Let Nature Take Its Course

While I do my job because I must, I know that science is sometimes ignored by the mob, especially if they or their leaders have made a grave mistake and refuse to acknowledge the error until events force the change, which usually comes too late. The current system of reproduction is artificial and therefore inefficient. Nature can be made to tolerate circumstances only for a time, then it will rebalance the books, sometimes with a vengeance. This I fear most of all, because I see the process close-up all the time.

You see my darling child, there are fewer and fewer successful pregnancies every year. The Earth is now down to a few score million people on both sides of the divide, when there used to be a thousand times as many, and the number is still dropping because the voters only see their vast possessions and not the lack of replacements, especially since children became the exclusive property of the state to eliminate child abuse, and are no longer raised by their "parents."

I was only partly hopeful that you would conceive here because it would mean that you would be with us forever, but it was not to be. This may be due to several factors besides you. Even though we know more now than ever about how reproduction works, the chemicals that flow, how the organs are or aren't like machine parts, etc., there is still so much that is unknown. Maybe in this unknown is where Nature itself lurks, plotting our downfall for having been so arrogant. Nature used to be called "Mother" Nature, until that term became one of shame because we could do the job so much better ourselves.

It also used to be that people used the phrase: "Let Nature take it's course," meaning, that all that needed to be done was to just let things happen between emms and effs, or "men" and "women" as they used to be called, and offspring would happen without any further help from us, and they did, by the billions.

There are those near where you are now that have dropped out of the system, and will have no part of our society. These renegades live by the old ways, which will seem strange to you at first, but will probably be understandable, if you give it enough time. Scientists call things like this the "control-naturals," or those with whom the scientists don't interfere, so as to learn how Nature would run things if left alone to do so, and Nature is usually better at things like this than we are. I knew your only chance was if you were released into the wild to find them, select a Man, not an "emm," and let Nature take it's course with you too.

One more thing: before IDs were standardized people were given word-names to describe some virtue it was hoped would characterize the person. In my heart I gave you the name "Victoria," because you represent my victory over this absurdity that may still kill us all. You are my immortality, as I am my mother's, and her mother's (and father's too, whomever they were) before that.

Good luck my beautiful baby girl. Your grandmother and I love you so. Go now and be immortal yourself.

Big Bad Bitch (F-C-234-029-344-742-12874-V+R)

It is morning light before you quit crying and move out.

You are in a forest denser than any you have ever seen, but a path leads through the clearing where you were dropped last night. You look hard at the map, and notice the flashlight has a compass built into it. It says north is to your right, so you spread the map out on the grass with the arrow in the lower right corner pointing the same way. All you can see around you is trees, and it is still except for the chirping of the birds. The map doesn't show the path, but there is supposed to be a stream to the west, and you know the Sun rises in the east, so if you take the path ahead of you it might go to the water. Why you should go to the water except to "go upstream" is beyond you, but it's all you've got to go on, so why not?

You're no longer in that shapeless old hospital gown, but in heavy trousers, boots, shirt, and you found a hat stuffed into the knapsack, but you're not wearing it right now. At least you're not naked any more. The heat of the day quickly becomes intense, and you sweat through your clothes in no time, but you're used to being dressed in all weathers anyway. Still, you long for the air conditioning of civilization. Do you suppose these "natural controllers" or whatever they're called have air conditioning?

It's so dirty here! Aren't there any groundskeepers? The landscaping is so awful! There is no unity of design at all! These "naturals" certainly aren't doing a good job of controlling things! And when you reach the stream (hooray!) there not only aren't any proper stairs down to the riverbank, there's no walkway there either. What do they expect you to do, walk over those rocks???

Unbelievably, it must be the way. You begin to be very afraid of this place, and squeal and run when bugs (yuck!) fly around you. Soon you begin to figure it out that the ones you can see aren't the ones that are biting. OUCH!!!

Progress is slow, and by midday you are only a short distance from where you started. You find a place up on the bank that isn't too gross and pull a granola bar out of your pack for lunch. It was then that you saw someone in the water on the other side of the river.

Someone's head is bobbing at the surface, dog-paddling along in no particular hurry. Suddenly it dived, and you caught a flash of bare buttocks and flailing feet. Swimming naked! Can you imagine?

You wonder if this is one of the Naturals, when it surfaces and walks out on the opposite bank, a struggling fish in it's hand.

Strange, it has to be the most misshapen person you've ever seen! No hips, no smoothness, and…covered with hair! Sure, there are other effs that have hair on their legs and arms, especially their armpits, but nothing like this! Legs, thighs, arms, even the back and shoulders are covered with hair. Not as thick as a cat or a dog, but definitely hairy…except on the top of it's head…

The person turns and you get the shock of your life: it has a hose hanging out of it's crotch! And even more hair on it's face!!! All around it's mouth and chin, extending in a line up to it's ears! Hair didn't grow like that on an…eff…

It dawns on you that you're seeing an emm, ahem, Man, for the first time in your life, and a naked one at that! Your jaw drops open and stays there. Your eyes bug wide and blink. A real, live man!

You flinch as he slings the struggling fish against a rock hard enough to kill it. He doesn't seem to have any clothes about, you don't see any, and he seems totally unconcerned about it. Then you get the shock of your life when he lifts it with his fingers and shoots a stream of water out of it! He's not sitting down to do it!

You creep forward to get a better look and fall off the bank into the water below.

Before you can get up you feel arms stronger than any nurse at the clinic, or even the border guards. One arm is around your neck, the other is bending your left arm behind your back and up between your shoulders. You are jerked upright and feel it's breath hot on your ear.

"Okay, what the hell's going on here, huh?" he snarls into your ear and gives your wrist an extra twist for emphasis. You howl with the pain and the pressure is instantly relaxed, but not released.

"Let me GO! " you snap through clenched teeth. The hair on it's face scratches your cheek like a scouring pad. The arms are like leather-covered steel and you can't budge them from your throat. Striking back with your free hand merely bounces off like you hit a tree.

The man (?) keeps his arm around your neck and brings up your bound arm, transferring it to his other hand. He then uses his free hand to feel you all over, groping and pawing, even your privates! You're really getting mad now, as much as you are scared that this might be that…sex…thing they warned you about, how emms would always start out by beating an eff senseless first, then...

Actually, the "then" was always left unsaid, society having become much too civilized and ordered to actually go into the sordid details. You did your best to hide your fear behind a mask of anger.

It relaxed it's arm around your neck, but didn't release your wrist. You turn and take a swing with your left, but it merely deflects it with it's other arm and it bounces off harmlessly, which only makes you angrier. You stand, dripping wet, your hair hanging down into your face like someone poured paint all over you and it had hardened in place, breathing hard. It looks you over and slowly breaks into a crooked smile and laughs at your predicament. You go cold with fury, but something tells you not to do anything stupid.

"Who the hell are you?" it asks, still gleeful.

"I'M EFF-SEE-THREE…" you begin, then: "My name…is Victoria!"

"Well then…Vicki…what the hell were you doing up there spying on me?"

"I was not "spying" on you. You intruded on me!"

"I beg your pardon, this is my section of the river!" it declared. "I was here first, and you're clearly an outsider. Where did you come from, and what do you want?"

"Let me go!"

It considered for a moment, then released it's grip. You're tempted to use the opportunity to lash out while it's guard is down, but then again, the look in it's eyes said you better not.

"All right, give!"

"Who are you? "

"I'm asking the questions here!"

You think a moment. This person apparently lives here, and would know it's way around. Also, that granola bar was like dropping a single pea into that empty silo of your stomach. That fish was big enough for two. You reconsider and decide to try diplomacy.

I come from far away. My people are different from you, and I was forced to leave. I was dropped here and told to find the Naturists in control. I'm lost and I'm alone…and I'm hungry."

Mentally you kick yourself. That wasn't "diplomacy," that was "abject surrender." You're toast. This person will likely kill you in self-defense, and you don't even know how to fight.

It's smile changed and became softer, but amusement still danced in it's eyes. Naturists? It turned toward the path. "Coming?" it said over it's shoulder.

"Wait, I need to get my stuff!"

The smile vanishes briefly, then almost returns.

"Where is it? I'll get it."

Grateful that you don't have to climb that slippery bank, you point. Quick as the monkeys you've seen at the zoo, it runs up the bank and comes back with your pack, which you think is very neighborly. Certainly it's something rarely seen back…

It strikes you that you can never go home again, not ever. The feeling of loss weighs upon your heart again.

The other "it" wades by and takes your arm, softly this time, and guides you across the pool. "Bring the fish!" it says, and walks off down the path, slinging your pack on it's back as it goes.

Bring the fish? EEEEEEEUUUWWW!!

You gingerly lift the fish by the tail with your thumb and forefinger, but it's far too big and slippery, and falls to the ground with a "splat!" Even though you're a city eff you know what happens when one wild animal loses it's food to another, and squat down, trying to pick the slimy…thing up without getting slimy (and now muddy, too) yourself.

Despite your desperate situation, you fear losing your life more than the feel of the slimy fish, close your eyes and grab it firmly, getting a sharp sting in your hand from its fins. OW! You have that sinking feeling that this Nature thing isn't going to be as easy as it sounds.

But now you've touched the thing, and your fear subsides a little. You grasp it firmly behind the fins, ahead of the tail, and pick it up. There! That isn't so bad after all!

You stand up and turn to see him watching you, trying hard not to laugh, and your pride takes another black eye (another of those archaic phrases that made no sense whatsoever). You sweep your wet hair out of your face and march past him with as much dignity as a beautiful woman can have, slip slide and stumble on the muddy ground, and would have fallen flat on your behind if a hand of steel hadn't caught your arms and saved you.

"Watch your feet around here..." He snickers. "…Vicki!" Your cheeks burn at the corruption of your proud name on top of the damage done to your old fashioned kind of pride, but you let him help you up. Then you get a look at it's feet! It had put on a pair of clumsy black clodhopper boots while your back was turned, it's hairy wet shins…hairy wet thighs…hairy wet…

You couldn't help yourself. You were so stunned at the sight of that…that hose thing that you completely forget that you're staring at it, and not only that, there's more things behind it! You wonder what's behind that!

"Excuuuuuse me!" it says, clearly annoyed, and your concentration broken you catch yourself staring and struggle to recover.

"Are…are you a Man?" you ask.

"No, I just wear this for very formal skinny-dips!" It said sarcastically. "Come on." It shakes it's head disgustedly, pulls you along and starts off up the path, dragging you behind. What did that mean? And what is a "skinny-dip?" Was that really something it was wearing? If so, how did it hold it up without straps and make water through it? Did it plug in?

Eventually you reach his "home," if you can call it that, it was little more than a roof on poles with screens all around to keep out the insects that seemed to be everywhere. Inside was a wood floor, several wooden tables and chairs, a fireplace with cooking pots, and a single bed. Even in this heat there was a fire burning! It was actually clean and tidy here!

You look for the refrigerator to stash the fish and wash up. You must (and do) look a sight. "Where is your bathroom?" you ask.

"You just fell in it. Hang your clothes on that rail over there and wash your hands in that pan on the barrel in the corner."

"Hang my clothes on it? You mean undress? In front of you???"

He turns and gives you a look of total incredulity, his…thing right there! He shakes his head again, this time in disbelief, takes the fish and turns back to the kitchen table, where he's slicing up an onion and some mushrooms. These renegades live by the old ways, which will seem strange to you at first, but will probably be understandable, if you give it enough time. You feel faint.

You turn your back to him, which makes it at least slightly more tolerable as you strip off your skins of civilization and are once again naked. "Here." It says, absently handing you a towel without turning around from it's chopping. You gratefully take it and dash around to the other side of the chimney to dry off out of sight.

You wrap the towel around yourself and tell yourself your arms and legs will just have to show. You see a comb in a coffee cup beside the bed and comb your hair back into some semblance of order. A bit of string holding back a curtain becomes a ribbon to tie your mane. There is no mirror, and you wonder if there's one in your pack.

Yes, there is. Right next to it, along with all the rest of your stuff, spread out on the floor as it paws to the bottom of the sack.

"Hey, what are you doing?" you exclaim.

It calmly looks up and does a double-take at the sight of you, and now it's mouth drops open in awe.

Absently it answers: "Checking for weapons. It looks like the only ones you have are of the really deadly kind. AHA!"

Now what did it mean by that? What's a "weapon," anyway?

It hefted a hammerlike tool he found in an external pocket of the bag. It gleamed silver and had a large knife edge on one side. "I'll just keep this for now, if you don't mind."

It might as well have asked if it could keep your tennis raquet. You didn't know what that thing was, and besides being your possession from the survival kit you have no sense of ownership or loss about it.

"Sure. What is it?"

It really does look at you in surprise at that. "You don't know?"

"No, I haven't read the survival book yet."

"I don't believe this! You're a couple of thousand miles up the Amazon rainforest, and you don't know what a hatchet is???"

"Nooooo…should I?"

It's cackle of mock-hysterical laughter startles you. "What did you do, just drop in here last night from Mars or something?"

"No, from Saint Louis." The National Fertility Clinic was located there.

"Un-be-FUCKING-lievable!" it exclaimed, and you're taken aback. "You're one of THOSE people, aren't you? One of those fascist Nazi fuckheads the underground dumps down here when they have to take it on the lam, RIGHT???" It's on it's feet and stalking towards you, anger in it's eyes and a hatchet in it's hand. You clutch the towel to your chest and retreat, anxiously searching for an avenue of escape, but it stops just out of arm's reach and does a slow burn instead. Suddenly it throws the hatchet past your head and you spin to see it stuck into one of the wooden posts holding up the roof. "Fix the fish!" it snaps, and stomps outside, the screen door slamming shut behind it.

You can't help what you are. You turn and face…the fish.

Every piece of fish you have ever seen came in plastic or already on a plate. You know a little high school biology, but you've never actually taken a knife to anything. You pick up a knife and poke around a bit, poke your finger and bleed like a river all over the kitchen table. Enough is enough, and it is too much. The dam bursts and you begin to cry.

It comes up behind you and tenderly turns you around, wrapping it's arms around you, cuddling you to it's shoulder. You've never been held before, not counting the fight in the river, and you're uncertain about what to do, but all you can do is sag against this person and let it mutter quietly how things will be all right, that you're safe, and not to worry.

Not to worry…poor thing, you never had anyone in your life to tell you not to take up with the first man you meet, much less the first man you saw, but in your case luck was with you, and it didn't try to take advantage of you. It fixed your cut finger, and touched it to it's lips when it was finished.

"What was that?" you ask.

"What, this?" it does it again.

"Yes." You say, in a little voice. For some reason you want to act like you're a child again.

"It's called a `kiss.' People do it to each other when they want to make the thing they've kissed, feel better. Does it?"

It didn't, but you could tell from it's demeanor that it was trying to be nice to you. Why it should be nice to you you couldn't say, but it was nice.

"Yes." And then: "Thank you."

It smiles, and you like the way it's eyes crinkle at the edges when it does. Why is it this person's eyes are different that way than all the effs you've ever seen? Their eyes crinkle too…

The days pass, and you see that your man, for he really is a Man, is part of a larger community, although he lives quite a distance from the cluster of houses where most of the others live. They wear clothes, but don't wear many when it's hot, especially children, of which there are many, and nobody covers up head to toe. You learn how to cook and sew, and watch the mothers (and fathers!) tend to their children.

You see a woman one day with her belly swollen out so far she has to walk with her hands on her hips to lean back far enough to balance the load. One of the other women sees you staring and asks what's wrong.

"Is she sick? She doesn't seem to be depressed as if she's sick. Everyone around her seems happy and keeps touching her stomach."