÕt he? So kill them, and catch and kill Cum-Andi. One
loose animal, however adept it may be at knocking off your guards, should
hardly be above your powers to control.Ó
Gulf glared at JillianÕs visage on her viewscreen but said nothing.
Jillian smiled. She reached again for the knob that would return her to the
chanting wymen at the elementary school. ÒAnd no need to tell Renno.
Solve the problem quickly and cleanly, as youÕve trained your security
forces to do,Ó Jillian said.
ÒYes, Mistress Jillian,Ó Gulf answered. Her voice sounded sullen.
ÒToodle-Ooo,Ó Jillian said. She turned the knob. Gulf disappeared, to
be replaced by a wide shot of the singing wymen at the school. Jillian
zoomed in on a particularly pretty pupil. She lifted her saffron colored
robes and began to massage her clitoris.
ÒHow nice. The poplars are in bloom,Ó the head said to Cum-Andi.
They were lying in a field, outside the huge, circular building where
Cum-Andi had spent all his life locked up in a cage. Dreaming a life in
Sedgeway, Iowa, that he could still swear had been real.
Cum-Andi peered out at the building from behind a hedge. Looking
between its leaves, he could feel the afternoon sun on his back. The grass
smelled good under his nose. Like Iowa.
Cum-Andi watched as wymen, many of them looking like students,
passed in and out of the building. A sign near an entrance Cum-Andi had
fled from, unobserved, read, ÒWellesley College for Wymen,Ó and, in
smaller letters, underneath, ÒNOW Medical Research InstituteÓ.
ÒIÕm hungry,Ó Cum-Andi said, half to himself, as he watched young
wymen stride purposefully in and out of the entrance. Each one carried a
computerized notepad. Some read their notepad as they walked. They had
glossy legs, glossy arms. Their scaly skin had no wrinkles like heÕd seen
on some of the creatures who had pursued him. Yet, occasionally, heÕd see
what he guessed was an older wyman. It had wrinkled arms and legs. One
wyman who entered the building had gray hair, like Pope. It was stooped
over and walked with a cane. All of the wymen Cum-Andi saw wore a
tunic covering their chest. The tunics were different shades, different
styles. But all of them had bared legs and, curiously, uncovered pubic
areas, as if they were brandishing their cunts for all the world to see. It
would be difficult for a Man to walk among such creatures without being
noticed.
ÒWell I could use a bit of oil, myself,Ó Stan the BabbleBot said, lying
on the grass, looking up at the trees.
Cum-Andi sighed. ÒShit. I have no idea what to do, except wake up,Ó
he said.
ÒI keep telling you. This is no dream,Ó the head lying in the grass
beside Cum-Andi reminded him. ÒLook at your arm. HowÕs it feel?Ó
Cum-Andi looked at the swath of burnt flesh across his left arm. ÒIt
hurts,Ó Cum-Andi said. ÒAnd IÕve got shrapnel in my right side, but not too
bad. It hurts, though.Ó
ÒI hope you didnÕt leave them a trail of blood,Ó the head said.
ÒNo,Ó Cum-Andi replied. ÒI didnÕt bleed too much.Ó Hopefully he
looked down his right side, checking for blood. There were speckles of
dried blood along the right side of his shirt.
ÒHowÕs your vision?Ó Cum-Andi asked the head beside him.
ÒOne eyeÕs gone. DoesnÕt hurt anymore, though. The painkillers cut
in and fixed that. IÕm robotic, you know.Ó The BabbleBotÕs remaining eye
rolled over in its socket and fixed on Cum-Andi. ÒNot like you, animal.
YouÕve got no painkillers if you lose an eye.Ó
ÒYeah, I know,Ó Cum-Andi said. He watched the wymen again. Two
passed in saffron-colored robes. They looked quite ancient and their robes
covered them down to their knees. Others, younger, with blouses but no
pants, left the building, passing the saffron-robed ones. The younger
wymen said something to the older ones and gave them a respectful salute.
It was diffidently returned by the two older wymen.
Cum-Andi continued watching the building. Some wymen entered it,
some left. Always there were a few, moving in or out. It was a huge
building and he guessed that in all those long halls, behind the doors, there
must be activities taking place all the time.
ÒWhat do you think of the design of the building?Ó the head asked
conversationally. ÒIt won an award, you know.Ó
ÒReally?Ó Cum-Andi asked. ÒIt just looks like a big round button to
me.Ó
ÒAh, yes, that it does,Ó Stan said. ÒBut itÕs politically correct in its
shape. ItÕs the groundbreaking, earth-shattering, clitoral design. Lots of
buildings have been built just like it since it was first designed 25 years
ago.Ó
ÒHmmm,Ó was all Cum-Andi could think to reply.
ÒToo bad about the other animals,Ó Stan said. ÒTheyÕll never get to
admire the building from its outside, like you.Ó
ÒHuh? What other ÔanimalsÕ,Ó Cum-Andi asked. He said the word
ÔanimalsÕ rather derisively, as if to remind himself, and the BabbleBot,
that he did not believe he was one.
ÒThere were several others,Ó Stan said. He gazed up at the trees
that shaded them from the sun as they lay in the grass behind the hedge.
ÒAn old man, locked up in a cage that he thinks is the Greenwood Senior
Haven. All adults. No children.Ó Stan smiled. ÒHe hates Nirvana, though
he doesnÕt know the name of the group. Then thereÕs the middle-aged
woman. She thinks she lives in New York in the 21st Century. TimeÕs very
precious to her, and sheÕs hoping to make Vice President at the bank she
works for.Ó
ÒShhhh!Ó Cum-Andi said. A wyman, carrying a notepad, but gazing
suspiciously around herself, passed close by the hedge they were lying
behind. When she had passed, walking slowly, Cum-Andi told the head,
ÒOkay. Who else is in there? The other animals?Ó
ÒOh, yes,Ó Stan said. He gazed up at the trees. They rustled
overhead as an afternoon breeze picked up strength. ÒThereÕs the gay
congressman. CanÕt remember his name. HeÕs frank about his
homosexuality. He lives with a gay prostitute, who he keeps out of sight
in his basement. Only the congressman is real, though. Then thereÕs
another, gay, in another cage... Shit. ItÕs starting to rain,Ó the BabbleBot
said. ÒA raindrop hit me in my good eye. That stung. And IÕm picking up
your language.Ó
ÒYeah, weÕre gonna get wet out here,Ó Cum-Andi said. He felt large
raindrops begin to spatter across his back and down his legs. ÒInside, we
die, outside, we...Ó
ÒCatch pneumonia,Ó the head said. ÒOr, rather, you do, anyway.Ó
ÒAre there any other animals?Ó Cum-Andi asked. He rose to his
knees. They would have to go someplace. They couldnÕt just lie out here in
the rain. He sniffed the air and glanced up at the clouds. They were
growing dark. There seemed to be a major rainstorm coming.
ÒThereÕs a girl. Ten years old,Ó Stan said. The BabbleBot was
wincing, lest it get hit in the eye with a raindrop again. Cum-Andi froze.
He remembered Bethany, his sister.
ÒHow old did you say the girl was?Ó Cum-Andi asked.
ÒTen,Ó Stan replied, squinting against the rain. ÒSay, take me
someplace or put me under something, would you? Or at least turn me
face down in the grass. I donÕt want to lose my good eye to some... well...
fucking rain.Ó
Cum-Andi scooped up the head and stuffed it protectively under his
arm. ÒWeÕre going back in,Ó he told the head.
ÒWhat?Ó Stan cried from under the boyÕs arm.
ÒI said weÕre going back in,Ó Cum-Andi said. ÒFor the other
ÔanimalsÕ.Ó
ÒItÕs suicide!Ó the BabbleBot protested. ÒThe place must be crawling
with Sisguards by now! Every entrance, every hallway. IÕm surprised we
havenÕt been found out here, lying stupidly close to the building behind
these bushes.Ó
ÒWell, we havenÕt,Ó Cum-Andi replied. ÒI can only run so far at once.
IÕm not Iron Man.Ó
ÒGet ready to run some more, then,Ó the head answered. ÒAnd a lot
faster, Ôcause youÕre going to have the whole Sisterhood on your tail.Ó
ÒI donÕt have a tail and IÕm not an animal,Ó Cum-Andi said
confidently. He stepped cautiously out from behind the bushes. ÒAnd
neither are those human beings locked up in cages inside that giant clit.Ó
ÒWait!Ó Stan cried. But Cum-Andi strode forward, rapidly. A group
of wymen moving toward the building gazed at him, startled. Cum-Andi
nodded to them. His eyes scanned them for weapons but saw only
notebooks.
ÒSafety and Community,Ó Cum-Andi said to the wymen. He passed
them.
ÒSisterhood, for our good,Ó one of the wymen answered.
ÒAre you the Primitive Man?Ó one of the wymen asked in a voice that
sounded fresh and young and naive. She had shiny scales stretched tight
along her legs and arms. Her hair hung freely down her back. She wore no
helmet, no body armor. Just a bright pink tunic.
ÒIÕm dressed as him,Ó Cum-Andi said, even as he memorized the
slogan, ÔSisterhood, for our good.Õ HeÕd seen a sign inside the building, on
his way out, that read ÒSafety and Community.Ó He was building up a
wyman vocabulary rather quickly. ÒIf you see anyone who looks like this...
who... uh... smells like this, please notify security.Ó The wymen nodded at
him, though one of them looked at him with something less than complete
belief.
ÒSafety and community,Ó Cum-Andi said. Then he turned and walked
quickly up the cement walkway to the buildingÕs entrance. He went inside.
He passed through security equipment that looked old and outdated. It had
probably been active, years ago, but seemed to be off now. It hadnÕt
alerted the building to his presence when he left it. And it didnÕt seem to
be doing anything now, when he walked back inside.
Jillian finished masturbating and shut off the viewscreen. No sooner
had she done so than it flickered to life again, of its own accord.
ÒGulf here,Ó a voice identified itself.
ÒYes, Gulf,Ó Jillian said with a sigh. The visage of the crooked-
toothed security chief filled the screen. ÒHave you captured the animal?Ó
Jillian asked.
ÒNo, not yet,Ó Gulf said. ÒWeÕre trying to reactivate the buildingÕs
security but itÕs been so long since there were Men--Ó
ÒOne man,Ó Jillian corrected. ÒOne boy, really. IÕve been reading his
file. HeÕs only 15. Offer him candy and baseball cards. HeÕll come
running.Ó
ÒWell, weÕre looking for him,Ó Gulf said. ÒThough IÕve had to send
half my security team to Medicinal Psychotherapy.Ó
ÒWhatever,Ó Jillian answered. She tried to levitate to reduce the
strain of the discussion. ÒYou trained them. DonÕt bother me with your
failures. Just catch the animal and dispose of him. YouÕve taken care of
the rest?Ó
ÒI have a team on the way to do that,Ó Gulf said.
ÒFine,Ó Jillian replied. ÒAnd there has been a Minimal Alert, for the
students on campus?Ó
ÒYes. Hopefully Renno wonÕt hear of it,Ó Gulf said.
ÒI should hope not,Ó Jillian agreed. She forced a smile. ÒDo catch
the animal, dear.Ó She wanted to add, Ôand get yourself braces,Õ but didnÕt,
because it was considered impermissible to make such an uncouth
statement.
ÒI wish I could quarantine the building,Ó Gulf said. ÒJust until the
animal is caught. HeÕs dangerous, you know! He could have diseases. HeÕs
a Man!Ó
ÒYes, I wish we could too,Ó Jillian agreed. ÒBut you know we canÕt,
not without Renno hearing of it. WeÕd be executed as Substandard
Biomass, and rightly so, for letting an animal escape. Capture him, kill
him, do it now.Ó
ÒI just wish it had been a primitive wyman, instead of a primitive
man,Ó Gulf said. ÒYou know, the Thing, the Thing heÕs carrying around
between his legs. ItÕs well, itÕs unsettling my security forces.Ó
ÒMedicinal Psychotherapy, dear, just send them there,Ó Jillian
replied.
ÒI have but--Ó Gulf said.
ÒHow many guards do you need to catch one loose, immature male
animal?Ó Jillian asked.
ÒLots, considering heÕs killed five already,Ó Gulf replied.
Jillian stared hard at the crooked-toothed wyman on her screen. Her
attempts at levitation ceased. She settled hard into her chair. Then,
reaching for her chair arms, she tested her ability to lift her bulk and
stand. Yes, she could do it. She was overweight, sheÕd not walked in days,
but she could do it if she had to. Damn! Gulf herself had been infected by
those stories some indecent wymen still circulated about Things, and Men,
and Men with Things that got big and hard. Damn crooked-toothed wyman
probably had an illegal pink dildoe in her bedroom.
ÒGulf, IÕm relieving you of your command,Ó Jillian said in a voice of
false gentleness to the face on her desktop viewscreen.
ÒWhat?Ó Gulf shrieked.
ÒYouÕre infected. Report to Medicinal Psychotherapy,Ó Jillian said.
She added, emphatically, in a voice that allowed for no disobedience,
ÒThatÕs an order.Ó
ÒNo!Ó Gulf shrieked.
ÒAnd turn in your goddamn pink dildoe to your chief of staff,Ó Jillian
added.
Cum-Andi stepped onto an elevator with a gaggle of young wymen.
They stared at him.
ÒUh, safety and community,Ó Cum-Andi intoned piously to the
wymen. He lifted his hand, uncertainly. He made the sign of the cross.
ÒSisterhood, for our good,Ó the wymen answered.
ÒAre you the primitive man?Ó one of them piped up.
ÒJust a wyman dressed as a primitive man,Ó Cum-Andi replied. The
head in the crook of his arm smiled in benign agreement.
ÒShow us what the primitive manÕs Private looks like,Ó of the
wymen urged, even as the whole group of them moved back from Cum-Andi.
He speculated to himself that they looked, except for their scaly skin and
their crocodile faces, like girls afraid of getting cooties.
ÒHe doesnÕt have a private, heÕs a man,Ó Cum-Andi answered. He felt
the elevator lift upward from the ground floor and wondered how far heÕd
get before he ran into security guards.
ÒShow us his Private!Ó one of the wymen students shouted. Her
voice sounded enthusiastic.
ÒHe, well... itÕs too immoral to show you,Ó Cum-Andi answered.
ÒBesides, I donÕt have one. IÕm a wyman, just like you. Dressed like the
primitive man, of course, and travelling round the building to warn
everyone to stay away from him.Ó Cum-Andi swallowed. Hard. ÒHeÕs
obviously an animal,Ó Cum-Andi added. ÒAnd diseased.Ó
ÒShow them,Ó the BabbleBot said, whispering, and Cum-Andi knew
that, despite the softness of the headÕs voice, the wymen could hear him.
ÒDamn fucking... youÕre gonna be a football yet,Ó Cum-Andi swore at
the head. Then, realizing he was still sharing the elevator with the
wymen, he added, ÒThatÕs how he talks, girls! ThatÕs how the primitive
man talks. Just to let you know.Ó
ÒShow them,Ó the BabbleBot hissed.
ÒShow us his Thing!Ó two wymen cried. The group of wymen began to
move toward Cum-Andi. One of them touched his shirt.
ÒYou have blood!Ó one of them remarked.
ÒYes, excellent observation... he was wounded and I felt it necessary
to imitate the wounds as best I could,Ó Cum-Andi said.
ÒUnzip yourself,Ó the BabbleBot said to Cum-Andi. The wymen began
pulling at Cum-AndiÕs shirt.
ÒDamn! It hurts,Ó Cum-Andi swore to himself. The shrapnel had dug
into his flesh and his blood had dried so that his shirt was sticking to his
right side.
ÒUnzip!Ó the BabbleBot under his arm demanded, like some weird
talking urinal. Certain he was in a dream, but with the wymen practically
tearing at his clothes, Cum-Andi bellowed:
ÒStand back, girls! It is the height of indecency!Ó
The group of young wymen drew back from him. They clutched at
their notebooks once more, instead of his clothes. For a moment he
hesitated, gazing at them. Then, with the BabbleBot hissing at him to Do
It, Cum-Andi grabbed the zipper of his pants. He pulled it down. He dug
into his crotch and produced, a moment later, his penis. He hoped it was
big enough. He presented it to the wymen and they gasped, in unison, like
nuns witnessing an apparition of Jesus without the benefit of his
loincloth.
Instinctively, Cum-AndiÕs penis stiffened to its full length. HeÕd
never been observed by this many eyes except in the boysÕ locker room.
But these eyes were different. They were female eyes, even if the
females did have scaly arms and legs and crocodile snouts for mouths.
The elevator came to a stop. Three of the wymen dropped to their
knees and began praying to him. The rest stood immobile.
The doors to the elevator slid open. Cum-Andi felt like asking,
ÒGoing down?Ó but they were up, high up in the massive, clit-shaped
building, and a quick scan of the numbers revealed that theyÕd ridden to his
floor, the one heÕd wanted, and he realized then that none of the wymen,
entering the elevator, had ever pushed for any of their own floors, but had
let him choose the floor and had ridden all the way up with him. Seeing a
primitive man, riding with one, was apparently of much greater
importance, when the opportunity presented itself, than getting to class
on time.
Cum-Andi heard the footfall of open-toed boots in the hall. He
turned. He presented himself and his erect penis, quite involuntarily, to a
host of approaching guards.
ÒLook! He does have it!Ó a guard shouted. She pointed.
ÒHeÕs invincible!Ó another guard cried. She fell to her knees, despite
holding a gun that she had pointed directly at Cum-AndiÕs crotch.
ÒFive dead already!Ó another guard agreed. ÒMore than in the War
with Sisterhood Blasphemers!Ó
ÒDamn pants!Ó Cum-Andi swore, for in trying to run from the
elevator he found his legs getting tangled in his half undone trousers.
ÒTake them off,Ó the BabbleBot said. ÒYouÕll do better without them.
They fear your penis!Ó
Somehow, Cum-Andi managed to approach the guards in the hall,
quickly, and relieve himself of his pants at the same time. When his
testicles swung clear of his underpants the wymen guards still standing
dropped to their knees.
ÒHe is Man. He is Lord,Ó two of them murmured.
ÒPraise the Lord!Ó another wyman, a guard but now prostrate on the
floor of the hallway, shouted.
ÒSave us from Renno,Ó Cum-Andi heard one of the wymen murmur.
Jillian drifted on a LiftChair into the buildingÕs security office. She
was saluted as she entered. The chair moved slowly. She wished she had
one of the new models that floated more quickly, but it had been cut from
this yearÕs budget. Perhaps next year sheÕd get one. Andrea already had
one, but Andrea was a Theorist, and Jillian was in charge of more mundane
matters.
Now, in addition to her other duties, she was having to take over
security.
ÒLetÕs do this quickly and efficiently,Ó Jillian told the assembled
guards. She scanned the room. Everything was in order. They were all
clad in their proper blue uniforms, their heads protected, their chests
covered, their thatches exposed, as Feminist Theory demanded. No penises
here. And no thoughts of penises either, Jillian hoped. ÒHas someone seen
Gulf to Medicinal Psychotherapy?Ó Jillian asked.
ÒYes, maÕam,Ó a guard replied.
ÒGood. Now letÕs go find this damn animal,Ó Jillian said. She turned
her chair. She floated back out of the office. The guards followed. The
Com-Guard stayed close, linked by direct visual to the banks of internal
security viewscreens that the guards who stayed behind were monitoring.
Not all the screens worked. With so few Men about, and none of them
uncastrated, it had seemed extravagant to keep the whole building under
observation. Screens that had died had not been fixed or replaced. The
Walking Patrol had seemed enough, plus Fast Response in the sector that
housed the animals. Now, Jillian wished all the screens had been kept up,
plus the extra surveillance at the buildingÕs entrances and exits, to
monitor who came in and who left. And she wished she had a faster chair.
Jillian sighed. Everything could be called a budgetary extravagance, until
the day you needed it. Then it was a necessity.
She was counting Lucky Charms while a Casper video played in the
background. Cum-Andi wished she wasnÕt sitting so close to the T.V. He
lifted the mop and rammed it into the glass. He hoped none of the glass
hit her. HeÕd have used a gun (he wore three holsters now), but he was
afraid he might kill her. He was trying to save her.
Ò30, 31, 32... oh! HereÕs another blue moon!Ó the girl announced.
Suddenly she cringed as Cum-AndiÕs mop handle burst the screen of her
T.V. set. It was a large television, for which Cum-Andi was grateful.
ÒSorry to barge into your little world,Ó Cum-Andi announced. He
stepped into a living room that quickly dissolved around him into shadows
and hissing, dangerous-looking wires. Somewhere a woman shouted but
her voice faded, quickly, and she was no more.
ÒMom!Ó the girl cried. But she was looking at Cum-Andi. Then she
screamed. He wasnÕt wearing any pants and his cock was hard.
Cum-Andi grabbed the girl by her shirt. He wanted to say, ÒCum with
me if you want to live,Ó but it seemed ridiculous. He hoped heÕd wake up.
The girl was staring at his penis, still screaming, and she didnÕt have
scales or a crocodile nose. This dream was getting quite embarrassing.
With a tired sigh Cum-Andi yanked the screaming 10-year-old
through her television.
ÒYou have a wife now, if you live,Ó the BabbleBot said unhelpfully.
ÒShut up!Ó Cum-Andi said, both to the screaming girl and the head
lying on the desktop in the laboratory. He could see dried blood on the
shattered computer where heÕd shoved Pope head first through his own
equipment. And the cage heÕd escaped from was nearby, all darkness now,
Susan nothing but a memory of loose wires and half-emulsified limbs,
made for the moment and forever broken now, unable to redissolve into his
Dad or his Mom or his kid sister.
The body of Pope had been removed by guards but Cum-Andi had
killed anew. Entering the laboratory, heÕd found new guards within, and
heÕd blasted them to bits, not waiting for them to pray to his penis or
decide to shoot him instead. The BabbleBot had been right. Not wearing
pants had been a big help. The wymen guards seemed to think he was
invincible, some resurrected Lord whoÕd save them from their own leader,
Renno, who apparently killed them for disobedience.
Somewhere down a hallway, near an elevator, he hoped the guards
heÕd first met were still praying to him, as heÕd ordered them. HeÕd taken
the guns from three of them, left the others as they were. There was no
time for anything more complicated than that. HeÕd ordered them to think
of his cock and pray to it for an hour.
ÒNow if we could only leave,Ó the BabbleBot said. ÒOf course, itÕs
probably raining outside...Ó It squinted, as much at a loss as Cum-Andi
was as to what to do next. He held the 10-year-old girl by her shirt. What
to do? Where to go? Everyone was dead, all the Ôanimals,Õ except the two
of them. The guards in the laboratory had killed the old man, the middle-
aged woman, and the two fags before Cum-Andi burst in. HeÕd saved the
girl just in time. Another minuteÕs delay, disarming the other guards back
by the elevator, would have cost the girl her life, and made his whole
mission useless.
Now they had to get out of this place. Without any more shrapnel
wounds, he reminded himself, looking at the one-eyed BabbleBot.
ÒYou know this place better than I do,Ó Cum-Andi said to Stan. ÒAnd
your ass is on the line as much as mine is, even though you donÕt have one.Ó
ÒIÕd flip a coin but...Ó Stan replied. He smiled benignly. Cum-Andi
frowned. They had to think fast! He moved his grip to the 10-year-oldÕs
arm. She was the one creature still in this world like himself, who didnÕt
have scales and who didnÕt have a crocodile snout. But she was trying to
pull away from him.
Cum-Andi had a mop in one hand, a 10-year-old girl in the other. A
bodiless head with one eye stared at him balefully. Around him lay dead
crocodile women. If this wasnÕt a dream, he was probably crazy, he told
himself.
ÒUp, then,Ó the BabbleBot said. ÒItÕs like, we can go round and round
in this clit-shaped building, or up, or down. TheyÕll expect us to go down.
So letÕs go up. ThatÕs my contribution.Ó
ÒAnd when we get to the top?Ó Cum-Andi asked. The girl struggled,
trying to break free of his grip. She was sobbing, quietly. She stared back
at the cage from which sheÕd just been liberated.
ÒI want my Lucky Charms,Ó she said.
ÒThere are no Lucky Charms,Ó Cum-Andi snarled at her. ÒThere never
were any goddamn Lucky Charms... just emulsion, in an emulsion cage,
computer-controlled... never mind, thereÕs no time to explain.Ó He glanced
back at the head, then at her. ÒAnd your momÕs not dead,Ó he added. ÒYou
never had a mom, or, if you did, she died long ago, a common animal, like
your father.Ó
ÒMy dadÕs not an animal,Ó the girl said, frowning.
ÒGood. Keep believing that,Ó Cum-Andi said. He turned his head to
the Bot. ÒOkay,Ó he said. ÒWe go up.Ó Cum-Andi dropped the mop. He
unholstered one of the three guns wrapped around his waist. He had no
pants anymore but, by God, he had three guns, and enough ammo to blow a
hole in the top of this clit-buildingÕs roof if he had to.
ÒGet up!Ó Jillian screamed at the prostrate guards lying on the floor.
Someone had pulled the emergency stop on the elevator behind her and
there were students in it, praying to some idiot animalÕs penis.
ÒThe Lord has come,Ó one of the guards murmured. Unsteadily she
rose to her feet.
ÒDisarm her. Send her to Medicinal Psychotherapy--Ó Jillian said.
She paused. This loose animal called for extreme measures. ÒNo,Ó Jillian
growled. She grabbed a gun from the guard nearest her. Floating in her
LiftChair above the floor, she trained the gun on the guard who had just
risen to her feet.
ÒYou are Substandard Biomass,Ó Jillian snarled at the guard. She
fired at it. It was hit in the face, below its helmet and above its blue
chest padding. Blood splattered across Jillian as the guard tumbled
backward on top of other guards who still lay on the floor, praying.
Jillian fired six more times.
ÒNow I have killed more than the animal,Ó Jillian said. She looked at
the remaining guards. ÒSafety and community,Ó she said.
ÒSisterhood, for our good,Ó the guards replied.
ÒWe love Renno. Renno loves us,Ó Jillian said to the guards. They
gave a salute and repeated the slogan back to her. ÒNow letÕs go find this
Goddess-be-damned animal,Ó Jillian said. Then she muttered, ÒMay the
Goddess forgive me for taking her name in vain.Ó
ÒGoddess be praised,Ó the Com-Guard following close behind Jillian
agreed.
ÒAnything from the lab?Ó Jillian asked.
ÒNo maÕam, that viewscreenÕs out,Ó the Com-Guard replied.
ÒWell, Goddess-be-damned, I know itÕs out. Are they trying to fix
it?Ó
ÒThe manual proved to be outdated, Mistress Jillian,Ó the Com Guard
replied in an apologetic voice. ÒTheyÕre trying to find an update to it
downstairs...Ó
ÒTell them to roll up their sleeves and fix it like a Goddess-be-
damned Man would,Ó Jillian swore.
ÒHuh?Ó the Com Guard asked.
ÒNothing,Ó Jillian replied.
ÒThere he is!Ó one of the guards screamed. She stuck out her scaly
arm as a figure, with another, smaller animal with long blonde hair, and
carrying something under the crook of his arm, darted past them in one of
the cross halls.
ÒFire! Kill it!Ó Jillian screamed. Her blubbery arm lifted up the gun
sheÕd taken from the guard and, still feeling the wet blood of the guards
upon her, she fired at the apparition that had passed in the hall.
She hit one of her own guards in the back of the head. Its neck was
severed and it fell to the floor. Its head rolled away from it and lay
lifeless on the floor.
ÒGoddess be Damned!Ó Jillian swore. She didnÕt bother to mutter an
apology to herself, her Goddess, or the guards surrounding her for taking
the Great GoddessÕ name in vain. ÒChase it!Ó she ordered. ÒChase that
goddamn loose Man-- that animal!Ó Jillian threw her floating chair into
Maximum Forward but it puttered along at the reasonable, safe pace its
designers had set for it.
The 3 oÕclock shuttle was leaving on schedule. Its rotor blades
scythed the air. Across the roof a fierce rainstorm blew, rocking the ship,
making the young wymen nervous as they waited in the plexiglass tube to
board it. They clutched at their computerized notepads and whispered
among themselves about the rumor than a male animal was loose,
somewhere in the building, a male with a penis as long as a foot. And as
wide as a knockwurst sausage. All agreed, aloud to each other, that he
should be caught and castrated, at the very least, but internally their
thoughts were quite different. They were secret, forbidden thoughts.
Dreams of prostrating themselves to the Man, of worshipping him.
Suddenly, one of the wymen saw a figure running across the roof.
What in GoddessÕ name was that wyman doing out in the rain? SheÕd get
her hair wet, her blouse, her...
There was something dangling between the wymanÕs legs. It was
hard, and long. And the wyman seemed to have another, smaller wyman
running beside it. A young wyman with an indecent covering over her
loins, hiding her glorious thatch.
ÒThe Man!Ó a wyman screamed suddenly.
ÒNonsense. There is no Man,Ó a second wyman said.
ÒNo! Look! It is He. Him!Ó a wyman said. There was reverence in her
voice.
And then there were gunshots. Somewhere behind the wyman, or
whatever it was, whatever they were, running toward them, there were
others, wearing regulation blue helmets and vests.
ÒItÕs the animal!Ó a wyman screamed. Wymen began falling prostrate
in the plexiglass tube. The ship, waiting to lift off, shuddered in the rain
that buffeted the roof.
ÒYouÕve got quite a head on your nonexistent shoulders,Ó Cum-Andi
said to the Bot he was clutching under his arm. The girl, half-dragged,
stumbled beside him, too scared not to run, given the closeness of the
gunshots to her body, yet not wanting to be with Cum-Andi either. He kept
a fierce grip on her, yanking hard, running fast, demanding that she keep up
with him.
ÒJust dumb luck... guesswork,Ó the head observed. It squinted at the
chopper in the distance. ÒI figured a building this big had to have a
rooftop shuttle.Ó
ÒLetÕs pray it doesnÕt wise up and take off before we reach it,Ó Cum-
Andi gasped. Raindrops spattered his face. They entered his mouth
whenever he spoke.
ÒWith any luck the pilot will pray to you,Ó the head under Cum-
AndiÕs arm said. He wasnÕt breathing hard, like Cum-Andi was, because he
had no body and couldnÕt run.
ÒDo you know how to fly one of those things?Ó Cum-Andi asked.
ÒI could... guess,Ó the Bot said. ÒJust point my good eye at the
controls.Ó
ÒYeah, okay,Ó Cum-Andi said. He yanked on the arm of the 10-year-
old girl running beside him. ÒCome ON, bitch!Ó he swore. The girl was
still half-trying to run away from him, even as he tried to save her. He
felt like abandoning her to the good graces of the guards behind them. Let
her hang out with wymen for a change. But then she wouldnÕt exist
anymore, just like Bethany didnÕt exist. That he couldnÕt have on his
conscience.
The wyman pilot on board the helicopter peered out the boarding door
into the rain. She could see a figure running toward her. It was an odd
figure, with something shaped like a sausage wobbling stiffly in front of
it. It was pulling along beside itself a second figure, with long hair, like a
wyman would wear, but with obscene clothing covering its private parts.
Gunshots, fired from somewhere, were striking dangerously close to the
aircraft.
ÒI must protect the ship,Ó the pilot said. She adjusted her helmet.
ÒShut the doors,Ó she ordered the orderlies who were helping the
passengers board. ÒWeÕre taking off.Ó
ÒNo,Ó a voice said. It was low, cold, yet feminine. The pilot whirled
about.
A figure materialized in the hold of the ship. First the mouth, then
the eyes, the crocodile snout, finally the entire head and body. The wyman
was splattered with blood. She trained her gun on the pilot. ÒGet out of
my Goddess-be-damned way,Ó the wyman said. She was floating, without
the benefit of a LiftChair, in the middle of the ship.
ÒYes, Mistress Jillian!Ó the pilot cried.
The wyman trembled with the effort of keeping herself aloft. It was
difficult work and she was perspiring profusely. She held her blubbery
arm straight out, pointing it at the approaching animal. She could feel
half of herself still back across the roof, in the slow-moving LiftChair.
But her other half was here, levitating, teleported to this spot. This
perfect spot for killing the animal.
ÒCome on,Ó Jillian breathed. The gun could explode in her hand if she
fired it too soon, half-teleported to this spot, half not. It was an almost
impossible task, teleportation, combined with levitation. SheÕd not been
prepared for this sort of feat, much less with a weapon. Even Renno
herself would have trouble doing this, if she could do it at all. The
legends of her doing it might be just rumors, churned out by her
Washington publicity machine.
Cum-Andi panted hard. They were almost at the chopper. The girl
still pulled at him, trying to free herself from his grasp.
ÒRun with me, not against me, bitch!Ó Cum-Andi screamed at the girl
beside him. He clutched at the head under his arm. At least the BabbleBot
was cooperating. A gunshot burst the pavement behind him and the girl
screamed. She tripped. ÒGod-Damn!Ó Cum-Andi yelled. He picked her up,
noticed her leg was bleeding. But they were almost at the copter now. He
ran up to the open door, where wymen had been stepping aboard, and threw
her at it.
The girl landed in the metal hold of the ship. Above her floated a
blood-spattered wyman. She was pointing a gun directly at Cum-Andi. Her
image seemed to waver, then solidify. Cum-Andi realized she was
enormously fat, and he thought he could smell her, despite the rain hitting
his face.
ÒDie, animal!Ó the wyman snarled.
ÒNo!Ó Cum-Andi instinctively lifted the BabbleBot, which seemed
most displeased by the gesture, to ward off the blast from the wymanÕs
gun. The wyman fired, but she hit a young wyman, still clutching her
notebook, who threw herself in front of him.
ÒDamn you, bitch!Ó Cum-Andi heard the fat wyman scream as the
wyman whoÕd saved his life by leaping in front of him was blown apart by
a laser blast.
Cum-Andi dropped the BabbleBot head and tore two guns from his
three holsters around his waist.
ÒYeeeow!Ó the BabbleBot cried as he hit the cement roof.
ÒKA-BLAM! KA-BLAM!Ó Two bursts from Cum-AndiÕs gun tore into
the cabin of the chopper. He fired again, and again, and the other side of
the copter seemed to tear open like a tin can.
ÒYeeeek!Ó the 10-year-old girl shrieked. Cum-Andi saw the ship
rock and heard a thud. He lowered his guns. The fat woman had fallen
from the air. SheÕd landed on one of the girlÕs legs.
Cum-Andi bent and reflexively dropped his guns and scooped up the
head of the BabbleBot. He left the two guns on the rooftop. There was no
time to reholster them. He leapt aboard the chopper. He glanced around.
He saw a wyman with a helmet on. It looked like a pilotÕs helmet and he
whipped out his remaining gun.
ÒTake off!Ó Cum-Andi shouted at the wyman he guessed was the
pilot.
ÒYes, Lord,Ó the pilot replied. It scurried past Cum-Andi and plopped
down in its seat.
A groan escaped from the lips of the wyman lying on the floor of the
chopperÕs cabin. Cum-Andi glared down at the blood spattered figure. It
was enormous, and he was wondering how heÕd get it off the 10-year-old
girlÕs leg when it began to disappear.
ÒIÕll get you, animal,Ó the wyman, wounded but apparently not dead,
grimaced. Then the entire, huge wyman was gone. Cum-Andi glanced round
the cabin of the chopper, but saw it nowhere. Young wymen had prostrated
themselves on the cabinÕs floor and were praying to him. Two had been hit
by shrapnel and lay moaning, flooding the floor with blood.
Gunshots rocked the helicopter. Unsteadily it began to lift off from
the roof. The rain buffeted the craft, yet it lifted into the air, slowly at
first, then more rapidly. The giant clit-shaped building began to fall
away.
Cum-Andi looked at the 10-year-old girl. Her leg was bleeding. It
looked like it might be broken. But she was alive, and that was enough, for
the moment. He glanced at the head under his arm.
ÒWe made it!Ó he panted. His lungs burned from running so hard. His
legs felt like they would collapse.
ÒYeah,Ó the head answered. ÒKeep the pilot believing in your divinity
and we may actually get to land.Ó
ÒOkay, whatever,Ó Cum-Andi said. ÒBut, like, is it okay if I wake up
now?Ó
The head smiled. ÒYou still donÕt believe, do you?Ó it asked. ÒYou
were born here. In the 23rd century. Not in the 20th. That was just a
dream... a dream in a computer-controlled emulsion cage. YouÕre not a
citizen of the United States, or whatever that place was called. YouÕre in
Amazonia. The perfect feminist state. Safety and Community.Ó
ÒSisterhood, for our good,Ó Cum-Andi said, half-drunk with fear,
with weariness. He was glad the girl at his feet had something wrong
with her leg, for she still looked like she wished to escape him.
ÒYouÕre an animal,Ó the head told Cum-Andi.
ÒYeah, well, IÕm an animal with a Second Amendment,Ó Cum-Andi
answered. He waved his gun at the head.
ÒHuh?Ó the head asked.
ÒNever mind,Ó Cum-Andi said.
ÒLord, where are we going?Ó the pilot asked Cum-Andi over the
scream of the chopperÕs engines.
Cum-Andi regarded the pilot. ÒI donÕt know,Ó Cum-Andi said. ÒTake
me to your leader.Ó And for the first time in the whole crazy dream-like
experience, he laughed.
ÒMommie, I had a horribole dream!Ó the girl said, stretching out the
word ÔhorribleÕ so that an extra syllable got added to it, inadvertently.
ÒNonsense, dear. Dreams canÕt be horrible,Ó her mother replied.
ÒThis is the 24th century. We donÕt have horrible dreams in the 24th
century, just pleasant ones.Ó
ÒBut mommie, it was a dream about a Man!Ó the girl said.
ÒA mythical creature, dear. They never existed,Ó her mother assured
her.
ÒAre you sure, mommie?Ó
ÒQuite sure, dear.Ó
ÒWhatÕs she babbling about?Ó JillianÕs lovely new betrothed asked.
ÒOh, nothing,Ó Jillian answered.
ÒYou should have her seen at Medicinal Psychotherapy,Ó JillianÕs
betrothed suggested.
ÒNonsense,Ó Jillian answered.
ÒShe told me yesterday that there are Animals, and theyÕre breeding,
out in the wild places,Ó JillianÕs betrothed said.
ÒLetÕs not talk about it, okay?Ó Jillian asked, in her voice that
brooked no disobedience.
ÒYes, Mistress Jillian,Ó the beautiful young wyman answered
submissively.
THE END
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