She grew up in the slums of a DeRegger colony. But her family wasn't like most of those here. What little funds they got, they used for books - though carefully hidden. She was forced to dress, and act, like a boy to fool the rulers. The small family, two sons, their father, and her, were all very well educated and well-read. And they believed it was time for a true change to this brutal regime. But to do that, more people needed to learn. Soon an interesting passtime began to spring up amongst the slums. Using scraps of paper, whatever they could write with and imaginations... a new game formed. Called Storytime. With it, the one thing the rulers didn't want began to happen. More people began to think. -- Anon Guest
Day knew he was strange. It wasn't hard to miss. His body was more like the wumin seen on the screen than anything else. A body he had to hide. His father and brothers had taught him how to hide. How to act. How to not be a girl. It hurt him and they all knew it, but it was be a boy or die. They had all witnessed what happened to wumin in everyday life.
He could not even call himself 'she'. Not even in the privacy of his own head. It was safer that way. He and his family had been working for generations on creating ways to keep their planetary colony from becoming completely toxic. Their ancestors had seen it coming, and worked on ways to use their own cultural identity to sabotage the creeping agenda of hate.
They had been working for generations to be sure that every man had the right to one wumin, but those peculiar creatures still had nothing resembling rights of their own. Which was, according to grandfather, a monumental shame. It was a saying that the family, and the discrete club they were members of, had in common. You need both hands to create good things.
It was a saying that was starting to spread, though only those true to the cause knew its true meaning. What they rarely said to anyone outside their club was, Man is the right hand, and, Wumin is the left. There was a lot to work on, there, they knew it. One hurdle at a time.
This hurdle was getting people to think. Something harmless. Something that could pass under the radar of the oligarchs and demagogues until it was far, far too late to stop it. It required patience to introduce, since the outsiders had to be bored enough to try it.
"Oh, so you think you're smart," challenged Day, one afternoon when the beers were tepid and the excitement had drained out of the sportsball game and the presenters had little to do but talk about the politics between teams and managers. "You man enough to do a storytime duel?"
"A what?"
Day explained the rules. Pick a random quote, or a location, a person and an event or happening, and make a story. The latter was called in a, with a, while a, where the story occurred in a place, with a person, while some event took place. Since his potential combattants were at "the baby level", he would let them work on just the quotes.
It was just enough goading to get them going. Day didn't expect anything convoluted out of them. Of course they challenged him with an in a, with a, while a scenario, with the silliest things they could come up with.
Day had been doing these since he was ten. He had them hooting and hollering at the results. They loved it. Small shock that they were looking for excuses to storytime duel at future gatherings. It didn't take long for Storytime to be a game.
They were being creative without using either of their hands - except to gesture. Though the stories were not exactly the best, the point was in the fun of it. In being put on the spot and making fun of the dude in the spotlight.
What they didn't know was that they were using their imaginations and thinking on the spot.
Once people got into the habit of thinking... they found it hard to stop. Of course, it gave rise to conspiracy theories. Imagination always lead people down interesting rabbit-holes. Sooner or later, the conspiracists would start employing the scientific method.
Which might be interesting to watch from a distance.
Imagination lead to curiosity. Curiosity lead to questions. Questions lead to wanting to get real answers. Real answers, in direct contradiction to the lies from on high, would cause outrage and therefore rebellion.
Maybe someone somewhere would ask, Hey why do we do those things to wumin anyway?
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / jstan]
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