Feminist Kingdom 10 © Beverly Taff

List of Characters.
Charlie Sage Maths and electronics genius.
Shirley Sage Charlies elderly mother
Chloe Charlie’s one time early school friend.
Josephine Flint Surgeon and associate of Chloe’s.
Mrs Anston Director of Anston Aerospace.
Ronnie Garage mechanic at top of lane
Pauline Garage owner, Ronnie’s sister.
Briony Pauline’s teenaged daughter.
Billy Pauline’s middle son.
Abigail (Abby) Pauline’s youngest daughter.
‘Poppy’ Charlie’s little micro-runabout.
‘Doris’ The armoured mobile home.
‘Lady’ Chloe’s Sports Car.

Chapter 10.

It was Charlie’s turn to pick Chloe up from work and she was waiting for him outside their regular café when he arrived.

“Had a good day darling?” He asked her.

“Not really, how was yours?”

“Pretty good. We managed to splice a gene into a child’s genome and if it works, we might retroactively be able to move one step closer to eliminating ‘Down’s syndrome’ retroactively. So what went wrong with yours?”

“Oooh, all the usual suspects; visiting big-wigs, stupid questions, invasive personal questions; the usual stuff.”

“Asking why your weren’t feminised I suppose.”

“Got it in one.” Charlie confirmed as he leaned across to kiss her.

“Any particularly idiotic questions?”

“Well there was this military doctor, she asked stupid questions and tried to bully me. Sometimes I’m glad Ms Anston secured my reserved status. It protects me from the likes of that idiot colonel.”

As they drove home, Charlie related the events of the day to Chloe who seethed with anger when everything was revealed. Over their light supper Chloe commiserated with Charlie before he went to do some work in the spare bedroom that was being planned as a nursery. Later that night they resumed the second part of their plan to fill the nursery.

The following morning, Charlie had more-or-less put the events of the previous day behind him. It was Chloe’s turn to drive them to work and she watched as he walked with a slight spring to his step.
‘He seems to get over his troubles so easily,’ she reflected. ‘One day down in the dumps; the next day happy as a lark’.

He went to his bench whistling softly which was a well-known sign recognised by his workmates that Charlie was open to answer queries. Before he had changed into his work clothes, three of his colleagues were queueing up for advice. The day consequently went well for Charlie, there no executive interruptions and he even got to eat his lunch in peace outside. Several broken or problematical components were returned as new to the factory’s list of reconditioned artifacts.

Things were not the same for Chloe, however.

During her mid-morning coffee-break, her professor appeared with two ‘suits’.

“Ah. Mrs Sage, glad I caught you here. Can we talk?”

“What about.”

“Uuuhm, these two ladies are from the Genetics Council.”

“I’ll speak to them in my lab after coffee.”

“Well no Mrs Sage, it’s something of a more personal nature.”

“Go – oon,” Chloe prompted cautiously.

“It’s a bit tricky I’m afraid.”

“Genetics is my business, nothings personal.”

“No but your marriage is.”

“My marriage is legal and of course it’s personal. What’s this really about?”

“Well these two ladies wish to explain.”

“They’ll have to be quick. I’ve got a test running in my lab and the result is time critical.”

“We can wait until after lunch if you prefer.” One of the suits replied.
“That would be better. You may come to my lab and watch if you want. See how real science done, not just attending committees and shuffling paper around.”

“We have a job to do,” the second suit replied defensively.

Chloe shrugged, tipped her coffee mug back them motioned to the suits to follow.

“You might as well come as well Prof. You’ll have to sanction the next stages anyway.”

In the lab Chloe firstly attended to some readings and calibrations then turned to the suits.

“It’s not all test-tubes and pipets. This expensive gismo analyses the atomic structures of the genes with gas chromatography through an electron scanning microscope.”

“Indeed, very interesting. Is this the kit you’re using to do your genetic splicing.”

“It’s the first step, first catch your hare.”

The suit looked askance so Chloe let the reference to Mrs Beaton’s Recipe book drop and decided she had enough time between reading and adjustments to answer the suits’ questions.

“So ladies, what do you want to know that’s personal.”

“It’s a bit sensitive I’m afraid.”

“You’re talking to a scientist about human genes. Everything’s sensitive, especially when it comes to a mother and her babies.”

“This is more about fathers and their sperm.”

“Go-oon;” Chloe responded cautiously for a second time.”

The first suit explained.

“Your sperm donor met with a military medical committee yesterday.”

“You mean my husband met them; yes he mentioned it to me last night. Go on.”

“He should not have done that; the meeting was sensitive.”

“He did not reveal any secrets military or medical, he just mentioned his annoyance at the way he was treated by one of the committee. Besides, my husband is not signatory to any official secrets acts. He cannot do so because he’s a man and men are not allowed access to sensitive information. That sort of material is held by executives and my husband cannot hold an executive position because of your feminista laws.”

The ‘suit’ twitched uncomfortably. She had been fully versed in the circumstances of the meeting at Anston Aerospace but of course she had heard nothing of Charlies version.

“Nevertheless, your sperm- sorry, your husband; is counted very highly by Anston Aero, and my principals feel it only right to approach you.”

“About?” Chloe responded to force the suits to be direct and honest.

“Ahem, well, uuuhm, depositing his sperm in the national sperm bank. We were hoping you would allow it. We’ve studied the Feminista, legal corrections to marital conjugation and it’s entirely your prerogative.”

“I should think it’s my husband’s decision, it’s his body and his sperm.”

“Well technically it’s your body and your sperm, according to the feminista marital code. It was enacted during the Great Cultural Transformation. You could order him to donate.”
“And if he refuses?”

“He can’t refuse if you order him.”

“And if I refuse?”

The suit’s jaws dropped as one and it was several seconds before the spokeswoman recovered.

“You! Refuse?”

“Yes; if I refuse, what then?”

“But you; - why would you refuse?”

“How about respect for my husband’s, that is my partner’s feelings and beliefs.”

“He cannot even vote so how can he usefully express beliefs, religious or political?”

“He never expresses them; he chooses not to. It would have been unsafe and unwise for him to have done so all through his life. Silence is golden, - that’s his motto and his mantra.”

“Has he expressed such beliefs to you?”

“He doesn’t have to. We talk enough for me to understand him. Besides, what’s said in my bedroom, stays in my bedroom.”

The ‘suits’ quickly realised that they had a very tricky situation on their hands. Feminista laws had almost set women’s rights in stone but the unforeseen side effects were that if an eccentric or rogue female chose to indirectly protect a man by maintaining her inalienable rights it put the suits at a serious disadvantage.

They realised that for the moment, they would have to step back and reconsider a legitimate tactic to somehow obtain Charlie’s sperm without recourse to a breach of the feminista laws that were rigidly enforced and fiercely protected.

Their next clumsy step was to approach Chloe’s work-place and hopefully bring some pressure to bear through threatening her job. For once, her boss the professor of the genetics institute was forced to protect her researcher Chloe much along the same lines as Ms Anston the owner and director of Anston Aerospace.

“Ladies, I have to caution you now, I will help you all I can and I will certainly have a chat with Mrs Sage but you must tread very cautiously. From what I’ve seen of Mis Sage’s relationship with that man, you could not get a wafer between them. She is devoted, he is infatuated.

They have even chosen to live almost in isolation in their remote country cottage. Mrs Sage does not engage with anybody else in the faculty except for one of the Surgeons, Dr Flint and that is pretty much entirely at the social level. Even that relationship is fairly loose.”

“Do you think that doctor might be a lever to work our way in?”

“I doubt it.” The professor opined. “She was purely a witness at Mrs Sage’s wedding. She was only slightly supportive of her friend’s decision to marry Mr Sage. Chloe only invited her because she wanted a professional female colleague to bring gravity and legitimacy to the registration process.

I believe she attended the meal afterwards but only a few close friends attended, possibly eight or nine altogether; a dozen at most. I wasn’t invited.”

“Nor anybody from Anston Aerospace it seems.”

“Exactly.” The professor finished. “Now I can’t wish you good luck with your endeavours because, despite all my reservations and predictions, it seems that their marriage is working in spite of the establishment conventions and censures. I will not penalise the lady because of her personal convictions. Besides, she’s too useful to this institute and I would be a fool to let her go. She’s very intelligent and it seems that intelligent people are attracted to intelligent people. So good day ladies.”

That afternoon the suits returned to London with little to show for their efforts.

ooo000ooo

Colonel Wilson, the air-force doctor who had been a member of the military committee who had visited Anston Aerospace, still harboured a grudge concerning the slights she felt she had received at the hands of the mere shop supervisor at Anston Aerospace. Colonel Wilson was a fully paid up member of the ‘feminista brigade’ and she now deemed it her veritable military duty to cut the arrogant bastard down to size. Her problem was how, where and when.

Even after several generations of female supremacy, there were some who felt an abiding detestation for the ancient patriarchy that had subjugated women since the dawn of human history. This mentality had also been imbued in women by the re-aligned education system that literally embedded a culture of misanthropy that now perpetuated a fundamental hatred for all things masculine.

This perspective was sadly reinforced by the genetic endeavours to somehow breed more intelligent women while simultaneously breeding less intelligent men. The consequent societal structures where women enjoyed all the fruits of the technological advances while men continued to labour in mostly menial tasks was an engine that powered the slow deterioration of the human I.Q., especially in the feminine societies.

Sadly, an impartial scientific awareness of this glacially slow deterioration was too unpalatable for the Feminista politicians to swallow immediately.
Even for the feminine scientific community, the fact that it was an uneducated, self-taught, male mathematician who had determined the statistical truth was a culturally difficult fact to swallow, yet no amount of statistical ‘jiggery-pokery’ could alter the brutal fact.

Destroy any intelligence genes to be found on the ‘Y’ chromosome and you would inevitably drag down the whole societal I.Q. in both genders.

For Doctor Wilson and her fundamentalist Feministas, the only solution seemed to be that all intelligent males should be rounded up and corralled strictly for breeding. She wanted simple solutions, no matter how barbaric or extreme they might be. The truth was that misanthropy had become such a pivotal, fundamental component of their Feminista mind-sets, that they were incapable of seeing past the inhumanity and subsequent self-destruction it would wrought in any male community.

Intelligent men lived by more than sex alone.

Sadly, blinkered, feminista women refused to see it. They had become fanatical in their misanthropy and almost religious in their beliefs.

Doctor Wilson had become a core element of the feminista fundamentalists who saw intelligent men as a paradoxically, necessary evil that would have to be controlled and. Just like ancient patriarchal priests had once controlled access to god and heaven, so would the new matriarchal elite have to control access to any intelligent male genes.
An inhumane science would have to become a substitute for once inhumane religions.

ooo000ooo