One in Ten Ch. 07

The cops came a few minutes later.

"What do we have here?" the first patrolwoman mocked us.

"A perfectly legal gathering," Capri stepped forward. The woman shot Capri a dirty look.

"Hand over the batons, boys," the second patrolwoman extended her hand. It occurred to me that my two sudden allies had never openly confronted the police before. Like all men, you knuckled under and took what they were dishing out.

"Why?" I asked.

"Yeah, why?" Kenny joined in.

"They are perfectly legal," Luanga pointed out.

"Menacing and Public Disturbance," she smiled.

"What a load of crap," Capri hissed under her breath.

"Hand them over," I advised my comrades as I gave my stick up. They flashed me a quick, worried look before complying.

"Now hand over your bags and work box (Kenny's)," the first cop insisted.

"On what grounds?" Capri grumbled. "This is an illegal search."

"We are asking them to do it voluntarily," the first cop smiled at Capri.

"If we don't comply?" I decided to ask.

"Then we take you to the precinct until we get the District Attorney to give us a warrant, Mr. Jensen," she snorted derisively.

"Do either one of you understand that when law fails, anarchy reigns?" Capri said. "Translated over to your pre-school level of intelligence – if you break the law, why should anyone obey it?"

The cop got ready to tune Capri up, but I saw it coming. I yanked Capri back into me, the cop stumbled forward. The cop turned on me, punched me right beneath the ribcage and then...the world cracked a little bit more.

Kenny shoved the first cop away from me. I doubt he thought that action through. They were about the same height, he had maybe fifty pounds on her, but she was a cop. She grabbed his arm, twisted it then bore him to the ground.

"Back!" the second patrolwoman yelled at us.

Luanga hesitated, so I put a palm to his chest.

"Step back, otherwise they win," I cautioned him. "Kenny, don't resist." Kenny wasn't resisting, but got a knee to the kidney anyway. That's when the second cop noticed Capri's phone in her hand.

"Give me that," the second officer demanded. Capri's fingers flew over the buttons.

"Here you go," Capri smiled. "Uploaded and everything. Don't worry, I got a good shot of your face and badge number."

"Bitch," the cop threw Capri's phone on the ground but it bounced instead of breaking.

We had a break in the intimidation as the two police officers had to pick Kenny up. The second officer propelled Kenny away, Capri scooped up her phone and ran after them, leaving the first officer to deal with us.

"You, I know," Cop one indicated me. "You – ID and Metro Pass," she indicated Luanga.

He handed them over reluctantly.

"Northwest Metro," she commented. "This is not your scheduled line. I suggest you get to it."

"This pass if good for the whole city," Luanga protested. She laughed at him.

"Do you want me run you in for Metro Pass fraud?" she taunted him.

"But, you know that's genuine," Luanga blurted.

"Go," I tapped his arm. "We will do this again tomorrow."

"Do it and I'll run you in for conspiracy to create a public disturbance," the cop turned her smile on me. I shrugged and took a step back. Luanga walked away.

When he looked forlornly over his shoulder, I grinned and winked. He looked momentarily surprised then winked and left.

"You think I didn't catch that little exchange?" the cop smirked.

"I don't think it matters," I sighed. "You didn't listen to my lawyer and there is going to be a price for that."

"Are you threatening me?" the cop couldn't believe her good fortune.

"Oh, no," I put my hands behind my back to be as non-threatening as possible. "The number of assaults on males and male rapes is going to skyrocket because of your little display and the actions of other patrolwomen all across the city like you."

"How do you figure that?" she laughed.

"The police are no longer 'not protecting men', you are now actively attacking us," I grinned," in gross violation of the law. What's to stop those eighty-some women behind me from doing whatever they want to me now that the law clearly no longer applies to men?"

She stopped laughing, but she didn't seem overly upset.

"Good luck ladies," she shouted over her shoulder. "You are getting what you deserve," she sneered at me. It was her turn to exit the stage. For me, I had to face the next hurdle. At least the world did not revolve around me and my struggle.

Many of the commuters were reading their tablets, on the phone, or chatting with acquaintances. A sizable minority was looking my way despite the domestic distractions and as the cop receded back to the surface, they started closing in. I almost missed a panting Capri returning to my side.

"Sorry about that; had to..." Capri noted her changing surroundings. "What's all this?"

"The price of freedom," I whispered in return. If law enforcement ran a tight ship, I couldn't get away. Men had next to nothing to fight with. Our sexuality and our ability to exploit that en masse for profit had been removed long ago. Many young men thought a cock was the quick road to power, except women didn't share. No matter how good you were in the sack, it didn't translate over to real power.

Powerful husbands 'advised' their spouses, but without the wife, the women could afford to exclude him from decision making bodies. See, you had to perform eventually. Did men want to organize some sort of Male Sex Union? Sure they did: refer to the proto-MRA. Women weren't stupid. When men threatened a basic necessity, women put a stop to it.

I caught Capri reaching into her purse/uber-bag.

"What are you getting?" I hissed.

"My stun gun," she hissed back.

"Put it away. It won't do any good," I sighed softly. If Capri had one, half the crowd coming my way had one too.

"They are going to kick the crap out of you – and me," Capri muttered. She was thinking about the subway ride home yesterday. This was a totally different situation.

"No, they are not. They want something totally different," I tried to explain as we were 'absorbed' into their group.

It was completely obvious. One of my old tormentors (as in a week old) came up and put her hand on my crotch and kept it there. I lashed out – at Capri to keep her from attacking the woman.

"You really curled that Kuiko-girl's toes last night," she purred.

"Ambrosia (in a crisis situation, it paid to know your aggressor's name – most of the time), Kuiko made me feel really great last night. I'm glad she had a good time as well."

"Are you ever going to see her again?" this was Fatima.

"Absolutely. I'm in her coterie now," I smiled cautiously. It was Kuiko's coterie because there was no way they would believe it was mine.

"How did that happen?" a girl whose name I think was Amelia said with some despair.

Ambrosia scanned my bracelet.

"You don't read as attached," she announced.

"Vanishers don't take men who are attached," I informed them.

"You really do WANT to be vanished?" Fatima gasped. Here was why I wasn't going to be dragged off and raped: blame someone else for your aggressors' misfortunes; preferably people you hate.

"When the alternative is to be dragged off by some patrolwoman with a false warrant, put in a dark room and then murdered with a few other guys – yeah, I want to live, so I need to escape. You just saw how the cops aren't going to protect me," I explained. That's right ladies, you aren't getting dick because the cops are assholes. That's what public relations are all about.

We flowed into the metro-train when it arrived. I was vigorously felt up the entire time – we were past groping. I was afraid Capri was going to lose it, but she kept it together despite the dry-humping going on. We exited at our stop. I was tucking my shirt back into my pants when Capri tapped my elbow.

"I've changed my mind," she announced.

"About what?" I said rather absently.

"I want to have children with you," she mused as if it was nothing big. I coughed.

"Ugh - why?" I sighed.

"Our kids will be fucking brilliant. Mostly because of me, of course, but you are no shirker in the brain's department either," she enlightened me.

"How did you come by this prognostication?" I queried.

"Dowels," she began. "Dowels lead to police crackdown which leads to police beating the crap out of some poor soul which makes the internet which creates a female versus cop crisis."

"Congratulations, you have given me a front seat to a civil war," she muttered ruefully. "The whole China thing was a Gift from Goddess – not demeaning their loss, Israel, but it was."

"Capri, what are you going to do if things do get really bad? I mean, with your mother and your sisters? They are your family. I don't have one anymore...except my children," I glanced her way.

"You knew about most of your children before you started down this path. What do you plan to do?" Capri reposed.

"I'd like to tell you that once I am free I'd figure a way to get them too, but I think I've pretty much written them off," I confessed.

"Ah..." Capri murmured. "You simply aren't crazy enough yet. You'll figure a way, wait and see."

"Your faith in my disintegrating sanity is not really as comforting as it might have sounded in your head," I pointed out.

"Israel, have you really come to grips with the possibility that the children you have right now and will have over the next two decades may be the only genetic strain of humans left on Earth in two centuries?" Capri blithely bantered as we walked down the crowded sidewalk.

"Actually, I try not to," I replied. "What about your family?"

"I'll try to save them. I hate them and they've made over twenty years of my life psychologically hellish, but isn't that what family is for – to make you realize that you have it better anywhere else?" Capri answered. The offices of the Sentinel rose before us. Security consisted of an ID scanner – no personnel.

Like most news sources, the Sentinel was primarily on-line, but it still published over a 100,000 daily paper copies for dedicated readers. The presses were in the basement. The first five stories of the building were the newspaper's offices. After that, it was rented office space just like every other building in this district.

The third floor was devoted to City Affairs and that's where the directory informed us Eloise Granger had her office. I received several looks, differing in length, but uniform in their displeasure of me. Only Eloise appeared happy to see my smiling face – I was even twenty minutes early.

I spotted Eloise outside of her glass-walled office. She was hovering over five other female reporters. I did spot one other male on this floor. He looked up from his works, realized who I was then snapped his head down. My toxicity was contagious by proximity alone.

"Hello, Israel," Eloise greeted me warmly. "Ladies, you know Israel Jensen. This is his lawyer and companion, Ms. Capri O'Hara, soon to be a former member of the Public Defender's Office."

The five mumbled some kind of greeting, but clearly didn't like me. It took a second for that attitude to be clarified.

"Eloise, we are up to 290 detentions in the greater metro area," one of the five sitting women announced. She was speaking to her boss, but looking at me.

"Any hospitalizations?" I inquired. That's when they jumped me.

"A man was tased to death in New York," one glared at me.

"Two men on a subway in Montreal bludgeoned eighteen women so badly they had to go to the hospital," a third added her distaste of my presence.

"Fourteen men stormed a metro in Mexico City and drove the women from the car. The police had to use tasers and stun batons to get them out," the fourth added.

"A man in Salt Lake City was taken down for using a fire extinguisher on a public bus," the last completed the misery. "The West Coast incidents are still coming in."

"Why are you all looking at me?" I asked. I pretty much knew the answer but I was feeling pugnacious – real feisty.

"After that little 'Call to Arms' you made yesterday, every death, broken bone, and criminal proceeding in this mess is your fault."

I was glad she had volunteered. I would have hated this to appear random. I snatched her tablet off her desk, half-turned and hurled it like a discus across the entire office space – maybe 20 meters – and watched it shatter against the wall. I faced forward right on time to see her hand coming for my face. My left arm lashed out and grabbed her wrist...huh?

There was a hush, and not just in Eloise's little group. I felt it – the guilt, the shame, the hopeless rage – the levee was spilling over, the sand was turning to mush and I was fresh out of fingers to plug the holes. Help – the final word. I blinked and realized I had cocked my fist back and was about to pound the face of the woman who had tried to slap me.

She looked terrified. I had nearly a foot and eighty pounds on her. Whatever light aerobics she begged off from half the time was nothing compared to the weight lifting and 5 kilometer run I had to do five days a week. I was clearly the youngest person present. The closest a taser or pepper spray could be brought to bear was fifteen seconds.

She was about to receive five years of pent up fury directly to the face and she knew it. I couldn't let them win with hope finally rekindled.

"What makes you think you can slap me?" I asked quietly as I lowered my fist.

"You...you threw my tablet. You broke it," she struggled to resume he poise.

"Do you blame me for breaking your tablet?" I let her arm go.

"Yes, you threw it, damn you," she grumbled.

"Do you blame me for the incidents this morning?" I persisted.

"Yes, your speech," she was starting to get suspicious.

"Why didn't I punch you a few seconds ago, when you so richly deserved it?" I stared intently.

"Ah – I – you would have gone to jail – which you also so richly deserve," she countered.

"Got it in one!" I shouted. "Now, if I'm smart enough to know that if I hit you, I go to jail, why do you think thousands of men across the country have magically become criminals?"

I noticed both Eloise and Capri sitting back, both slightly smug, watching this play out.

"Your opinion seems to be that I opened my mouth and nation-wide, men's IQ's dropped thirty points. Trust me, that didn't happen. Let me give you an example to help prove my point. You see me throwing the tablet, men being the tablet and the wall being the police. You are wrong."

"You – female society – threw the tablet forty years ago. Men are, in fact, the tablet. I'm the wall. Had the tablet missed me, it would have hit someone else along the flight path, but it would have hit something and it would have shattered. That was decided forty years ago. Somewhere around the Fashion desk was your last chance to stop it – they missed."

"I'm a freaking twenty-one year old Bowden graduate with a bachelor's degree in Public Relations," I explained.

"You were top of your class," another woman interrupted. I turned on her, eyes wide.

"You are the first women, not in the Bowden faculty, that has acknowledged that," I gasped.

"It is something I am inordinately proud of and no women has given a fuck about it," I blathered. "I was the first male valedictorian since before the Plague – sixty years. Thank you. Now anyway, you can decide, despite all reason, that I'm a magician and caused all of this to happen – to make people I don't know, didn't know existed, and who I've never seen go collectively nuts..."

"Or you can wonder what was so wrong with this machine of yours – this society – that they got off work yesterday and decided to stand up for themselves for the first time in their lives. I doubt those guys in Mexico City were trying to hurt women. Trust me, if they had been in a solid group as they appear to have been in, throwing women in front of the metro would have been a much more affective statement."

"That would have been murder," the girl covering the city's crime statistics pointed out.

"Exactly! They didn't want to murder anyone. They had this massive weapon to use, but what did they do? They crowded into one section of one car on the metro and they waited patiently for the cops to come and blast them out. Why the fuck would they do that?"

There was silence. There were a dozen answers they could use but those were starting to ring hollow in their hearts.

"Women, the final word wasn't 'death', it was 'help'," I looked them over. "Men cannot win this struggle for dignity without you. There is no other victory to be had. The Human Race is gone."

"All you can do is make the final word something like 'love' instead," I tried to get my point across.

"Yesterday you said there was a cure – this Carabolix 37," the one without a tablet said, "or was that a lie?"

"There is a cure, but it won't help you or your friends. It won't save most of mankind. It is a cure for only a few and that is all I will say at this time," I reiterated sadly.

"Enough," Eloise separated us. "Carabolix is owned by Augsburg Pharmaceuticals yet they aren't returning our calls. Same for the Food and Drug Administration."

"Israel, Ms. O'Hara – this way," Eloise led us into her office and shut the door. "Mirabel Cartwright would like you to be on a GNN talk show this morning at ten."

"Why didn't she call Israel, if that was the case?" Capri intervened.

"I think we can assume that Mr. Jensen isn't the most popular man at GNN corporate headquarters," Eloise winked.

"If I happen to bring Israel over to chat with Maribel right before the show and she has this 'brainstorm' to include him – then they can't stop her," Eloise explained.

"Oh," Capri grimaced. "Newscast by ambush and here I thought Israel would get paid – or something silly like that."

"Guest commentators are paid $7800," Eloise smirked.

"We are in," Capri extended her hand to Eloise.

"Whoa, now," I waved off. "What am I expected to do? I had a woman reach into my pants and stroke my dick. Not my hard-on, my cock – under my underwear. It has not been a good morning and I nearly clocked a reporter less than a minute ago."

Oh yeah, it had just occurred to Eloise that I might turn into a blithering idiot, or a zombie. Capri had a different approach.

"If you sit still, the Beast eats you. If you run, it still eats you, but you live longer," Capri teased me. "Let's go create some consequences we can live with."

"Israel, I've seen you space out, collapse, babble incoherently and laugh uncontrollably," she propped me up, "but you always rebound. Stay on target. It is not like you have a plethora of options anyway."

"Damn, Ms. O'Hara, remind me to never let you coach a sports team. That was the worst inspirational speech I've ever heard," Eloise shook her head.

"If I was sane," I shrugged, "I'd agree with you. In the end, the world will come crashing in. When, not if. I might as well keep running and make that Beast know it was in a footrace before I'm done."

"While we are still all onboard, let's get some more news updates before sneaking over to the competition," Eloise made for the door.

"Israel, Mirabel is going to be talking about the Plague and any possible cure. Do you have anything that might back up your claim from yesterday?" she asked. I had to think about that. With this level of indignation from women over the audacity of menfolk, I had to push back.

"Sure, get your best virologist in the city," I gritted my teeth.

"Get a blood sample from me and from Kuiko Sano – I'll call her – and get the quickest results possible," I gathered my psychic battle armor around me. "That should give you the secret of Carabolix-37."

"What are they going to find out?" Eloise whispered.

"Carabolix-37 is a genetically modified version of the Gender Plague that destroys the rival virus," Capri said. "Unfortunately, it killed ten test subjects, eight had their nuts removed to save their lives and one survived. You are looking at the sole survivor."