The Feminine Future

by Mike Ashley

  I flew to his arms and could hardly let go of him in my delight.

  “Dear me! dear me!—It’s you, Lucile?” Dad’s eyes were twinkling. “I thought for a minute that one of these strange ladies was hugging me. But now I see it is you, all dressed up in their clothes.”

  Amid much laughter, Mavia dismissed the scouts and ordered a meal for the three of us. Dad related his experiences. His eyes shone with delight as he told of the new science he had learned by this trip. He did not seem to realize that he had been in grave danger.

  What Happened!

  “You know,” he was saying to Mavia, “those Thirds, as they call themselves, are mighty smart creatures. I tell you their scientific accomplishments nearly had me floored. But I had a few tricks up my sleeve with which they were unfamiliar,” he chuckled. “Miss Mavia, do you know I nearly conducted a war against you young ladies? For a fact! I understood from the Thirds that you were a bunch of savages, threatening to pull down their civilization, with its accumulated scientific knowledge. And here you are, a group of pretty ladies playing at politics.”

  “I think you will find us doing a little more than playing,” Mavia said coldly. “And as for scientific knowledge you won’t find us far behind the Thirds. Now, Lucile, I am going to be very busy for the next hour or two. We have decided to set the hour of attack ahead and I must go. You and ‘Father’ have the freedom of the city. All are instructed to treat you courteously. Show ‘Father’ around, or, if you wish, just rest yourselves. You are at freedom to do just as you please.”

  “Mavia, before you go I want to—” I began, but she cut me short saying:

  “Now, now—No ‘Thank You’ if you please. You are our guest and it was our duty to help you,” and she was gone!

  Dad and I looked at each other. He had a heavy frown. “Come! come! young lady. I want to know what you mean by following me around this way?”

  I giggled. “Now Dad! Don’t play the heavy father role. It isn’t becoming to you. I am dying of curiosity to know how you were rescued. Mavia shut off the screen before the excitement started. I saw you standing in a large room talking to those funny-looking people. Then what happened?”

  “Why I hardly know myself. I was explaining the use of certain explosives in warfare, to the Chodrom or head Third, when suddenly, the walls of the room began to crumble. Through the openings came beams of light that, when they touched the Thirds caused them to crumble just as had the walls. I stood still, momentarily expecting one of the beams to touch and finish me but to my surprise the beams flashed over everything, leaving me unhurt.

  “Then when the walls had given way sufficiently, a bunch of curiously-armored young women rushed into the room, grabbed me, none too gently, hustled me out into the opening where I saw a number of aircrafts surrounding the building and operating the deadly rays that were destroying it. I presume from its action, that the ray is derived from a very low wavelength of the ultra-violet, which after it had passed a wavelength of—”

  “Oh, Dad!” I cut in impatiently. “Please forget the wavelengths and go on. What happened next?”

  “Well I was hurried into one of the air machines and almost immediately we all took to the air. For a few moments I was scared stiff, I mean literally. As you know I had never gone up in an airplane before but soon there was enough excitement to take my mind from my fright at finding myself in the air.

  “From out of the other buildings poured thousands of the Thirds. Huge machines were hastily erected and great beams of light shot out at us. Two of the planes were caught by the beams and crashed in flames, but the remainder climbed to a safe altitude and flew on. As we neared the great purple mists my pilot gave me an insulating suit to put on. Those purple mists you know are the main protection of the Thirds. Heretofore nothing has been able to come through them and live, but these women have found a way to protect themselves.

  “The suit I put on, I saw, was a mesh of glass and rubber. The outside of the planes and everything in it were similarly protected. We passed through the mists safely and here we are!”

  “I am glad you are here and not with the Thirds, for after tonight there won’t be any Thirds,” I said, trying to make him realize how extremely dangerous his position had been.

  “Yes—yes—I know. It is terrible. Such scientific knowledge these great people have, and they use it to try to annihilate each other. Why, the Thirds have discovered that life is but——”

  Anticipating a long scientific discourse, I interrupted. “Dad, you must come down to the eleventh tier and see what these women have done in the way of science.”

  I left him there, happy in his own environment, and hastened away to find Mavia.

  War

  As I expected, she was in her office and I begged her to let me accompany her on the raid tonight. She firmly refused me but promised that I could use her viewing screen and see what was happening. While we were talking, a scout entered and made her report.

  The Thirds, it seemed, had succeeded in getting into communications with the beings of the second dimension and thousands of them had come through and were inhabitating the purple mists, which had been expanded to completely cover the Third Evolutionists’ domain.

  “Oh damn!” said Mavia, or whatever its equivalent is in her language. “Just as we have found a way to insulate ourselves and our planes from the purple mists, they succeed in reaching those horrors of the second dimension. We know that they are unable to harm us except as we pass through the mists for they cannot live in this dimension outside of the mist. But how can we pass them safely?”

  “May I suggest something?” I asked timidly.

  “Yes, of course,” Mavia snapped. “If you have a way of helping us, say so.”

  “By using my father’s Hewitt Ray, I could set you and your whole army down in the center of the Thirds. The people of the second dimension could not harm you as you go through the mists because while you are passing them, there will be nothing for them to harm except a ray which they will not even know is passing.”

  “H’m. That might do, and once we gain an entrance, we will make very short work of the Thirds. But young woman, have you considered that after we have finished with the Thirds we will be practically stranded? There we will be, completely surrounded by the mist and unable to pass it to get home!”

  I smiled in triumph. “Mavia, if you take me with you I promise to bring you back, safely, through the mists.”

  Mavia grinned. “You certainly are a determined young woman, are you not? Very well! You have earned your place in our ranks and you may go with us tonight.”

  The next few hours were very busy ones for me. Following my instructions, Mavia ordered an extra Hewitt Ray machine to be built, which the scientists, with Dad’s help, erected in short order. I was given an insulating suit to put on.

  “It will protect you from the rays of the Thirds but, may your deity, whoever he is, help you if you come in contact with the Second Dimensioners.”

  “What terrible weapon do they use?” I asked.

  “That is just it,” answered one of the scouts who was putting on her own insulating suit. “We do not know. They are great obnoxious- looking, winged creatures. Nature herself seems to have equipped them with a defensive weapon. Their bodies emit sparks that annihilate all they touch. We have never been able to insulate ourselves against them. For some reason the electrically-charged purple mists seem to be the only place in which they can live in this dimension.”

  Finally all was in readiness. The two Hewitt Ray machines were brought up to the mountain top and Dad was detailed to operate the one which was to send us forth. Imagine, if you can, the scene. Dad at one end of the mountain top with his Hewitt Ray machine, the other Hewitt Ray machine in the center, a guard of fifty women surrounding it, whose sole duty was to protect it from the rays of the Thirds. Spread out in close formation were the soldier women, not only of our own city but of the other seventy-eight cities as well. Column after column o
f glittering, armored women . . . .

  Mavia, at whose side I was stationed, gave the signal and—one second we were on the mountain top—the next we were inside the surrounding circle of the purple mists!

  Then hell broke loose! Our women began to spread out fan-wise, sowing destruction in their wake. The hive-like houses in our immediate vicinity, at the touch of the destructive rays, wielded by our soldiers, crumbled up and disappeared in a puff of smoke. The Thirds in the outlying houses quickly retreated and erected their enormous machines which shot forth beams of light. Their beams had a greater focus than our ray guns but our women in their insulating suits suffered no great damage. A few here and there whose suits, I suppose, were defective, stiffened out and fell to the ground. It was noticeable that the beams of light, shot out by the retreating Thirds acted differently from our rays. Their beams seemed only to strike their victims dead but our rays consumed them entirely.

  I looked back to see if any harm had come to the Hewitt Ray machine. The fifty women surrounding it were directing great beams of light in all directions, forming a light barrier, which I later learned was able to stop and deflect any destructive beam which might be directed towards the machine.

  A Souvenir

  It was all highly exciting, but so entirely different from the bloody carnage that we of our world expect in battle, that it seemed like some great pageant in which I was taking part.

  I marched with the rest of the soldiers and directed my ray gun on the Thirds and their houses. They were such inhuman-looking creatures with their thin machine-like bodies and great globular heads, that when they crumbled and disappeared as my ray touched them, I felt no revulsion as I might have had they been more human-looking. Instead, I cheered wildly at each victory.

  We marched fanwise as I said, clear to the edge of the purple mists, leaving not a living thing in our paths, except the unfortunate women who had fallen under the beams of the Thirds. Reaching the mist, we directed our ray guns into it, trying to get some of the great creatures inhabiting it.

  Now that we were so close to the mist, we could see them plainly, great bodies, with bat-like wings and tiny heads. Their red fiery eyes seemed to occupy the greater part of the small heads. They grimaced and gestured horribly at us and threw out sparks from their bodies.

  We retreated to a safe distance and yelled our defiance at them. Tiring of this sport, the victorious army of women returned, singing and shouting, to the Hewitt Ray machine with its guard still surrounding it.

  It was my duty now to operate the ray machine and I had no intention of being left behind. I set the automatic controls as Dad had shown me, then stepped in front into my place.

  Nothing happened! There was no amber-colored ray to transport us back to safety! For a few moments the morale of the army seemed to be lost. Were we doomed to stay here surrounded by the horrid creatures of the purple mists?

  Helplessly the leaders turned to me and I could only bid them wait, explaining that the automatic controls had not yet taken effect, and I advised them all to keep their places.

  Suddenly the softly glowing ray shot forth and we all began a sigh of relief which ended on our own mountain top! We had won through. The purple mists were cheated of their prey!

  Dad, who had been anxiously watching the battle through Mavia’s viewing screen, hurried to greet us on our return.

  “Lucile, I did not know you were such a blood-thirsty savage. Why, I watched you through the television and you certainly did your share of destruction and seemed to be enjoying yourself immensely!”

  “Well, Dad, if you will go adventuring off into strange worlds you cannot blame your daughter if she follows in your footsteps.”

  “Just the same,” he said, his eyes twinkling in their old familiar manner, “I think we had better go home before you can find any more trouble to get into.”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “I have only three weeks’ leave and I must get a little rest before I go back to work.”

  While Dad readjusted the Hewitt Ray to take us back I sent for Joburza, my prisoner, and introduced him to Dad. I told him of the trial and its results. Dad laughed and said:

  “Well! Well! I suppose, Lucile, it is only natural that you should take back a souvenir. I never heard of a woman yet, who did not want to take back some kind of a souvenir from her travels. I suppose I should be thankful you did not collect a whole cart-load of such souvenirs.”

  “Of course you should,” I agreed cheerfully.

  Amid the friendliest “goodbyes” from our strange friends and with their hearty invitation to return some day ringing in our ears, Dad and I and our prisoner passed through the ray and after a few seconds found ourselves in Dad’s laboratory.

  “Wake up,” I cried, shaking Marion, who had fallen asleep before the light-wave machine. “We are home!”

  Tired as we were, there was no thought of sleep that night. Marion demanded to be told every little bit of our adventures. It took almost all night to completely tell the tale and explain all about the strange things we had found in the other dimension. Marion declared herself to be a member of the party, on the next trip. She was much interested in the women of the fourth dimension.

  “I always thought we were emancipated,” she said, “but this Mavia and her crowd are emancipated-plus.”

  While we were eating a very early breakfast I asked Dad: “How was it, Dad, that you and I landed in different places? You landed in the country of the Thirds and I landed with the savage Firsts.”

  Dad explained. “Due to the curvature of space we did not travel in a straight line. You took off, to use your aerial language, at a different time than I did and consequently landed at the other side of the circle. Understand?”

  “Ye-s-s, I think I do.” I replied hesitatingly.

  Joburza, whom I promptly re-christened John, fitted himself easily into our life. He learned our language quickly but spoke it with a curiously quaint accent. Dad, discovering that he had an aptitude for science, readily took him into his laboratory as a pupil-assistant.

  “My son was a daughter, so I have adopted this boy,” he explained laughingly to his friends.

  I liked John very much but he exasperated me by his air of timidity with women. Poor boy, with his background, I suppose he could not help himself, and I was continually trying to improve him. What woman can resist the temptation to reform a man?

  One day about six months later I returned to the house for my three-day leave and found John meekly taking a scolding from our housekeeper. I sharply sent her about her business; then turned to John.

  “Why do you do it, John? For the love of Mike! Brace up! Remember you are a man. Forget your other life. You are in a different world now. Remember, women aren’t anything to be afraid of. They can’t hurt you. Why, don’t you know that you are in every way superior to a woman?” (May my sisters in feminism forgive the lies. I had to be drastic). “Just say to yourself—‘I am a man,’ and be one! If a woman doesn’t agree with you, bully her. She will like it. Try it some time and see how it works.”

  “I believe I will,” John said, and grabbing me he kissed me!

  “Why, John!” I cried, astonished. “What made you do that?”

  My father was standing by the window. I had not noticed him before.

  “Haw! Haw!” he laughed. “Poor John was only taking your advice—‘Bully them!’ Ho! Ho!—‘Try it some time!’ Haw! Haw!—but seriously, Lucile, I am surprised to hear you, of all women, advise a man to look on himself as a woman’s superior. I thought you wanted the men to admit the women’s superiority.”

  “Oh well!” I answered nonchalantly, glancing out of the corner of my eye at John. “It all depends on who the man is!”

  “Oh-h-h! I see,” smiled Dad and with exaggerated solicitude tip-toed from the room.

  THE GREAT BEAST OF KAFUE

  Clotilde Graves (1863–1932)

  Clotilde Inez Mary Graves, or “Clo” as she was usually known, was born into a mil
itary family, and was the second cousin of the poet and novelist Robert Graves. Her early days were spent drawing cartoons and writing sketches for the comic papers and subsequently for the stage. She had sixteen plays produced in London and New York between 1887 and 1913. She apparently had a temper. The Times’ obituarist remarked that rehearsals of her plays were apt “to be marked by unconventional incidents.” Alongside her plays she wrote several novels, mostly humorous, such as A Well Meaning Woman (1896), about the consequences of a busybody’s matchmaking plans. Her life was anything but conventional. She frequently dressed as a man and enjoyed smoking in public. In 1910, she suddenly took on a new persona and, as Richard Dehan, she wrote The Dop Doctor. The book was a huge bestseller. It portrayed a city under siege during the Boer War and the work of a disgraced London doctor who redeems his honor. Graves wished to keep the identity of Dehan secret, but it soon leaked out. Thereafter she retained the alternate personality.

  The following story has the aftermath of the Boer War as a setting. Kafue is in present day Zambia, which was then Northern Rhodesia. I have added a few footnotes to explain some of the local language.

  IT HAPPENED at our homestead on the border of South-eastern Rhodesia, seventy miles from the Tuli Concession, some three years after the War.

  A September storm raged, the green, broad-leaved tobacco-plants tossed like the waves of the ocean I had crossed and re-crossed, journeying to and coming back from my dead mother’s wet, sad country of Ireland to this land of my father and his father’s father.

  The acacias and kameel thorns and the huge cactus-like euphorbia that fringed the water-courses and the irrigation channels had wrung their hands all day without ceasing, like Makalaka women at a native funeral. Night closed in: the wooden shutters were barred, the small-paned windows fastened, yet they shook and rattled as though human beings without were trying to force a way in. Whitewash fell in scales from the big tie-beams and cross-rafters of the farm kitchen, and lay in little powdery drifts of whiteness on the solid table of brown locust-tree wood, and my father’s Dutch Bible that lay open there. Upon my father’s great black head that was bent over the Book, were many streaks and patches of white that might not be shaken or brushed away.