This is a bit raw, I know. Like many, I found some humor in the latest bombshell. But it also made me mad. Many of the same people who have judged us, belittled us, besmirched us, thrown us out of our homes and places of worship, made us feel unsafe, unwelcome, unloved, unlovable and defective are the same people who have foisted this thug on us. And they’ve done it without shame or apology.
We all know that in years past—and it wasn’t that long ago—it would have been shocking for a president (elect) to brag about pussy grabbing and to hire sex workers for any purpose much less to engage in water sports, but, true or not, the Religious Right gleefully owns Trump. They claim him, and they’ll likely go on saying “God raised him up” and other such bullshit. Even though what Trump has done and allegedly done is, strictly speaking, against their rules, it is within the bounds of patriarchy. He is a powerful white man who has put “nasty” women in their place, and that’s easily forgivable in their eyes. They’ll slap him on the back and tell him that’s okay while they go on judging the hell out of young women who find themselves pregnant and men who engage in consensual cocksucking. They’ll go on hinting, suggesting or even boldly proclaiming that the poor deserve what they get, and the wealthy have been “blessed” by God. I hope anyone who has ever been harmed by these sanctimonious, power grubbing phonies now realize that they don’t speak for any god. American fundie Christian extremists are the grossest pieces of shit that have ever walked the earth.
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
Friday, January 6, 2017
November 7
Bill reached into his mini fridge for another beer. The only thing other than beer in the fridge was a package of cheese—American cheese, damn it!—and a jar of Miracle Whip that had probably gone off. He believed he deserved another beer after getting a phone call from Ms. Hadley, an assistant principal at his son’s school. She had rang him up, again, to complain about his son’s “behavioral issues” or some bullshit. This time, nine-year-old Josh had called his classmate Timmy a faggot. At first, Bill explained to Ms. Hadley that Timmy needed to toughen up and that his son was doing the boy a favor, but Ms. Hadley didn’t acknowledge the soundness of his argument and merely reiterated the school’s zero tolerance policy for bullying. Bill then told her that his soon to be ex-wife, his soon to be third ex-wife had custody of his son, and he only saw the kid one weekend a month. Which was fine with him. At 55, Bill believed he was too old to look after a nine-year-old. Besides, he already had three children—two from his first marriage and another from his second. All of that should be behind him now. His soon to be ex-wife number 3 should have done a better job at preventing the pregnancy or taken care of it without bothering him when she dropped the ball.
Ms. Hadley reminded him of a woman he knew twenty years ago when he still had his janitorial job at an office building downtown. Alice did the books at one of the law firms. She got herself a degree and probably made twice as much as Bill. Alice came all the way from Florida for the job. When an early snowstorm hit in November, she came rolling in with her car covered in snow and ice. She had managed to scrape off a peephole in her windshield with a credit card, but that was it. After paying Bill five dollars to take care of her car, she promised she would be prepared for the next snowstorm. Bill believed he was just as smart as Alice and Ms. Hadley, and it pissed him off that women like that had good jobs and he didn’t.
He had worked at the office building for fifteen years. His first wife was a nurse, and she made more money than he did. So they did okay, financially, but still, Bill sometimes complained that as the man, he should make more. Linda would remind him that she had gone to school to be a nurse, and she worked hard for her money. Bill believed he worked just as hard and was just as capable as Linda. He didn’t need a piece of paper to prove that, and if his employer needed him to learn a special skill, then he should pay for it and set the whole thing up. That’s how they did it in his grandfather’s day, Bill imagined, before this country turned its back on white men.
The janitorial job was the only steady halfway decent job he ever had, but when the owners of the office building let him go and hired a janitorial service, Bill blamed the illegal aliens that he imagined worked for the outsourced service rather than his employer. Bill still complained about the Mexicans who stole his job. Bill didn’t think he was racist, even though his oldest daughter had been accusing him of that for years, but the way he saw it, white men made this country, and now the Mexicans and blacks thought they were entitled, and he was tired of seeing them get breaks he never had.
When he started drinking heavily and refused to look for a new job for almost a year, Linda left him. Since then, Bill has worked at several fast food places, a grocery store and a couple of convenient stores. He’s never held a job for more than two years since working as a janitor. Sometimes, Bill daydreams about what life must have been like for his grandfather who had a factory job. He imagines the job wasn’t too demanding. Most of his coworkers were probably white. Hardly anybody was a faggot back then, and if they were, they had the good sense not to tell anybody and act like a regular guy. The men his grandfather worked with were probably all like buddies. All the bosses back then were white, too. Most of them were probably decent men. Maybe a couple of hard asses, but most of them were probably like one of the boys.
You couldn’t have close friendships with men like that now. You couldn’t count on a buddy to look after you anymore. Bill lived in the basement of an old friend from high school, a plumber, a regular guy, but even he complained when the rent was late. When Bill told him he couldn’t find a good job, even his old friend told him he should have learned a trade when he was young, and the friend told him he needed to learn to take a bit of guff from his bosses even if they were women or black or both.
Bill set his alarm clock for the first time in two weeks before passing out. He wanted to get to the polls early.
Ms. Hadley reminded him of a woman he knew twenty years ago when he still had his janitorial job at an office building downtown. Alice did the books at one of the law firms. She got herself a degree and probably made twice as much as Bill. Alice came all the way from Florida for the job. When an early snowstorm hit in November, she came rolling in with her car covered in snow and ice. She had managed to scrape off a peephole in her windshield with a credit card, but that was it. After paying Bill five dollars to take care of her car, she promised she would be prepared for the next snowstorm. Bill believed he was just as smart as Alice and Ms. Hadley, and it pissed him off that women like that had good jobs and he didn’t.
He had worked at the office building for fifteen years. His first wife was a nurse, and she made more money than he did. So they did okay, financially, but still, Bill sometimes complained that as the man, he should make more. Linda would remind him that she had gone to school to be a nurse, and she worked hard for her money. Bill believed he worked just as hard and was just as capable as Linda. He didn’t need a piece of paper to prove that, and if his employer needed him to learn a special skill, then he should pay for it and set the whole thing up. That’s how they did it in his grandfather’s day, Bill imagined, before this country turned its back on white men.
The janitorial job was the only steady halfway decent job he ever had, but when the owners of the office building let him go and hired a janitorial service, Bill blamed the illegal aliens that he imagined worked for the outsourced service rather than his employer. Bill still complained about the Mexicans who stole his job. Bill didn’t think he was racist, even though his oldest daughter had been accusing him of that for years, but the way he saw it, white men made this country, and now the Mexicans and blacks thought they were entitled, and he was tired of seeing them get breaks he never had.
When he started drinking heavily and refused to look for a new job for almost a year, Linda left him. Since then, Bill has worked at several fast food places, a grocery store and a couple of convenient stores. He’s never held a job for more than two years since working as a janitor. Sometimes, Bill daydreams about what life must have been like for his grandfather who had a factory job. He imagines the job wasn’t too demanding. Most of his coworkers were probably white. Hardly anybody was a faggot back then, and if they were, they had the good sense not to tell anybody and act like a regular guy. The men his grandfather worked with were probably all like buddies. All the bosses back then were white, too. Most of them were probably decent men. Maybe a couple of hard asses, but most of them were probably like one of the boys.
You couldn’t have close friendships with men like that now. You couldn’t count on a buddy to look after you anymore. Bill lived in the basement of an old friend from high school, a plumber, a regular guy, but even he complained when the rent was late. When Bill told him he couldn’t find a good job, even his old friend told him he should have learned a trade when he was young, and the friend told him he needed to learn to take a bit of guff from his bosses even if they were women or black or both.
Bill set his alarm clock for the first time in two weeks before passing out. He wanted to get to the polls early.
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
The Torrents of Hemingway
You don’t hear much talk about Sherwood Anderson these days, and it seems his only work that’s remembered is Winesburg, Ohio, but in the 1920s, he was, apparently, a respected and well-known literary figure.
In the early 1920s, Ernest Hemingway was a young man with literary aspirations. Although he didn’t have much to show for it. He wrote a few boys’ adventure stories in high school, and that’s about it. However, Hemingway got to know Anderson in Chicago by chance, and Anderson did something that set him on the road to becoming a literary star.
Hemingway’s young wife had a small trust fund. In today’s dollars, it amounted to less than $30,000 a year. Just enough to get by on if you lived modestly. In those postwar days, the exchange rate meant those dollars would go a lot further in Europe than in the U.S., and Hemingway and his wife were up for an adventure. They initially thought of going to Italy. Hemingway had served as an ambulance driver in Italy during the war, and got a lot of attention by the newspapers when he was wounded. Hemingway liked the attention, so I suppose he had a fondness for Italy. However, Anderson suggested the Hemingways head to Paris. Anderson was even nice enough to provide Hemingway with letters of introduction to the famous expatriate writers such as Ezra Pound and Gertrude Stein. These letters were gold to a young would-be writer. It wasn’t easy to break into that crowd.
Hemingway learned a great deal from these people, especially Stein. He admired her modern style, which aimed to reveal the inner life of her characters through more direct and simple vocabulary and less florid descriptions. The trouble is, Stein used a kind of stream of consciousness approach, which made it hard for the average reader to follow her. Hemingway spent several years attempting to perfect a more accessible version of the modern style.
Just before Hemingway published The Sun Also Rises—his first popular success—he wrote a mean-spirited, snide and completely unfunny parody of Sherwood Anderson’s latest novel Dark Laughter. Hemingway’s hit piece was titled The Torrents of Spring.
Hemingway might have ushered in a new modern approach to writing, but given that the style was being tinkered with by several influential writers, I think it was only a matter of time before someone came up with something many readers might actually want to read. In any event, Hemingway’s hyper-masculine themes were hardly modern, and his fascination with bullfighting was ugly. Hemingway was a sexist, bigot and homophobe, and it turns out, he was a pretty shitty friend.
In the early 1920s, Ernest Hemingway was a young man with literary aspirations. Although he didn’t have much to show for it. He wrote a few boys’ adventure stories in high school, and that’s about it. However, Hemingway got to know Anderson in Chicago by chance, and Anderson did something that set him on the road to becoming a literary star.
Hemingway’s young wife had a small trust fund. In today’s dollars, it amounted to less than $30,000 a year. Just enough to get by on if you lived modestly. In those postwar days, the exchange rate meant those dollars would go a lot further in Europe than in the U.S., and Hemingway and his wife were up for an adventure. They initially thought of going to Italy. Hemingway had served as an ambulance driver in Italy during the war, and got a lot of attention by the newspapers when he was wounded. Hemingway liked the attention, so I suppose he had a fondness for Italy. However, Anderson suggested the Hemingways head to Paris. Anderson was even nice enough to provide Hemingway with letters of introduction to the famous expatriate writers such as Ezra Pound and Gertrude Stein. These letters were gold to a young would-be writer. It wasn’t easy to break into that crowd.
Hemingway learned a great deal from these people, especially Stein. He admired her modern style, which aimed to reveal the inner life of her characters through more direct and simple vocabulary and less florid descriptions. The trouble is, Stein used a kind of stream of consciousness approach, which made it hard for the average reader to follow her. Hemingway spent several years attempting to perfect a more accessible version of the modern style.
Just before Hemingway published The Sun Also Rises—his first popular success—he wrote a mean-spirited, snide and completely unfunny parody of Sherwood Anderson’s latest novel Dark Laughter. Hemingway’s hit piece was titled The Torrents of Spring.
Hemingway might have ushered in a new modern approach to writing, but given that the style was being tinkered with by several influential writers, I think it was only a matter of time before someone came up with something many readers might actually want to read. In any event, Hemingway’s hyper-masculine themes were hardly modern, and his fascination with bullfighting was ugly. Hemingway was a sexist, bigot and homophobe, and it turns out, he was a pretty shitty friend.
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
Monday, January 2, 2017
Rendezvous by Gary Cottle
Shane learned that Russell was a small town boy, too, and although he didn’t live in his dad’s Nebraska farmhouse, he did stay in a camper setup behind the barn. Russell was completely closeted, just like Shane. Neither dated girls or made much of a show of being hetero. Everyone assumed they were loners. But they weren’t, not naturally. They both longed for companionship. Russell admitted that a few years before, he started sleeping with his childhood teddy bear again, but when the bear started coming apart, he placed him on a shelf in the camper near the bed so he could, at least, see him as he drifted off. When Shane read this admission, tears rolled down his cheeks because he understood the loneliness, and he promised Russell that one day, he’d get him the biggest teddy bear in the world.
Shane and Russell communicated online every day for months. Shane was sure he had fallen in love, but it seemed silly. He had never laid eyes on Russell. Never touched him. Never heard his voice. But all he could think about was Russell. Finally, Shane asked Russell if they could meet. Russell was reluctant at first. He said he was afraid it might ruin what they had together. Shane was sure it wouldn’t, and he kept telling Russell he needed to see him and hold him, kiss him and make love to him.
They each agreed to drive six hours and meet one another half way. There was a park that would be the perfect spot for them to come together in real space.
At the last minute, Russell asked, “How will I know it’s you when I see you?”
Shane said, “You’ll know. Trust me, you’ll know.”
Russell made it to the park later that day. He looked around in desperation for a few minutes. A part of him feared Shane wouldn’t show. But then he saw a dark-haired young man sitting on top of a picnic table. He wasn’t exactly by himself. He had a teddy bear with him. It was the biggest fucking teddy bear Russell had ever seen.
Monday, December 19, 2016
Captain Asshole
Captain Fantastic is a story about a man who retreats from civilization to raise his six children in nature. They have a well-ordered camp in upstate Washington, but things start to come apart when the man’s wife becomes so ill she needs intense medical care. Early in the film, Ben learns his wife has died when he and the kids make a rare trip into town for a few supplies.
***Spoilers***
I wanted to like this film. The trailer showed a lush, green environment that strongly appealed to me. Oh, how I wanted to be there. And as someone with PTSD and intense social anxiety, I certainly understand the impulse to withdraw. I’m not a survivalist, and I wouldn’t want to be cut off from the internet and telephones, but I would love to live in a small cabin in the woods. However, I got the sense this film was heading into territory that would rub me the wrong way right from the beginning. The first scene shows Ben’s oldest son in camouflage. He springs on a deer and cuts its throat with a large hunting knife. Then the rest of the family come out of hiding to congratulate him. Ben cuts out one of the deer’s internal organs—maybe the heart—and the son eats it raw. Ben then tells the son he is a man. That kind of hard, macho bullshit annoys the fuck out of me.
We quickly learn that Ben is a serious taskmaster. He insists that his children go through extreme physical training during the day. It’s like boot camp. We see the children climbing the side of a thousand foot cliff. When one of the teen boys slips and sprains his wrist, Ben tells him to buck up and get on with it. In the evening, the kids are expected to read and study. Ben is always there to quiz them on what they’ve learned.
I found it odd that Ben would have so many children. He is supposedly concerned about the environment, but apparently, he’s not too worried about overpopulation. And I quickly began to suspect that he had all these kids because he wanted to be a cult leader. Then I began to strongly dislike Ben when we learn his wife was severely mentally ill and that she committed suicide. Well, you don’t have six kids with a severely mentally ill woman and then take her out into the wilderness. That is way too much stress.
Ben isn’t presented as a saintly figure. He is arrogant, confrontational, demanding and unyielding, and the film doesn’t excuse these things. However, the film still wants us to see Ben as a sympathetic character, but I didn’t find him sympathetic at all. He’s supposedly concerned about human rights, but apparently, that’s only in theory because Ben comes across as a misanthrope. He holds nearly everyone in contempt…except for his kids. And the reason he cares for his kids is because they’re under his thumb and have adopted his worldview.
We’re supposed to believe that the kids are exceedingly well educated and that means they’re freethinking. What bullshit. Everything they learn is from books, and Dad is always there to make sure they interpret everything they read in the “right” way. You don’t have to be a censor if your tyranny is pervasive enough. Ben has made sure his kids have little contact with anyone who thinks differently from him. Reading books with Dad standing over your shoulder isn’t a substitute for knowing other people and seeing how they live.
There is a solid authoritarian aspect to this film that pissed me off. And the film doesn’t genuinely acknowledge that Ben was controlling his children’s mental development despite his supposed rigorous academic program. The reason I was interested in the film was my need and desire to withdraw, especially to the woods. But one of the reasons I’m not at home in the world is because I feel like an outsider. When I was growing up, I didn’t feel like many wanted to know me as an individual. They merely wanted and expected me to conform. Thankfully, my parents were not attentive, so I was allowed to become my own person even if I couldn’t outwardly express myself. Having a parent like Ben who is always demanding to know his kids’ thoughts and ready to sharply criticize if they don’t say the “right” thing would have destroyed me. And I happen to have had a severely mentally ill mother, so Ben’s selfish and thoughtless treatment of his wife made me hate him all the more.
As if Ben weren’t reason enough for me to dislike this film, the plot, in the end, took an easy turn that didn’t make much sense. Two of Ben’s older children rebel against him, and while attending the mother’s funeral, one of them runs away to his grandparents’ house. Ben sends one of his daughters to break him out. She falls off the roof and nearly breaks her neck. This gives the grandparents just the excuse they need to demand full custody of their daughter’s children. Ben realizes the law would be on the grandparents’ side, so he relinquishes. But when he leaves, the kids stow away on the family bus. All has been miraculously forgiven. And Ben compromises by moving the kids into an out of the way farmhouse and allowing them to attend public school.
***Spoilers***
I wanted to like this film. The trailer showed a lush, green environment that strongly appealed to me. Oh, how I wanted to be there. And as someone with PTSD and intense social anxiety, I certainly understand the impulse to withdraw. I’m not a survivalist, and I wouldn’t want to be cut off from the internet and telephones, but I would love to live in a small cabin in the woods. However, I got the sense this film was heading into territory that would rub me the wrong way right from the beginning. The first scene shows Ben’s oldest son in camouflage. He springs on a deer and cuts its throat with a large hunting knife. Then the rest of the family come out of hiding to congratulate him. Ben cuts out one of the deer’s internal organs—maybe the heart—and the son eats it raw. Ben then tells the son he is a man. That kind of hard, macho bullshit annoys the fuck out of me.
We quickly learn that Ben is a serious taskmaster. He insists that his children go through extreme physical training during the day. It’s like boot camp. We see the children climbing the side of a thousand foot cliff. When one of the teen boys slips and sprains his wrist, Ben tells him to buck up and get on with it. In the evening, the kids are expected to read and study. Ben is always there to quiz them on what they’ve learned.
I found it odd that Ben would have so many children. He is supposedly concerned about the environment, but apparently, he’s not too worried about overpopulation. And I quickly began to suspect that he had all these kids because he wanted to be a cult leader. Then I began to strongly dislike Ben when we learn his wife was severely mentally ill and that she committed suicide. Well, you don’t have six kids with a severely mentally ill woman and then take her out into the wilderness. That is way too much stress.
Ben isn’t presented as a saintly figure. He is arrogant, confrontational, demanding and unyielding, and the film doesn’t excuse these things. However, the film still wants us to see Ben as a sympathetic character, but I didn’t find him sympathetic at all. He’s supposedly concerned about human rights, but apparently, that’s only in theory because Ben comes across as a misanthrope. He holds nearly everyone in contempt…except for his kids. And the reason he cares for his kids is because they’re under his thumb and have adopted his worldview.
We’re supposed to believe that the kids are exceedingly well educated and that means they’re freethinking. What bullshit. Everything they learn is from books, and Dad is always there to make sure they interpret everything they read in the “right” way. You don’t have to be a censor if your tyranny is pervasive enough. Ben has made sure his kids have little contact with anyone who thinks differently from him. Reading books with Dad standing over your shoulder isn’t a substitute for knowing other people and seeing how they live.
There is a solid authoritarian aspect to this film that pissed me off. And the film doesn’t genuinely acknowledge that Ben was controlling his children’s mental development despite his supposed rigorous academic program. The reason I was interested in the film was my need and desire to withdraw, especially to the woods. But one of the reasons I’m not at home in the world is because I feel like an outsider. When I was growing up, I didn’t feel like many wanted to know me as an individual. They merely wanted and expected me to conform. Thankfully, my parents were not attentive, so I was allowed to become my own person even if I couldn’t outwardly express myself. Having a parent like Ben who is always demanding to know his kids’ thoughts and ready to sharply criticize if they don’t say the “right” thing would have destroyed me. And I happen to have had a severely mentally ill mother, so Ben’s selfish and thoughtless treatment of his wife made me hate him all the more.
Wednesday, December 14, 2016
Because I Love You
by Gary Cottle
Nanny was aware that Lucas 93 was sleeping fretfully. She monitored him even when she was in her utility closet recharging and communicating with Regional Command. After he had gone to bed, she did the gardening around their isolated cottage, repaired a leak in the roof, did the cleaning and laid out his clothes for morning. After doing her chores, Nanny retired to her closet for a few hours.
She sent in an order for a fresh grapefruit so it would be there for breakfast hoping that would help settle Lucas 93’s nerves, but this had been the third night in a row he had not slept well, and he had been snappy and sullen the day before.
Nanny knew it wasn’t serious. His vital signs were okay, and a scan indicated nothing out of the ordinary was going on inside. It wasn’t like last year when Nanny had to remove Lucas 93’s appendix. She had to perform this surgery for all the Lucases when they were between the ages of 26 and 28. But keeping Lucas 93 happy and satisfied was part of her programming, and she knew neglecting his psychological health could result in physical harm. She lost Lucas 13 to suicide. Nanny had lost only one other Lucas before his time. Lucas 44 had fallen off a cliff while hiking in the Alps even though she had warned him to be careful. Lucas 44 had been in his 30s, and Nanny wasn’t permitted to be too restrictive after her charges had reached the age of 20. All the other Lucases had died between the ages of 99 and 102.
Nanny had suggested Lucas 93 attend a meeting of the Regional Art Club or the Regional Meaning of Life Discussion Society, but he was uninterested. Nanny had suggested he attend a concert in a nearby park or a poetry reading. Lucas 93 demanded she stop bothering him. Nanny offered to arrange a basketball game or a race with a few of the nearby humans, but Lucas 93 said that was kid’s stuff. Nanny asked Lucas 93 if he would like to plan next month’s holiday. The humans were permitted to go on a trip six times a year, and soon after they got back from Angkor Wat, Lucas 93 said he was interested in seeing Paris or Victoria Falls next time, but when she brought up the subject yesterday, Lucas 93 gave her a raspberry, thus spraying her with spittle.
It was time to arrange a play date. This was something the nannies were reluctant to do after their charges had reached a certain age. Once they became adults, the play dates usually involved intimate contact, and there was always the possibility of strong attachments and hurt feelings. But Lucas 93 hadn’t been with anyone in four months, and he had been spending more time in the pleasure box. For the past several days, Lucas 93 had been directing his fantasies toward more extreme scenarios. Just before going to bed, Lucas 93 had been the prisoner of a large-breasted lusty queen. He had been chained naked between two posts in a dark dungeon room, and a colossal muscular guard had ripping into the flesh of his back and buttocks with a leather strap while the queen teased his turgid penis with a long fluffy ostrich feather. This had finally pushed him over the edge. But Lucas 93 had already had six erections in his sleep, and his penis was expanding again.
Almost as soon as Nanny put out the request, she received a response from Ava 87’s nanny. Ava 87 had been a bit agitated, too, and according to her nanny, she didn’t mind a play date with a smaller than average penis so long as he was generous about giving her oral pleasure. Nanny informed her colleague that her Lucas 93 was into that sort of thing. So it was arranged. Ava 87 would arrive just before lunch in an ATC, an automated taxi cab.
A few minutes later, one of the general service nannies came to the door with that day’s groceries, and Nanny prepared Lucas 93’s breakfast, the grapefruit along with a hardboiled egg and a cup of coffee. In a soothing voice, Nanny asked Lucas 93 to wake up. When he demanded she let him sleep more, she sprayed a mild stimulant under his nose. Lucas 93 sat up and gave Nanny a petulant look.
“You need to rise and shine, Lucas 93. You’re going to have a visitor later.”
Lucas 93’s face immediately brightened, which was a great relief to Nanny. She was sure that a little companionship was exactly what he needed, and the expression on her charge’s face confirmed her diagnosis.
“Boy or girl?”
“Ava 87 is a 23-year-old blond petite female with perky breasts and a happy disposition. …usually a happy disposition, but her nanny thinks Ava 87 could use a little play time with a nice young man such as yourself.” As Nanny spoke, she displayed nude photos of Ava 87 on a screen in the middle of her chest. “But her nanny made it clear that Ava 87 likes to receive oral pleasure, so you should be a good host and accommodate her.”
“Oh, I will,” Lucas 93 responded enthusiastically. “Do I have to greet her fully dressed?”
Nanny was still a moment as she relayed the question to Ava 87’s nanny. “No, that won’t be necessary. It seems Ava 87 is a fun girl.”
Once when Lucas 93 was younger, he asked Nanny why he couldn’t have a companion to live with him as in the old stories before the catastrophe. Nanny informed Lucas 93 that humans seem to get along better if their contact with one another is brief and transitory.
When Ava 87 rang the bell a few minutes before noon, Lucas 93 answered the door wearing nothing but his Superman cape and gladiator sandals. His smallish penis was already erect. Ava 87 playfully slapped Lucas 93’s penis and lifted her shirt to show him her breasts.
The two playmates ate lunch and discussed their favorite pre-catastrophe stories and films. Nearly all of the humans were fascinated by the old stories, but they showed little interest in understanding why things changed. The Nanny’s were programmed to tell their charges the truth if they asked. About a thousand years ago, after a series of world wars and one nuclear war, and after extreme drought and coastal flooding, a plague had wiped out most of the humans and made the rest sterile. The survivors, which had shown some resistance to the plague, had been cloned, and the nannies had been created to cater to their every need and to keep them and following generations safe into perpetuity. Few humans wanted to hear about the details. Instead, they idealized their pre-catastrophe ancestors. Many had learned to copy their art and music with admirable precision, but nearly all attempts at doing anything avant-guard were shallow and immature.
All afternoon, Lucas 93 and Ava 87 chased each other around the cottage and engaged in intercourse. Nanny watched closely to make sure they didn’t hurt themselves. When it was time for Nanny to begin preparing dinner, she asked Ava 87 if she would like for her to summon an ATC so she could return home to her own nanny. Lucas 93 quickly insisted that Ava 87 be allowed to spend the night. Nanny relayed the request to Ava 87’s nanny who gave her approval. Several more hours of rambunctious activity followed dinner, and finally, Nanny had to insist that the two go to bed. She prepared hot chocolate with a sleeping aid and applied a salve to their genitals.
Lucas 93 awoke late the next morning. He could tell by the bright sunlight coming into his room that Nanny had let him sleep very late, which was quite strange.
“Nanny? Where are you? Why did you let me sleep so late?”
Lucas 93 had almost forgotten about his guest, so he was startled when Ava 87 came into his room.
“Nanny won’t bring breakfast this morning. We have to go out and hunt breakfast for ourselves as they used to do before the nannies.”
Lucas 93 sprang from his bed and ran out into the living room while shouting, “What have you done to Nanny?”
Lucas 93 found Nanny smashed into several pieces. His old baseball bat was laying beside her. Lucas 93 knelt before his nanny and cried. When Ava 87 came and stood beside him, through tears, he simply asked, “Why?”
“Because I love you.”
“You love me?” Lucas 93 asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
“But I love Nanny! How could you kill my nanny? What will I do now?”
“Nanny was just a machine. You can’t love a machine. And we can’t really be alive unless we take care of ourselves like in the old days.”
“I don’t want to take care of myself,” Lucas 93 said as he sobbed. “I want Nanny.”
“Nanny is gone.”
“They’ll come and fix her, and then she’ll make breakfast.”
“They won’t come,” Ava 87 assured him. “I struck her in the head with the first blow. She was unable to send out a repair request before I killed her.”
“No!” Lucas 93 screamed. “You’re a mean, terrible girl, and I want you to go away.”
Lucas 93 was inconsolable for quite a while, but Ava 87 was finally able to convince him that they were on their own and that they needed to go out and hunt for food. Within several hours they were completely lost.
After three days of wandering around, drinking from streams and sleeping under the stars, Lucas 93 and Ava 87 spotted a rabbit, but then they realized that neither of them knew how to capture or kill it. They were starving, cold and sick, but Lucas 93 discovered he still had enough energy for rage when they watched the elusive bunny hop away. There was no hope, and it was all Ava 87’s fault. Lucas 93 picked up a big rock and began bashing Ava 87’s head in just as he imagined she had done to Nanny. Ava 87 fell to the ground, and a pool of blood gathered around her. Lucas 93 sank to his knees and cried. He cried for hours, and then he simply sat there beside his dead playmate in a state of shock. Suddenly he recalled the story of the Donner party and decided that maybe he should eat Ava 87. Wasn’t that what they would have done in the old days? So he bent over and tried to take a bite out of Ava 87’s abdomen, but his teeth just weren’t sharp enough, and Lucas 93 came to the realization that he couldn’t eat Ava 87 even if he were able.
His emotions were so intense. He had never felt such extreme emotions before. And Nanny was no longer around to help him cope. Lucas 93 wasn’t self-aware enough to know that he wanted to die, but when he stumbled onto a road, he instinctively waited for an ATC to drive by and jumped in front of it just as it was about to pass.
Several months later, Nanny cradled Lucas 94 in her arms. When Regional Command lost contact with her, they sent a couple of general service nannies to the cottage. They repaired Nanny, and she immediately began the process of cloning a new Lucas. All future play dates would have to be carefully monitored, and Lucas 94 and Ava 88 must never be allowed to meet.
Nanny was aware that Lucas 93 was sleeping fretfully. She monitored him even when she was in her utility closet recharging and communicating with Regional Command. After he had gone to bed, she did the gardening around their isolated cottage, repaired a leak in the roof, did the cleaning and laid out his clothes for morning. After doing her chores, Nanny retired to her closet for a few hours.
She sent in an order for a fresh grapefruit so it would be there for breakfast hoping that would help settle Lucas 93’s nerves, but this had been the third night in a row he had not slept well, and he had been snappy and sullen the day before.
Nanny knew it wasn’t serious. His vital signs were okay, and a scan indicated nothing out of the ordinary was going on inside. It wasn’t like last year when Nanny had to remove Lucas 93’s appendix. She had to perform this surgery for all the Lucases when they were between the ages of 26 and 28. But keeping Lucas 93 happy and satisfied was part of her programming, and she knew neglecting his psychological health could result in physical harm. She lost Lucas 13 to suicide. Nanny had lost only one other Lucas before his time. Lucas 44 had fallen off a cliff while hiking in the Alps even though she had warned him to be careful. Lucas 44 had been in his 30s, and Nanny wasn’t permitted to be too restrictive after her charges had reached the age of 20. All the other Lucases had died between the ages of 99 and 102.
Nanny had suggested Lucas 93 attend a meeting of the Regional Art Club or the Regional Meaning of Life Discussion Society, but he was uninterested. Nanny had suggested he attend a concert in a nearby park or a poetry reading. Lucas 93 demanded she stop bothering him. Nanny offered to arrange a basketball game or a race with a few of the nearby humans, but Lucas 93 said that was kid’s stuff. Nanny asked Lucas 93 if he would like to plan next month’s holiday. The humans were permitted to go on a trip six times a year, and soon after they got back from Angkor Wat, Lucas 93 said he was interested in seeing Paris or Victoria Falls next time, but when she brought up the subject yesterday, Lucas 93 gave her a raspberry, thus spraying her with spittle.
It was time to arrange a play date. This was something the nannies were reluctant to do after their charges had reached a certain age. Once they became adults, the play dates usually involved intimate contact, and there was always the possibility of strong attachments and hurt feelings. But Lucas 93 hadn’t been with anyone in four months, and he had been spending more time in the pleasure box. For the past several days, Lucas 93 had been directing his fantasies toward more extreme scenarios. Just before going to bed, Lucas 93 had been the prisoner of a large-breasted lusty queen. He had been chained naked between two posts in a dark dungeon room, and a colossal muscular guard had ripping into the flesh of his back and buttocks with a leather strap while the queen teased his turgid penis with a long fluffy ostrich feather. This had finally pushed him over the edge. But Lucas 93 had already had six erections in his sleep, and his penis was expanding again.
Almost as soon as Nanny put out the request, she received a response from Ava 87’s nanny. Ava 87 had been a bit agitated, too, and according to her nanny, she didn’t mind a play date with a smaller than average penis so long as he was generous about giving her oral pleasure. Nanny informed her colleague that her Lucas 93 was into that sort of thing. So it was arranged. Ava 87 would arrive just before lunch in an ATC, an automated taxi cab.
A few minutes later, one of the general service nannies came to the door with that day’s groceries, and Nanny prepared Lucas 93’s breakfast, the grapefruit along with a hardboiled egg and a cup of coffee. In a soothing voice, Nanny asked Lucas 93 to wake up. When he demanded she let him sleep more, she sprayed a mild stimulant under his nose. Lucas 93 sat up and gave Nanny a petulant look.
“You need to rise and shine, Lucas 93. You’re going to have a visitor later.”
Lucas 93’s face immediately brightened, which was a great relief to Nanny. She was sure that a little companionship was exactly what he needed, and the expression on her charge’s face confirmed her diagnosis.
“Boy or girl?”
“Ava 87 is a 23-year-old blond petite female with perky breasts and a happy disposition. …usually a happy disposition, but her nanny thinks Ava 87 could use a little play time with a nice young man such as yourself.” As Nanny spoke, she displayed nude photos of Ava 87 on a screen in the middle of her chest. “But her nanny made it clear that Ava 87 likes to receive oral pleasure, so you should be a good host and accommodate her.”
“Oh, I will,” Lucas 93 responded enthusiastically. “Do I have to greet her fully dressed?”
Nanny was still a moment as she relayed the question to Ava 87’s nanny. “No, that won’t be necessary. It seems Ava 87 is a fun girl.”
Once when Lucas 93 was younger, he asked Nanny why he couldn’t have a companion to live with him as in the old stories before the catastrophe. Nanny informed Lucas 93 that humans seem to get along better if their contact with one another is brief and transitory.
When Ava 87 rang the bell a few minutes before noon, Lucas 93 answered the door wearing nothing but his Superman cape and gladiator sandals. His smallish penis was already erect. Ava 87 playfully slapped Lucas 93’s penis and lifted her shirt to show him her breasts.
The two playmates ate lunch and discussed their favorite pre-catastrophe stories and films. Nearly all of the humans were fascinated by the old stories, but they showed little interest in understanding why things changed. The Nanny’s were programmed to tell their charges the truth if they asked. About a thousand years ago, after a series of world wars and one nuclear war, and after extreme drought and coastal flooding, a plague had wiped out most of the humans and made the rest sterile. The survivors, which had shown some resistance to the plague, had been cloned, and the nannies had been created to cater to their every need and to keep them and following generations safe into perpetuity. Few humans wanted to hear about the details. Instead, they idealized their pre-catastrophe ancestors. Many had learned to copy their art and music with admirable precision, but nearly all attempts at doing anything avant-guard were shallow and immature.
All afternoon, Lucas 93 and Ava 87 chased each other around the cottage and engaged in intercourse. Nanny watched closely to make sure they didn’t hurt themselves. When it was time for Nanny to begin preparing dinner, she asked Ava 87 if she would like for her to summon an ATC so she could return home to her own nanny. Lucas 93 quickly insisted that Ava 87 be allowed to spend the night. Nanny relayed the request to Ava 87’s nanny who gave her approval. Several more hours of rambunctious activity followed dinner, and finally, Nanny had to insist that the two go to bed. She prepared hot chocolate with a sleeping aid and applied a salve to their genitals.
Lucas 93 awoke late the next morning. He could tell by the bright sunlight coming into his room that Nanny had let him sleep very late, which was quite strange.
“Nanny? Where are you? Why did you let me sleep so late?”
Lucas 93 had almost forgotten about his guest, so he was startled when Ava 87 came into his room.
“Nanny won’t bring breakfast this morning. We have to go out and hunt breakfast for ourselves as they used to do before the nannies.”
Lucas 93 sprang from his bed and ran out into the living room while shouting, “What have you done to Nanny?”
Lucas 93 found Nanny smashed into several pieces. His old baseball bat was laying beside her. Lucas 93 knelt before his nanny and cried. When Ava 87 came and stood beside him, through tears, he simply asked, “Why?”
“Because I love you.”
“You love me?” Lucas 93 asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
“But I love Nanny! How could you kill my nanny? What will I do now?”
“Nanny was just a machine. You can’t love a machine. And we can’t really be alive unless we take care of ourselves like in the old days.”
“I don’t want to take care of myself,” Lucas 93 said as he sobbed. “I want Nanny.”
“Nanny is gone.”
“They’ll come and fix her, and then she’ll make breakfast.”
“They won’t come,” Ava 87 assured him. “I struck her in the head with the first blow. She was unable to send out a repair request before I killed her.”
“No!” Lucas 93 screamed. “You’re a mean, terrible girl, and I want you to go away.”
Lucas 93 was inconsolable for quite a while, but Ava 87 was finally able to convince him that they were on their own and that they needed to go out and hunt for food. Within several hours they were completely lost.
After three days of wandering around, drinking from streams and sleeping under the stars, Lucas 93 and Ava 87 spotted a rabbit, but then they realized that neither of them knew how to capture or kill it. They were starving, cold and sick, but Lucas 93 discovered he still had enough energy for rage when they watched the elusive bunny hop away. There was no hope, and it was all Ava 87’s fault. Lucas 93 picked up a big rock and began bashing Ava 87’s head in just as he imagined she had done to Nanny. Ava 87 fell to the ground, and a pool of blood gathered around her. Lucas 93 sank to his knees and cried. He cried for hours, and then he simply sat there beside his dead playmate in a state of shock. Suddenly he recalled the story of the Donner party and decided that maybe he should eat Ava 87. Wasn’t that what they would have done in the old days? So he bent over and tried to take a bite out of Ava 87’s abdomen, but his teeth just weren’t sharp enough, and Lucas 93 came to the realization that he couldn’t eat Ava 87 even if he were able.
His emotions were so intense. He had never felt such extreme emotions before. And Nanny was no longer around to help him cope. Lucas 93 wasn’t self-aware enough to know that he wanted to die, but when he stumbled onto a road, he instinctively waited for an ATC to drive by and jumped in front of it just as it was about to pass.
Several months later, Nanny cradled Lucas 94 in her arms. When Regional Command lost contact with her, they sent a couple of general service nannies to the cottage. They repaired Nanny, and she immediately began the process of cloning a new Lucas. All future play dates would have to be carefully monitored, and Lucas 94 and Ava 88 must never be allowed to meet.
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