Our Childrens Future Following Trump’s Victory — The Impending Annexation of the Male Species

Black was all she could see. It clung to the rocks like a baby to her mother, it swam in the sea like it belonged and it dominated the air with an arrogant stench of decay. If home was where the heart is that heart had been consumed by tar a long time ago.

Freya knew she was home and uncomfortably accepted the reality. She wanted to finish what she came to do but it was not yet time. She knew where she had to go and what she had to do, but doing that and getting there was entirely less hospitable. Her journey had just began.

The landscape was dying, the once flourishing country side was covered in a thick tar brought forth by absentmindedness and neglect. Life had vanished and all organic matter had its life suffocated from it. She remembered the occasional green oasis amidst the perpetual deep black, the occasional sprout of leafy green standing erect and in defiance of the inevitable death it was about to experience but all protest and opposition had long since disappeared and accepted it’s fate.

Obscura had once been one of the most alive regions of the east quadrant of the galaxy JaanTuu but those days were gone. First there was the rejection of historic precedent, then there was the effect and finally the take over. It was planned perfectly with no opportunity for recourse.

The men struggled to understand what had happened or how it was even possible but they had quickly realised it did, it was and there was no possibility to alter the trajectory they were prescribed. They were forced to accept their fate. After centuries of domination the tables had been unequivocally turned and it had been wise for them to accept it, as to ensure any possibility of survival, however slim that might be. The only real surprise was that it hadn’t happened sooner.

The separation had not been entirely amicable, the resentment and hate led to an inevitable rejection of acceptance and a growth of fear. The unknown dominated but one side was excited by the prospect of the future whereas the other was facing the prospect of extinction. Race, national, class, religious and social divides which were prevalent for millennia were eroded and instead replaced with a simpler differentiator, gender.

Freya had been one of the lucky ones, she was female and on the right side of the divide. She never felt like it. Instead of having her life controlled by a husband her future was mapped out by an elite which had identified her role in this brave new world. Instead of accepting the question of why women needed men, she pursued the alternate line of thought which asked why do people need anything other than their own intuition. Surely free will and hope were preferable to a world of inherited values and roles?

How does one win when your father, brother and friends are stolen from you based on biological differentiation they have no control over? How can such an arbitrary and frivolous distinction count for so much and define their reality so harshly? The existential crisis which arose from the theft had led to the circumstances she now faced. Alone, she marched on. She sought answers but crucially she had a plan. She knew she and others like her, if there were any, couldn’t stand for this. They had inherited a predicated future having been forced to believe what they were told. She didn’t.

Freya never felt an affinity to those ideals. Though she sympathised with the older generations reasoning all she saw was a sickening level of self-interest shaping how future generations would live. If nothing was done soon the future would be irreparably altered and ruined. Human history would shrivel and waste away. What would emerge would be dictated again by a ruling elite. The elders were willing to sacrifice guaranteed future prosperity in order to spite the past and if this meant sacrificing and enslaving the working class so be it. At least they would have punished those who had long since evolved from those archaic times.

As far as Freya was concerned the working classes has been conned into believing their lives would be better and that is why they voted as they did to leave. Detached and divorced from the asymmetric relationships they had been party to, they were sold a future of richness, prosperity and freedom. Even before the vote was confirmed and approved huge discrepancies had arisen relating to what was the truth. Instead of exploring the half truths and lies the dissenting questions were ignored and the misleading facts were pushed with more rigour.

The wind whined and whistled swiftly, sharply and shrilly, screeching and whooping with a reckless command of its surroundings. The sound reflected the harshness of the landscape, carving through it and seemingly shaping it in its image. The destitute feeling overflowing within her grew and weighed her down. The thick sludge of the tar slowed her progress, gripping to her boots and grasping her ankles with each step she took. Still she walked on unmercifully, she refused to surrender. It was a lonely existence but her purpose was bigger than her. She knew that if she didn’t do this nobody else would.

Finally, she arrived. Exhausted she spilled through the door like the tar that followed her, the deep black flowing through the threshold and began to take over the room which had previously stood untouched. She collapsed on the floor as tears poured down her face, not born from upset but as a bodily reaction to cleanse her eyes from the relentless fumes which engulfed her. The harshness of the boarded wooden floor felt like luxury silk on her face and the relaxation afforded from lying down serenaded her senses. The shrieking wind began to sound like a lullaby as her eyes grew heavy and sleep seduced her.

Her eyes closed as coldness began to engulf her body.

Her breath slowed and deepened as she was consumed by the overwhelming desire to relax.

She tried to move her toes, but she couldn’t. She tried to lift her legs but she was stuck, her arms were pinned to the floor, her face fixed in position.

The tar which had followed her inside had flowed all around her and held her in the position she lay, like a chalk line around a warm dead body. She was rudely thrust back into consciousness as she felt the tar invade her nostrils and recognised if she didn’t escape immediately her whole body would be buried alive.

Panicked, she thrashed furiously, fighting to release herself, but only succeeding in allowing the tar to flood beneath her and fix her in place.

She tried to swim, she tried to pull, push, and throw her way to freedom but it was hopeless, her breathlessness had forced her mouth open and immediately the tar assaulted her, filling her throat and toying with her as she gagged. She felt her life drain from her as the deep black descended upon her lungs. She saw her whole family drain from her consciousness, if this was the end she sought to be reunited with them in her mind at least.

She had come this far only to be consumed by her own carelessness, ironically defeated by an organic liquid created from the flower and plant forms she once loved so dearly. As she expended the last of her energy struggling she relaxed again. This was it, she had led a remarkable life but ultimately she never achieved anything of significance. She wouldn’t be remembered and her bravery never acknowledged.

Suddenly, she was thrust upwards.

With her lungs still half full of tar she still couldn’t breathe. Her eyes were covered with the thick, deep, black and she couldn’t see anything. Her ear canals had been invaded and all she heard was a dull murmuring. She desperately wiped her eyes and fought for breath. As her vision cleared she could make out two clear distinct shapes. One was behind her desperately trying to squeeze her chest forcing the tar free so she could breathe the other shouting at her inaudibly.

Violently she coughed, back from the brink of death, she wheezed desperately while triumphantly freeing her lungs of the tar that nearly claimed her.

As her sight became more defined she noticed the two figures before her were men, well teenagers actually. Incredibly she had been saved by two men.

Perplexed Freya coughed “Why?”.

“Why what” they retorted.

“Why, did you save me?”

“Why woudn’t we?”

“Because I’m a girl”

“We know that now”

“So you wouldn’t have saved me if you knew I was before”

“look, we saved your life and whether we would or wouldn’t have doesn’t matter, you’re here now, alive, we’d appreciate if you never told anyone we were here but apart from that, good luck”

As the two walked out the door, Freya immediately regretted her abruptness. Recovering and trying to get her breath back, she struggled painfully to follow them out the house.

“Wait! Please wait” Freya begged, they were the first people she had seen in three long desperate months.

They reluctantly, paused and turned round to face her.

“Thank you for saving me, thank you so, so much, I was shocked, I’m sorry, I was shocked for anyone to be here shocked for you to be men” she confessed.

“look it’s fine but we really have to go” one of them said firmly.

“but don’t you want to know what I’m doing here?”

“Not really we just want to go”

“I’m Freya, you can at least tell me your names”

“I’m Leo”

“Parker”

“Well Thank you both. Can I ask what you’re doing here?” Freya pushed.

“What are you doing here then?” they asked Freya.

“I was just trying to…”

“Trying to…”

“That’s my house. Well it was my house; I was trying to find something.”

“You won’t find anything in there, everything will have been taken a long time ago” said Leo.

“Yes, I’m surprised there were even floor boards left, pity you had to ruin them by leaving the door open” said Parker.

“Oh I am very sorry for almost dying! Where are all my things, who took them?” Freya begged.

“That doesn’t matter, all that matter is they’re gone and there is nothing you can do.” Said Leo.

“But I need something, one thing, please tell me where can I get my things back?” asked Freya.

“What are you looking for?”

“A box, a red box, about this size”, Freya gesticulated hinting at something the size of a shoe box.

“A red box with a small broken mirror in it?”

“How do you know that was in it, do you have it? please tell me you have it” Freya pressed frantically.

“You better come with us , we‘ll help you” promised Leo.

“Ok,” agreed Freya.

With that they began a journey against the profuse slurry of the tar. Freya carelessly assumed that getting the box would be easy and that doing so would spell the end of her journey. Little did she know it was only beginning.

The deep black of her current situation would soon be replaced by a more vibrant grey.