This is my third time this week at Scarce Water Mating Club and still I have not been chosen. It’s true I’ve been diagnosed with CLING disorder. But that information is supposed to remain confidential. Male Citizens seem to sense it though. Maybe I hold their glance too long or turn my head slightly when unknown Male Citizens approach me in Pre-Mating Posture. So here I sit at Scarce Water Mating Club sipping Scarce Water’s signature cocktails while loud, mostly backbeat, music bombards my senses, watching my friend Vita, chug down flask after flask of Recycled Fermented Produce and be chosen again and again.
How I envy Vita. Not only is she not disabled, like me, but she’s got the EROS gene as well – making her alluring to Male Citizens. She gets chosen so often, she sometimes doesn’t even have a chance to be taken into privacy and simply enters Mating Posture right here — in a urinary relief room or, perhaps, the refuse removal channel running behind Scarce Water Mating Club. Vita is so capable; Male Citizens have occasionally removed her from circulation for Prolonged Mating Sessions – a huge honor. She has that “Regulation” body — thin and flexible enough to achieve every single one of the hundreds of “Regulation” Mating Postures. Her hair is short and tightly curled — reminiscent of hair on her Mating Unit before waxing — which also lends to her attractiveness. No wonder she has entered Mating Posture quite a few times with POWER-MEN (members of the Powerful Order of Worldwide Elite Ruling Men). She is definitely on her way to great success in life.
Vita’s a true friend and never flaunts her successes in my face or makes fun of my social failures or my long straight hair and wide hips (which might, many centuries ago, have marked me as a capable breeding vessel but with technological birthing advances are merely embarrassing). Or my large breasts which make me appear overly feminine – not an advantage in a world ruled by men for men. Because of all my physical shortcomings, and my CLING disorder, I have never even entered Mating Posture once; whereas Vita has already produced twelve Infant Citizens (six Males and six Females) – all of which were, of course, immediately turned over to the “Early Years Citizen Nurturance Committee” for rearing. I am, naturally, respectful of Vita’s accomplishments but know, because of my CLING disability, I wouldn’t have been able to part so easily with Infant Citizens of my own.
Lucky Vita. She is not disabled. She is so good at producing and relinquishing Infant Citizens, she will probably attain “Breeder Trainer” status once she is no longer useful as a “Birth-Capable-Breeder & Pleasurer.” She has already earned a Golden Breeder Award which comes with a gold pin she could wear to get, if that’s even imaginable, more attention from Male Citizens. She doesn’t need to bother with pins. Outward signs of mating availability, like colorful anal swellings and the like, observed in some lower order animals, aren’t really necessary for human females. Normal Male Citizens can easily sense Vita’s readiness for mating due to her genetically superior pheromones.
Pheromones are all important in our world. Ironically, pheromones were how my own Mother Citizen escaped sentencing to “Non Breeder Encampments.” My Father Citizen, Son-Citizen of a POWER-MAN, was cursed with defective breeding instincts and was unable to accurately “smell” desirable breeding qualities in Female Citizens. Because of her unique pheromones, my Mother-Citizen was mistaken, by him, for being a qualified “Birth Capable Breeder & Pleasurer.” He took her home, entered Mating Posture with her and the rest, as they say, is history. When I was born, the “Early Years Citizen’s Nurturance Committee” saw right away I would be disabled, just like my Mother-Citizen, with CLING disorder. (I was always stubbornly trying to hold on to things — first my bottle, later toys, friendships, ideas.) Because of my CLING disorder, I was not an appropriate candidate for acceptance by the “Early Years Citizen’s Nurturance Committee” as it was believed, obviously correctly so, that I would never flourish as a Certified Breeder & Pleasurer. But by being distantly related to a POWER-MAN, I was able to escape automatic sentencing to “Non Breeder Encampments” and was left for my Mother Citizen to raise.
Lucky for me, because life in “Non Breeder Encampments” is hard and short – Non Breeders being, as they are, basically useless once past their ability for relentless physical labor in factories, fields and farmhouses. The only way a “Non Breeder” can escape early termination is by becoming a Woman’s Harvesting Overseer Recruitment Executive (or “WHORE”). Few rise to this level, however. Most are terminated upon expiration of their useful time as physical laborers.
I was very fortunate to be left to be raised by my Mother Citizen. Although I am not a promising candidate for “Active Breeder/Pleasurer,” I am a Citizen. So, if I could, like my Mother Citizen managed to do, enter Mating Posture, even one time, with a Prominent Male Citizen, I might possibly be able to conceive a legal Infant-Citizen and earn “Low-Quality Breeder” status, like my Mother Citizen and that would be enough to permanently exempt me from the “Non Breeder Encampments.”
So, I frequently borrow Vita’s black leather mini dress with the derriere and breast-hole cut-outs, slip on thigh-high stiletto boots and a red feathered thong I purchased for the purpose and accompany Vita out on her nightly excursions. Searching, always searching for my pathway to respectability. So far, however, no Male-Citizen has ever chosen me. I can only wait as a Female-Citizen is never permitted to be sexually aggressive. That would violate every principle of “The Power-Man Regimen.” It is also a crime.
Apart from my dismal failure as a “Breeder/Pleasurer,” mine hasn’t been such a bad life. Of course, as a Teenage-Citizen, I was left out of activities with others, like Vita, who were fortunate enough to possess the EROS gene (or were, at least, not disabled by CLING gene). “You just wouldn’t understand,” friends would say when I was not invited to their Sex Experimentation Sleepovers and XXXX Rated Movie Nights and such. Although I felt hurt, I knew they were probably right. I had difficulties in school as well. I flunked Pleasuring 101 twice. Once, I asked our Male-Citizen teacher why women had to do everything to please Male Citizens and never the other way around. He was so totally freaked out that he whisked me down to the office of the Academy Director (a very stern Male-Citizen) for detention (where I was ordered to write “A Female-Citizen’s only purpose in life is to pleasure Male-Citizens and breed Future-Citizens” five hundred times on a virtual blackboard).
My favorite subject in school was History of Breeding. It was taught by our only Female Citizen-Teacher. Female Citizens, of course, are for Breeding and Pleasuring not commerce, academia or politics. But the Academy had to allow a Female-Citizen to teach History of Breeding because no Male-Citizen was willing to and they wanted to retain their status as a full-curriculum institution.
History of Breeding was neither a popular nor required course. Most Student-Citizens took a pass. But I was curious to see what a Female-Citizen Teacher looked like. So I signed up for the class and loved it right from the start. It was radical. Our instructor told us unbelievable stories of times before the “Worldwide Cultural Revolution” in which POWER-MEN took over Planet Earth and returned breeding to its “Natural ‘Caveman’ State” as it was before Citizens of Planet Earth started creating all sorts of weird and exotic rituals and ceremonies detrimental to Male Citizens’ natural urges.
I did a term paper on one of these ancient ceremonies called “Marriage.” This custom is best understood by reference to our own “Elite Citizen’s Functional Bonding Ceremony” in which young Male and Female Citizens who are claimed offspring of POWER-MEN are paired off for purposes of unification of power and monetary benefits of their respective POWER-MEN relatives. Following such pairings, Mail Citizens, naturally, retain full MATING FREEDOM — unlike Male Citizens in the Marriage ritual of olden times. Female Citizens, of course, do not.
In that ancient, historical “Marriage” ceremony, a Male-Citizen and a Female-Citizen (then called just “man” and “woman”) would stand before a shaman or minor political official of some sort who would invoke ritualistic language binding that particular man and woman (thereafter called “Husband” and “Wife”) together. From that point forward, “Husband” and “Wife” were required to remain together unless or until they were ritualistically separated through another strange practice known as “Divorce.” Believe it or not, under these bizarre old practices, a husband was not supposed to enter Mating Posture with any female other than his wife. Husband and wife were expected to remain together entering mating posture only with one another and raising their own Infant Citizens (called “children”). That’s right! Children were not raised by “Early Years Citizen Nurturance Committee” like they are now (except for those unusual cases, like my own, where because of disabilities they are left with their Mother Citizens). Back then, so called “parents” raising their own “children” was the norm. Even more amazingly, back then persons with CLING disability were actually admired and respected. “Commitment” was, if you can believe this, fashionable. This grouping of Man, Woman and Children was referred to as a “family.”
The ancients believed that Man and Woman were joined together by something called “Love.” This was before Earth scientists issued their “Proclamation on the Chemistry of Human Breeding” thru which the mechanical and chemical intricacies of human pair bonding came to be fully understood. Now we know Men were disadvantaged by strange rituals such as “Marriage” – which deprived them of their ability to mate freely upon impulse. Being so constrained, Male Citizens were board and dissatisfied with their lives which, many argued, led to wars and conflict. Some men sought relief thru a taboo practice known as an “affair.” But affairs were a lot of work because men needed to earn a woman’s favor before entering Mating Posture with her. Divorce also allowed men some relief. But all the time and paperwork associated with Marriage and Divorce distracted from the Male Citizen’s Free & Unbound Pleasuring Time. So naturally, these antiquated practices were outlawed when the POWER-MEN took over Planet Earth.
“This is a brilliant paper,” my teacher said upon reading my term paper on “Marriage.” “I love how you traced the origins of the “Worldwide Cultural Revolution” all the way back to rap music and other cultural trends of the late Twentieth and early Twenty-First Centuries.” I smiled when she said this because I am usually being reprimanded rather than complimented. “And the part where you explore ‘No-Fault Divorce’ and how that helped pave the way for the ‘Worldwide Cultural Revolution’,” she smiled warmly, “Brilliant, simply brilliant.”
I blushed. “I was going to research how a return to ‘Fault-Based’ divorce and temporary widespread acceptance of ‘Plural Marriage’ (sanctioning multiple spouses) almost caused ‘The Worldwide Cultural Revolution’ to fail by easing female/female competition for males and requiring men to be responsible for all their multiple breeding partners…but I didn’t have time,” I babbled. You see, I’m flunking Advanced Sexual Techniques.”
Female Citizen Teacher looked at me long and hard and then said: “If you like, you may do an Independent Study Course with me.” I blushed, amazed anyone would be interested in working with me. Usually I am a semi-outcast. “Oh yes, I would love that,” I blurted out quickly imagining myself bringing home good news to my Mother Citizen for once.
When I told her, though, my Mother Citizen was not happy. “It’s such an unpopular subject,” she frowned. “Why not take a “Pleasuring Elective” or a “Flirting” or “Erotic Fashion” class,” she asked.
“Because I’m no good at that stuff and you know it,” I shot back, angry and disappointed in her attitude. “Because I’m…like you,” I added. I felt bad as soon as I said it. Her face dropped and she looked, suddenly, older.
She approached and put her arms around me. “I want more for you.” She said looking so sad I couldn’t stay angry. “Don’t be like me. Take a lesson from your friend Vita. Now there’s a girl who knows what’s expected of her.” Then she turned and walked away.
As it turned out, my opportunity for Independent Studies with Female Citizen Teacher never came to pass anyway. Shortly after our discussion, she was discovered to be a “False Breeder” and taken away for immediate termination. False breeding is an illegal practice in which Female Citizens lacking pleasuring talents escape identification as “Non Breeders” by trolling unincorporated wilderness areas in hopes of finding orphaned Infant Non-Citizens which they claim, illegally, as their own. Orphaned Infant Non-Citizens are often found in areas where Feral Non-Citizen Females, suffering from unsanctioned pregnancies, have fled to bear and rear Non-Citizen Children. Living outside the POWER-MAN establishment, these Feral Non-Citizen Females and their offspring are considered outlaws. Their lives are hard and dangerous. POWER-MEN routinely hunt and kill them for pleasure and sport. Sometimes, when a Feral Non-Citizen Female is taken down her offspring cannot be located. Occasionally, they will survive long enough to be found by a “Non Breeder” Female Citizen who will claim and care for them as her own in order to fraudulently acquire “Low Quality Breeder” status. This is highly illegal. Guilty Female Citizens are subject to immediate termination along with their illegal Non-Citizen children.
Myself, I have always found this practice rather confusing. Why are feral Non-Citizen Females and “False Breeders” prosecuted so harshly? After all, the stated goal of the “Worldwide Cultural Revolution” was to assure Male-Citizens an ability to freely enter Mating Posture whenever desired without having to ever to concern themselves with caring for offspring so conceived. Isn’t this exactly what feral Non-Citizen Females are doing when they go off alone to bear and rear offspring without any male assistance? Likewise, aren’t “False Breeders” who claim and care for orphaned Non-Citizens taking over caretaking duties without any male assistance? So what’s the problem? Only that these women are making propagation choices outside the confines of established laws. I remember some lectures in our “Reproductive Rights” class where we were taught how Breeding activities are properly under sole auspices of Male Citizens acting under direct authority of the POWER MEN Establishment. So Feral Non-Citizen Females and False Breeders are behaving unnaturally by exercising independent female control over breeding activities. Perhaps this is why it is criminal behavior. Still, thinking about my former History of Breeding teacher and those poor Feral Non-Citizen women and children I am saddened. It’s probably just my CLING disability acting up again.
After Female Citizen Teacher is removed and terminated, I am called into the Academy Director’s Office for an interview with a Psychological Cleansing Officer. There is concern that I may have been adversely influenced by Female Citizen Teacher in a way that could warp my young mind. I answer all questions honestly and after an hour or so, I am told: “You will need to spend a month in a Psychological Cleansing Ward to assure your emotional safety.” My mother is telephoned to bring pajamas and a toothbrush and I am transported directly to a Managed Care Hospital’s Psychological Cleansing Ward where I am placed in an isolation chamber.
After two days in isolation, I am moved to an “Encounter Suite” where there is nothing but a simple bed, a small dresser for my few possessions and a bathroom. An Attendant Citizen comes in and curtly announces: “You will have your first “ENCOUNTER” shortly.” I am unsure what this means until a ROBOT, wearing a navy, cotton T-shirt with “Big John” scripted across the front in bold white lettering, enters the room in full Mating Posture and approaches the bed where I am sitting. I realize then that I am expected to demonstrate my Pleasuring talents like we used to in the Entry Level CPR (Certified Pleasuring Requirement) Training Courses where Robots were used so Male Citizens could be spared annoying mating contact with unskilled Breeders. I lay back stiffly and try to ease my legs apart. Then I notice the Robot’s Simulated Mating Device is extremely large causing me to unconsciously clinch up a bit. A warning buzzer sounds and I try to relax my posture again and breathe deeply. There is an unfamiliar, sweat-like odor I am guessing is being pumped through air ducts and it makes me gag and clench my teeth. Again, a warning buzzer sounds and I quickly adjust my mouth to an open position – in the event the Virtual Robot moves for Oral Entry. Big John moves closer and roughly pushes my legs farther apart. That’s when I make the huge mistake of momentarily placing one hand briefly in front of my Mating Unit. All Hell breaks loose. Loud warning bells go off and an electronic buzzer starts sounding “GAAK,” “GAAK,” “GAAK,” “GAAK,” like something out of a vintage prison-break movie. “Big John starts flashing red and yellow lights and repeating “BREEDER MALFUNCTION,” “BREEDER MALFUNCTION,” over and over in an anxious mechanical monotone. I grab my hand back quickly. “Please, give me another chance,” I cry “I’m…I’m a First Time Breeder.” But Attendants have already swarmed in and are furiously punching buttons trying to reboot Big John — whose robot head is now spinning around wildly as he enters some kind of mechanical melt down. Seeing that, I realize how badly I have messed up and am not surprised when I am told I am being sent to “Detention Area.”
“Detention Area,” surprisingly, is actually quite nice. Billowing white drapes swirl between white marble columns. I am reminded of pictures I’ve seen of extremely Ancient Civilizations on Planet Earth in places like Greece and Rome. There are carved marble benches with white satin cushions scattered around and, since I am alone here, I choose one and sit down. Fragrance from flowers growing in large ornately carved white planters perfumes the air. Harp music plays softly in the background. I notice the eco-dome roof is open to the actual sky and colorful birds and insects flutter in an out. This is, I decide, the most beautiful place I have ever seen. Certainly not what I expected for “Detention Area.”
Suddenly a door opens and another Young Citizen is escorted into “Detention Area.” He has “Regulation Tan” skin (color variations between humans having been eliminated long before the “Worldwide Cultural Revolution”). But his jet black hair is much longer than “Regulation.” He has a pleasant face is of lower than average weight and muscularity and lacks “Regulation” male body hair. Seeing me, he smiles and walks over. “I am Adam,” he says. “You?”
Involuntarily, I smile back. “Evelyn Villouis” I say. “Eve, for short.” I notice he is wearing a heavy gold chain with a massive golden nugget in the shape of a fist. This marks him as son of a very High Ranking POWER-MAN. But he looks so…unusual. No jowls. And he has large widely spaced blue eyes. A typical POWER-MAN has dark, close set eyes, thick body hair and a closely shaven head.
“Why are you here,” I ask.
He smiles sadly displaying large, white even teeth. “To be honest,” he says — to my great surprise since honesty towards women is never encouraged — “I have a severe Mating Disorder. You?”
I nod sympathetically. “The same.” I say. I think I just broke Big John the virtual Robot.”
“Aah,” he says, with a small, sad smile. “One of My Father Citizen’s most celebrated creations.” I realize, then, his Father Citizen must be extremely High Ranking.
“What is your…disorder,” I ask timidly, “if it’s not too impolite to ask.”
“I have many shortcomings,” he says hesitantly, “but all relate to my primary genetic disorder, very rare, almost unheard of, in Male Citizens,” he pauses looking down embarrassed. “I have CLING disorder.”
I can barely suppress a small smile. “Me too,” I say. Then becoming more serious, I add: “After today I won’t be surprised if they send me to the “Non Breeder Encampments.”
“Me as well,” he says. “Well, at least I will know someone there. There are very few men in those places.”
“How soon do you suppose we’ll know our fate,” I ask.
“Who knows?” he answers. “Perhaps they will” he mimics a slash across the throat. “But it’s out of our hands now” he adds, “so while we’re here we may as well relax.” Stooping down he picks a few small flowers growing nearby and hands them to me with a little bow. “Here’s to…whatever,” he says softly.
How strange he is.
By nightfall, no one has come for us. Sun turns to moon and stars illuminate the opening thru the eco-dome ceiling. While we are timidly teasing one another or, perhaps, huddled together in earnest conversation, a cart appears heaped with foods I have, until now, only read about or seen in history books – clams, oysters, lobster, caviar, champagne, chocolate and fresh figs. “This is Detention?” I laugh. Adam takes a fig off the tray and holds it above me till I tilt back my head, open my mouth and allow him to drop it in. Later, after we have eaten our fill, we fall asleep nestled together in a warm, companionable heap atop a pile of white silk pillows. My last waking thought is that I feel unbelievably happy for the first time in my life.
Our routine continues in this way for about the next fifteen days. During this time, Adam and I come to know one another well and a deep trust develops between us. Whatever is to be our fate, at this point I will accept it willingly in return for this short time Adam and I have shared together which has been the best time of my life. I wish never to be released from this…Detention. I wish I could always stay with this strange Male Citizen. He seems to feel the same about me. But of course this is probably merely our respective CLING disabilities creating an “Unnatural Bond.”
On the sixteenth day, an Administrator comes. He is taller than normal, has skin much darker than “Regulation Tan,” and his hair is in a style I recognize from Ancient Fashion History books as dreadlocks. He sets up his computer, projects a virtual office around himself and begins rifling through a group of files which materialize upon the desktop he has created. Finally, he addresses Adam.
“I see that you, Adam, are…” he stops and looks up with a shocked expression “Son Citizen of a Premier Level POWER-MAN.”
“True,” Adam says simply.
“And you,” he glances towards me “are Evelyn Villouis, Unacknowledged Offspring with Genealogical Ties to a Level Seven POWER-MAN?” I nod yes.
“You are both a discredit to your distinguished genetic forbearers, you know.”
Adam and I look down shamefacedly.
“Yet you both have good bloodlines. It would be a shame to simply terminate you both.” I instinctively reach out for Adam’s hand before I can stop myself. The Administrator watches this and his tone softens. “There is another possibility…if you are interested,” he says.
“Anything’s better than termination isn’t it,” I say.
“Apparently not,” the Administrator snaps primly “or you two would have been more cooperative before now. But never mind, all that’s in the past. The point is there is a certain project not widely publicized to the general population of Planet Earth. It’s part of our ‘Interplanetary Propagation Program.’ Apparently Citizens with your…disability…have been useful in certain interplanetary colonization assignments.” He pauses. “We find that in the early stages of populating new planets, smaller more…intimate…bonding units can work advantageously. Seems they advance species adaptation more efficiently,” he pauses again, pursing his thin lips. “Those with CLING disability are uniquely suited to form these…more primitive bonding units.” He stops and looks back and forth between Adam and I. “Do you understand,” he asks.
“You want us to…colonize a planet…together?” Adam asks looking between the Administrator and I with obvious surprise.
I look back at him and, together, we both smile.
“I will if she will,” he says immediately.
“So we would be allowed to stay together,” I ask “and our Citizen Offspring would be raised by us instead of the “Citizen Nurturance Committee?”
The administrator nods. “Temporarily, yes, only temporarily.”
“Nevertheless, yes,” I say, “absolutely yes.”
“You understand after your assignment is over, you will be expected to return to Planet Earth and resume more conventionally appropriate Breeder activities,” the Administrator says. Then he steps out from behind his virtual desk and stands before Adam and I looking more sympathetic than before.
“I have never told anyone this before,” he confides “but my own Mother Citizen suffered from a mild case of CLING disorder.” Adam and I glance at each other. “After I was delivered, they say she led representatives from “Citizen Nurturance Committee” on a merry chase through the halls of a Managed Care Delivery Center. But, of course, in the end everything worked out well and after a short stint in a Psychological Cleansing Ward she was able to return to normal Breeder activities.” He exhales in relief. “We have found” he continues, returning to a more official tone, “that Citizens with CLING Disorder are often cured by a stint at one of the more ‘primitive’ colonies.” He smiles reassuringly, “Remaining for a bit in a smaller bond helps CLING sufferers understand the limitations of such bonds, which do not work very well in technologically advanced cultures. The monotony of monogamy causes their cling urges to dissipate,” he smiles again. Many are able to return to Planet Earth and, for the first time, assume fully normal Breeding activities. “Hopefully this will be the case for you both.”
Adam looks at me and I at him.
I am feeling emotions I have never felt before – feelings of closeness and even of…desire. I feel as if Adam were to approach me right this minute in Mating Posture, I would not turn away. And if I did, I feel sure Adam would reach out for me, gently, and compel me to return to him. I grab the pen the Administrator is holding out and quickly sign beneath Adam’s name on the papers.
After the Administrator leaves, I look at Adam and smile. He looks back and gives me a wink. “It will be hard when we are forced to part later,” he says, suddenly smiling sadly. “But I think we must enjoy whatever time we are given together.”
“I agree,” I say. And when Adam puts his arm around me, looks into my eyes and places his lips upon my lips, I realize he is moving slowly, carefully into Mating Posture and I do not turn away.