I wake very early the next morning and just watch her naked back rise and fall with her sleeping breaths. I so desperately want to kiss her, but I also want to let her sleep longer, so I slide out of our bed and into my robe, making my way to the bathroom. I remember our engagement and feel such a wave of energy flow through me, that I know I'll never get back to sleep. 4:16am - shit. I turn my device on to find another cryptic message, from the same number as before. Tom. It was received at 2:27am and reads, 'mine 11pm'. What the hell is going on?! My mind starts scheduling my day and developing a way for me to extricate myself from my first engaged day with Ryann. The last place I want to be today is away from her, but the last place I want her, is anywhere near this potentially dangerous confusion.
As I cross our living room to the bathroom hallway, my eye catches something lying at the foot of our front door. It's a manilla envelope and as I get closer, I can see my name printed on it - my stomach sinks. I reach down to pick it up and it feels lighter than I expect. In my fingers I only feel envelope – like it's empty. I instinctively look around when I think of opening it, because I have a queasy feeling that this may be something I need to keep to myself.
I take the envelope with me to the bathroom and quietly lock the door. I sit on our closed toilet seat and pull our laundry hamper over to in front of me like a desk. Carefully opening the envelop so as not to rip any of its contents, I see a smaller photo and a few bigger ones, printed on actual physical picture paper like in the 21st century. I slide them out silently and examine them. The small photo shows a bound book, with the word 'SCRIPTURES' on the cover. What the hell? The five larger photos, were of worn paper with writing on them – some handwritten and some typed.
At first, all I can see in the photos through the cloud of confusion about this envelope and its contents, are grouped lines of letters. These letters finally come into focus as my brain desperately manages to organize them into words during its chaotic processing of my current situation. Upon one of the sheets are words that I read over and over, like an echo in my head of an echo from the past, trying to sink into my shocked brain. On the top right was the hand-written date, "Dec 20, 1989", and on the sheet beneath that was written a few lines. My heart races as I read the sheet on one of the pictures;
"THE REVISED AND RIGHTEOUS WORLD ORDER
The world order is fundamentally flawed. Those who propagate, bring forth and nurture life must be the ones who rule the world in which that life exists. It is asinine that for millennia, the world has been ruled and controlled mainly by those with animalistic sex drives, who can be so easily corrupted through them and the gluttonous desires stemming from them.
A balancing is required. Mother nature needs to step in."
Oooof, they didn't know what was waiting for them, just a few years in their future. 'They should have been careful what they wished for' is all I keep hearing myself say in my head.
On the next page is handwritten the line "Slaughtered like cattle by the hatred and evil of the mutant Y" followed by a list of names and birthdates. And then a line at the bottom which sends shivers up my spine; "They need to be stopped and their end must start now."
Uhhh? What the hell is this? I finally recognize the significance of December 20, 1989 – the largest misogynistic massacre in the history of the territory formerly known as Canada. Ah. Slaughtered like cattle now makes sense.
On the next picture is the following paragraph;
The absurdity of having such sexually-manipulatable people in charge of societies, is astounding and yet ignored. The male-gonad driven greed and corruption that envelops all of human activity is intense, and yet ignored. Singapore mothers forcibly or desperately sell their children to visiting men for sex, and it's ignored. The world is fucked and something big has to happen. Children and mothers, even puppies, pigs and kittens are being beaten and tortured, and it's happening by men or irreversibly fucked-up women who have been fucked-up by men. These violators must go.
Uhhh. What the...
Purposefully slowing my breath so as not to hyperventilate and pass out, I turn to the fourth photo;
April 1992 - Contributism. Coin and introduce it into meeting. With Intelligence, foresight, and ethics abound in the meeting - if we screen for corruption- then the collaboration of these great minds will fall onto the righteous, humanitarian path laid plain before them.
I feel my head shaking back and forth as it sinks in that these are notes on concepts that weren't introduced until the 72-hour Great Minds Meeting in 2033. Some of these documents are dated forty years prior. What the hell am I seeing? What the hell is going on!?
And then finally on the last photo a typed note:
2018 - INCELS festered into existence through the web's echo-chamber of misogynistic hatred. There will be more Ys drafted by this type of poison. Mom and Dr. T have pulled the trigger on the first phase of the plan to initiate grooming protocols and they will commence imminently. Drafting potential leaders, directorial and operating heads with substantial knowledge of/or participation in any progress projects in human interest areas. Recruit top medical scientists, physicians, artists, politicians, academics, statisticians, sociologists, psychologists from all over the world to establish and deliver the New World Order (Modernized Global Socio-political Order).
The rebalancing is taking too long and will see us extinct before we get there. Misogyny will hold all progress back and needs to be extinguished rapidly and without reserve. This will take two generations, but the recruitment starts today.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
Who left this here? For me? Righteous path?! What the hell does that mean?! As I'm frozen in time before these questions, I hear Ryann turn on her device. She's up. I stuff the pictures back into the envelope and tuck it at the back of the bottom shelf in our bathroom closet. I open the bathroom door to see her approaching. She gives me a warm but disappointed smile as she leans in for a kiss. "What's up, baby?" I ask her. "I really wanted to spend the day together, Dany, but we still haven't lost this NASA thing and George needs me in there. I'm sorry". "Ryann, my love, we have the rest of our lives to be together, to live together. Work is a part of our lives, so we support each other through the carriage of our respective non-domestic work. You let me know when you'll be coming home and I'll have diner waiting. And dessert." I give her a wink and she blushes. "Okay, I'm going to grab a quick shower before heading out". She turns on the shower tap and drops her robe. I blush. I wrap my arms around her from behind and she melts. My hands caress the topography of her exquisite shape, and she quivers. I decide to forget the photos, and make sure that her first morning engaged to me will be one she won't forget.
YOU ARE READING
Silos of Man
General FictionWithin a futuristic utopia, brought about by a species-threatening plague, two doctoral students struggle with the truth that corruption is both human and insidious, and if it is to be rooted out and destroyed, then they must be willing to risk not...
