Friday, April 27, 2007
So what happens when your parents die in a major drug scandal, leaving you growing up with Grandma? Stay tuned, under construction.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Table of Contents
1. Sylvia - short story of an Alien - entered April 12 and 13, 2007
2. Anita - novella of two schoolfriends - April 4 to 11, 2007
3. Nava - novella of two schoolfriends - March 19 to 22, 2007
4. Malka - short story of an unequal friendship - March 12 and 13, 2007
5. Rachel - novella - February 27 to March 6, 2007 - coming of age
6. Evelyn - novella - January 16 to February 20, 2007 - growing up in Victoria of the future
7. Susan - novella - December 31, 2006 to January 11, 2007 - narrator is dragged out of her peaceful life into a conspiracy
8. Deborah - novella - September 25 to October 31, 2006 - hubby is abducted by space Aliens
9. Judith - short story of scandal - September 15 to 18, 2006
10. Karen - novella - September 5 to 11, 2006 - shipwreck of the sailor
11. Naomi - novella - August 13 to 22, 2006 - join an Israeli Reservist on two star crossed tours of duty
12. Lily - book - July 4 to August 12, 2006 - after the scandal, then the physical handicap
13. Sarah - novella - June 2 to 27, 2006 - among the Haredi (ultraOrthodox), few are the women who end up in the Israeli Defence Force. Join one of them on adventures in an elite unit
14. Nuremberg Tour - book - March 6 to May 13, 2006 - first the mega scandal, then the lottery style army draft
15. Seema - short story - February 6 to 8, 2006 - living in the shadows of others
16. Vydia - short story - January 23 to 25, 2006 - arrival of an Afghan refugee family throws the life of a schoolgirl into chaos
17. Baseball - novella - January 3 to 11, 2006 - life of a baseball player hangs in the balance, is then saved by the intervention of Aliens
18. Romance novella - December 12 to 16, 2005 - just imagine the two individuals least likely to ever grace the pages of a Harlequin
19. Field Commission - book - October 11 to November 15, 2005 - a poor white and her Afghan friend experience misadventures during a tour of duty in Germany; then a week of total war
20. Lucky - novella - July 2 to 7, 2005 - Time Corps adventures of a Guyanese and her Afghan friend
21. First Mission - short story - June 20 to 23, 2005 a navigation error leads to being stranded in time
22. Futuristic Infantry - book - May 26 to June 18, 2005 - Major Zohra Zamani is an infantry battalion commander 500 years in the future. Join her for three Ulster tours. Between tours, experience the dysfunctionality
23. Alien - book - January 8 to 24, 2005 - a space Alien is exiled to Earth, taking over the body of an Afghan-Canadian woman in a state of clinically dead. The two sided of the personality duke it out for dominance
24. Green Lake - novella - December 2 to 11, 2004 - an Afghan-American US Air Force officer 1,000 years in the future leads a derring do mission
25. Time Corps - book - October 27 to November 22, 2004 - a woman of today is thrust 10,000 years into the future, joins a shadowy organization
26. Romance - short story - October 13 to 16, 2004 - double romance, set aboard a space ship
27. Jamila - novella - October 1 to 9, 2004 - a total outcast decides to end it all, but two surprise visitors change that
28. Dark Chronicles of Nooria - book - August 30 to September 29, 2004 - a ten year old girl is plunged into a chilling nightmare, a surreal Dantesque horror
29. Iris - short story - August 26 to 28, 2004 - Irishwoman joins Afghan contingent
30. Farzana - novella - August 11 to 25, 2004 - a ten year old white Canadian girl freezes to death in a savage blizzard, gets a second chance at life as an Afghan
31. Soap (Opera) - book - July 26 to August 10, 2004 - assortment of eccentric foreigners joins an Afghan contingent
32. Vignettes - short short stories - mostly under 1,500 words - mostly published July 25, 2004 and prior
Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Certain historical events did occur, similar to descriptions here, but not with the characters named herein.
Profanity - stars **** used
Violence - the minimal amount which is needed to support the story line
Sex - adult relationships alluded to, some pick up activity, no scenes of direct sex
This blog is neither for nor against any political organization, religion or ethnic group. The goal is entertainment, while keeping all stories suitable for children.
Any feedback, mccoyxyz@yahoo.ca Please do not expect rapid replies as the address often goes a week or more unchecked. However, anyone requesting reply will get.
2. Anita - novella of two schoolfriends - April 4 to 11, 2007
3. Nava - novella of two schoolfriends - March 19 to 22, 2007
4. Malka - short story of an unequal friendship - March 12 and 13, 2007
5. Rachel - novella - February 27 to March 6, 2007 - coming of age
6. Evelyn - novella - January 16 to February 20, 2007 - growing up in Victoria of the future
7. Susan - novella - December 31, 2006 to January 11, 2007 - narrator is dragged out of her peaceful life into a conspiracy
8. Deborah - novella - September 25 to October 31, 2006 - hubby is abducted by space Aliens
9. Judith - short story of scandal - September 15 to 18, 2006
10. Karen - novella - September 5 to 11, 2006 - shipwreck of the sailor
11. Naomi - novella - August 13 to 22, 2006 - join an Israeli Reservist on two star crossed tours of duty
12. Lily - book - July 4 to August 12, 2006 - after the scandal, then the physical handicap
13. Sarah - novella - June 2 to 27, 2006 - among the Haredi (ultraOrthodox), few are the women who end up in the Israeli Defence Force. Join one of them on adventures in an elite unit
14. Nuremberg Tour - book - March 6 to May 13, 2006 - first the mega scandal, then the lottery style army draft
15. Seema - short story - February 6 to 8, 2006 - living in the shadows of others
16. Vydia - short story - January 23 to 25, 2006 - arrival of an Afghan refugee family throws the life of a schoolgirl into chaos
17. Baseball - novella - January 3 to 11, 2006 - life of a baseball player hangs in the balance, is then saved by the intervention of Aliens
18. Romance novella - December 12 to 16, 2005 - just imagine the two individuals least likely to ever grace the pages of a Harlequin
19. Field Commission - book - October 11 to November 15, 2005 - a poor white and her Afghan friend experience misadventures during a tour of duty in Germany; then a week of total war
20. Lucky - novella - July 2 to 7, 2005 - Time Corps adventures of a Guyanese and her Afghan friend
21. First Mission - short story - June 20 to 23, 2005 a navigation error leads to being stranded in time
22. Futuristic Infantry - book - May 26 to June 18, 2005 - Major Zohra Zamani is an infantry battalion commander 500 years in the future. Join her for three Ulster tours. Between tours, experience the dysfunctionality
23. Alien - book - January 8 to 24, 2005 - a space Alien is exiled to Earth, taking over the body of an Afghan-Canadian woman in a state of clinically dead. The two sided of the personality duke it out for dominance
24. Green Lake - novella - December 2 to 11, 2004 - an Afghan-American US Air Force officer 1,000 years in the future leads a derring do mission
25. Time Corps - book - October 27 to November 22, 2004 - a woman of today is thrust 10,000 years into the future, joins a shadowy organization
26. Romance - short story - October 13 to 16, 2004 - double romance, set aboard a space ship
27. Jamila - novella - October 1 to 9, 2004 - a total outcast decides to end it all, but two surprise visitors change that
28. Dark Chronicles of Nooria - book - August 30 to September 29, 2004 - a ten year old girl is plunged into a chilling nightmare, a surreal Dantesque horror
29. Iris - short story - August 26 to 28, 2004 - Irishwoman joins Afghan contingent
30. Farzana - novella - August 11 to 25, 2004 - a ten year old white Canadian girl freezes to death in a savage blizzard, gets a second chance at life as an Afghan
31. Soap (Opera) - book - July 26 to August 10, 2004 - assortment of eccentric foreigners joins an Afghan contingent
32. Vignettes - short short stories - mostly under 1,500 words - mostly published July 25, 2004 and prior
Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Certain historical events did occur, similar to descriptions here, but not with the characters named herein.
Profanity - stars **** used
Violence - the minimal amount which is needed to support the story line
Sex - adult relationships alluded to, some pick up activity, no scenes of direct sex
This blog is neither for nor against any political organization, religion or ethnic group. The goal is entertainment, while keeping all stories suitable for children.
Any feedback, mccoyxyz@yahoo.ca Please do not expect rapid replies as the address often goes a week or more unchecked. However, anyone requesting reply will get.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Sylvia 2
The Lieutenant in charge, a young guy, smiles affably, "now you see we choose the exact moment of optimal release. That is, timed to hit the target exactly, taking the Earth's rotation into account. Even if we are a bit out, it's no big deal. Earth turns at about 1,000 miles per hour. So being a whole minute out is some 16 miles. The tracking device is rigged to hit your target human as long as you are within a 100 mile radius.
"Ok, maybe things go sour, your target human dies too quickly or is away on a trip. No big deal, the tracker switches to target of opportunity, analyzes everything within a 100 mile radius and lands you in the best choice. Questions?"
"So what do I do if I end up in a target of opportunity?"
Goofy grin, "my friend, then that four days of briefing is a dead loss. Have to improv. And it really doesn't matter anyhow, Earth being such a complete and utter clown show. They won't notice one more."
I groan aloud.
Easy smile, "oh come on, don't get uptight. In 300 transmissions, it's gone target of opportunity only twice. Odds are good."
Famous last words I think.
As they buckle me into the harness, I start laughing.
Lt grins uneasily, "never heard that before. Usually they cry or scream. So what's funny?"
"We-ell I jsut realized all that student loan to do the year in tech. What with the minimum wage photo processing job, the deductions and rent, I have yet to meet even one payment."
Giggles among the launch crew.
I continue, "so you tell that Ivan Petrov (Minister in charge of the Student Loan Program) to paint my file purple and shove it where the sun don't shine."
Loud roars of laughter, to the point some get hiccups.
"Action stations," Lt says cheerfully, "we reach optimal in 12 minutes."
To be fair, they launch at exact second of optimal, at which point I black out.
Still, something went wrong. Given that our year is equal to 1.01 Earthling years, it should be easy to guess ages accurately.
So why does the figure staring back from the bedroom mirror look 30? Even if I'm out by 5, it still ain't the ten year old.
I lie back down, to sleep off the headache, which techies affirm lasts two hours after transmission.
The bedroom door opens, it's a man, probably same age. Grim look, "time we talked."
"Go away, can't you see I have a headache?"
"No, if I do, you'll just lie there all weekend. We hafta talk, and now."
"Ok then, but at least have the decency to bring aspirin first."
He brings two aspirin and water, then, "enough is enough. I have had it to here (runs his finger along his throat) with all these wild mood swings. I'm going out that door, and now."
"Don't slam it, I have a headache."
"Smart ass, always the smart ass. Well look at the bright side, arrangements are easy. Apartment rent comes outa your account monthly, can continue to do so. Car payment and insurance, outa mine, can continue to do so, as I'll be taking the car."
"You like the car more than me."
Frustrated groan, "you are sick, need counselling."
"Go on, probably just found someone with bigger tits."
His blush says I hit the target. He throws clothes into a suitcase, vanishes.
I lie back down to quell the headache.
Just as the headache fades, as I'm pondering exploring the apartment the phone rings.
It being similar to ours, I pick it up, "hello?"
"Sylvia, Naomi here. Voice sounds different a bit, got a cold?"
"Bit of one."
"So, is it true? Did he leave you for the b**** goddess?"
"What do you think?"
Uneasy laugh, "I don't like that chippy attitude."
"Why not?"
Much louder, "listen up, just because he happens to be my brother, no reason to get snooty on me. I didn't ask to have him as a brother, you know."
Soothing tone, "look Naomi, forgive me if I sounded a bit abrupt. I happen to have a bad headache. And yes, he left, complete with clothes and car. Didn't mention the b**** goddess though."
"Men never do. Look Sylvia, it's no big deal. Even though he is my bro, I know he's a bum. And it's not like you're legally married or anything. Someone else will come along. We'll talk later."
Well now, there are compensations to being an Earthling. No cops banging on my door if I fail to find a replacement for him in a year.
A search reveals an ID card proclaiming I work for XYZ, as a photo processor. Stroke of good fortune, I understand Earthling gear is similar to ours. Seeing a monthly transit pass makes me uneasy, how do I find the place?
This sorts itself. Naomi calls, to find out if I'll be ok for work Monday.
Gleaning info, she's in the same building, stops by my door and we go together.
Another stroke of good fortune, until she discovers I'm a phony.
But then again, maybe not. If I really do experience the mood swings, chances are she's used to it.
An hour after starting work Monday, I realize it's doable. Earthling lab gear is maybe ten years behind ours.
As for the rest of it, it'll come. Or not.
Naomi passes by my workstation. Blush, "look sorry I got rude with you. I's afraid you'd dump me as a friend, I mean after that idiot well ah. So, no hard feelings, still friends?"
I smile easily, "forget him. One needs all the friends one can get. I don't blame you for his behavior."
I see her look of relief.
So far, so good.
"Ok, maybe things go sour, your target human dies too quickly or is away on a trip. No big deal, the tracker switches to target of opportunity, analyzes everything within a 100 mile radius and lands you in the best choice. Questions?"
"So what do I do if I end up in a target of opportunity?"
Goofy grin, "my friend, then that four days of briefing is a dead loss. Have to improv. And it really doesn't matter anyhow, Earth being such a complete and utter clown show. They won't notice one more."
I groan aloud.
Easy smile, "oh come on, don't get uptight. In 300 transmissions, it's gone target of opportunity only twice. Odds are good."
Famous last words I think.
As they buckle me into the harness, I start laughing.
Lt grins uneasily, "never heard that before. Usually they cry or scream. So what's funny?"
"We-ell I jsut realized all that student loan to do the year in tech. What with the minimum wage photo processing job, the deductions and rent, I have yet to meet even one payment."
Giggles among the launch crew.
I continue, "so you tell that Ivan Petrov (Minister in charge of the Student Loan Program) to paint my file purple and shove it where the sun don't shine."
Loud roars of laughter, to the point some get hiccups.
"Action stations," Lt says cheerfully, "we reach optimal in 12 minutes."
To be fair, they launch at exact second of optimal, at which point I black out.
Still, something went wrong. Given that our year is equal to 1.01 Earthling years, it should be easy to guess ages accurately.
So why does the figure staring back from the bedroom mirror look 30? Even if I'm out by 5, it still ain't the ten year old.
I lie back down, to sleep off the headache, which techies affirm lasts two hours after transmission.
The bedroom door opens, it's a man, probably same age. Grim look, "time we talked."
"Go away, can't you see I have a headache?"
"No, if I do, you'll just lie there all weekend. We hafta talk, and now."
"Ok then, but at least have the decency to bring aspirin first."
He brings two aspirin and water, then, "enough is enough. I have had it to here (runs his finger along his throat) with all these wild mood swings. I'm going out that door, and now."
"Don't slam it, I have a headache."
"Smart ass, always the smart ass. Well look at the bright side, arrangements are easy. Apartment rent comes outa your account monthly, can continue to do so. Car payment and insurance, outa mine, can continue to do so, as I'll be taking the car."
"You like the car more than me."
Frustrated groan, "you are sick, need counselling."
"Go on, probably just found someone with bigger tits."
His blush says I hit the target. He throws clothes into a suitcase, vanishes.
I lie back down to quell the headache.
Just as the headache fades, as I'm pondering exploring the apartment the phone rings.
It being similar to ours, I pick it up, "hello?"
"Sylvia, Naomi here. Voice sounds different a bit, got a cold?"
"Bit of one."
"So, is it true? Did he leave you for the b**** goddess?"
"What do you think?"
Uneasy laugh, "I don't like that chippy attitude."
"Why not?"
Much louder, "listen up, just because he happens to be my brother, no reason to get snooty on me. I didn't ask to have him as a brother, you know."
Soothing tone, "look Naomi, forgive me if I sounded a bit abrupt. I happen to have a bad headache. And yes, he left, complete with clothes and car. Didn't mention the b**** goddess though."
"Men never do. Look Sylvia, it's no big deal. Even though he is my bro, I know he's a bum. And it's not like you're legally married or anything. Someone else will come along. We'll talk later."
Well now, there are compensations to being an Earthling. No cops banging on my door if I fail to find a replacement for him in a year.
A search reveals an ID card proclaiming I work for XYZ, as a photo processor. Stroke of good fortune, I understand Earthling gear is similar to ours. Seeing a monthly transit pass makes me uneasy, how do I find the place?
This sorts itself. Naomi calls, to find out if I'll be ok for work Monday.
Gleaning info, she's in the same building, stops by my door and we go together.
Another stroke of good fortune, until she discovers I'm a phony.
But then again, maybe not. If I really do experience the mood swings, chances are she's used to it.
An hour after starting work Monday, I realize it's doable. Earthling lab gear is maybe ten years behind ours.
As for the rest of it, it'll come. Or not.
Naomi passes by my workstation. Blush, "look sorry I got rude with you. I's afraid you'd dump me as a friend, I mean after that idiot well ah. So, no hard feelings, still friends?"
I smile easily, "forget him. One needs all the friends one can get. I don't blame you for his behavior."
I see her look of relief.
So far, so good.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Sylvia 1 short story of an Alien
The Coalition for Family Values is the reason why I find myself in trouble with the law. I hear the gentle reader gasp, well no - it ain't like that at all. They merely attacked others and poor innocent moi got caught in the crossfire.
I know, every convict or defendant does the same, blames others. Still, hear me out, before you are too quick to condemn.
Now our planet is considerably stricter than you laid back Earthlings experience. The law clearly states that within one year of either completing or dropping out of education, you shall find a registered friend of the opposite gender. No, no exemption in cases of psy or "those", the word being so taboo we never say it.
Now every high school student know that roughly 1/10 of both boys and girls are "those". It's no big deal, boy those and girl those pair off, in the sense of forming a paper relationship, covering for each other.
The occasional psy case like me sort of melts into that crowd. They know you're ok, not a cop or anything, so some guy will do the paper with you.
The problem being, girl those tend to be very careful and quiet, it's all behind drawn drapes in apartments and never public knowledge.
And just like you Earthlings, boy those lack any and all sense of discretion. Even a moron knows that a party of several hundred drug toting revellers at a bonfire in the park Saturday night will draw public scrutiny.
Usually the cops prefer to respond to the public complaints very slowly, with sirens wailing from a long ways off, give everyone time to disperse.
Except at election time. As the Police Chief is an elected official, and as CFV represents a huge raft of voters, it's then zero tolerance.
Curious though, exactly how many kids would there be in that park 11 pm Saturday, to become scarred for life by witnessing this?
Now here, we don't have prisons, that being an Earthling concept. We have re-education camps. Purpose is not to punish, heavens no; it's to turn you into a proper respectable citizen of the United Socialist Republic.
And so, the 200 or so snagged at the park in due course end up in our version of Siberia. In coed camps of course, so they meet girls; misery being considered a good bonding experience.
But the police action has a side effect, sets the one year time bomb ticking for 200 girls locally. In that time, you must find a replacement registered boyfriend or be in violation of the law.
For most coping with this imbalance, it's less difficult than for me. Why? The real girl those and boy those mostly know each other from high school or university or drinking in particular bars.
There are guys around who could vouch for me, say I'm ok, not a cop or anything. Unfortunately, all have had a recent change of address (Siberia).
And with the girls it's dog eat dog, none of them will help me.
The imbalance sorts itself in several ways. Some girls find guys. Others commit suicide. Yet others decide the Foreign Legion represents a reasonable option.
And when the anniversary date of the big bonfire rolls around, it's only me left to face the law.
The publicly appointed Legal Aid lawyer suggests I opt for trial by judge alone. Reason, being without a registered boyfriend is considered such a sign of turpitude that jury selection would be akin to Russian Roulette.
At least with judge alone, I get whatever protection the strict legalese offers.
And to give the Judge her due, she has made life exceptionally difficult for prosecution. Sent back the file some three dozen times over things akin to crossing t or dotting i.
And then, at the end of the trial, refers me for a psy evaluation.
Finally, the big day rolls around. Counsel and I are escorted into the chamber, to meet informally before the big announcement.
Judge is quite affable, offers us coffee and our version of Danish.
Once we're settled in, she starts gently, "Citizen Xar, it is my belief a person must understand it all, before a thousand flash bulbs start going off. You see, there is zero question of your guilt versus innocence. The only way to be innocent would be to produce a registered boyfriend. So, what we're really debating is your degree of guilt. Now I don't expect you to morally agree with that, but do you at least understand the concept?"
"Yes Your Honor."
"There is one obscure rule I could dredge up, effect to pardon you. Unfortunately, all it would accomplish is to set the clock ticking for another year. Looking at the psy evaluation, this would not likely do you much good. Merely prolong the agony, ascertain that you end up facing me a year from now."
I blush.
She puts on reading glasses, opens the file. "I've seen a few of these cases over the years, but never one more difficult. Start with the underlying psy condition, Asperger Syndrome. First cousin to autism, the Cadillac version of it. It renders the emotional bonding process inoperative. So, were I to release you, your only hope would be another phony paper relationship with yet another those."
I nod.
"Then the racial issue. Minorities are really only protected in formal situations. That is, if you were refused entry to a university or entry level employment for racial reasons, there would be recourse. There exists no compulsion for people to behave on an informal level. So, if in school or a workplace, the entire group chose to ignore you, your tough luck. Choice of friends is their own.
"Same as finding a registered boyfriend. The law tells the man he must produce a registered girlfriend, yet does not tell him how to choose.
"Then family upbringing. The death of your father, the merchant sailor, in that bar fight when you were ten is completely unremarkable, of itself. The usual course of action would be for your mother to forthwith find a replacement registered boyfriend and you would at least get a male influence in your life.
"Unfortunately, that did not happen. Every single year, she used the widow and child exemption. That is, until you were out the door, then found someone else.
"Economic status. Poverty of itself is no excuse for any violation of the law. However, it is a contributory factor when the person clearly lacked the cultural basics. No internet at home, no cable TV or newspaper subscription.
"Now people are measured on a number of different dimensions. Take your ability at math for example. You are in the top 2% of the population, common with Asperger people. Yet intelligence does not correlate with either emotional stability or maturity. To sum you up, you are doing ok as a technician, but a lamentable job of relating to your fellow beings. Fair statement so far?"
I blush, "yes Your Honor."
Sad look, "in fact, the matter is now out of my hands. In order to face the law on this particular matter, you must have the physical age of 18 or over and the emotional maturity level of 14 or over. Since you come out at ten on the latter, the law backs out, my only option is to refer you to the counselling program. Questions?"
"Your Honor, what would happen to me if that fails?"
Grimace, "at the end of one complete year of conselling, if you have not already succeeded, a further evaluation would be done. If this shows you are capable of progress, the program is extended. If not capable of progressing further, you are no longer fit to be a citizen of the USR.
"And no, contrary to rumor, we do not execute such people. They end up taking over the body of an Earthling in a state of clincial death."
I gasp loudly.
"Question on that?"
"Your Honor, with all due respect, what I've read of Earthlings, I'd actually prefer the execution."
Ironic smile, "but we do not have the legal authority to execute."
"But Your Honor, you do have the legal authority to make people Earthlings."
Gentle sigh, "for what it is worth Citizen Xar, speaking informally, woman to woman, I agree with you 100%. I myself would prefer execution to being an Earthling. However, I don't write the law, the Supreme Soviet does."
I leave, feeling victimized. As the door slides behind us, the lawyer flashes a wicked smile, "what a lucky lottery winner!"
"Say what?"
"The usual way on those files is to stuff you into a boxcar, send you off where it's minus 60 degrees and allow you the time to repent of your ways. Judge gave you a break there, do your best in counselling."
To be fair to the authorities, it is a pretty luxurious lifestyle, with the exception of being locked up.
My "room" is easily thrice the size of my previous bachelor apartment. Akin to a luxury Earthling condo.
We don't have a France here, but if we did, the chefs would be truly worthy of calling themselves French.
Most of the "honored guests" (the authorities would be outraged if you used the word inmates) have psy conditions which are more garden variety. Hence most end up in programs weighted with more group counselling and less individual.
As I am a statistical rarity, one in 2.8 billion, most of my counselling is individual.
They are professional, do their best, but I sense their frustration, dealing with a topic on which so little research has ever been done.
And in due course I am summoned by the Director. She is affable, offers coffee and cookies, but I sense bad news.
Gentle smile, "I'm afraid our counselling program has failed. Still there is good news. The usual course of action would be to make you an Earthling, random selection done by computer. However, in this case, due to its complexity, the court order says we are to select the best possible target for you. Now my opinion is, you should be matched to an approximate Earthling level of emotional maturity, hence a person ten years old. Give you time to learn, mature. The Judge agrees, feels that is the best choice.
"Look at the bright side, Asperger is a far more common condition on Earth, more research done. All the teachers in the western countries have been trained to spot it and similar conditions early on. Now, I'd like your opinion."
I give a rueful smile, "what else can I do? But now I know enough to know a good break when I see one. Being a random Earthling adult would be far more tricky."
"Good, the technicians will brief you."
I know, every convict or defendant does the same, blames others. Still, hear me out, before you are too quick to condemn.
Now our planet is considerably stricter than you laid back Earthlings experience. The law clearly states that within one year of either completing or dropping out of education, you shall find a registered friend of the opposite gender. No, no exemption in cases of psy or "those", the word being so taboo we never say it.
Now every high school student know that roughly 1/10 of both boys and girls are "those". It's no big deal, boy those and girl those pair off, in the sense of forming a paper relationship, covering for each other.
The occasional psy case like me sort of melts into that crowd. They know you're ok, not a cop or anything, so some guy will do the paper with you.
The problem being, girl those tend to be very careful and quiet, it's all behind drawn drapes in apartments and never public knowledge.
And just like you Earthlings, boy those lack any and all sense of discretion. Even a moron knows that a party of several hundred drug toting revellers at a bonfire in the park Saturday night will draw public scrutiny.
Usually the cops prefer to respond to the public complaints very slowly, with sirens wailing from a long ways off, give everyone time to disperse.
Except at election time. As the Police Chief is an elected official, and as CFV represents a huge raft of voters, it's then zero tolerance.
Curious though, exactly how many kids would there be in that park 11 pm Saturday, to become scarred for life by witnessing this?
Now here, we don't have prisons, that being an Earthling concept. We have re-education camps. Purpose is not to punish, heavens no; it's to turn you into a proper respectable citizen of the United Socialist Republic.
And so, the 200 or so snagged at the park in due course end up in our version of Siberia. In coed camps of course, so they meet girls; misery being considered a good bonding experience.
But the police action has a side effect, sets the one year time bomb ticking for 200 girls locally. In that time, you must find a replacement registered boyfriend or be in violation of the law.
For most coping with this imbalance, it's less difficult than for me. Why? The real girl those and boy those mostly know each other from high school or university or drinking in particular bars.
There are guys around who could vouch for me, say I'm ok, not a cop or anything. Unfortunately, all have had a recent change of address (Siberia).
And with the girls it's dog eat dog, none of them will help me.
The imbalance sorts itself in several ways. Some girls find guys. Others commit suicide. Yet others decide the Foreign Legion represents a reasonable option.
And when the anniversary date of the big bonfire rolls around, it's only me left to face the law.
The publicly appointed Legal Aid lawyer suggests I opt for trial by judge alone. Reason, being without a registered boyfriend is considered such a sign of turpitude that jury selection would be akin to Russian Roulette.
At least with judge alone, I get whatever protection the strict legalese offers.
And to give the Judge her due, she has made life exceptionally difficult for prosecution. Sent back the file some three dozen times over things akin to crossing t or dotting i.
And then, at the end of the trial, refers me for a psy evaluation.
Finally, the big day rolls around. Counsel and I are escorted into the chamber, to meet informally before the big announcement.
Judge is quite affable, offers us coffee and our version of Danish.
Once we're settled in, she starts gently, "Citizen Xar, it is my belief a person must understand it all, before a thousand flash bulbs start going off. You see, there is zero question of your guilt versus innocence. The only way to be innocent would be to produce a registered boyfriend. So, what we're really debating is your degree of guilt. Now I don't expect you to morally agree with that, but do you at least understand the concept?"
"Yes Your Honor."
"There is one obscure rule I could dredge up, effect to pardon you. Unfortunately, all it would accomplish is to set the clock ticking for another year. Looking at the psy evaluation, this would not likely do you much good. Merely prolong the agony, ascertain that you end up facing me a year from now."
I blush.
She puts on reading glasses, opens the file. "I've seen a few of these cases over the years, but never one more difficult. Start with the underlying psy condition, Asperger Syndrome. First cousin to autism, the Cadillac version of it. It renders the emotional bonding process inoperative. So, were I to release you, your only hope would be another phony paper relationship with yet another those."
I nod.
"Then the racial issue. Minorities are really only protected in formal situations. That is, if you were refused entry to a university or entry level employment for racial reasons, there would be recourse. There exists no compulsion for people to behave on an informal level. So, if in school or a workplace, the entire group chose to ignore you, your tough luck. Choice of friends is their own.
"Same as finding a registered boyfriend. The law tells the man he must produce a registered girlfriend, yet does not tell him how to choose.
"Then family upbringing. The death of your father, the merchant sailor, in that bar fight when you were ten is completely unremarkable, of itself. The usual course of action would be for your mother to forthwith find a replacement registered boyfriend and you would at least get a male influence in your life.
"Unfortunately, that did not happen. Every single year, she used the widow and child exemption. That is, until you were out the door, then found someone else.
"Economic status. Poverty of itself is no excuse for any violation of the law. However, it is a contributory factor when the person clearly lacked the cultural basics. No internet at home, no cable TV or newspaper subscription.
"Now people are measured on a number of different dimensions. Take your ability at math for example. You are in the top 2% of the population, common with Asperger people. Yet intelligence does not correlate with either emotional stability or maturity. To sum you up, you are doing ok as a technician, but a lamentable job of relating to your fellow beings. Fair statement so far?"
I blush, "yes Your Honor."
Sad look, "in fact, the matter is now out of my hands. In order to face the law on this particular matter, you must have the physical age of 18 or over and the emotional maturity level of 14 or over. Since you come out at ten on the latter, the law backs out, my only option is to refer you to the counselling program. Questions?"
"Your Honor, what would happen to me if that fails?"
Grimace, "at the end of one complete year of conselling, if you have not already succeeded, a further evaluation would be done. If this shows you are capable of progress, the program is extended. If not capable of progressing further, you are no longer fit to be a citizen of the USR.
"And no, contrary to rumor, we do not execute such people. They end up taking over the body of an Earthling in a state of clincial death."
I gasp loudly.
"Question on that?"
"Your Honor, with all due respect, what I've read of Earthlings, I'd actually prefer the execution."
Ironic smile, "but we do not have the legal authority to execute."
"But Your Honor, you do have the legal authority to make people Earthlings."
Gentle sigh, "for what it is worth Citizen Xar, speaking informally, woman to woman, I agree with you 100%. I myself would prefer execution to being an Earthling. However, I don't write the law, the Supreme Soviet does."
I leave, feeling victimized. As the door slides behind us, the lawyer flashes a wicked smile, "what a lucky lottery winner!"
"Say what?"
"The usual way on those files is to stuff you into a boxcar, send you off where it's minus 60 degrees and allow you the time to repent of your ways. Judge gave you a break there, do your best in counselling."
To be fair to the authorities, it is a pretty luxurious lifestyle, with the exception of being locked up.
My "room" is easily thrice the size of my previous bachelor apartment. Akin to a luxury Earthling condo.
We don't have a France here, but if we did, the chefs would be truly worthy of calling themselves French.
Most of the "honored guests" (the authorities would be outraged if you used the word inmates) have psy conditions which are more garden variety. Hence most end up in programs weighted with more group counselling and less individual.
As I am a statistical rarity, one in 2.8 billion, most of my counselling is individual.
They are professional, do their best, but I sense their frustration, dealing with a topic on which so little research has ever been done.
And in due course I am summoned by the Director. She is affable, offers coffee and cookies, but I sense bad news.
Gentle smile, "I'm afraid our counselling program has failed. Still there is good news. The usual course of action would be to make you an Earthling, random selection done by computer. However, in this case, due to its complexity, the court order says we are to select the best possible target for you. Now my opinion is, you should be matched to an approximate Earthling level of emotional maturity, hence a person ten years old. Give you time to learn, mature. The Judge agrees, feels that is the best choice.
"Look at the bright side, Asperger is a far more common condition on Earth, more research done. All the teachers in the western countries have been trained to spot it and similar conditions early on. Now, I'd like your opinion."
I give a rueful smile, "what else can I do? But now I know enough to know a good break when I see one. Being a random Earthling adult would be far more tricky."
"Good, the technicians will brief you."
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Anita 7
Recess time, Lily's a bit uneasy, "ah Anita, ask you something?"
Breezily, "come on, we're friends. Since when do you need permission to ask?"
"Well see, as I was up at the board, I realized I could be headed for trouble. Junior High is bigger, no guarantee we'd end up in the same class. See ah, well I really do need help in math, please."
I grin, "and that is to say nothing of growing up, having to balance your chequing account. We could end up half a continent apart, you know."
We both laugh.
"Sure," I say, "no problem at all. After all, you help me out too, so it's not like I'm giving you charity or anything."
I see her look of relief, "start at lunchtime?"
"Sure."
As the rotation works, it's our teacher supervising lunch room today. While pretending not to, she's observing Lily and me. I see her relief, I'm explaining stuff, as opposed to Lily copying.
It's remarkably easy. Boils down to self confidence, one's level of ease in different situations. I show her various tricks from back home, but don't say where I got them.
Within days, Lily is removed from intensive care, put into regular.
Saturday lunch at Lily's brings another learning experience. The guests include myself and one of her Dad's colleagues and his wife. Though both are Jewish, he reacts totally differently than when I was the only guest. He underplays, pooh poohs it.
Interesting, so it's like playing to an audience.
At a lull in the conversation, the colleague's wife asks me, in a tone of feigned interest, "so Anita, what do you plan when you grown up?"
Keeping a straight face, "settler in a West Bank colony. I have a desire to pick up an Uzi, not stop til the job is done."
Surprised looks. Quietly Lily's Mum says, "actually a lot of people feel that way. Still, be careful who you say that in front of."
Lily's wink lets me know she wasn't taken in.
In case the gentle reader is wondering, I have no plans of moving anywhere, least of all to Israel. Victoria connects with me bigtime, with its trees, parks, architecture, ocean, laid back pace. I love the place, and given that so many from elsewhere retire here, I'm not alone in that opinion.
Now all this time, I've been dodging Mum, for the obvious reason she could find I don't know stuff I should.
And then, in another room, I overhear her on the phone, "oh her? Yeah, strange happenings. Deadly serious, reads all the books for real now, helps her friend in math."
Pause while the other speaks.
"Yeah, exactly the cause as I see it. She desperately needed that scare on the book reports," wicked laugh, "but actually, a bit frightening, different look in her eyes. Saw her in a dream last night, wild look of joy as she shoots Palestinians."
Pause.
"Yeah, I know, pretty unlikely, she does have less than zero interest in Judaism." Bitter laugh, "several months ago, she went near homicidal when I suggested Hebrew classes."
Pause.
"Of course I backed down. Ever see that look when she gets really angry?"
Pause.
"Yeah, I know, lucky she isn't into drugs. Got a call from her teacher, could not understand the apparent contradiction. Everyone else got caught with more book reports, yet she was the only one who seemed to change any. Oh well, good sign I guess, means she's a fast learner, does not repeat mistakes."
Pause.
"Yeah, guess you're right. They reach a point, tune you out, proceed down the Yellow Brick Road alone. And thank heavens, she appears to be on the right one. Still might be nice if she talked, even a bit."
Next Saturday brings yet another lesson. Another couple, one of Lily's Mum's colleagues and her husband.
The two men are totally insufferable. He hams it up twice what he did when I was the only guest.
As I listen, I decide I hate Judaism. Yet moments later, I soften. When you're an adult you simply weed out any troublesome friends.
Lily and I go outside after lunch. She gives a rueful smile, "hard to believe there are people that bad."
"Yeah, I hear you. If he were any more extreme, he'd be Gur Hasidic."
She laughs, punches my arm in fun, "you have come such a long way. So, thoughts on the future?"
"Let's just say I'm open minded, neither pro nor anti, just wish to learn more."
She smiles, "exactly how I feel, we can help each other on the way."
And that, gentle reader, is the story of how I found my best Earthling friend.
Breezily, "come on, we're friends. Since when do you need permission to ask?"
"Well see, as I was up at the board, I realized I could be headed for trouble. Junior High is bigger, no guarantee we'd end up in the same class. See ah, well I really do need help in math, please."
I grin, "and that is to say nothing of growing up, having to balance your chequing account. We could end up half a continent apart, you know."
We both laugh.
"Sure," I say, "no problem at all. After all, you help me out too, so it's not like I'm giving you charity or anything."
I see her look of relief, "start at lunchtime?"
"Sure."
As the rotation works, it's our teacher supervising lunch room today. While pretending not to, she's observing Lily and me. I see her relief, I'm explaining stuff, as opposed to Lily copying.
It's remarkably easy. Boils down to self confidence, one's level of ease in different situations. I show her various tricks from back home, but don't say where I got them.
Within days, Lily is removed from intensive care, put into regular.
Saturday lunch at Lily's brings another learning experience. The guests include myself and one of her Dad's colleagues and his wife. Though both are Jewish, he reacts totally differently than when I was the only guest. He underplays, pooh poohs it.
Interesting, so it's like playing to an audience.
At a lull in the conversation, the colleague's wife asks me, in a tone of feigned interest, "so Anita, what do you plan when you grown up?"
Keeping a straight face, "settler in a West Bank colony. I have a desire to pick up an Uzi, not stop til the job is done."
Surprised looks. Quietly Lily's Mum says, "actually a lot of people feel that way. Still, be careful who you say that in front of."
Lily's wink lets me know she wasn't taken in.
In case the gentle reader is wondering, I have no plans of moving anywhere, least of all to Israel. Victoria connects with me bigtime, with its trees, parks, architecture, ocean, laid back pace. I love the place, and given that so many from elsewhere retire here, I'm not alone in that opinion.
Now all this time, I've been dodging Mum, for the obvious reason she could find I don't know stuff I should.
And then, in another room, I overhear her on the phone, "oh her? Yeah, strange happenings. Deadly serious, reads all the books for real now, helps her friend in math."
Pause while the other speaks.
"Yeah, exactly the cause as I see it. She desperately needed that scare on the book reports," wicked laugh, "but actually, a bit frightening, different look in her eyes. Saw her in a dream last night, wild look of joy as she shoots Palestinians."
Pause.
"Yeah, I know, pretty unlikely, she does have less than zero interest in Judaism." Bitter laugh, "several months ago, she went near homicidal when I suggested Hebrew classes."
Pause.
"Of course I backed down. Ever see that look when she gets really angry?"
Pause.
"Yeah, I know, lucky she isn't into drugs. Got a call from her teacher, could not understand the apparent contradiction. Everyone else got caught with more book reports, yet she was the only one who seemed to change any. Oh well, good sign I guess, means she's a fast learner, does not repeat mistakes."
Pause.
"Yeah, guess you're right. They reach a point, tune you out, proceed down the Yellow Brick Road alone. And thank heavens, she appears to be on the right one. Still might be nice if she talked, even a bit."
Next Saturday brings yet another lesson. Another couple, one of Lily's Mum's colleagues and her husband.
The two men are totally insufferable. He hams it up twice what he did when I was the only guest.
As I listen, I decide I hate Judaism. Yet moments later, I soften. When you're an adult you simply weed out any troublesome friends.
Lily and I go outside after lunch. She gives a rueful smile, "hard to believe there are people that bad."
"Yeah, I hear you. If he were any more extreme, he'd be Gur Hasidic."
She laughs, punches my arm in fun, "you have come such a long way. So, thoughts on the future?"
"Let's just say I'm open minded, neither pro nor anti, just wish to learn more."
She smiles, "exactly how I feel, we can help each other on the way."
And that, gentle reader, is the story of how I found my best Earthling friend.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Anita 6
After school, weather being nice, Lily suggests we sit on Ogden Point Breakwater. We watch the ocean, chat. I decline to bore you with dialogue, just a summation of overall feeling.
As I listen to her, I realize we are vital to each other. She needs to see a little more insouciant attitude to life just as badly as I need to know more about Earthlingism.
Twenty years from now, we'll look back, realize we were a big influence on each other.
As we part company for the day, I realize I've become closer to her than any friends back home, where ultra superficial was the norm.
Of course I keep the two library books hidden away; don't wanna give Mum strange ideas.
As I read that evening I understand the author she selected. Lily doesn't want to scare me away with characters that are too Jewish, just get my feet wet.
As we walk to school next day, I speak of the first half of the book. She handles it quietly, just interjecting the odd comment to help out.
The boy Chad shows with purple spiky hair and a neon green track suit. We ignore him.
Next day, it's a silver track suit and he boldly follows us around.
Lily touches my arm, I stop, she takes out the book I will return to the library, turns to face Chad, "look at this, now what does it tell you?"
I see the wheels turning, but he's not getting traction.
Patiently Lily continues, "you saw us at lunch two days now. What did she do with the food?"
Flood of comprehension, "gave you the ham."
"Don't you think Chad, a nice Jewish girl and you would be a poor match?"
He blushes, "I'm real sorry Anita, yes I am. I would never clown around, knowing you're religious."
I decide to be gracious, "Chad, there's plenty of girls looking. If you say clowned a bit less, you wouldn't scare them off."
"Thank you so much Anita, I'll try that."
It works rapidly. Friday afternoon, we're in the washroom, at the row of sinks.
Nervously a nearby girl says, "ah Anita, ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Well ah, that is I saw how you fight, be deathly afraid of offending you. So, is it really true, you and Chad aren't an item?"
Easy smile, "it is true; I have no property rights."
"Thank you so much, well nice talking, gotta run."
As we exit we see the pair headed to the convenience store across the street.
Lily grins, "ever think that clown would find someone?"
I laugh, "not in a blue moon, but he does look different done up neat."
"So," she grins, "they say nice weather tomorrow. So we could walk around in the morning, lunch at my house, TV in the afternoon."
"Sounds wonderful."
"And don't let my Dad scare you off. He's nowhere near as Jewish as he lets on."
We agree on a pre-arranged signal. Any time Dad is overacting, Lily will wink or failing that, kick me gently under the table.
And so, I start to get a practised eye, see the games Earthlings play.
By now, I'm less judgmental, know Judaism is only partly religion, but partly way of life and partly social group. In any grouping, either back home or here, there will be those who take things seriously and those who only pretend.
Seen in this fashion, her Dad is like a lab exhibit. And as Lily points out, may as well learn to spot em earlier than later.
As we file in Monday morning, we are greeted by a huge stack of library books on teacher's desk.
"Originally we planned to just give you titles. Realized that's unfair, someone else could have checked out the book or some other teacher assigned the same one. Only fair way, everyone gets a book in hand. No swapping, I have a list."
I sense 30 inward groans.
"Now the whole purpose is not just to read willy nilly, any fool can do that. It's to get you a learning experience too. Now as you notice who gets which book, you'll suspect there is a pattern. To save the time of arguing it out, I'll give it to you.
"Everyone here fits neatly into one of two groups. There are those over identified with culture of origin, relatively unconnected to mainline Canada. For these, a book to help you better understand the mainstream.
"Then there are those somewhat or totally disconnected from culture of origin. For these, a book to help you reconnect, at least some.
"There will be no arguing, you get what you get. When I call your name, come up front."
I'm unsurprised to see Lily get a mainline book.
I can't believe my eyes as teacher hands me a Judy Blume book, the first one I read.
As I sit, I ponder. What are the mathematical odds of that? Slim.
So maybe, just maybe, the Earthling Fates (I'd hate to use the word god or gods) like me. A little anyhow.
As teacher drones on about some math nonsense, I have time to ponder.
By now I'm getting worried. So far, in my relationship with Lily, it's been me taking all along. Meaning if I don't find some way to pay back, at least some, things could get rocky.
As Lily is called to the board to do a problem, I snap out of my reverie.
No question, she looks lame at it. Teacher's face conveys the sense of first time seeing this.
Now to apply logic, teacher is likely nanoseconds away from realizing the lion's share of the answers in Lily's book came from mine.
I ponder the likely effect of offering help. I'm afraid too, unsure of Earthling mores, I could insult her dignity quite by accident.
So I pull a trick from back home. Rhythmic thought patterns, telling her she needs help.
As I listen to her, I realize we are vital to each other. She needs to see a little more insouciant attitude to life just as badly as I need to know more about Earthlingism.
Twenty years from now, we'll look back, realize we were a big influence on each other.
As we part company for the day, I realize I've become closer to her than any friends back home, where ultra superficial was the norm.
Of course I keep the two library books hidden away; don't wanna give Mum strange ideas.
As I read that evening I understand the author she selected. Lily doesn't want to scare me away with characters that are too Jewish, just get my feet wet.
As we walk to school next day, I speak of the first half of the book. She handles it quietly, just interjecting the odd comment to help out.
The boy Chad shows with purple spiky hair and a neon green track suit. We ignore him.
Next day, it's a silver track suit and he boldly follows us around.
Lily touches my arm, I stop, she takes out the book I will return to the library, turns to face Chad, "look at this, now what does it tell you?"
I see the wheels turning, but he's not getting traction.
Patiently Lily continues, "you saw us at lunch two days now. What did she do with the food?"
Flood of comprehension, "gave you the ham."
"Don't you think Chad, a nice Jewish girl and you would be a poor match?"
He blushes, "I'm real sorry Anita, yes I am. I would never clown around, knowing you're religious."
I decide to be gracious, "Chad, there's plenty of girls looking. If you say clowned a bit less, you wouldn't scare them off."
"Thank you so much Anita, I'll try that."
It works rapidly. Friday afternoon, we're in the washroom, at the row of sinks.
Nervously a nearby girl says, "ah Anita, ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Well ah, that is I saw how you fight, be deathly afraid of offending you. So, is it really true, you and Chad aren't an item?"
Easy smile, "it is true; I have no property rights."
"Thank you so much, well nice talking, gotta run."
As we exit we see the pair headed to the convenience store across the street.
Lily grins, "ever think that clown would find someone?"
I laugh, "not in a blue moon, but he does look different done up neat."
"So," she grins, "they say nice weather tomorrow. So we could walk around in the morning, lunch at my house, TV in the afternoon."
"Sounds wonderful."
"And don't let my Dad scare you off. He's nowhere near as Jewish as he lets on."
We agree on a pre-arranged signal. Any time Dad is overacting, Lily will wink or failing that, kick me gently under the table.
And so, I start to get a practised eye, see the games Earthlings play.
By now, I'm less judgmental, know Judaism is only partly religion, but partly way of life and partly social group. In any grouping, either back home or here, there will be those who take things seriously and those who only pretend.
Seen in this fashion, her Dad is like a lab exhibit. And as Lily points out, may as well learn to spot em earlier than later.
As we file in Monday morning, we are greeted by a huge stack of library books on teacher's desk.
"Originally we planned to just give you titles. Realized that's unfair, someone else could have checked out the book or some other teacher assigned the same one. Only fair way, everyone gets a book in hand. No swapping, I have a list."
I sense 30 inward groans.
"Now the whole purpose is not just to read willy nilly, any fool can do that. It's to get you a learning experience too. Now as you notice who gets which book, you'll suspect there is a pattern. To save the time of arguing it out, I'll give it to you.
"Everyone here fits neatly into one of two groups. There are those over identified with culture of origin, relatively unconnected to mainline Canada. For these, a book to help you better understand the mainstream.
"Then there are those somewhat or totally disconnected from culture of origin. For these, a book to help you reconnect, at least some.
"There will be no arguing, you get what you get. When I call your name, come up front."
I'm unsurprised to see Lily get a mainline book.
I can't believe my eyes as teacher hands me a Judy Blume book, the first one I read.
As I sit, I ponder. What are the mathematical odds of that? Slim.
So maybe, just maybe, the Earthling Fates (I'd hate to use the word god or gods) like me. A little anyhow.
As teacher drones on about some math nonsense, I have time to ponder.
By now I'm getting worried. So far, in my relationship with Lily, it's been me taking all along. Meaning if I don't find some way to pay back, at least some, things could get rocky.
As Lily is called to the board to do a problem, I snap out of my reverie.
No question, she looks lame at it. Teacher's face conveys the sense of first time seeing this.
Now to apply logic, teacher is likely nanoseconds away from realizing the lion's share of the answers in Lily's book came from mine.
I ponder the likely effect of offering help. I'm afraid too, unsure of Earthling mores, I could insult her dignity quite by accident.
So I pull a trick from back home. Rhythmic thought patterns, telling her she needs help.
Anita 5 novella of 2 schoolfriends
I open my lunch container with its icepack to refrigerate. As I unwrap my sandwich, I see Lily's eyes on it, and a way too intensely. To my disbelief, she reaches out, lifts the top slice of bread.
Accusatory tone, "who made it - you or your Mum?"
"She did."
"So why did she make ham, Swiss cheese and lettuce? Your choice or hers?"
I roll my eyes, "since when does she listen to me?"
Her tone softens, "sorry that came out a bit nasty. Two violations of kosher, can you spot em?"
My near photographic memory zips back to the term paper, ah ha Judaism.
"Come on, trying to be insulting? Ham is beyond the pale, but at least not as bad as bacon. And mixing a meat and milk meal is no go; that is if you're serious."
I can see her weigh this a moment, then, "ok, if you chose this meal, no big deal. You show as little respect to Judaism as you do to school rules, but at least you aren't a hypocrite. Her, with all that holier than thou tone, shocking she'd make this. For shame!"
"What exactly do you suggest I do about her Lily?"
"Who knows? What can you do? Don't look now, but that crazy boy is clowning trying to get your attention. Don't laugh or it'll only encourage him. He's sticking bread pieces in his nose and ears."
"Ok, but still, you just a little curious about ham?"
Her eyes go bigger, "I could do a good deed, that is stop you from sinning."
I hand her the ham. She winks, "thanks. He's sticking his drinking straw up his nose, pasted chewing gum on his forehead."
I shrug, "some real wierdos in the world."
She smiles wickedly, "but you know, the world is always perverse. Always, always come up with the unexpected. Now take yourself, with that irrevent attitude, probably grow up to join an ultra religious kibbutz in Israel. Me on the other hand, probably end up a big sinner."
"Why do you suppose that is?"
"How is it we mature? Become real people? By a process of rebellion. Without that, we'd all end up little kids walking around in size adult bodies."
I realize what I must say, if I want to achieve any progress, "I see, well don't tell anyone this, but I'm just a little curious myself. Can you recommend a good author, I mean, Jewish kids' books?"
She seems unsurprised, "I knew you'd ask, sooner or later. Let's go to the school library, once we're done here. Best to start with Judy Blume."
"Thank you, it'd be nice to pick up a couple."
"Hey, what are friends for? Your secret is safe with me. Don't look now, he's balancing his empty pop can on his head."
We rise, dump our garbage, my eyes sliding by him. It takes a lotta self control not to burst out laughing. He's dangling one of his socks from each ear.
I whisper, "see that?"
"Ye-ah," same struggle for control.
As the lunchroom door slides behind us, we can't help it, laugh all the way to the library.
To my surprise there's over a dozen to choose from. Still, best stop at two, now anyhow, or she'll think I'm a fanatic.
After lunch, as teacher drones on about some math nonsense I could do comatose, I have time to ponder.
Yes, things went very well. Anything a bit odd I ask, she'll attribute to neophyte status, as opposed to suspecting I'm an Alien.
I make a mental note, only read half of one this evening. Don't want her thinking I'm going nuts on this.
Accusatory tone, "who made it - you or your Mum?"
"She did."
"So why did she make ham, Swiss cheese and lettuce? Your choice or hers?"
I roll my eyes, "since when does she listen to me?"
Her tone softens, "sorry that came out a bit nasty. Two violations of kosher, can you spot em?"
My near photographic memory zips back to the term paper, ah ha Judaism.
"Come on, trying to be insulting? Ham is beyond the pale, but at least not as bad as bacon. And mixing a meat and milk meal is no go; that is if you're serious."
I can see her weigh this a moment, then, "ok, if you chose this meal, no big deal. You show as little respect to Judaism as you do to school rules, but at least you aren't a hypocrite. Her, with all that holier than thou tone, shocking she'd make this. For shame!"
"What exactly do you suggest I do about her Lily?"
"Who knows? What can you do? Don't look now, but that crazy boy is clowning trying to get your attention. Don't laugh or it'll only encourage him. He's sticking bread pieces in his nose and ears."
"Ok, but still, you just a little curious about ham?"
Her eyes go bigger, "I could do a good deed, that is stop you from sinning."
I hand her the ham. She winks, "thanks. He's sticking his drinking straw up his nose, pasted chewing gum on his forehead."
I shrug, "some real wierdos in the world."
She smiles wickedly, "but you know, the world is always perverse. Always, always come up with the unexpected. Now take yourself, with that irrevent attitude, probably grow up to join an ultra religious kibbutz in Israel. Me on the other hand, probably end up a big sinner."
"Why do you suppose that is?"
"How is it we mature? Become real people? By a process of rebellion. Without that, we'd all end up little kids walking around in size adult bodies."
I realize what I must say, if I want to achieve any progress, "I see, well don't tell anyone this, but I'm just a little curious myself. Can you recommend a good author, I mean, Jewish kids' books?"
She seems unsurprised, "I knew you'd ask, sooner or later. Let's go to the school library, once we're done here. Best to start with Judy Blume."
"Thank you, it'd be nice to pick up a couple."
"Hey, what are friends for? Your secret is safe with me. Don't look now, he's balancing his empty pop can on his head."
We rise, dump our garbage, my eyes sliding by him. It takes a lotta self control not to burst out laughing. He's dangling one of his socks from each ear.
I whisper, "see that?"
"Ye-ah," same struggle for control.
As the lunchroom door slides behind us, we can't help it, laugh all the way to the library.
To my surprise there's over a dozen to choose from. Still, best stop at two, now anyhow, or she'll think I'm a fanatic.
After lunch, as teacher drones on about some math nonsense I could do comatose, I have time to ponder.
Yes, things went very well. Anything a bit odd I ask, she'll attribute to neophyte status, as opposed to suspecting I'm an Alien.
I make a mental note, only read half of one this evening. Don't want her thinking I'm going nuts on this.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Anita 4
As we arrive at school, a boy approaches, sticks out his tongue, "goody goody suck! Only 6! Trying to make us all look bad! I had 22, everyone else at least a dozen. You're dis-gusting."
I don't hesitate, deal with it exactly like back home, time my lunge perfectly. Even before we hit ground, I'm already working over his ribs and stomach. Knowing Earthling social mores, I prefer not to redecorate the face.
Dozens of eager voices, both boys and girls, cheer me on. Then a rough hand on my shoulder, Lily's voice, "enough moron, teacher incoming at six o'clock."
By the time teacher has pushed through the reluctant crowd, I'm merely sitting on him, giving an inscrutable smile.
She asks the obvious, "what's happening?"
Obviously, he prefers not to admit he was beat. Tone of disgust, "hormones, couldn't stop kissing me. Yuck, probably need rabies shots now."
Everyone laughs.
Teacher asks, "Anita, am I permitted to give personal advice? That is, woman to woman, as opposed to teacher to pupil?"
"Certainly."
"When you get home tonight, tell your mother you need an eye examination."
Everyone laughs harder.
As the crowd drifts away, Lily says, in disgust, "idiot! He just ain't gonna stop following you around now."
"You mean ah?"
"Yes moron, it's called infatuation."
The boy puts just enough building corner between him and teacher, then moons me.
My first impulse is to resume thumping him. Seeing Lily's suspicious eye on me, I opt for more Earthling-like behavior, "shift position, let's test out his geometry skills."
We keep moving a bit and he keeps taking the bait. On the fourth mooning, he's caught in flagrantis, given detention.
I see Lily's look of pure relief, "I was wondering about you, after that fever. See you're back to yourself now."
As the bell rings, we file in, me hugely relieved to discover he's not in our class.
Teacher has a sadistic smile, "we have decided, in order to remove you from any and all temptation, you don't choose your own books any more. We do, keep a list, no swapping."
I sense 30 inward groans.
"One thought to bear in mind. Let's say you be a dishwasher when you grow up; the world does not really expect a lot. Any responsible position, requires cultural knowledge, not just skills. So, show of hands, who wants to be a dishwasher?"
None.
Thin smile, "I rest my case. All of you will benefit by doing the reading for real."
I don't hesitate, deal with it exactly like back home, time my lunge perfectly. Even before we hit ground, I'm already working over his ribs and stomach. Knowing Earthling social mores, I prefer not to redecorate the face.
Dozens of eager voices, both boys and girls, cheer me on. Then a rough hand on my shoulder, Lily's voice, "enough moron, teacher incoming at six o'clock."
By the time teacher has pushed through the reluctant crowd, I'm merely sitting on him, giving an inscrutable smile.
She asks the obvious, "what's happening?"
Obviously, he prefers not to admit he was beat. Tone of disgust, "hormones, couldn't stop kissing me. Yuck, probably need rabies shots now."
Everyone laughs.
Teacher asks, "Anita, am I permitted to give personal advice? That is, woman to woman, as opposed to teacher to pupil?"
"Certainly."
"When you get home tonight, tell your mother you need an eye examination."
Everyone laughs harder.
As the crowd drifts away, Lily says, in disgust, "idiot! He just ain't gonna stop following you around now."
"You mean ah?"
"Yes moron, it's called infatuation."
The boy puts just enough building corner between him and teacher, then moons me.
My first impulse is to resume thumping him. Seeing Lily's suspicious eye on me, I opt for more Earthling-like behavior, "shift position, let's test out his geometry skills."
We keep moving a bit and he keeps taking the bait. On the fourth mooning, he's caught in flagrantis, given detention.
I see Lily's look of pure relief, "I was wondering about you, after that fever. See you're back to yourself now."
As the bell rings, we file in, me hugely relieved to discover he's not in our class.
Teacher has a sadistic smile, "we have decided, in order to remove you from any and all temptation, you don't choose your own books any more. We do, keep a list, no swapping."
I sense 30 inward groans.
"One thought to bear in mind. Let's say you be a dishwasher when you grow up; the world does not really expect a lot. Any responsible position, requires cultural knowledge, not just skills. So, show of hands, who wants to be a dishwasher?"
None.
Thin smile, "I rest my case. All of you will benefit by doing the reading for real."
Anita 3
What happens next causes me to even doubt my own sanity. See on our planet we are 100% Atheist, which explains why so many flop miserably on that religion term paper in Earthlingology 101. We are taught death is the complete end of everything, including all brainwave activity, and hence dreams too.
So when in a state of death, to dream of being an Earthling, is a bit wierd. Switching back to reason, I tell myself maybe the medics arrived in time to staunch blood flow. Again, not rational to believe that.
Those escalators are building wide, some 300 rioters and 200 cops were involved. So, 500 people, all toting clips of 500 rounds. Do the geometry, with 250,000 rounds bouncing off concrete walls, statistically you'd be dead a dozen times over.
So, how is it I hear a panicky voice, "over here Sarge, bring the coagulant, got a maybe."?
I feel pressure of hands on my chest.
Older voice, cursing methodically, "well **** this noise. Body's ****ing rejecting the ****ing coagulant."
Younger voice again, "try another shot."
"Ok sunshine, higher ****ing dose, see if it ****ing works. Ain't nobody else ****ing left alive, and that's ****ing rioters and ****ing cops included. Pull this one through, chances are we get a ****ing medal."
As their voices fade, I realize I didn't make it.
Again, not logical. So how is it I feel stiff and sore from lying down forever? The dead should not feel that, right?
And so, I open my eyes just to check. Now this room has a definite Earthling look to it. I'm guessing a young girl Earthling, an adult would barf seeing this mess.
I see the reflection in the mirror. No, definitely not. See we're all purple. You start life a light lilac pastel, darken as you age; faster if working outdoors, slower if inside. No racial problems, we're all the same color.
And yet this ridiculous figure seems to follow my movements. Earthlings would class this person as 'white', but it ain't true, it's more pink.
And on the bedside table, a hand drawn getwell card, with stylized flowers and handwriting which screams out immature Earthling hand. Curiously, I can read it, "Anita, please get well in a hurry. School is a total drag without you, Lily."
Just a minute now, what are odds of that, same name? I pick up a textbook, open it. The form pasted therein proclaims that the Greater Victoria School District has loaned this to Anita Zilberg.
Freaky or what? Same as my surname.
Gradually though I start to see Earthling logic in it all, being considerably less ethnocentric than most of my people.
We are Atheists, translation there is no god or gods who looks after us.
But assuming this Earthling belongs to one of their superstitions, the god or gods involved have a proprietorial sense, look after their own, at least some.
So, possible this one died through fever. As mercy to the family of this one, the Earthling god or gods simply stuck me into the body.
I find myself wanting to meet this Lily. Something in the handwriting proclaims her to be a warm person. But definitely not now, too tired, lay down again.
As I awake I feel better, clear headed. An older woman (mother?) shows, brings water, then some light food.
Finally Lily is permitted in, but only for a few minutes, I must rest.
As mother (?) leaves, Lily says quietly, "wierd dreams huh?"
"Yeah, understatement of the year."
"I sat with you a bit. Wondered where you got all that crap. No metro here, much less metro stations with escalators hundreds of feet wide. No riot cops here, much less ones toting Schmeissers. No rioters either, much less those with AK47s." Suspicious look, "I've got it. You're a fraud, a liar. Tell me you don't read sci fi, when secretly you do."
I protest mildly, "certainly not."
She opens all my dresser drawers, "nope, none in here, musta already returned it to the library."
Inspiration strikes, "Lily, what is my reputation at school?"
She blushes, "sorry Anita. Yes I know you 'borrowed' some of my older sister's book reports."
"So we can still be friends Lily?"
Easy laugh, "heavens yes. Now I know you're not guilty."
"So what's happening at school."
"I'm in deep sh**. Been cruising so long watching your math book I look really dumb now. Oh well, your Mum says you'll be ready for Monday."
And then Lily is chased away. As I lay back, I find myself liking her, she'll be a great friend over time.
Mum re-enters, grim look, "no easy way to say this, but it hasta be said before Monday. For several years now, teachers at James Bay Elementary have been scanning book reports into computer memory."
I groan inwardly.
"When they ran the matching program, it caught you with six. So what do you say about that?"
"Ah well that is ah well, I won't do it again."
"And to help you remember your promise not to re-sin, no allowance for a month. Here on in, any book reports, show me before you hand them in."
I nod.
She leaves. Oy! Still, give the devil her due. On my planet it woulda been lots bigger ructions than that for that same sin. So, least we know she's a merciful person. Maybe she'll be ok.
Lily drops by Monday morning to get me. Once we're out the door, I ask, "ah Lily, ever hear of the matching program on book reports? Nailed me with six."
Laugh, "go on, what a wimp you are! Nailed me with 15."
I gasp.
She punches my arm, lightly in fun, "so lemme guess, allowance is kaput for a month?"
"How'd you know?"
"Math, mine is down the toilet for three months."
Somehow it seems wildly hilarious and we laugh all the way to school.
So when in a state of death, to dream of being an Earthling, is a bit wierd. Switching back to reason, I tell myself maybe the medics arrived in time to staunch blood flow. Again, not rational to believe that.
Those escalators are building wide, some 300 rioters and 200 cops were involved. So, 500 people, all toting clips of 500 rounds. Do the geometry, with 250,000 rounds bouncing off concrete walls, statistically you'd be dead a dozen times over.
So, how is it I hear a panicky voice, "over here Sarge, bring the coagulant, got a maybe."?
I feel pressure of hands on my chest.
Older voice, cursing methodically, "well **** this noise. Body's ****ing rejecting the ****ing coagulant."
Younger voice again, "try another shot."
"Ok sunshine, higher ****ing dose, see if it ****ing works. Ain't nobody else ****ing left alive, and that's ****ing rioters and ****ing cops included. Pull this one through, chances are we get a ****ing medal."
As their voices fade, I realize I didn't make it.
Again, not logical. So how is it I feel stiff and sore from lying down forever? The dead should not feel that, right?
And so, I open my eyes just to check. Now this room has a definite Earthling look to it. I'm guessing a young girl Earthling, an adult would barf seeing this mess.
I see the reflection in the mirror. No, definitely not. See we're all purple. You start life a light lilac pastel, darken as you age; faster if working outdoors, slower if inside. No racial problems, we're all the same color.
And yet this ridiculous figure seems to follow my movements. Earthlings would class this person as 'white', but it ain't true, it's more pink.
And on the bedside table, a hand drawn getwell card, with stylized flowers and handwriting which screams out immature Earthling hand. Curiously, I can read it, "Anita, please get well in a hurry. School is a total drag without you, Lily."
Just a minute now, what are odds of that, same name? I pick up a textbook, open it. The form pasted therein proclaims that the Greater Victoria School District has loaned this to Anita Zilberg.
Freaky or what? Same as my surname.
Gradually though I start to see Earthling logic in it all, being considerably less ethnocentric than most of my people.
We are Atheists, translation there is no god or gods who looks after us.
But assuming this Earthling belongs to one of their superstitions, the god or gods involved have a proprietorial sense, look after their own, at least some.
So, possible this one died through fever. As mercy to the family of this one, the Earthling god or gods simply stuck me into the body.
I find myself wanting to meet this Lily. Something in the handwriting proclaims her to be a warm person. But definitely not now, too tired, lay down again.
As I awake I feel better, clear headed. An older woman (mother?) shows, brings water, then some light food.
Finally Lily is permitted in, but only for a few minutes, I must rest.
As mother (?) leaves, Lily says quietly, "wierd dreams huh?"
"Yeah, understatement of the year."
"I sat with you a bit. Wondered where you got all that crap. No metro here, much less metro stations with escalators hundreds of feet wide. No riot cops here, much less ones toting Schmeissers. No rioters either, much less those with AK47s." Suspicious look, "I've got it. You're a fraud, a liar. Tell me you don't read sci fi, when secretly you do."
I protest mildly, "certainly not."
She opens all my dresser drawers, "nope, none in here, musta already returned it to the library."
Inspiration strikes, "Lily, what is my reputation at school?"
She blushes, "sorry Anita. Yes I know you 'borrowed' some of my older sister's book reports."
"So we can still be friends Lily?"
Easy laugh, "heavens yes. Now I know you're not guilty."
"So what's happening at school."
"I'm in deep sh**. Been cruising so long watching your math book I look really dumb now. Oh well, your Mum says you'll be ready for Monday."
And then Lily is chased away. As I lay back, I find myself liking her, she'll be a great friend over time.
Mum re-enters, grim look, "no easy way to say this, but it hasta be said before Monday. For several years now, teachers at James Bay Elementary have been scanning book reports into computer memory."
I groan inwardly.
"When they ran the matching program, it caught you with six. So what do you say about that?"
"Ah well that is ah well, I won't do it again."
"And to help you remember your promise not to re-sin, no allowance for a month. Here on in, any book reports, show me before you hand them in."
I nod.
She leaves. Oy! Still, give the devil her due. On my planet it woulda been lots bigger ructions than that for that same sin. So, least we know she's a merciful person. Maybe she'll be ok.
Lily drops by Monday morning to get me. Once we're out the door, I ask, "ah Lily, ever hear of the matching program on book reports? Nailed me with six."
Laugh, "go on, what a wimp you are! Nailed me with 15."
I gasp.
She punches my arm, lightly in fun, "so lemme guess, allowance is kaput for a month?"
"How'd you know?"
"Math, mine is down the toilet for three months."
Somehow it seems wildly hilarious and we laugh all the way to school.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Anita 2
A few days later, I'm sitting in SUB, trying to wrap my head around one of the cases for Accounting class.
Stanley, who I recognize from the Geology Dignity demo, approaches. Polite tone, "mind if I join you?"
I smile wanly, "I so lack talent dealing with debit and credit; yet it's a required course. Yes, I'd welcome a break."
We small talk on doings in Geology. After a bit, he says, "I recall you were mentioning thinking of moonlighting."
"Do you know of anything?"
"My aunt called me yesterday, she owns the Caffeine Cave. Asked if I knew anyone looking, she needs average of three evenings a week." Sees my confused look, "that is in the gayborhood, is that a problem to you?"
I shrug, "no of course not, I'm not prejudiced like lots. And I do hear there is less crime there."
Bright smile, I'm guessing he's a real gay, picks up his cell, "I'd be happy to phone her right now, arrange a time for interview, if you like."
"Thank you so much, that's kind. Textbooks ended up costing more than anticipated."
And so, after class I ride the metro from university station to downtown, then transfer onto the line heading to the gayborhood.
I've just disembarked at my correct stop, head to the escalator, when I spot a commotion on the down escalator. Rioters toting homemade weaponry are being pursued by riot cops toting factory made.
To tell the truth, I don't even know who fired first, but that's irrelevent. The concrete walls give lots of ricochet.
My last thoughts, as I feel and see green blood gushing all over me, are how careless I really am. A more astute person would read the student paper all the time, know when to avoid this neighborhood. I idly wonder how many of the survivors will find themselves expelled from uni.
Stanley, who I recognize from the Geology Dignity demo, approaches. Polite tone, "mind if I join you?"
I smile wanly, "I so lack talent dealing with debit and credit; yet it's a required course. Yes, I'd welcome a break."
We small talk on doings in Geology. After a bit, he says, "I recall you were mentioning thinking of moonlighting."
"Do you know of anything?"
"My aunt called me yesterday, she owns the Caffeine Cave. Asked if I knew anyone looking, she needs average of three evenings a week." Sees my confused look, "that is in the gayborhood, is that a problem to you?"
I shrug, "no of course not, I'm not prejudiced like lots. And I do hear there is less crime there."
Bright smile, I'm guessing he's a real gay, picks up his cell, "I'd be happy to phone her right now, arrange a time for interview, if you like."
"Thank you so much, that's kind. Textbooks ended up costing more than anticipated."
And so, after class I ride the metro from university station to downtown, then transfer onto the line heading to the gayborhood.
I've just disembarked at my correct stop, head to the escalator, when I spot a commotion on the down escalator. Rioters toting homemade weaponry are being pursued by riot cops toting factory made.
To tell the truth, I don't even know who fired first, but that's irrelevent. The concrete walls give lots of ricochet.
My last thoughts, as I feel and see green blood gushing all over me, are how careless I really am. A more astute person would read the student paper all the time, know when to avoid this neighborhood. I idly wonder how many of the survivors will find themselves expelled from uni.
Anita 1
"Wait up Anita."
I turn, see Karen, a friend of my older sister. "So, where you headed?"
"SUB (Student Union Building), got an hour between classes, do work while I coffee."
"So Anita, how's that Earthlingology 101 going?"
I grin, "they are sooo nuts."
"So, what did you pick for that term paper?"
I laugh, "took your advice of course. You said he'd spring that silly religion topic. Imagine those crazy superstitious Earthlings! Picked Gur Hasidic Jews in Jerusalem."
Huge smirk, "excellent, I recall telling you I did Doukhobors. Anyone dumb enough to pick a mainline topic, bores him and gets graded down. He gives higher grades for novelty value."
"You going to SUB, Karen?"
"No, turning here, have fun."
As I pay for coffee at the counter, the robot says, "have a good day."
"Actually I have other plans."
Robot laughs, programmed to do so at student jokes.
Picking a vacant table, I spread out a supply of index cards. Each bears a mini topic and I'm trying to arrange the best order to give it flow.
Debbie, from high school days, sits uninvited, leads with, "so, going to the big demonstration this evening?"
"Which one?"
Scornful tone, "oh grow up, the only one that counts, the gay bathhouse."
I know better than to argue with a political zealot, so I smile wanly, "truth is, I'm a little behind in my course work." (Lie: things are going great.)
"What a self-important, self-righteous, selfish pig you are! Can't spare one hour of that precious time for a life and death cause?"
"What is life and death about gaydom, been around for centuries?"
She rolls her eyes, groans aloud, "ok smart ass, tell me, exactly how often do you get laid?"
I blush, "ah well between all the homework they give in Math and Physics and Geology and those business cases in Accounting and this term paper; I ah well that is haven't fit in the time yet."
Her voice rises in volume and pitch, "do you know what those creeps are doing? Pretending to be gay, registering as so, attending the bathhouse once a week to get their cards stamped. And why? So they don't have to bother getting a registered girlfriend."
"You've lost me. I heard men were horn dogs. Why would they do that?"
She stares at me in a sense of surreal disbelief, "so smart ass, musta slept through Sex Ed in high school?"
"Well ah actually not, parents signed the form exempting me."
She groans aloud, "I'm wasting my time on morons like you," gets up and leaves.
Idly I wonder what that was all about, return to work. Soon, I'm done, pleased with how it fits together.
I still have 15 minutes til next class, so I grab the student paper.
And there it is, the headline item. Scientists who claim to have measured the pleasure centers in the brain, electric flow that is, assert that men have five times the electric flow dealing with inflatable dolls than in real sex.
And that's why they feign gaydom. Get that exemption from needing to find a registered girlfriend or, failing that, enrolling in speed dating.
So ah, what do they do in the bathhouse? According to reliable sources (?), only about 1/10 of the men attending are real gays. The rest goof around, read, play computer games til the time is up, get that card punched and vamoose.
Oh yes, these demonstrators plan on sending two loud and clear messages to Parliament. Video cameras must be installed, to sort out the fake from real. And here on in, bathhouses are only open to "genuine" gays.
I shrug, seems so completely far fetched. Yet maybe true, not a lot of girls seem to have boyfriends.
In the end, I opt to attend the Geology Dignity demo. Clearly they are in the right, Geology is short changed in lab facilities, compared to others.
It's a half dozen guys, with nary a cop or student reporter in sight. They're ecstatic to see a first year out there supporting them. The time passes pleasantly as they give me advice on upper year Profs and optional courses.
Next issue of the student paper has 12 pages of coverage of the big bathhouse demo, the thousands of demonstrators, all women. Grim looking siege lines of riot cops, all women also, in formation behind shields.
I shudder, realizing from looking at photos, any tiny spark could have set off something.
I turn, see Karen, a friend of my older sister. "So, where you headed?"
"SUB (Student Union Building), got an hour between classes, do work while I coffee."
"So Anita, how's that Earthlingology 101 going?"
I grin, "they are sooo nuts."
"So, what did you pick for that term paper?"
I laugh, "took your advice of course. You said he'd spring that silly religion topic. Imagine those crazy superstitious Earthlings! Picked Gur Hasidic Jews in Jerusalem."
Huge smirk, "excellent, I recall telling you I did Doukhobors. Anyone dumb enough to pick a mainline topic, bores him and gets graded down. He gives higher grades for novelty value."
"You going to SUB, Karen?"
"No, turning here, have fun."
As I pay for coffee at the counter, the robot says, "have a good day."
"Actually I have other plans."
Robot laughs, programmed to do so at student jokes.
Picking a vacant table, I spread out a supply of index cards. Each bears a mini topic and I'm trying to arrange the best order to give it flow.
Debbie, from high school days, sits uninvited, leads with, "so, going to the big demonstration this evening?"
"Which one?"
Scornful tone, "oh grow up, the only one that counts, the gay bathhouse."
I know better than to argue with a political zealot, so I smile wanly, "truth is, I'm a little behind in my course work." (Lie: things are going great.)
"What a self-important, self-righteous, selfish pig you are! Can't spare one hour of that precious time for a life and death cause?"
"What is life and death about gaydom, been around for centuries?"
She rolls her eyes, groans aloud, "ok smart ass, tell me, exactly how often do you get laid?"
I blush, "ah well between all the homework they give in Math and Physics and Geology and those business cases in Accounting and this term paper; I ah well that is haven't fit in the time yet."
Her voice rises in volume and pitch, "do you know what those creeps are doing? Pretending to be gay, registering as so, attending the bathhouse once a week to get their cards stamped. And why? So they don't have to bother getting a registered girlfriend."
"You've lost me. I heard men were horn dogs. Why would they do that?"
She stares at me in a sense of surreal disbelief, "so smart ass, musta slept through Sex Ed in high school?"
"Well ah actually not, parents signed the form exempting me."
She groans aloud, "I'm wasting my time on morons like you," gets up and leaves.
Idly I wonder what that was all about, return to work. Soon, I'm done, pleased with how it fits together.
I still have 15 minutes til next class, so I grab the student paper.
And there it is, the headline item. Scientists who claim to have measured the pleasure centers in the brain, electric flow that is, assert that men have five times the electric flow dealing with inflatable dolls than in real sex.
And that's why they feign gaydom. Get that exemption from needing to find a registered girlfriend or, failing that, enrolling in speed dating.
So ah, what do they do in the bathhouse? According to reliable sources (?), only about 1/10 of the men attending are real gays. The rest goof around, read, play computer games til the time is up, get that card punched and vamoose.
Oh yes, these demonstrators plan on sending two loud and clear messages to Parliament. Video cameras must be installed, to sort out the fake from real. And here on in, bathhouses are only open to "genuine" gays.
I shrug, seems so completely far fetched. Yet maybe true, not a lot of girls seem to have boyfriends.
In the end, I opt to attend the Geology Dignity demo. Clearly they are in the right, Geology is short changed in lab facilities, compared to others.
It's a half dozen guys, with nary a cop or student reporter in sight. They're ecstatic to see a first year out there supporting them. The time passes pleasantly as they give me advice on upper year Profs and optional courses.
Next issue of the student paper has 12 pages of coverage of the big bathhouse demo, the thousands of demonstrators, all women. Grim looking siege lines of riot cops, all women also, in formation behind shields.
I shudder, realizing from looking at photos, any tiny spark could have set off something.