by Scott Allen
“How do the women feel about your strategy of rotating them through the bedroom?” asked Dana.
“Some of them are just spreading wild oats like me, and trying out as many men as they can. They don’t care. Some of them seem to want a commitment, but I never let things get far enough to discuss it. I’m sure they’re at least a little disappointed,” answered Dylan.
Dana said, “Dylan, I’d like some advice.” He described the history of his relationship with Nance.
After a long pause, Dylan replied. “Well, it’s hard for me to tell if you’re wearing love goggles.” Dana’s face once again showed incomprehension. Dylan continued. “A lot of guys get hypnotized when a woman pays attention to them, sleeps with them, and tells them how wonderful they are. Their brains end up about 75 centimeters south of their proper location. You need to step back from this woman and try to see her and all other women clearly. Remember what Reece said in training? Women are usually hypergamous. They’re looking for a guy who can provide resources. Like I said, a white knight. They can’t help it, just like we can’t help being attracted to pretty women. My advice to you, Dana, is to get some more experience with women, so you have a basis for comparison. Um, sir.”
That left Dana with a lot to think about as he went back to his apartment.
In the ensuing weeks, he “tried out” three more women who approached him, and had the same impression that Dylan had. They were either uninteresting, or seemed to want to tie him down without even knowing him, probably because men were scarce. The sex was usually satisfying, but Dana reflected that it wasn’t that much more satisfying than masturbation, and it was a great deal more trouble dealing with their drama.
He compared all these women to Nance, and found them all wanting. He had an emotional connection with Nance, and a shared history. They had saved each other’s lives. They cared about what happened to each other. They trusted each other. She was comfortable with going on without him, but she wanted him with her. She obviously wanted the best for him, while the other women wanted to use him. She couldn’t have fallen in love with him for his money, because he had none, and no prospects when they had fallen for each other. He searched for any reason that she was behaving like the other women. Did she really intend to get pregnant? It was Dana who had initiated sex, and he had always taken responsibility for the condoms. Yet, he had forgotten, and somehow he hadn’t noticed. That, in itself, was hard for him to believe. Did he, somehow, at the back of his mind, want to leave a child behind in case he got killed?
Dana discussed all this with Dylan, like he supposed brothers might have done. Dylan agreed that Nance seemed unusual for an American woman, and seemed to genuinely care for him. Dylan said he hoped he might find a woman like that, although they seemed as rare as blue peaches.
And, then, Dana thought, there was the forthcoming child. He remembered back to showing little girls and boys what he was doing to their home appliances, and how much he had enjoyed those short interactions.
He was sure that he wanted children. He wanted Nance. It would be five days before she wanted to talk, though.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
He woke up the next morning with the sensation that something was different. There was something in the bed with him. He leaped out, startled, ready to reach for his carbine. It was Nance. His leap had startled her awake. Her hair was tousled, her nightgown was slipping off one shoulder, and there were pillow crease lines on her face. But, nothing could hide the rosy glow of her cheeks as she looked him in the eyes and smiled. “Am I that scary in the morning, Lover?” she asked.
“Wha…How…?” stumbled Dana.
“Blaine let me in. He’s a good man. I got leave a few days early and caught a transport.” she replied. She held out her arms to him, but he slowly moved the covers back to expose her belly. It was big, but not huge. She giggled at him. “It’s OK, we still have a little while before I get too big. And I need you, very, very, much, Dana. But, no throwing me on the bed, OK?”
He slid carefully into the bed. So carefully that Nance laughed and said, “I’m not made out of glass, you goof!”
Afterwards, as they cuddled, he asked her if she had decided what she would do when she left the Army. Her reply was immediate and confident. “Just like I said, I’m going to teach history. Probably to adults who want to vote. I’ve already applied. The field is wide open. Almost everyone else with a degree in history is a member of the Womyn’s Party and is ineligible. I can pick the place I want to teach. I can probably even work on the nationwide curriculum committee or help write a textbook.” She was as happy as Dana had ever seen her. “What about you, Lover?”
“Law enforcement,” he said. “Male Control is abolished. That was the only police. The reason it was called Male Control was because radical feminists assumed that only males committed crimes, and any woman who did was behaving like a man. Just like you said, the field is wide open. And, I don’t have a degree, but I’m good at figuring things out, I learn fast, I think fast, and I can use violence when absolutely necessary. I put in an application for training yesterday.”
Dana continued. “You know, Nance, you’d make a great teacher, but have you ever considered running for office at some point, like Marjorie? There’s very few people who would have a grasp of how a government ought to work.”
“Well, yeah, I actually considered that for a while. But, it would require a lot of contacts. I know that was Marjorie’s secret. She knew everybody, and where they stood on every issue. It would take while to build up all those contacts. Let me think about it,” said Nance. “But, I have a question for you – do you think you’d be happy patrolling a beat?”
Dana made a face. “Not for long. I want to solve crimes. Eventually, I want to be in charge of a police force. But, I’ll have to work my way up.”
Nance smiled. “You will. Hey, can we talk about last names, or is this too soon?”
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Five years later.
Senior Detective Dana Walker, in his crisp dark blue suit, with an iridescent green tie that he knew his wife hated, looked through the two-way mirror into the interrogation room. The state police facilities here in Oklahoma City were just as good as his own at the National Police field office in Tampa. Everything was being recorded. The male Oklahoma police detective and the female attorney from the state prosecutor’s office sat across the table from a shackled middle-aged woman in a pastel blue prison jumpsuit. That shade of blue was now a source of amusement to Dana.
Dana heard the attorney point to a viewscreen laid out on the table and say, “The woman named Marjorie who lived here, at this house, was murdered almost six years ago by a Male Control team in front of her house. Your team dragged her out her front door, showed her some male hardware hidden in the bushes, and then shot her. You were dumb enough to have it all recorded by a camera drone.” The screen showed the incident. Even though Dana had seen it before, it was hard to watch.
The prisoner broke in, “I had nothing to do with that! I did clerical work at a maternity clinic in Kansas City my whole life. You can look it up in my records.”
“You’re lying, and those records were faked,” said the detective. He touched the viewscreen. “Here is your Male Control ID and your service record. And, here is the report that you filed after the murder. That is your electronic signature, eyescan, and thumbprint, is it not? That is you on the viewscreen, ordering the murder, is it not?”
The prisoner sat back, looking a bit stunned, and just stared at the viewscreen.
“We’ve been looking for you for years, Lana,” said the detective. The prisoner looked up in shock when she heard her name. “You hid your tracks very well. We are slowly dismantling the Male Control network that gave senior people like you new identities and new records.”
The attorney spoke. Her voice was emotionally flat, as if she had said these words many times before. “You have a choice, Lana. You can stand trial for crimes against humanity and spe
nd the rest of your life in prison – although if we find more crimes in your record, you might get the death penalty. Or, you can come clean and help us find more of the top members of the MC network, I could see to it that your sentence was reduced to fifteen years.”
Lana was in shock, and began babbling. “Look, I’m not guilty of anything. I had my orders. It wasn’t murder, it was a legal execution! You have to obey orders, don’t you? You’re obeying orders right now, and so was I. You know what happened to people who didn’t obey orders, right? We’d be stuck in some awful job supervising farm workers in the sweltering sun. Insects everywhere. No chance of advancement. You couldn’t expect me to make a sacrifice like that …” She looked at the faces of the two opposite her and saw no sympathy there. She stared down at the table, put her head in her hands, and began to sob. The two across the table remained stone-faced.
The attorney said, “We’re going to give you thirty minutes to think about it.” Then, she and the detective left the room, making sure that the door made a solid clanging sound as they slammed it shut.
Dana smiled at them as they entered the viewing room. “You guys are pros,” he said. The prisoner’s sobs were muffled over the sound system.
“She’ll come around. They always do,” said the attorney.
“I have to thank you for your help, Detective Walker,” said the detective. You gave us some important clues about the local MC officers that helped us in making several arrests. Your suggestions on where the records might have been stashed were brilliant.”
Dana nodded. “Did you ever find out what happed to Matron Sydney, the overnight MC officer in my dorm?”
The detective smiled, “Oddly enough, she was assigned to guard male field hands working crops in the hot sun and around all the insects. MC didn’t execute her. The report on her case indicated that they couldn’t find evidence that she had offered any help to Rowan in escaping. But, knowing what we know now, she had to have been the source of the tool that cut his hardware off. She died when she went into shock from a hornet sting. Turns out, she was allergic.”
Dana nodded his head slowly. “I’m sorry for her.” He stood up. “Thank you both very much for inviting me here. It will give my wife and I some closure. Good luck with your future investigations. Happy to help in the future if I can.” He shook hands with the two, and made his way out the front door into the sunshine.
Outside, a rented personal vehicle with Florida State Senator Nance Fields driving was pulling up. As he approached it, Nance stuck her hand out the window and shouted, “Dana! Can you sit here?” Seeing him nod, she slowly and laboriously hauled herself out, and began waddling around the front of the vehicle. Her pregnant belly preceded her. They kissed, and she said, “Thanks, Lover. It’s getting so I can’t reach the touch screen. And, could you please get rid of that awful tie?” Dana laughed.
Dana pulled off the tie, set the automatic drive function, and then drove out of the parking lot. Four-year old Blaine, in the back seat, asked, “Where are we going now, Daddy?”
“To see an old friend of ours, Buddy. We’ll take a little drive out in the country for a while. We can play ‘I spy!’” He turned to Nance. “Good thing the Old Highway has been repaired. I wouldn’t want to hit a lot of bumps and have you go into labor!”
Halfway there, Nance suddenly said, “Oh, crud!” Dana knew she would have used coarser language if Blaine had not been in the vehicle. “I forgot the flowers!”
“Never mind, Piglet,” said Dana, with a grin. He knew she hated that particular pet name, of all the pet names he had for her. She glowered at him. “There’s plenty of wildflowers along the roads at this time of year.” He turned onto a narrow county highway.
When they were close, Dana stopped the car and said, “Hey, Buddy, let’s you and me go pick some flowers.” Blaine was eager to play this game, and ran around in the fields near the road, shouting when he found a flower and picked it. Dana and Nance shared smiles.
They arrived at the cemetery, in the countryside north of Valley, Blaine was full of questions about who they were going to see, and Dana answered as best he thought a four-year old mind could understand. They found the marker that Dana and Nance had paid for, with the brass plaque giving what they had been able to find out about Marjorie, mentioning her husband and children, her service in public offices, and, at the bottom, “Martyr of the Rebellion.” There was a similar plaque for Janet many kilometers to the southeast. Blaine laid the flowers on the grave. He seemed to understand that this was a solemn moment, but not why.
Nance and Dana stood side by side, one arm each around the other, looking out over the cemetery and the grasslands and hills beyond. She looked up at him. “Shall we go visit your mother and father, now?”
###
Thank you for reading my book.
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You can connect with me at [email protected].
Thanks!
Scott Allen
FEMINIST MISANDRIST QUOTES
“Why can’t we hate men?” editorial in the Washington Post, June 8, 2018, by Suzanna Walters, a professor of sociology and director of the Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies Program at Northeastern University, and the editor of the gender studies journal Signs. “So men, if you really are #WithUs and would like us to not hate you for all the millennia of woe you have produced and benefited from, start with this: Lean out so we can actually just stand up without being beaten down. Pledge to vote for feminist women only. Don’t run for office. Don’t be in charge of anything. Step away from the power. We got this. And please know that your crocodile tears won’t be wiped away by us anymore. We have every right to hate you. You have done us wrong. #BecausePatriarchy.”
“I do want to be able to explain to a 9-year-old boy in terms he will understand why I think it’s OK for girls to wear shirts that revel in their superiority over boys.” Treena Shapiro, “Making Fun of Boys Totally Fair,” Honolulu Advertiser, January 3, 2006.
“It is time to wrestle control of the world back from white males, and the first step will be a temporary restriction of the franchise to them. Although this may seem unfair and unjust, allowing white males to continue to call the shots politically and economically, following their actions over the past 500 years, is the greater injustice.” Shelley Garland in a 2017 Huffington Post essay titled: “Could it be time to deny white men the franchise?” https://www.amren.com/news/2017/04/time-deny-white-men-franchise/. The Huffington Post eventually removed the essay. It was reprinted at https://thelibertarianrepublic.com/huffington-post-blogger-time-deny-white-men-right-vote/.
“I feel that ‘man-hating’ is an honorable and viable political act, that the oppressed have a right to class-hatred against the class that is oppressing them.” Robin Morgan, Demon Lover, 2001. She was a Ms. Magazine editor.
“The nuclear family must be destroyed… Whatever its ultimate meaning, the break-up of families now is an objectively revolutionary process.” Linda Gordon, “Functions of the Family,” in Tanner, Voices from Women’s Liberation, 2000.
“I want to see a man beaten to a bloody pulp with a high-heel shoved in his mouth, like an apple in the mouth of a pig.” Andrea Dworkin, as the voice of the narrator in her novel Mercy: a Novel,1990.
“Since marriage constitutes slavery for women, it is clear that the women’s movement must concentrate on attacking this institution. Freedom for women cannot be won without the abolition of marriage.” Sheila Cronin, a leader of NOW, from “Marriage,” In Radical Feminism, Ed’s. Anne Koedt et al., NY: Quadrangle , 1973.
“Comins argues that men who are unjustly accused of rape can sometimes gain from the experience.” Time Magazine, “When is it Rape?” June 24, 2001. Katherine Comins was assistant dean of student life at Vassar.
“Under patriarchy, every woman’s son is her potential betrayer and also the inevitable rapist or exploiter o
f another woman.“ Andrea Dworkin, quoted in Weisberg, D. Kelly, Applications of Feminist Legal Theory to Women’s Lives, 1996, Google Books.
“The institution of sexual intercourse is anti-feminist.” Ti-Grace Atkinson, “The Institution of Sexual Intercourse,” pamphlet 1968, The Feminists.
“Women have always been the primary victims of war; women lose their husbands, their fathers, their sons in combat.” Hillary Clinton, ignoring that those husbands, fathers, and sons died, in a November 17, 1998 speech that she delivered at a conference on domestic violence in El Salvador.
“Rape is nothing more or less than a conscious process of intimidation by which all men keep all women in a state of fear.” Susan Brownmiller, Against Our Will, 1975, p.6.
“When a woman reaches orgasm with a man she is only collaborating with the patriarchal system, eroticizing her own oppression.” Sheila Jeffrys, Anticlimax: A Feminist Perspective on the Sexual Revolution, Spinifex Press, 2011.
“The proportion of men must be reduced to and maintained at approximately 10% of the human race.” Sally Miller Gearhart, female supremacist, in “The Future – If There Is One – Is Female,” from Heterophobia: Sexual Harassment and the Future of Feminism, 1998, Daphne Patai, Roman and Littlefield, page 139.
“And if the professional rapist is to be separated from the average dominant heterosexual (male), it may be mainly a quantitative difference.” Susan Griffin, “Rape: The All-American Crime” (1971) Ramparts, vol. 10, no. 3.
“If life is to survive on this planet, there must be a decontamination of the Earth. I think this will be accompanied by an evolutionary process that will result in a drastic reduction of the population of males.” Mary Daly, teacher of women’s studies at Boston College, in a 1999 interview with What is Enlightenment? Magazine.