WWII arrived and the British Women's Institute did the usual jam and knitted sock, but guest Speakers came in and they saw a different path to take . Many Women who went on to careers in Degrees said. "I heard about it at the women's Institute. Jerusalem was there theme hym "And did those feet..." -- Nonny Mouse
[AN: I went through this site trying to find what the heck you were talking about and found no such references. I can't spend all day down the rabbit hole so...]
You can't complain, we're at war! That was what they always said, but there was always a war. There were often times when it was unclear who they were at war with and, in Alis' less patriotic moments, she sometimes thought that their mighty nation might even be at war with itself.
It never did to say anything of the sort. That was treason. You couldn't say things like that out loud. Their mighty leader was a genius at strategy, the news always said so. So Alis said things like "mustn't grumble," or, "so many others have it so much worse." When it came to supporting the troops, Alis and so many like her were expected to do everything they could.
Their allotted land was for food that never ended its existence on Alis' table, nor anyone else's she'd heard of. It was all for the troops. The men who went away strong and fit and came back - if they came back - for conjugal visits during Ceasefire Month, or came back broken and barely useful for The Effort at all.
There was never time to mourn. The Effort needed men, so Alis and her fellow wives made as many babies as they could. If a husband died, the wife got a Widow's Medal and a small stipend and then got assigned another husband. If a son fell, she got a Mother's Medal and an even smaller stipend to pay for the funeral.
When men turned sixteen, they got a wife of the same age, a conjugal month in their assigned residence, and were then sent off to War until the next Ceasefire Month.
Alis had three Widow's Medals, and the shame of producing daughters practically non-stop. Every man needed a wife, to make more men for The Effort. Everything was about The Effort. Women and girls worked in factories to make the weapons or the devices or the ration packs. Day and night in shifts. Some shore their hair off for The Effort, because human hair could be used for springs.
Everything was about the war. Tend the land to grow the food for the war. Work in the factory for the war. Get pregnant for the war and deliver babies who would be useful for the war, one way or another.
She, like so many others, had been pressed to work the instant she could reliably wield a hammer or turn a screwdriver, or put a pin in a hole. She learned to read from putting labels on ration packs. She learned so many of her skills from having to sit because her almost-due baby was weighing her down and more strenuous activities were no longer permitted.
She honestly didn't mind it. It was a chance to put her feet up and stretch her back, even if her hands were full of sewing or knitting or stirring or envelopes to fold and glue.
After birthing her baby -another girl- she could lie in for an entire week, with nurses bringing her everything including the baby. It was there that Alis got to chat with other mothers and swap ideas for how to help The Effort.
"Can't be helped," said one mother with two Widow's Medals and four Mother's Medals. "Every man needs a wife and the factories need workers. Every pair of hands is a pair of hands."
"What if it could be helped?" said the Foreigner. It was the latest initiative from their leader. Speakers from beyond the land - all allies of course. They came and talked about wonderous things that Alis was sure weren't possible. "What if you could choose?"
Sons was the unanimous agreement, they all cheerfully announced they would have sons. As many as they could! Triplets, if possible, please. You got a bonus if you had twins or more. There was much laughter in the group. Boys to turn to men to turn to soldiers to finally win the war!
Then the Foreigner gave them all a funny little bracelet and showed them how it worked. A choice was possible. The bracelet would subtly inject Alis' body with chemicals and other things - little tiny robots, the Foreigner said - and things would be a matter of choice.
Alis asked if she could have one for her oldest daughter, who was due to turn sixteen in just a few months, and she got one. They all. got extra ones for family or friends who would find it so useful for The Effort.
Set it to 'male child', they whispered, handing across the technology. Set it to 'random number' with the minimum at 'two'. It will happen.
It did happen. Alis was pleasantly surprised to finally have twin sons, an event that put her stipend to a position where she could afford little extras like the scented soap. Or, perhaps, to save up and get her family home insulated and therefore save the heating fuel for The Effort. She chose the latter, asking the Army Bank to help her with her plan.
There were many like her. Her first daughter married as was expected and, thanks to the little bracelet, had triplet boys. Twins, triplets, and even quadruplets abounded and the recruitment boards could not be happier about their future soldiers. One of the news articles said that more money was going to homekeepers than the war!
The insulation plan went ahead when her first pair of sons turned six. She and her entire horde were moved into an insulated home whilst Army Technicians tore up her old walls and installed insulation for other wives like herself to move in. If her husband noticed, he never said, he was just happy to be home for Ceasefire.
The War would have so many sons to fight for the Cause.
When her twins were ten, the news started to panic. Their great nation was full of sons, and no daughters for them to marry. Meanwhile, the Enemy, somewhere, was hoarding girls! They were trying to create a technology gap because their factories were overflowing with women. Their great nation might yet overwhelm them with numbers, but they needed more!
Every scrap of metal went to The Effort, and Alis was grateful for the insulation now that she was cooking on a fire with crockery instead of in or on a stove with pots and pans.
Her first sons went to war married to older widows. Her second set of sons went to war lucky to be assigned widows. The third set went without a conjugal month at all. They left a sample at the offices just in case Foreign science could do something with it. By then it was too late for Alis to wonder if she should have had a few more daughters for The Effort.
Retired from birthing, she worked in the factories or on the lands as always, but now her duties included nursing the returned and mangled soldiers. There were hardly any babies any more. Not now that the last of the wives were widows at least three times over.
Their great leader came up with the idea of raiding the abundance of women from the Enemy. Forcing them to be mothers for the Effort. It was a brilliant plan, everyone said so. There was only one flaw.
The Enemy had also unanimously decided to have sons. With the help of the same set of Foreigners.
The same set of Foreigners who had been watching and waiting for this moment to happen.
They said, "You have to choose. Which is more important - your people or your war?"
Well, they simply had to win the war. Didn't they? After all, that was what their great leader decided. That was what they all decided. Their great nation and The Enemy alike. Otherwise, what was the point of it all?
Men of science came to collect her blood and some of her flesh for The Effort. A new project of science that the Foreigners said they had but had kept for themselves. Since it existed, they reasoned, it could be invented anew.
A race, they said, against the Enemy, to create the Cloning Gap and re-invigorate the population with an even set of women and men for The Effort. For The Cause. For The War.
Alis paused, tending to the same lot of vegetables she had been tending for decades. It wasn't going to soldiers, any more. There were no soldiers. The greatest minds of science were dying off, one by one. It certainly wasn't going to the young and the strong. Everyone was eating the same rations Alis had been eating fifty years ago.
Everyone said their great leaders ate the same as the common folk. For the good of The Cause.
So one day, when she hitched a lift on the harvest cart like so many others did, she also hitched a lift on the shipping barge that went out to some factory to process the food. Just to see what was happening to the abundance of crops for The Effort.
A third of it went to the factories to make the rations that Alis knew only too well about. She'd worked in some of them. The other two thirds... went to the spaceport.
The spaceport that should have been closed! The spaceport that was off limits, had been bombed, and was supposedly too dangerous for intelligent life to be there any more.
The spaceport where, according to her Night Watch Binoculars, their great leader was attempting to trade with one of the Foreigners for something... Drugs. Something called... Temporetain. Enough, not for an army, but for a family.
A very specific family of leaders and their ageing sons. Each son was taking a crate to their personal and official vehicle.
Alis had always wondered how their great leader had remained so vigorous for so long.
"Now you know," said a Foreigner. They had crept up on Alis while she'd been observing her leader. "The war cannot be stopped because it does not exist. You and your people have been betrayed to death."
Alis didn't bother fighting. If the Foreigner had wanted to kill her, they would have done so. "I can't talk about it," she said. "That's treason. They'd execute me."
"I know," said the Foreigner. "But there is something else we can give you. Not Temporetain like your leaders have, but something... else."
It was unobtrusive, just like her little bracelet was unobtrusive. It wasn't a fountain of youth per se, but it would revitalise any body that wore it. Help it be healthier for longer.
Long enough to save up all their little bonuses in a not-so-legal savings account run by the Foreigners, who would then help her and her remaining family ship out to better pastures.
To a peaceful life.
"What about the leaders?" she asked. "Who's going to look out for them?"
"They chose their war over their people years ago," said the Foreigner. "They get to live with their decisions. So do you."
Alis chose peace, and a better life. So did her daughters. So did her very few surviving sons.
Once they were free, they had the chance to choose again. There was no motivation to have endless sons. They left their bracelets off and chose to let nature do the choosing.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / palinchak]
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