The Feminist Queendom of Atlantica.

List of Characters.

Charlie Sage Maths and electronic genius.
Shirley Sage Charlies elderly mother
Chloe Charlie’s one time early school friend.
Josephine Flint Surgeon and associate of Chloe’s.
Mrs Anston Director of Anston Aerospace.
Ronnie Garage mechanic at top of lane
Pauline Garage owner, Ronnie’s sister

Thanks and acknowledgements toTorrey Grover for sowing the seed of this story based on Feminist Republics  

Caution! This story is 45000 words long

Chapter 1 Not Coming out.

By the time Charlie had reached fifth grade he had already concluded that the feminista world as it was presented to him, was a world he wanted no part of.

His country, like it’s sister country the Feminist Republic of Pacifica had long ago separated boys from girls for the essential purpose of ensuring that boys, -who of course became men – would no longer have control of government and the ensuing violence and chaos this wrought.

Charlie was bright, exceedingly bright so when he reached seventh grade and found further studies blocked to him; he became angry at first, then resentful, then bitter and finally devious.

His lifetime childhood friendship with Chloe had, at aged seven first been discouraged at school, then outright forbidden when he had been caught still associating with her while walking home from school. The class teacher had hauled him up before the class and made a cruel example of him by suggesting that if he wanted to continue associating with girls then perhaps he might consider becoming one.

Already resentful that his curiosity had been suddenly and severely curtailed when he discovered that the library was now off limits to him and he was being given learning material of a far lower grade than the girls. On several occasions he had tried to see what books the girls were being given but on almost every occasion he had received a severe reprimand and a warning that if he persisted in trying to study material that was not meant for boys, he would be expelled from school.

This meant that he would be denied even the most basic standard of academic education and condemned to a life of drudgery and labour until his aged body wore out. Any thought of some sort of comfortable retirement would be unavailable because such low-paid laborours would never make enough wages to invest in a pension scheme save for the meagre state pension that would barely keep body and soul together.

Even at the tender age of eleven, Charlie remained convinced that this was a society he wanted no part of. However he was bereft of finding any solution to escape it short of suicide; and he was determined to avoid that. His only hope was to hang on in at school in the hope that he could qualify for an apprenticeship in one of the more technical trades like electrician.

This was about as far as the Feminist Queendom of Atlantica would allow him to progress. As a man, all entry to any of the advanced professions was blocked for these positions were available only to girls. At aged thirteen or fourteen, Charlie would be forced to leave school and if lucky, gain an apprenticeship amongst the semiliterate and seemingly ignorant society of men.

This was how society was now structured almost worldwide and if any boys tried to kick against it they soon found themselves being referred to ‘counsellors’ who would one way or another, ensure that troublesome boys were down-tracked to the most menial, low paid jobs and /or worse castrated to ensure their 'troublesome genes' would never be passed on as ‘sperm-donors’.

Years of such un-natural selection had reduced men essentially to low or moderately intelligent beasts of burden. It was only but rarely that a male exception sprang up like a rose amongst the weeds. – Charlie was an exception who was endowed with high intelligence.

Usually such boys were recognised at an early age because it usually meant that the parental genes had jointly contributed to endow the boy intellectually. When recognised, these boys were invariably feminised in early childhood, almost invariably with their mother’s consent or even enthusiastic promotion.

Charlie’s case was the unique ‘one in billion’ instance where his mother was seemingly of low to moderate intelligence and had failed to notice her son’s gifts. From early childhood Charlie had attended school as a loner who was bullied because his clothes were shabby and he was not interested in sport or practical activities that would ordinarily prepare him for a life of labour, or at best a foremanship if he attained a sufficient level of numeracy and literacy.

The only reason he had briefly enjoyed a friendship with Chloe was because they travelled the same way to school and only separated when Chloe arrived home where Charlie’s mum Shirley would be finishing up as Chloe’s mum’s char-lady, cum cleaner, cum maid.

When Chloe arrived at her driveway, Charlie would wait on the pavement until his mother emerged from the house and they would take the town bus home together. That precious hour when Chloe and Charlie shared the school bus then walked the last few blocks was the only time that Charlie ever found it worthwhile to talk. Even then, he rarely if ever broached the subject of studying or the ban on books for boys. He had soon learned that to reveal any interest in all things academic would invite unwanted interest in him.

All these cruel lessons that Charlie had learned at a very early age of nine was an indicator of Charlie’s extreme intelligence. Then the day came as the next school year started that Chloe approached Charlie with tears in her eyes.

“The bus driver has reported us to the school and I’ve been told to avoid seeing you anymore.”

“Yeah. Same for me. The school counsellor had me in for the same thing. We’re not allowed to share a seat on the bus anymore, or walk home together for the last couple of blocks.”

“I don’t see how they can enforce that.” Chloe stamped her foot angrily. “We’re not in school and it’s just a public street.”

“Yeah, well it may be for you but I’m a boy so I’m not going to risk stuff. I’ve already fallen foul of school enough. So this is it Chlo’. I won’t be seeing much of you anymore. I’ve been told to take the other bus home directly to my neighbourhood and become a latch-key kid.”

“That’s just shit. I liked talking to you.”

“Well. No more it seems, see you around.”

And with these brief words that told so cruelly of Charlie’s loneliness, he turned and trudged to the back of the queue of the ‘ghetto-bus’ full of low achievers and misfits that took them to the seedier part of town. Even before he joined the queue, Chloe could hear the cat-calls and intimidation. Chloe just knew that on the bus, Charlie was out of sight and out of the minds of the teachers. Bullying would follow him for the rest of his journeys to school.

Tearfully, she boarded her own bus and sat hunched up in her usual seat that she could no longer share with Charlie. She reflected on Charlie’s parting words, -‘see you around’-.

This had become a hackneyed expression for a permanent ‘goodbye’ and she cursed silently.

‘Would she ever see or, more importantly, talk to Charlie again?’

Chapter 2.

The very next morning as Chloe settled into her desk, Charlie entered the classroom sporting a badly cut and bruised ‘black eye’ and bleeding knuckles. The teacher eyed him angrily before demanding.

“What happened to you?”

“Somebody tried to bully me Miss.” He answered.

“Bully you?” Her voice raised, thus expressing doubt.

“Yes.”

“Yes Miss.” The teacher tried to correct him.

“Why should I say Miss. Your response implied you didn’t believe me. You questioned my answer and therefore implied I was a liar.

“How dare you be rude to me. Go and see the counsellor.”

Charlie promptly turned to leave just as his antagonist crept into the classroom. It was Dewi Evans, the class bully and hated by everybody. His arm was in a sling and his hand was heavily bandaged. Not to mention a huge cut over his right eye that sported several stiches.

Charlie just pointed his finger into Dewi’s face as he was exiting the classroom.

“And if you try to lay a finger on me again Evans; I’ll break your neck not your arm!”

A deathly silence fell on the class as Evans hobbled painfully to his desk.

The teacher stared at the battered, limping bully.

“Evans? Are you prepared to say what happened?”

“He hit me miss.”

The teacher at least knew her class well. Charlie had for years simply sat, silent and introspective, never saying ‘boo’ to a goose or inviting conflict. Conversely, Dewi had from the very first year one, been the class bully. Dewi however, was reasonably bright and showed some promise to make it as a foreman on some work site.

As to Charlie’s abilities, she had no real idea save that the boy kept himself to himself and had never been in trouble for fighting before. If the boy had any academic abilities, he certainly hid his light under a bushel.

Eventually the rest of the boys from the bus arrived sporting assorted bruises and cuts while some were even limping. Sheepishly, they took their seats. After they had settled the teacher asked the general question.

“Does anybody know what happened to Dewi?”

The deafening silence told her everything. Boys were boys and they’d never tell. They’d sort it out one way or the other, like the gorillas they were.

ooo000ooo

Charlie arrived at the counsellor’s office and knocked firmly on the door. It was a deliberately forceful knock to let the counsellor know that the visitor was not some timid pupil arriving in fear. Underneath his seemingly calm demeanour, Charlie was blazing.

The nature of the knock misled the counsellor into thinking there was a member of staff calling and instead of just shouting ‘come’, she actually got out of her seat and opened the door. When she confronted an eleven-year-old boy she frowned.

“What do you want.”

“I was sent by Miss Jenkins ma-am.”

“Why?”

“She implied I was lying so I refused to address her as miss. She said I was rude and sent me here.”

“Well you are rude if you do not call her Miss.”

“What! After she’s implied I’m lying. She just said Bullying!. Like it was a question.”

“Simply repeating your reply is not calling you a liar.”

“It wasn’t her words; it was the tone of her words.”

“What exactly was said, and don’t forget I’ll be speaking to Miss Jenkins.”

“She asked me what had happened to my eye; I told I was bullied and she said ‘bullying’ while raising the tone of her voice like that woman in the play. She implied that Bullying doesn’t happen in this school.”

“You know very well that Bullying in this school, like every school, is strictly forbidden.”

“Is it? How do you think I got this eye?”

“I don’t know but I’m going to find out.”

“It happened on the school bus. It was my first time going home on that bus and they tried to bully me.”

“Who did?”

“Dewi Evans – and his cronies but they backed off.”

“Why?”

“Go and speak to Dewi Evans. I don’t know. The school said I had to take that particular bus home so I did. It’s a bus-load of bullies and dummies, - bound for the ghetto. They tried to bully me so I stood my ground.”

“A typical man response.”

Charlie looked at his bleeding knuckles then leaned towards a mirror to check his blackened eye. As he held up his hands he shrugged his shoulders and pursed his lips somewhat resentfully.

“I am a man, or apparently will eventually become one. What else can I do?”

“You don’t resort to fists.”

“So if they decide to kick me to death, what will you do?”

“Don’t be silly. They wouldn’t kick you to death.”

For an answer, Charlie tugged his shirt out and displayed some huge bruises on his ribs, then he unbuckled his trousers to reveal more multicoloured bruises to his thighs.

“Am I supposed to just let this happen?”

The counsellor gasped then spluttered.

“Good God boy! Have you had a doctor look at that?”

Charlie wagged his head vigorously to show his disgust.

“Why not?” The counsellor demanded.

“Doctors treat us like animals. I’m not an animal.”

“No. But you’re a man. Men are more resistant to physical pain.”

“Are they?”

“You’d better go and see the nurse.”

Charlie deliberately hesitated just to evoke a clear response and it came exactly as he had expected.

“Go on then! Go and see the nurse!”

Having got a clear instruction he decided to give the bitches a fright. Instead of going directly to the nurse he detoured slightly to the boys lavatories to play his trick. There he picked the scab around his eye, banged his eyebrow against the sink then smeared blood against the edge of a wash basin. Finally he lay down as though he had feinted and gashed his cut eyebrow open again. He lay there for ten minutes or more before a teacher happened by and by that time quite a pool of blood had dripped from his eye-brow.

On seeing the ‘unconscious’ form lying in blood, the teacher panicked and raised an alarm.

Pandemonium quickly ensued as staff concluded he must have been unconscious. He made a pretence of coming around just as he heard the nurse ordering people to stand back. As he stirred, she flashed a light into his eye but he was already conscious again and there was no way of knowing if he had been unconscious for long. His ruse had worked and when he finally appeared in the hospital more questions were asked about the multiple bruises than his cut eye.

The school had some questions to answer, for despite the societal prejudice against men, if a child was injured at school, somebody had to be blamed especially when the circumstances were unclear.
Even as the ambulance ‘two-toned- away, steps were being made in the school to cover tracks.

Once in the hospital Charlie faced a barrage of questions and one of the final ones was why he hadn’t gone to hospital the previous night. Once again, Charlie seized the chance to score a point, albeit a small one.

“Doctors only treat us like untermunchen.” He replied.

The doctor started with surprise then asked him where he’d heard that word.

“Television. That big war they had. The second one or something.”

“Do you know what it means?”

“Yeah.” He replied dreamily as he turned to avoid any more questions.

The doctor was not to be dissuaded though and persisted.

“Tell me where did you learn that word? What do you think it means?”

“It means you treat us like shit.” He almost spat before whispering, “sub-human.”

The doctor gasped and quickly endorsed the bed notes with the letters ‘I.Q.-?

“When she left, Charlie took a quick look at the notes and contemplated the Letters I.Q.

‘Had he given too much away?’ he wondered.

The following morning they sent him down for X-rays and confirmed that he had a broken rib and a cracked knuckle. He had spent a day and a half without medical attention.

“Aren’t you in pain,” the casualty surgeon asked.

Charlie was weary with all the palaver and just shrugged before replying.

“What does it matter?”

“That’s no attitude to take. We’ll give you something for it.”

“Why not, or should I ask why?” She muttered just loud enough for the surgeon to hear.

“You’ve got a productive life ahead of you.” The surgeon challenged.

“Huh! Going nowhere.” He mumbled before deciding to close up and say nothing more.

He feigned sleep and the doctors got the hint. The sedatives they had given him soon took effect and he fell into genuine sleep.

He woke the next morning to find his agitated mother sitting by the bed with two police women. Even before he had his breakfast, there came a barrage of questions which he answered honestly then his mother demanded to know why he had not shown her the bruises. He told her he was hurting badly when he had disembarked from the new bus and he consequently limped home and gone straight to bed. He had concluded nobody cared about him and that this was going to be his life until he left school. After that he had gone to bed straight away to sleep off the pain.

His mother now felt guilty that she had not checked him while sleeping. She did however ask the two police to help her lodge a complaint to the school.

They kept him in hospital for three days because he had presumably been unconscious and it was the Friday before he returned to class. There he had to face more punishment for injuring the other boys because he had handed out a lot more than he had received.

Apart from Dewi Evans’s broken arm and dislocated jaw, several other boys had received broken ribs and missing teeth as Charlie had fought ferociously. It was to be the following week before Charlie finally returned to school and Miss Jenkins’s inquisition.

“Are you prepared to apologise.”

Charlie nodded surlily and simply said “I’m sorry Miss Jenkins, it won’t happen again.”

“Good. Now if you want to make it into ninth grade. You’d better start studying properly.”

Charlie didn’t bother trying to argue for it was brutally apparent that his schooldays would terminate at thirteen and he would be dumped into the manual male work force. All he could hope to do was complete the course and get away from school immediately. Nothing irked him more than to see the girls separated from the boys and then allowed to take much more interesting, high-powered lessons, while he was forced to linger in the boy’s classrooms.

To this end, he completed his schoolwork religiously and emerged top of his class to thus obtain an apprenticeship as an electrician. At thirteen Charlie was placed into an electrical firm that manufactured various components for the aerospace industry. There he was taught to assemble and repair equipment designed by female engineers and scientists.

The only consolation for him was that he now had access to tools and equipment plus any components that had been discarded through failure. He also had unscrutinised access to technical notes and data when newly designed components were found to be flawed.

Often, he would discover a flaw or mistake in a new design and at first he had taken them back to the laboratories. There, the female engineers and scientists would resentfully accept his comments and conclude that he, a mere boy (he was still only fourteen) should not have the temerity to suggest repairs and improvements. Let alone identify design flaws.

After several abusive treatments at the hands of the female professionals, Charlie decided not to attempt to discuss the flaws or problems, he simply returned the component back to the labs with a crude ‘one-word’ label attached; -FAILED-. This was in fact, the accepted procedure. Only women engineers and scientists were deemed capable of initiating sophisticated repairs or improvements.

Needless to say, many components crossed his desk and many components were not returned. They were simply dumped into large collective scrap bin at the end of the design shop and hauled away whenever it was full.

As the long years his apprenticeship progressed, Charlie found himself being handed more sophisticated equipment and components until one day, he recognised an unusual component by its manufacturer's label. It was an aerospace component. To effect any sort of simple repair he would need the manufacturers manual, but of course, being a boy, this level of technology was denied to him. Instead, he put it aside then hid it in his work bag and took it home.

To disguise his theft he placed a large similar looking component into the scrap bin and when the technicians came looking for the missing part he simply showed them the mangled remains of something that looked very similar. There was a bit of a fuss at first because the component was a piece of expensive high tech but it was finally accepted by the company because all the usual stuff Charlie handled was very low tech. A simple but expensive mistake and he was only fined for the loss he caused.

Once he got the component home, he took it up to his bedroom and started probing it with his assorted ragbag of specialist tools. After years of constantly repairing and testing hundreds of components, Charlie had assembled for himself a repair shop in his bedroom that could hold its own with the best repair labs of the company. As has already been revealed, Charlie was an engineering genius.

Eventually his engineering hobby began to outgrow his bedroom and he approached his mother for permission to extend her gardening shed.

His mother’s hobby had always been gardening but she was growing frail and she was more than willing to allow her son to take over the gardening provided he took on the heavy drudgery of digging while she enjoyed the creative aspect of planting, cross breeding and harvesting food from her garden.

What puzzled Charlie was how his mother was so capable in the garden but deemed to be incapable of doing a high tech job. She still cleaned house for Chloe’s mother but now she started taking fresh vegetables around to Chloe’s house because Charlie’s efforts were producing a surplus. When the strange hybrid vegetables started appearing, Chloe, now a first-year university student studying plant nutrition and genetics, became curious about the vegetables. She decided to call on Charlie’s mother just to see the garden.

On a dull, damp Sunday morning she arrived un-announced to find Charlie turning over a long trench of rich black earth while his mother was busy setting out seedlings. As Chloe pulled up in her car, Charlie looked up curiously to see who the visitor was. As a mere man, he did not earn enough to afford a car nor did he know anybody that did. He resumed digging his trench and charging it with animal manure ready for the next year’s crop and he did not recognise Chloe until she crept up behind him..

“Hello!”

Charlie paused cautiously then secretly set his mobile phone to record for he did not recognise the young woman’s voice. He turned slowly then recognised Chloe but he did not smile. He knew as well as any man that smiling at a woman could invite all sorts of accusations. Instead, he just grunted ‘Hello’ back quite loudly to attract his mother’s attention. As Chloe started speaking Charlie’s mother rushed closer, prepared to intercept.

“I would have thought you would be living in a man’s camp - one of the Rookeries by now.” Chloe observed.

Charlie said nothing as he saw his mother rushing to explain. Finally she arrived looking flustered and wheezing for effect.

“He looks after me. I can’t do the heavy digging. He’s got a carer’s concession for me.”

“I’d have thought he would be living with the men, him being a toughie and all.” Chloe observed.

“He’s not a toughie. He looks after me and avoids trouble.”

“He had a reputation for trouble in school.”

“He did not. He was only in that one fight and you know that. Why have you come around making trouble?”

“I’m not, I would simply like to see how you grow your own hybrid versions and compare them scientifically with the vegetables we test at the university.”

“Then be my guest. Charlie show her around the garden.”

Silently, Charlie shrugged then nodded his head to indicate the garden. Chloe followed him and studied the well-proportioned young man that she had once known as her school friend from what seemed like a lifetime ago. She couldn’t help but admire his well-muscled body as he stepped easily across the humped trenches and well raked tilths.

She even wondered if it was worth putting him down for sperm donation for she knew him of old to have been a very bright boy in the junior school. Now his taciturn nature perplexed her. The Charlie she had known had always been a smiling laughing chatterbox, this dumb brute had hardly said two words.

As he led her around the garden he answered monosyllabically to her questions and it began to annoy her.

“What’s happened to the happy laughing boy I used to know?” She finally asked out of frustration.

“He grew up.” Charlie almost sighed.

It was the first almost human response she had evinced from him and she bit her lip to prevent herself from scolding him.

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Talk’s trouble. Best avoided,” he added as an afterthought.

For an answer, he took his mobile from his work-shirt pocket and showed her that it was recording.

“You don’t have to record me. I’m not likely to accuse you of anything.”

“Even so, best I keep it recording,” he enunciated clearly for the benefit of the phone. “Then nobody can be accused.”

Chloe huffed angrily but Charlie did not respond. Instead he simply asked.

“Have you seen enough of the garden?”

“I suppose so. What’s in there?”

“Mum’s potting shed and my hobby room.”

“What! You’ve got a hobby?”

Charlie shrugged yet again. It was a gesture that was beginning to anger Chloe.

“What is it?”

He motioned to the well-tended and productive garden then shrugged irritatingly again.

“Isn’t it obvious?” We keep the tools and stuff in there. I dig and spread muck; mum plants”.

“Can I see?”

Charlie was extremely reluctant to show Chloe what he was actually doing but he had one last ploy and he called across to his mother who was transplanting more seedlings.

“Mu-um! Have you got the key to the shed?”

Charlie never had to ask for the key, indeed he used the shed a lot more than his mother but his mother knew that Charlie played with technical stuff in his shed alone. It kept him out of the men’s camps and out of trouble. She was not as dumb as everybody believed, but only Charlie knew that. She knew full well that if Charlie asked for the key to the shed he was up to something and there was a girl in the garden. Girls had reported Charlie before at school and they were trouble. As Charlie expected, his mother came up with a ploy.

“It’s in the house. I’m not going in there, I’m all muddy, and don’t you go tramping mud through either. I’ll clean up when I’ve finished here. Have you finished the potato trenching yet?”

“No!” Charlie replied, quickly catching on that his mother had twigged.

“Well finish that trench then you can clean up, I don’t want horse-manure carried through the house!”

Chloe looked at the trench and concluded there was a good hours digging and manuring left. She did not have an hour to waste so she let it drop. Instead, she asked for some vegetable samples for her college research and Charlie duly obliged. Anything to keep her out of the shed. Chloe explained that she would get her paper sample bags from her car and they could collect what she required.

“Uh-huh.” Charlie almost grunted as he reverted to his streetwise simian disguise and soon the pair were collecting samples of various vegetables.
As they scrabbled around she turned to him and remarked.

“I bet you wish you knew why I’m doing this.”

“Why?” He replied while reverting to monosyllabism.

Chloe silently congratulated herself that she had evinced some tiny seed of curiosity from him. She secretly wondered what it must be like to be uneducated and ignorant but innately clever. Then she quickly recovered herself.

‘If men had knowledge, they’d have power and every woman knew were that led. Men were only good for two things work and sperm.’

Having gathered her samples, she paid her respects to Charlie’s mother and left.

Chapter 3.

Over dinner that night, Charlie’s mum asked him.

“What did Chloe want?”

“Vegetables. She’s doing some nutrition project in college.”

“What else did she want?”

“Nothing.”

“What about the shed, why did she want to look in there?”

“I told her we had tools in there and because she was short of time, she let it drop. It wasn’t important to her.”

“So she didn’t see your latest gadget.”

“No.”

“You make damned sure she never sees it.”

“I’m not daft mum.”

“No neither am I. Just keep shtum right.”

“Mum’s the word mummy. No pun intended.” He chuckled provocatively.

His mother Shirley, smiled at his reply. It wounded her that her only child had been born male and yet secretly brilliant. Because she had always pretended to be backward the authorities had told her no more children as her offspring would lower the IQ of the country’s registered breeding gene pool. They never found out that Charlie was a genius and she, Shirley, wanted to keep it that way.

If Charlie’s intelligence had been exposed, her only son would have been feminised and made sterile. She wanted grandchildren but not by license. Shirley Sage, Charlie’s mum was a member of an extremely secret underground movement of intelligent women who found the new feminista politics abhorrent. Her plant breeding and gardening was what kept her stimulated and her son’s secret genius gave her a visceral thrill; a reason to fight on.

After their meal, his mother Shirley asked him.

“How’s that wheel-barrow of yours coming along?”

“It won’t be a wheel-barrow much longer mummy. I think I’ve got it cracked.”

“Meaning?”

“Come and see.”

She followed her son into his bedroom and smiled indulgently at the total mess of wires and what seemed to be magnets and some odd looking white stuff that she utterly failed to identify.

“What’s this?” She asked, picking up a ring of soft white material.

“It’s just stuff mummy. Stuff I made here and at work from scrap bin pickings.”

“What is it?” She asked again as she gently squeezed the soft spongy compound.”

“Uh don’t do that mummy. It’s fragile and precious.”

“What does it do?””

“Promise you’ll never say!”

“Of course I’ll promise. I’ve never revealed our secrets before, - and my god, you and I have plenty.”

“Okay.” Charlie agreed. “Watch this.”

She watched as her son located some tiny magnets into a wooden disc and connected them together with a long strand of the same spongy stretchy material that comprised the disc.
Next, Charlie placed the white disc on top of the ring and switched on a battery. The disc immediately started to levitate as Charlie adjusted the current from the battery. Eventually, Charlie stopped the disc’s ascent and he smiled at his mother. The disc was hovering about a foot above the table. His mother smiled indulgently and remarked.

“Magnetic levitation. Very clever darling but we’ve had that for years.

Uuh, there’s a bit more to it than that, Charlie added.

“Go on darling.”

Charlie then placed the battery between the ring of magnets and the soft white disc, then he simply inverted the whole arrangement. To Shirley’s shock and amazement the white disc just continued to levitate at exactly the same height above the table while the battery remained sitting on the disc and the inverted wooden ring of tiny magnets just rested on the battery. Shirley carefully swept her hand between the white disc and table but nothing moved. The disc remained firmly one foot above the table.

“How does that work? She whispered softly.”

“My secret mummy.”

“How did you work that out?”

Charlie tapped his temple and smiled.

“I can’t say Mummy. I daren’t say Mummy. Please don’t ask. It’s my precious secret!”

Shirley kept staring at the arrangement and ended up simply shaking her head. Then she fixed her gaze on her only son, the ‘the big, seemingly oafish gardener’. If the authorities discovered this invention, which was clearly some sort of antigravity device; her son was – well, she had no idea what would happen to her son - and eventually her.

“Where did you discover all this?” She asked as her throat tightened with fear. “If you’ve been reading books and stuff, where did you get hold of them. They’ll crucify you.”

“None of this is in any books mummy. It’s only in here.” (Charlie tapped his head yet again.)

“But the science, the physics – I mean how did you-“

Charlie shrugged again but that seemingly dismissive gesture hid a seething resentment, a lifetime of hurt. Shirley could sense the anger and she desperately tried to compensate it with an intense motherly hug. Tearfully she croaked.

“Don’t condemn all women darling. Some of us are on your side.”

“Are they?” Charlie almost choked as he replied. “Are they mummy. How many are there like you and that secret circle of yours?”

“Not many son, but we’re trying.”

“Yeah, trying that’s the word, - trying-! I just want out. Somewhere to be free of these shackles, these chains of ignorance; this is my way out.”

Shirley’s blood ran cold. ‘Could her only son be considering suicide?”

Her expression told Charlie everything for he was sensitive as well as smart.

“No Mummy. Not suicide; escape. Escape from this planet. Freedom to go anywhere else but this place, anywhere from this world. Every woman’s hand is against me, I see it every time I am waiting for a bus or eating alone in a café; everywhere I go, they’re watching.”

“What! You’re dreaming of go- going into space? What! Living on Mars or something?”

“Whatever it takes. Just out of this straight-jacket away from this earth.”

“But, but you’d be forever lonely.”

“I’m lonely now. What’s the difference?”

“But I’m here; then there’s Chloe, she’s your friend.”

“Now you’re clutching at straws Mummy. I haven’t seen Chloe since ninth grade and even then not to speak to her. Remember, it wasn't allowed.”

“But she came around only today.”

“Only to collect vegetables for her own research. We hardly spoke; and I could hear her thoughts. Poor dumb oaf -, that’s what she was thinking. Na-ah, there’s nothing there for me from that quarter, she’s a thoroughly modern, feminine miss is Chloe. Good riddance is what I say. I could marry an alien and be happier.”

“Is that your final word?”
\
Charlie nodded violently and got up out of his dressing table chair.

“I’m going to the garden shed. Don’t wait up for me.”

ooo000ooo

Chapter 4

Once locked in his beloved sanctuary, Charlie slipped behind the thick canvas curtain and started popping more materials into the gas fired crucible that was quickly heating up. As the temperature rose to incredible heat, he put on his leather coat and welders helmet then started to rearrange the various magnetic induction coils. Slowly, the coils rotated around the crucible and Charlie watched the convection currents spiralling into a carefully constructed vortex of laminated amalgams.

This time the end result would not be a much larger, thicker stiffer disc capable of withstanding a few hundred kilograms of pressure and weight; and yet it still should only require a modest, wider ring of magnets to provide the levitation flux inside the disc. That was if his ideas were right. That would mean just the same battery capacity as before.

Once the brew seemed right, Charlie switched off the heat and left the mix to cool down and solidify, hopefully in a sufficiently precise coil of amalgams to produce a stable disc. Then he had to go to bed. The amalgam would take most of the night to cool and he had to be in work in the morning. He wouldn’t know until he got home on Monday evening if his endeavour was going to work.

ooo000ooo

All through the Monday, Charlie was edgy. This was compounded when he spotted a large sheet of alloy that comprised a substantial percentage of the even larger disc he was contemplating. The sheet was lying crumpled and folded. Searching desperately for an excuse, he approached the repair shop manager.

“Excuse me Ma-am, there’s a large sheet of metal lying folded up in the scrap bin. Is it possible for me to take it to use as a waterproof cover for my seedling box in the garden?”

“How will you get it home? They won’t allow that on the bus.”

“I’ll walk home.”

“But you’re four miles from here, you’ll be out after curfew.”

“I’ve phoned my mother. She’s slightly disabled but if she’s with me, I’m okay for the curfew, I’m her registered live-in carer. We often go out after curfew, especially in these summer months. She’ll meet me in her wheel chair off the bus at the factory gates.”

“Very well, here’s your chitty. Can you read?”

“Of course I can read. I’m a repair fitter supervisor.” He replied whilst suppressing the hurt from the insulting question.

On receiving the chitty, Charlie extracted the sheet of metal and left it beside his work bench ready for the end of shift. His mum met him at the gates and he wheeled her home through the sunlit evening for the full four miles. Once in the shed, he cut the sheet into suitable ‘crucible-sized’ chunks ready for the next smelting which would not occur until he had scrounged some other alloys and carefully weighed them out. The amalgam that comprised the discs was not humongously important but the more accurate the compound the more efficient the disc. In the meantime he had wheel-barrow to test so he started fashioning the wooden wheel to match the previously moulded amalgam disc. As the night approached at ten-pm (2200) he had shaped the wood to match the disc when Shirley tapped on the shed window.

“Supper darling. Time for bed I think.”

Satisfied with his days efforts, Charlie secured the shed and joined his mother at the kitchen breakfast bar. They chatted happily then retired to bed. Charlie adored his mum and the feelings were mutual.

By the end of the week, Charlie was ready to test out his antigravity disc under the wheel-barrow. After assembling the components to provide a stable platform he cautiously adjusted the current in the battery and felt a deep thrill of excitement as the disc levitated under the wheel barrow then stopped at the hoped for height. Charlie secured the battery to the wheelbarrow and smiled with a deep sense of satisfaction. He had invented a hover-barrow.

He found his mother preparing dinner and simultaneously browsing through a seed catalogue.

“D’ you want to come and see mummy?”

“Not now darling. I’m cooking. If you shower now you’ll be just right to eat.”

He smiled inwardly as he contemplated the situation that might one day become famous words of history.

“Mummy, mummy! I’ve built a spaceship.”

“Yes darling have you had your shower.?”

Taking his mother’s words to heart, he trudged upstairs and did as suggested. Once they had eaten and settled back around the kitchen breakfast bar, he tried breaking the news again.

“Your wheel-barrow’s ready, if you want to try it.”

“Oooh. You mean it hovers!”

“He smiled and nodded as Shirley hurriedly put her gardening shoes on.”

Once in the shed he invited his mother to sit in the barrow then carefully, the barrow ascended to Charlies waist height and remained their absolutely firm. Shirley smiled to reciprocate the intensely stupid grin frozen to her son’s face.

“It works mummy. You’re the first human to have ridden on an anti-gravity device.”

Shirley gave a snort of delighted pride as she observed prosaically.

“Yes, in a garden wheel-barrow. Could it be any better? I’m just so proud of you and glad for you.”

After a couple of excited trips around the shed, Charlie brought the wheel barrow down to earth and Shirley stepped out with all the pride and pomp of a queen getting down from a coronation coach. She truly understood the significance of the event and the dangers that now faced her son. How could she protect him? She worried.

With the wheel barrow project completed both he and his mother knew never to expose it to the possibility of discovery. Even though their little house was way out on the edge of the ghetto, close to the derelict factories there was always the chance that some idle walker or vagrant might happen by and see him or his mother using it. The wheel-barrow had been an excellent project but they could never use it unless both of them where in the garden. Charlie would use the barrow while his mum kept watch.

“With the wheel-barrow project completed Charlie mused whether it would be safe to buy a beat-up old jalopy and stick four or even six discs under the car.

Having determined that the idea was feasible, Charlie put a sketch together and left it on his bedroom table. In the morning because of the amount of work he was putting in to every aspect of his life, he left early and forgot to put the drawing away. Fortunately, Charlie was the world’s worst artist and the sketch resembled the infantile imaginings of a ten-year-old sci-fi fan. Shirley found it and smiled tearfully as she studied the crude pencil strokes and two-dimensional scribbles. Her beloved child had never once had an art lesson or music lesson. Then she looked a little closer and noticed some unusual squiggles that looked like some bizarre formulae but they resembled nothing like conventional numbers. Shirley decided to ask her son when he came home from work.

“Oh they’re just numbers mum. Stuff I did when working out the maths. They won’t make sense to you, it’s my own crazy stuff.”

“You’re hiding stuff Charlie. I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Okay, I’m lying. What if I am. I’m never going to tell anybody anyway.”

“But you don’t have to lie to me darling. I’m your mother and I’m on your side.”

“I’m sorry mummy. That’s not exactly true. I can’t let you find out how I worked it out. If ever they came looking, they’d put you on the rack and rip it out of you. By not telling you, I’m protecting you.”

“They’re not that bad Charlie.”

Charlie fell silent. He did not want to fall out with his mother but he was quite convinced that they were ‘that bad’. He’d been on the receiving end as a male child too many times.

Shirley could see the distress tormenting her son so she let it drop.

For the rest of that summer, Charlie kept himself to himself. Apart from his immediate associates at work he only spoke to his mum. He had become seriously fixated on his idea of placing some antigravity discs under a car and creating a hover car. This of course necessitated his building a garage to accommodate the project so that occupied his time as well. Fortunately, as a son looking after his mother and registered as a carer he had a licence to do house improvements and the permissions for improving his mother’s circumstances were readily forthcoming.

By the winter, Charlie had built a smart garage extension that extended between the garden shed and the main house. When the government inspector of building arrived he concluded rightly that tha garage was designed for maintenance and gardening activity. To the planning inspectors it appeared exactly as it was, a caring son doing right by his mother within the parameters of his ability. They found a well-constructed building suitable for a car and gardening hobbies. The building was passed and the inspector actually congratulated him on his skills. Good craftsmen were about the only men to be given any respect by the feminista government.

Then Charlie had to wait until he was twenty five and old enough to obtain a driving licence. Another two years of patient waiting but at least he could buy the car in his mother’s name and tinker about with it in his mother’s garage.

For six months he accompanied his mother on frequent weekend shopping trips. He had always helped his mother shopping so it was an easy wrinkle to cover his search for a suitable car and he soon found what he was looking for. A modest, low mileage electric ‘runabout’ that his supervisor’s wages could afford. In the spring of his twenty fourth year, the car was delivered by the dealer to his mother’s garage and Shirley signed for it while Charlie paid by card.

Once inside the garage Charlie wasted little time dismantling the car and modifying the body to accommodate six discs for lift and two discs each end for forward and reverse motion. Finally as he completed making the discs, he placed two discs inside the front doors to thrust the car sideways or turn it conventionally. None of the discs were apparent to a cursory inspection and ordinarily, the car would function as the modest low-performance battery driven car that men were allowed to drive. Another year of patient waiting and Charlie prepared to take his licence test.

When the examiner saw the unusual controls, Charlie managed to pass them of as special controls to accommodate his mother’s disability. For the test, he unplugged the ‘joy-stick and the interior looked like a normal car. The examiner smiled when she saw the disconnected joy-stick of the back seat.

“I’m glad to see that you’ve made provision for your disabled mother.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Charlie declared. “I look after her, she looks after me. We both get to share the benefit of our little car.”

“She looked at him slightly askance. It was unusual for a twenty five year old man to be living with his mother and be so content to do so.”

“Are you gay?” She asked bluntly.

“No. I’m an electrical fitter and sometime carpenter. Cabinet making and gardening are my hobbies.”

“Yes, I’ve checked your resume, -(as I’m required to do)-, you’ve never had any offences or police charges listed against your name. That’s unusual for a man.”

“Is it?” Charlie responded with his usual taciturn demeanour.

“Yes. It is. How come?”

“I dunno. I live with my mum and keep myself to myself.”

“Don’t you ever go down to the man-spaces; you know, get drunk have sex with the sex-bots?”

“No.”

The examiner shook her head and finally instructed him to drive.

ooo000ooo

Two hours later after an exhaustive examination, Shirley met him outside the testing station to sign as a witness to Charlie’s licence. A Man’s signature was legal but it always paid to have a female endorsement added, better still if the female was the man’s mother.

“You’ve got a good son and a good chauffer, madam.”

“I know that young lady, Better perhaps than you, at least for the son part. As to the driving, that’s your department.”

“You don’t seem unduly disabled to require a Posi centric joystick.”

“We’ve had it installed to future-proof the car. My hands are getting stiff and arthritic. In a few years, my doctor tells me I’ll probably need one. We had it installed when we bought the car.”

The examiner smiled as she handed Charlie’s new license to his mother Shirley.

“Make sure he keeps a clean license; you know how stupid men are with their cars. I don’t want to see him down here in two years’ time resitting his exam.”

“I doubt it young lady. My boy’s never been a reckless fool. You’ll have his legal record there anyway.”

“Yes completely clean. Quite remarkable and quite laudable.”

Shirley rather objected to some twenty-year-old graduate passing comment of her son of twenty five who had never crossed paths with the law except for one incident in junior school when he had defended himself from attack. Even then he had been exonerated when video footage of the bus had been presented. In a fit of mild pique Shirley asked the examiner.

“Have you ever been in trouble with the law young lady?”

The examiner crimsoned slightly before admitting.

“Well yes, actually; a few minor transgressions whilst at university. Typical girl stuff, drunk and disorderly you know how it is in youth.”

“Well no actually. I don’t. In my day, girls didn’t get drunk. And I never crossed paths with the law. Neither has my son for that matter; as you can, and I presume already have, checked. So bear that in mind next time you make insinuations!”

Shirley then turned to her son who had finished folding up Shirley’s wheel chair and loading their little car.

“Come on Charlie, take me home please.”

Without a word. Charlie carefully pulled out and savoured his first solo driving journey at the ripe old age of 25. The examiner was left staring perplexedly at the little car as it very correctly completed its turn and disappeared. Her thoughts were not kindly ones.

A twenty-five-year-old man without a blemish on his record and living with his mother, was somebody who needed watching.

When Charlie reached home, he put her car away and joined Shirley in a celebratory dinner washed down with a single glass of wine that was an exceptionally rare event. Neither Shirley nor Charlie ordinarily drank but they considered Charlie passing her test to be a very special event. With their precious little car securely locked away they settled down to a typical evening’s pleasure. Shirley listened to some classical music while Charlie worked away upstairs tinkering with another idea to enhance his now successful antigravity engine.

Now life at least for mother and son, seemed to have turned the corner. Charlie still took the bus to work and continued keeping a low profile in the repair shop he now supervised. Most of the time he responded to trouble shooting requests from his colleagues then attending to the jobs that were regularly deposited on his desk.

His inordinate skill at solving problems had come to the attention of the female managers for often those managers had encountered seemingly insolvable problems that, when sent to the repair shops in a last desperate endeavour, had been returned good as new.

Whenever one of the female managers had deigned to find the brain who had fixed things, the men invariably nodded towards Charlie’s bench; the most cluttered and untidy workspace in the whole factory..

‘Speak to grumpy Ma-am,’ or ‘see the silent one Miss’, he’s your man.

It had become painfully obvious to the whole management team that there was an exceptionally intelligent being working in their midst and yet who held virtually no higher educational qualifications at all. The Manging director and head of human resources were eventually duty bound to call Charlie in and learn more about him.

“Now Mr Sage, have you asked yourself why we’ve invited you in here?”

“No.”

“Are you not curious.

“No.”

“Well the fact is that we have realised you have an exceptional aptitude with electronic components.”

“Go on.”

“Would you consider a promotion to the professional, managerial section.”

“No.”

“Oh! Why not?” There are considerable material benefits.”

“And considerable losses as well.”

“Such as?”

“Castration for one thing.”

“That’s not serious loss if you are not indulging in any sexual activity, is it.”

“And who says I’m not indulging in ‘sexual activities’, as you call it.”

“We know for a fact you never enter the man spaces; in fact, you sleep every night at home.”

“I look after my mum. She’s getting frailer and frailer every year.”

“Have you ever thought of becoming a sperm donor?” The director asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You spend the rest of your life wondering where your kids are. -Which kids are yours.- Well I would, I’m that sort of person.”

“What! You mean you’d worry about your kids?”

“Not all men are bastards!” Charlie snapped.

“You’re an unusual case aren’t you?”

“Is that why you brought me in here; to tell me I’m unusual?”

“It’s an awful waste to not include your genes in the gene pool. How far did you go at school?”

“Ninth grade, like all the other supervisors.”

The HR woman dug out a paper with some questions and showed it to Charlie.

“Do you know what that is?”

“It looks like maths. Your higher maths”

“Do you understand it?”

“No.”

“Then how do you mend those assorted units, determining the right capacitance and stuff and locating short circuits inside copper windings and stuff.?”

“I get by with experience mostly.”

The HR lady frowned then took out another rather complex component and placed it in front of Charlie.

“How would your repair that?”

Charlie looked at it thoughtfully.

“I’d need an Avo-meter and if that can’t do it, an oscilloscope.”

She took out an Avo-meter and handed it to Charlie expectantly. He promptly switched it on and started testing various terminals. After five minutes he tapped the component knowledgeably.

One of the capacitors is down and the secondary rectifier is shaky. Can’t say if it needs repair or replacement without an oscilloscope.

“How did you work that out?”

Charlie shrugged then admitted.

“Did it in my head.”

“How. That would need Calculus.

Charlie shrugged once again and once again, this fatalistic tell started to offend the women.

“Where did you learn Calculus. It’s forbidden to boys in school.”

“As I said, I never learned Calculus.”

“So how did you work out the problem?”

The managing director was a fully qualified electrical engineer, so she set Charlie a complex problem describing resistance decay in a high voltage circuit and asked Charlie to calculate where the low voltage leakage was likely to be.

Charlie took the paper wrote some strange squiggles accompanying some values that the director recognised then Charlie transposed the values with the squiggles and produced an accurate result. He handed his answer to the director who gasped.

“What are these squiggles?”

They tell me how to adjust for a rate of change or the expansion or contraction. Those little numbers I use to work out how far or how fast. When to stop and stuff.

“Like limits.” The director frowned.

Charlie paused thoughtfully then frowned.

“Well yes, sort of I suppose. They can go on forever, as far as I can see but they change when you get past zero, or start to go on forever.”

“Like infinity.”

“What’s that Charlie stumbled.”

“That’s when an answer can go on forever.

“I don’t get you.” Charlie confessed.

“What have you never divided one number by another and the remainder just keeps going on and on and on.”

“Oh that! I call those forever numbers. They’re no good for science and electricity. You need real value for those numbers or you just get lost.”

“Do you think of zero as a number?”

“Well it’s there sort of as a defining edge between front numbers and behind numbers.

“You mean positive and negative numbers.”

“Is that what you call them?”

That’s what everybody calls them.

“I’ve never heard them but then they stopped me.”

“Who stopped you?”

“The teachers. You know what they do to boys after year seven and year nine. It all stops.”

The director stared at Charlie as it dawned on her that Charlie had evolved his own branch of maths with his own complex tools. Worse still, his obscure little squiggles meant nothing to other mathematicians, yet they were powerful and incisive tools within the context of Charlies own isolated brain.

‘No wonder this guy, this common supervisor, was loner, a recluse. He lived in some sad, remote but incredibly high powered world of his own.’

To make certain she pulled out a sheet of electrical circuitry problems that demanded several intuitive and complex solutions and asked Charlie to try and solve them.

The result was a lot of pen-chewing and squiggling but within twenty minutes Charlie had -in his own way-, with his own brand of maths, solved a three hour bachelor’s degree final paper in electronics. And the answers were a hundred percent right!!!!!

As to any workings well the director concluded the squiggles might just as well have been Egyptian Hieroglyphs. But the answers were full on correct!

Her jaw sagged as she began to realise that this common or garden supervisor must have a brain as astute as any of the famous mathematicians, Newton, Gauss, Einstein and so on.

The huge question now facing her was what to do with him. They could not have a man, of all people, exposing their shortcomings in the most complex of engineering science.

As she sat ruminating uncomfortably, Charlie remained silently staring at the window behind her. After a long, long silence, Charlie finally interrupted her thoughts.

“Can I go now please? It’s gone five and I’m due to meet my mummy, she’ll be getting worried.”

These words suddenly brought the director out of her introspections and she hurriedly released him.

“Oh! Yes! Yes go. I’d like to come down and meet your mother.”

“We haven’t got much time. Mummy’s got an appointment with the doctor.”

His use of the somewhat infantile word ‘Mummy’ suddenly rang a bell in the director’s brain.

‘Could this guy possibly have feminist tendencies?’ She wondered. ‘Yes, she must meet his mother!’

They hurried as fast as her executive heels allowed though Charlie was still forced to pause anxiously for her to occasionally catch up. Soon, they arrived at the factory gates and Charlie introduced his mother.

“Hello Mummy, this lady is Mrs Anson, the managing director.”

“He’s not in trouble is he?” Shirley asked.

“No, not at all Mrs Sage. Do you know your son is a scientific genius.”

“I’ve suspected it for a long time but; well- such are the times we live in.“

“Did he never show signs at school?”

“All he did was get into trouble, usually by curiosity. You know how it is; trying to read the wrong books, banned from the library; all the usual childhood misdemeanours. And he once got suspended for fighting, but that wasn’t his fault. The camera’s proved it once the video was located.”

“Are you saying he can be violent.”

“Listen Mrs Anston. I don’t know if you’ve got children, especially any boys. But any man can be violent – if – he’s – provoked - enough! My boy has never been in trouble with the law, or drunk, or in any way violent except for one incident at school in year seven. He – is – not – violent!”

“Yes, yes. I see, yes I understand.”

“Very well Mrs Anston, it’s been interesting to meet you. Now I am late for an appointment with my doctor so if you’ll please excuse me.”

“Yes, quite. Drive carefully.”

The director watched the little car slide silently away then returned to her office. She now had a couple of hours’ worth of extra work that evening to find out more about this freak she had in her company.

ooo000ooo

In the hospital waiting room Charlie sat in deep contemplation while his mother attended the doctor. When she emerged her face told it all.

“I’ve got cancer.” She told him as tears started to flow.

Inevitably, despite his determined efforts to stem them, Charlie’s tears eventually leaked out and by the time they reached home, he could hardly see to drive the car into the garage.

Over dinner, they struggled through their food as Shirley explained everything to her son.

“Only months you say!” Charlie choked.

Shirley nodded as she explained.

“It’s extremely aggressive. Towards the end I’ll just be a vegetable.”

“I’ll nurse you through to the end Mummy. You know that.”

“They’ve offered me euthanasia when it becomes too painful.”

“Do you want that?”

“I’m not superstitious darling. When my time comes I’ll take the offer. It will be far less painful and much more dignified.”

She studied her son and could not help but admire his stoicism. As she explained her wishes Charlie’s eyes glittered with bitterness.

“All their bloody wonderful medicine but the still haven’t solved this type of cancer.!”

“Try not to worry Charlie, at least it won’t be a slow lingering death. I’m accepting the euthanasia offer so we might as well start making preparations. Firstly of course, you’ll be inheriting the house. There is nobody else.”

“Oh don’t talk about stuff like that Mummy. When you go, I’ll tidy up the loose ends then sell up and leave. I’ll buy a remote little place and live on my own with my thoughts and ideas.”

“What about the garden.”

“A garden can be created anywhere. Now I can drive, I can live wherever my needs dictate.”

“What about your secret antigravity engine?”

“That remains a secret until I’m good and ready.”

“Don’t let the feminist authorities try and steal it from you. It’s your idea; your lifeline to a better life.”

“Yes. But not on this planet. Not living like some sort of lower order.”

“Are you serious?”

“If it doesn’t change I’m not staying to be insulted or worse castrated or whatever they do.”

“Good boy Charlie. Go to my bureau and bring down the blue book in the secret drawer.”

Charlie knew all about his mother’s bureau and the secret drawer it contained so he went upstairs and collected the book. His mother opened it on the kitchen table and showed him how she had listed her friends in their secret society.

“You know who my friends are and what we believe about this misanthropist world. If you are serious about leaving this earth give them a chance to help you. Some might even offer to come with you.”

“I don’t think anybody can help me mummy. My invention can only take me to the solar system planets and there’s nowhere suitable to live. If I make a public spectacle of leaving it will only be a token demonstration of my discontent. A suicide trip to mars or something.”

Shirley nodded sadly. She knew her son Charlie was right. The nearest star with planets that even offered the remotest possibility of colonisation was hundreds of light years away. Still that was Charlie’s problem, she’d be long dead and buried.

Chapter 5.

The remaining months of Shirley’s life were spent finalising her end-of-life arrangements and visiting her friends in the secret society. When at home she helped her son to complete his plan and secretly marvelled at the genius her womb had wrought. With all his endeavours now directed towards building a larger craft that would enable him to escape the feminist totality of Earth.

Eventually the time came for Shirley to end the pain. Arrangements had long been set in place and Shirley’s friends were united in her decision to finish the pain. They gathered in a quiet hall not far from Shirley’s home and sat around her comfortable chair to offer their last farewells. They finally offered Shirley her last rites as they all toasted her departure in their own chosen wines or spirits or even plain pure water; while Shirley drank down her suicide draught.

Peacefully her eyes closed for the last time while Charlie’s tears fell copiously onto the white linen gown she had chosen to die in.

Finally one of Shirley’s doctor friends confirmed her death and signed the death certificate. With all the legal formalities properly completed, her friends and Charlie followed the hearse to the crematorium and she was burned with no fuss. Shirley’s ashes were spread by Charlie and Shirley’s friends in a mutual festival of remembrance onto the soil of her beloved garden. That evening, after the wake was over, several of Shirley’s friends offered to sit with Charlie as he prepared to spend his first ever night alone in the house that had been his lifetime home. Tears flowed freely.

“What are your plans now Charlie?” One of Shirley’s longest friends asked.

“For the moment, nothing.” Charlie replied.

“I’ve thought of many things but I have to clear my head first.”

“Will you be staying here in your old home?”

“I haven’t decided anything yet. I’m taking things slowly.”

“The authorities might take unkindly to a man living alone in such a large house. There’s a lot of pressure for housing space.”

“Knowing the way the political climate is going, they’ probably try to get me to sell and take some tiny flat in the man spaces.”

“Would you do that?” One of Shirley’s lawyer friends asked.

“Uugh no. I’d kill myself first. They can’t force me to live in the Rookeries.”

“What is your preferred option?” The lawyer pressed.

“Well, this place might be deemed too large for a single man, but I could buy a tiny cottage buried away in the country. Too small for a family so the authorities can’t hound me out. Then I’d still have a place of my own and some money to put by.”

“You intend to carry on working at the Anson factory I suppose.” The lawyer asked.

“Not much choice there have I. They’re reluctant to let me go and they’ve reported me to the authorities as sperm donor potential. That limits my life style options.”

“Oh. Shirley never mentioned that.”

“Mummy kept a lot of stuff under her hat. I don’t really want to discuss it. Being a sperm donor would require me to register where I live.”

“D’ you want to be one?”

“Oh come on!” Charlie sighed frustratedly. “You’re a member of the Anthrophile society here, would you want to father a child into this world, this feminist gulag?”

“Well you may not have noticed Charlie, I’m a woman; I can’t father a child.”

“Even worse then, would you want to bear children into this world.”

“Well no. That’s what were about changing.”

“Good luck with that.” Charlie replied as he added another brandy to his efforts to get determinedly drunk. “Me, I’m for a quiet life as far away from the feministas as I can get.”

The lawyer realised she would not get much more sense out of Charlie and she quietly suggested to her friends that they put him to bed. This done, two of them elected to keep a vigil and the rest started making their ways home or to the hotels they had booked to attend the funeral.

Dawn found Charlie nursing a brutal hangover but the two society members appeared in his bedroom as they heard the first groans.

“Glass of orange juice I think.” The older woman suggested.

“And a couple of aspirin;” the younger woman added, “nothing stronger mind, the alcohol is still sloshing around.”

Charlie’s response was to simply groan again as his headache hammered into his skull. After having established that their ward was alive and kicking, the anthrophiles set about making breakfasts. Eventually Charlie emerged in a tee-shirt, jeans and sandals.

“That smells good.”

“It’s for you. Once we’re happy you’re okay, we’ll be making tracks.”

“Yeah, that’ll be best. Doesn’t do for a single man to be seen with women in his house.”

Having established they were singing from the same song sheet about feminism and the feministas, they agreed to leave ASAP. By noon, Charlie was at long last alone to deal with his loss as he wanted to. The way he needed to.

Early afternoon found him tinkering with his latest endeavour, namely a small ‘motor-home that he had plans to turn into a space ship. His little car now sat innocently outside the garage for it was his legitimate possession and even as a man, he was entitled to own vehicles now he was over the age of consent. Inside the garage however was Charlie’s pride and joy.

ooo000ooo

It was to be several months before a large envelope dropped on his doormat. The wheels of the feminist authority turned slowly but the letter was essentially an eviction notice advising him that he wasn’t entitled to occupy such a large and valuable house.

Charlie had of course been expecting it so he had already been making preparations. Even before his mother’s passing they had made plans to ‘downsize’.

Using Charlie’s savings and her own life insurance policies, Shirley had already provided for Charlie to find and purchase the much hoped for isolated cottage. In those months before the eviction letter, Charlie had already put steps in place and when the authorities came to survey his erstwhile childhood home he was able to show that he was already preparing to move.

As he sat listening to their supercilious observations about a selfish male taking up so much valuable space, Charlie, long inured to such abuse, simply pulled his horns in and weathered the feminist storm.

“When will you be able to leave?” Asked the fat one.”

“Saturday. My weekend off.”

“Oh! As quickly as that?”

“Why. D’ you want me to move faster?”

“Oh no, we normally expect them to take a couple of months unless they’re moving to the man-spaces, - the Rookeries.”

“Well this one isn’t moving to the ‘man-spaces’. This one has made its own provisions.”

The fat one flashed an angry glance as she clearly sensed the suppressed anger in the man facing her. However, the man had not said anything that could be clearly described as a verbal assault or threat so she was forced to let the matter drop.

“Very well then Mr Sage. Saturday it is.”

Charlie was out by the Friday for he and his mother Shirley had been carefully preparing ever since Shirley had been diagnosed. When the authorities arrived on the Saturday morning, all they found was an empty house with the keys taped to an envelope on the front door. They did not even know where Charlie had moved to because he had put the remote country cottage into a trust organised by the Anthrophile society. Charlie owned a part share in the trust and paid rent to that share-holding which of course, the trust dispensed to Charlie’s bank account.

Wheels within wheels to hide the identity of the occupant of the cottage from the authorities. It worked for many female lawyers in the property business, so Charlie arranged for it to work for him. The arrangement was his first ever attempt to get even with the authorities while circumventing any breaches of law. The Anthrophile society had enabled him and he had cause to be thankful for his departed mother’s peaceful protest activities.

When he and his mother had first viewed the cottage, it had been almost derelict. One of the consequences of the Feminist Authoritarianism was that men had lost interest in building things when they could then be readily confiscated if the authorities deemed them necessary to serve some needy mother. Property rights for men had all but vanished except where it could be proved that the facility was a minimalist structure that served as little more than a bedroom and bathroom. Even dining facilities could be denied if it was proven that communal facilities were readily available.

Consequently men were reluctant to invest their effort in living spaces for women while they were virtually expected to live in human rookeries. It took the authorities an inordinate effort to attract men into the building trade and the shortage of skilled builders had rapidly snow-balled. The dereliction that faced Charlie and his mother when they had first happened upon the cottage, had been heart-breaking.

Even on that final Friday when Charlie had turned up alone at the cottage which was to become his new home, the sight was still depressing. The waterproof tarpaulin was the only thing that kept the rain out; and it was raining fit for the flood.

“Maybe I had better check with Noah.’ He smiled ruefully as he unlocked the heavy cottage door and sniffed the invasive evidence of decay.
The tiny cottage was a disaster zone for although the huge tarpaulin had served to keep the rain out, it had not prevented birds and rats. Thankfully, Charlie could live on-site in his mobile home while driving to work in his beloved little ‘run-about’.

Another very useful feature was that the approach to the cottage crossed a ford in the nearby stream and this was very susceptible to flooding. The stream actually ran through the meadow that belonged to the cottage so the lane and the ford that approached his cottage all belonged to the trust. Only Charlie had authority to alter the ford or even build a bridge over the stream.

Charlie had already decided to leave the ford in place and indeed deepen it slightly to deter visitors. It would be no difficulty for his little car to slip into antigrav mode whenever the ford was too deep to wade. The trick would not be noticed because the ford was surrounded by trees and undergrowth that made the crossing invisible from any public spaces.

As he sat in his mobile home listening to the rainstorm hammering on the roof, he reflected peacefully as the little gas cooker heated his ready meal. Finally, while the Autumn sun set, he contentedly turned into his bunk and slept the sleep of the damned.

ooo000ooo

Monday found Charlie busy at his desk when he once more received a summons from the management.

“I see you’ve changed your home address to a post-box number.” Mrs Anson observed. “Any reason why?”

“I was evicted under the usable space regulations. My lifetime childhood home was deemed better suited to a mother with children. I was made homeless so I had to rent a post-box number.”

“Where are you living now then?”

“In a mobile home on a piece of land I’ve bought. It’s a postage stamp to avoid the usable space regulations. When I get settled, I’ll register the address and give you my new home. For the moment I’m technically homeless but I’m afraid to live in the rookeries because they’re dangerous. People don’t trust you if you don’t drink with them. I don’t drink alcohol so for my own safety I live alone.”

“We’ve had a young lady in here asking after you. We couldn’t give her your new address, that’s why we wanted to know your circumstances.”

“Might I ask what her name was?”

The manager checked through her desk diary.

“Yes. It was a Miss Carpenter; Chloe Carpenter. Do you know her?”

“Yes.”

“She seemed a nice young lady, I suspected she was perhaps seeking a sperm donation.”

“No thanks, I’d rather not.”

“Oh! Why not, she was very attractive.”

“What? Paternity obligations without fatherhood rights; no thanks.”

“Well it’s your choice but I suspect she’ll be around again. She seemed keen. Can you think why?”

“Yes. She’s one of the few people who know I’m clever. She was at school with me and we used to walk home together until the school stopped it.”

“Why?”

“We talked – a lot. I learned stuff from her orally without books and when the school learned of it, I was made to take a different bus home. That was the bus where I had trouble with bullies. I’ve made it clear I don’t want paternity responsibilities if I can’t have parental rights.”

“She sounded to me as though she was prepared to enter into a legal agreement with you about that.”

“No way. Those agreements are not worth a tinker’s cuss. The femininity laws make that quite clear.”

“Do you realise Mr Sage that if men like you don’t add your genes to the pool; the stayer genes that is; the stable caring men; then society could break down.”

“Hasn’t it already broken down. Have you ever been down the Rookeries?”

“I care not to.”

“Exactly! Half the human population exists as violent, drunken aggressive irresponsible animals. No thanks neither do I care to go there.”

“Yes, I note from your driving application, you’ve never had any convictions; - for anything. How have you managed that?”

“I lived as a recluse with my mummy. Now I live alone as an isolated recluse.”

“Isolated?”

Charlie realised he might have given too much away so he simply nodded acknowledgement.

“I avoid people. I come to work, do my job, eat my lunch and talk as little as possible. Above all the men respect me, I know this because they continually come to me for advice, - about work that is. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got jobs waiting on my bench.”

“Very well Mr Sage but I think you’re wrong to ignore Miss Carpenter. She seems like good mothering material.”

“Well sadly I’m not good fathering material. I can’t be can I. It’s the law, isn’t it?”

“You’re beginning to sound like a revisionist.”

“Revise, advise, despise, demise; what difference does it make. I’m a man and that puts me below the law.”

His words faded as the office door closed slowly on its anti-smoke closer. Mrs Anson was left to reflect on those words.

Back at his desk there was the inevitable queue of staff looking for help or advice to fix something. Charlie was eager to help for it took his mind off the conversation with the manager. It was lunch time before he got to his own jobs just as the heavens opened and a torrential storm forced everybody to work inside.

Sometimes the jobs were too big for a bench and required attention on the shop floor. If the weather was dry enough some of the men would take the job into the yard and work on it in the bright daylight that was better than the factory lighting. Charlie was one who preferred to work in sunlight but this storm had completely stymied his intentions.

‘Wonder what my bottom water meadow will be like in this’, He pondered as he picked away at the problem on his desk.

During the weekend, he had hired a mini-digger and deepened the ford just to discourage callers. He’d already tested the secret antigrav on both car and mobile home that Sunday afternoon. When he went home that Monday night, he was curious to see what the ford would be like. Already the streets around the factory had deep pools of low-lying water.

As he drove home, the rain persisted and when it finally got dark he had to slow down to pick his way along the still unfamiliar lane. Eventually he made recourse to his antigrav discs and he grinned happily as they performed perfectly by lifting him a few inches above the ground to avoid any bumps or, more importantly, flooded potholes. He smiled to himself because in his own, private high-sided lane with the rain hiding everything, the discs could be used with impunity, nobody could see how the car was travelling along his lane.

The rain however, also served to mask the large luxury saloon car that had cautiously followed Charlie all the way from the factory.

ooo000ooo

As Charlies cheeky little run-a-bout splashed into the lane, Chloe Carpenter almost missed the turning. The rain had masked Charlie’s turn and Chloe had swept past it before she realised Charlie was no longer in front. Quickly, she backed up and just managed to catch a flicker of Charlie’s tail lights through the stair-rods pounding out of the heavens.

She dipped her lights and dashed through the muddy puddles in her effort to catch up. Then when she saw the loom of Charlie’s headlights, she slowed down and kept back at least two bends behind so that Charlie would not notice her dimmed lights, especially with the rain so heavy.

Chloe was glad there were no turn-offs and following Charlie was straightforward.

When Charlie came to the water-meadows, his eyes widened at the extent of the flooding. The flood that rushed across the ford was obviously dangerous but of course, with the antigrav discs, Charlie’s faithful little car simply hovered across a mere two inches above the torrent and easily arrived on the other side. Then he finished the final few yards to the house and sat momentarily contemplating the house as it endured the down-pour. He was deciding what things he needed to rush to his mobile home before returning to collect the less vulnerable items. Charlie often took work home.

Back in the trees where the ford crossed the stream, Chloe had watched Charlie's little car, approach the ford, cross it with ease and happily climb the little lane up to the house. Of course, in the pouring rain and driving on dipped side-lights to avoid being noticed, Chloe had not assessed the state of the ford properly.

Where Charlie’s little electric car had seemingly splashed across a couple of inches of water, Chloe naturally assumed her larger and more powerful saloon car would easily drive across. Unfortunately, after Charlie’s having deepened the ford, the dark swirling waters were nearly two feet deep. As Chloe eased down the darkened lane and into the ford, her sidelights utterly failed to illuminate the water. The car dipped into the deepened ford and immediately the engine cut out.

Worse still the powerful current swept the car off the ford and into the slightly deeper waters of the stream. Suddenly, Chloe found her car in three feet of water and rapidly filling. She tried blowing the horn but that didn’t work underwater and naturally she could not open the doors because of the water pressure. She tried winding down the windows but of course the electric window motors were shorted.

She was now starting to panic as the cold waters started seeping over her feet. Finally she tried opening the ‘sun-roof’ but it only opened about a nine inches before that motor failed as well. Then as she struggled to climb out of the roof she saw Charlie coming out of his mobile home and walking to his car. She screamed as loud as she could and almost feinted with relief as she saw him stop and look wonderingly around.

“Chaa-aarlie!!” She screamed again as she watched him looking around in bemusement..

“Who’s there?” He bellowed nervously.

“It’s meee! Chloe! My car’s in the river!!”

“Baffled by this information, Charlie started picking his way down the path towards the river until, behind the bushes, on the bank he saw Chloe struggling to squeeze out of the gap in the sun-roof. The car was submerged up to the windows and Chloe was in a right fix. She was not in any danger because Charlie knew the stream did not get any deeper further down and armed with this information he started to laugh.

Chloe immediately flew into rage and screamed at him.

“Don’t just bloody stand there! Help me!”

“Why? Don’t you know you’re trespassing?”

At this, Chloe lost it.

“You fucking bastard. I’m going to fucking report you!”

“For what? Finding some dumb bitch who’s driven her car into my stream. I could charge you for the pollution and damage you’ve caused.”

For a moment, Chloe hesitated then calmed down as she realised her attitude would get her nowhere.

“Look. Can you just help me get out of this roof and I’ll sort this out with my garage.”

“At this time of night, in this weather? Dream on lady.”

Charlie was careful not to use any abusive or patronising expressions. The new feminista regulations made that desperately dangerous for men.

“Well then, just get me bloody out of here.”

“Wait there, I’ll go and get a rope and plank.”

Chloe was about to shout, ‘Don’t bloody leave me!’ when she realised he was at last being constructive.

“Please hurry up. I’m freezing!”

A few minutes later, Charlie returned with two planks and a crow-bar.

“What’s that for?” She asked.

Charlie almost replied, ‘To shut you up!” but he kept his counsel and laid the first plank from the bank to the car’s bonnet. He then laid the next plank onto the car roof and nimbly hopped on.

Firstly he tried to simply force the sun-roof but it only budged an extra inch. Chloe managed to squeeze her breast through but her hips and bum were too big.

“I’m going to have to use the crow-bar. Cover your face in case the glass sunshade shatters.”

Chloe did as advised and Charlie deftly eased the sunroof back another couple of inches. With a gasp of relief, Chloe managed to squeeze free and she grabbed at Charlie to hoist herself out of the car.

“Thank you! I could have drowned!”

“No you wouldn’t. This is the deepest part of the stream. It fans out into the water meadow from here down to that bottom corner.”

“Are you living here now?”

“Why are you here?” He countered.

“I wanted to find you.”

“Why?”

“My mother wanted to know why she wasn’t invited to Shirley’s funeral.”

“My Mummy’s funeral was a very private, special affair. Only a few, very special friends were invited.”

“Didn’t Shirley consider my mother a friend?”

“She cleaned for her. What d’ you think? Now let’s get out of this stream in case it flashes.”

“What’s that?”

“You should know, you’re the woman. I only went to junior school.”

“Oh! So that’s it, you still resent the status quo.”

“Are you getting off this car or not?”

Chloe paused to watch him rearranging the planks to get her back to the far side.

“I thought we’d be going to your house to dry out.”

The house has no roof, I live in that mobile home and there’s no privacy.

“I’m still cold and wet.”

“So. I’ll take you back down the lane and call a taxi to the main road.”

“Are serious. Im bloody soaking and cold. I’ll catch my death!”

“And I’ll cop a charge for assault or something if I take you to my own personal space.”

“I’d never do that!”

“They all say that. The boys at work have got a thousand stories. I’ll tell you what. I’ll get you a coat and a pair of my jeans. They’ll be big, but you’ll be warm. Wait here.”

Chloe fumed impotently as she watched him easily leap to the bank then trot up the lane to the house and disappear into the mobile home. He emerged moments later with the clothes and trotted back to the accident. Chloe was beginning to get seriously cold.

“Do you want me to lift you across?” He asked.

“That would the right thing to do.” She claimed as she extended her arms.

After re-arranging the planks to the far shore he first tested them by carrying the clothes then returning to collect Chloe.

“I’ll carry you piggy-back. It’s best for balance.”

She reached around his neck as he lowered himself and immediately she felt herself being lifted with ease as he stood up again. Her legs were threaded through his arms and all she had to do was cling to his neck.

“Here we go, hold on!”

Chloe had little intention of ‘holding on’ her quick-thinking mind had found a perfect opportunity to find a way into his personal space. From there it was deemed to be a simple process to use the simple male mind and libido for her own ends.

As Charlie picked his way onto the extended planks it was obvious the arrangement to the far side was less secure. As the planks first sagged then wobbled slightly, Charlie teetered precariously to recover his balance. His effort failed as Chloe ‘accidentally’ slipped down to Charlie’s less stable side and the next instant, both of them were in the stream.

Charlie let out a curse while Chloe let out a squeal then the splash drowned out all voices. They emerged a few feet down the stream, coughing and spluttering as they clambered to their feet and waded to the bank next to the house.

“We’ll have to get changed now. I’m saturated!”

Charlie said nothing. He was convinced Chloe had deliberately unbalanced him. Angrily he stormed up to the house and unlocked his mobile home. Chloe had to literally run to keep up. As he fiddled with the tricky lock, she was standing behind him shivering. She literally stepped on his heels as she desperately sought some warmth.

“I’ll turn the generator on to get some heat. Wait here.”

Chloe heard the generator rumble to life outside and Charlie returned.

“Can I get warm?” She asked.

“The shower’s hot. Use that. There’s a towel on the rail, only use one, I’ll need the other.”

“Have you only got two towels?”

“The third one’s on the far bank and soaking by now. Besides, as you women have it, I’m a man and men stink!”

“You don’t have to be so angry you know.”

Charlie just looked at her.

“You’d better phone your mother. Here use my phone, it’s in a waterproof bag.”

“Mine’s ruined, it was in my handbag and that was in the footwell of the passenger seat.”

“Hope it was insured.”

“Yes it was.”

“Lucky you. There, use mine.”

“I’ll shower first, I don’t suppose you’ve got a dressing gown.”

“You’ll have to use the spare duvet, it’s in the luton.”

He reached in and pulled it down.

“Go on. You shower first.”

Chloe needed no further encouragement and while she showered, Charlie rinsed out her underwear and put them in his little tumble drier. As she heard him moving around she shouted.

“Is the water limited?”

“No there’s a main supply. I just tap it in when the van’s parked up.”

“You’ve got girly shampoo in here. Can I use it?” She begged.

“Yes, and thank you for asking. I’ve more under the kitchen sink.”

Thus liberated about how much water was available, Chloe luxuriated under the telephone nozzle until she heard the chink of china and she peeped out to see him busy preparing a meal. He was wearing sandals and a pair of khaki shorts but no tee-shirt and Cloe began to feel damp where it mattered.

Eventually she emerged with the biggest towel covering her girly style and she savoured the delicious smell of spaghetti bolognaise.

“That smells good.”

“You’d best eat it while it’s hot.”

“Where are my clothes?”

“In the drier. Give them another five minutes.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Charlie turned his back to her to make some coffee and while he was busy he accused her.

“That was quite deliberate what you did.”

“What?”

“On the plank. You deliberately pulled me sideways.”

“No I didn’t!”

“Oh yes you did. I’m not stupid.”

Chloe fell silent but she didn’t feel guilty. It was a girl’s right if she wanted a man, to make a play for him. Charlie spoke softly.

“You’re not having me. I won’t be a father to a bastard.”

“So by your criterion, that makes every child a bastard.”

“Yeah. That’s about right. All men are bastards and all women are bastards, so all children would necessarily be.”

“Do you really hate people that much?”

“Why? Don’t you?”

“Not like you.”

“Yeah, you’re just selective – boys only. At least I’m even-handed.”

“You must get very lonely.” Chloe hazarded.

“Why?”

“Well who’s left to talk to if you hate men and women?”

“I get by.”

“What, talking to yourself.”

“Thinking my own thoughts, thinking to myself.”

“Yeah, that’s what your boss said. You must think a lot. She said you were good at maths.”

Charlie shrugged with his annoying little mannerism as he stood up to wash his plate. Chloe copied him and stood beside him at the small camping sink and drainer. He shifted away slightly; not far, but enough to make his feelings clear. His action wounded her. When they used to walk home from school he used to carry her books and once tried to kiss her. He got a scolding for that tiny boyish transgression and now she bitterly regretted her long forgotten single childish but feminist reaction. She knew now for certain that Charlie sage was a wounded animal. Like a dog that had been whipped into a cringeing cur but Charlie’s wound wasn’t a cowering fear, it was a deep abiding resolve.

“D’ you think you’ll ever like anybody?” She asked him.

“Doubt it.” He replied as he stretched over her head to store the dishes in the overhead locker.

Suddenly she found his armpit over her head and she smelt his sweat; not stale and sticky for he had been immersed in the stream but sort of musty and salty. Unable to resist the temptation she reached up and kissed his armpit.

“Hey! Stop that! Don’t do it.”

He almost bellowed as he whipped his arm away and squeezed it to his side.

“You won’t die you know if a woman kisses you.”

“No. You get hung out to dry six months later. Don’t do it – pleease!” he begged.

“Who tells you these things?”

“I don’t have to be told. I see and hear it every day at work.”

“That can’t be true.”

“Can’t it. Just go and listen to men when they’re simply working to make an honest buck, when they’re just eating their lunch in work. When they’re free and grasping at a moment of sanity and yes, companionship. They’re not on the defensive like those poor bastards in the Rookeries.

Your female teachers may teach kids what the Rookeries are but the rookeries isn’t men, - it’s fear, anger, hate, desperation, frustration and death. Yeah death – suicide usually. It may look lie murder to women when a man in the rookeries chooses to fight but as often as not it’s a last desperate suicidal gamble to get off this earth and hopefully find something better on the other side.

His outburst left her stunned and she stared transfixed at the pulse in his neck as he stared intently through the window.

As the pulse slowed he relaxed then shook his head. And waved towards the window.

“Out there! Out there is where I’m free. Free air, free sky and above all, free space. No men, no women, no distractions. A free brain, that’s all I have that’s truly free – my brain.”

He suddenly realised he had been ranting and he almost folded as he slumped onto the bed-settee.

“Sorry. I must be frightening you. I’ll not do it anymore. Where do you want to sleep. On the rear settees or the fold-me-up under the centre \table.”

“Are those your bed things folded up on the rear settees?”

He nodded almost wearily so she declared.

“If you help me fix it up, I’ll sleep where the table goes. Have you got some sheets?”

He pulled out a large drawer only half way and very carefully slid out a pair of smooth crisp linen sheets. From her lower height, under his arm, Chloe saw a pink frill. At first she thought it might have been a decorative pillow-case but a closer look showed it to be a delicately frilly nighty.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That.” She pulled gently on the frill and dislodged the silky shoulder strap.

“This,” she declared boldly as the ‘baby-doll’ shorty top hung down her arm.”

He stared at it and Chloe thought she caught a glint of fear but he recovered quickly.

“It was my mothers. I haven’t cleared out all her things yet.”

“Can I sleep in it tonight. It’s clean.” (she sniffed it to make certain.)

“If you want. Dead woman’s clothing but I suppose it’s better than nothing.”

“Is there anything else of hers in there?”

She asked to see if he was hiding something.

“I dunno, can’t remember. Have a look.”

Those words settled it for Chloe. Had Charlie been a transvestite or hiding something he would definitely had been tense.

With the linen issue sorted, Charlie dismantled the table and rearranged the cushions to make a bed. Finally he pulled out the double-divider doors that separated the two compartments but allowed joint flip-door access to the toilet. By ten o’clock Chloe was comfortably abed while she heard him taking a quick shower. When he switched off the shower and turned off his lights, the generator died and a perfect peace settled.

Chloe savoured the silence for some minutes then quietly sat up. There was somebody or something trying to get into the van. She whispered hoarsely to Charlie.

“What’s that trying to get into the van?”

“It’s the badgers. If you want to watch them, there’s an infra-red flashlight in the glove compartment. Move slowly so you don’t frighten them and you’ll see them eating some stuff I put out earlier.”

Chloe got excited and carefully slid into the passenger seat. On switching the infra-red she was enchanted to see a whole family.

“Whoo-ah! That’s fantastic!” She whispered eagerly. “Mum dad and the babies.”

“Yeah! Like it should be,” he whispered, “and a couple of older sisters or aunties I think.”

Chloe stared excitedly as the babies crawled all over the adults and squabbled amongst themselves for titbits that the old boar dug up.

“Oh come and look! Come and look! It’s fantastic!”

“I can’t come there. The divider’s locked, - both sides.”

“Oh shit!” Chloe cursed. Then she stepped back and slipped the bolt.

When she settled in the passenger seat again, the badgers were still arguing over scraps but just as the las piece of greasy bacon disappeared, Charlie slid into the driver’s seat.

“You’ve missed it all, look they’re going.”

“Hold on.” Charlie chuckled. And with that he wound down the window and through down some chicken meat. As one the badgers span around and returned. Charlie even reached out and the old boar reared up to nibble a delightful tit-bit of fresh chicken breast. Chloe stretched across eagerly and squeaked.

“Can I see, Can I see!”

“Here, you can feed him. Watch your fingers though.”

Chloe stretched right across Charlie’s lap until he chuckled.

“Not over me girl, do it through your window. Tap the side of the door and one of them will come.”

Following Charlie’s instructions she was immediately rewarded with the sow clumbering around and doing exactly the same as the boar. She took a piece from Chloe’s fingers and bit it into halves. She ate one half and let her cubs fight over the other. Chloe was absolutely mesmerised with delight. After they had closed the windows and returned to their sleep sections Chloe wanted to talk but Charlie was obviously distracted.

“Thank you Charlie that was a brilliant show. Mum, dad all the babies and the older females. The whole family!” She ended excitedly.

“Yeah; aren’t families fun.” Charlie mumbled softly before going silent.

Chloe suddenly heard the irony in Charlies remark and she silently cursed herself for having been so stupid.

‘Throughout the whole evening, Charlie had spoken of nothing but fatherhood and families. How could she have been so damned insensitive?’

She could have bitten her own tongue for having been so thoughtless and cruel!

ooo000ooo

Later that same night, Chloe was woken again by the scream of what seemed like a woman being attacked.

She sat bolt upright and called again for Charlie.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yes.”

“She needs help.”

“No she doesn’t.”

“She was screaming!” Chloe cried in her own distress.

“Yes. She was screaming but she wasn’t being attacked.”

“What woman would scream like that and not be needing help?”

“That’s not a woman. That’s a vixen calling for a mate.”

“A what?”

“A vixen, a female fox! She’s letting the dog foxes know she’s on heat. She’ll call each night until Mr Right turns up then Bob’s your uncle, foxy families; - mum with the cubs and dad turning up with the goodies. Like it usually is; - proper families. Now please go to sleep, I’ve got to be up early in the morning.”

“What about my car?”

“Shit! I forgot. We’ll sort something in the morning, It’s three o’clock, please!! Now I need some sleep.”

There were a few more unearthly shrieks that left Chloe still wondering if they’d find a body in the morning, but eventually even she drifted off. It was early dawn when she heard the generator starting as Charlie started shaving.

“What’s the plan?” She called as she struggled out of bed.

“Your clothes are clean. I’ve laid them out on my bed. You’d best collect them while I’m scrubbing up.”

“I need a shower.”

“You had one last night. I’m in a hurry.” Charlie protested.

“I’ve got no make-up and no documents.”

“I’ll take you to my regular garage where I buy all my bits and bobs. They’ve got a repair place. I sometimes charge my batteries there if I’ve overused my car. They know me and trust me. They’ve also got phones and stuff as well as a tow-truck.”

“Okay, right. Can I phone my mum?”

“Be my guest.”

Gratefully, Chloe started organising her needs and explained to the laboratory that she’d had an accident with her car and that she’d not be in.”

With her day organised, she finished dressing and decided to make some coffee. Charlie emerged just as she was buttering the toast and he nodded approvingly with a soft smile.
“Thank you. As soon as we’ve eaten I have to get the car ready.”

She nodded and reached almost automatically for a handbag that wasn’t there.

“Dammit! Even my cards are in the bag.”

“You should get those when Ronnie the mechanic pulls your car out.”

So saying, he wolfed down his last round of toast and grinned as he held the door for Chloe.

In the little car, Chloe felt like some poor pleb who could only afford the cheapest possible model and she almost cringed as Charlie had to bend and twist to squeeze in.

“You should get a bigger car.” She opined.

“Can’t afford it. Besides this’ll do me. Doesn’t do to try and show off as a man, it attracts too much attention.”

Chloe was forced to admit to herself that his words were probably true.

Charlie turned his car around with amazing speed and her eyes widened as he sped down the lane to the ford.

“It still looks deep.” She observed.

“It’s gone down enough so as not to short my batteries. This little baby can go through just about anything. I’ve proofed the bottom cos I cross the ford almost every day, - Twice.”

As he approached the ford with seeming impunity, Charlie operated the secret button on the steering wheel and the disc’s silently did their job. The settings were such as to allow the car to sink so far into the water before the pads came into play and the car virtually glided across the ford whilst throwing out vast amounts of spray both sides enough to hide the tell-tale six inch gap between the stream bed and the car wheels. Chloe saw nothing unusual except to feel the unusually smooth crossing.

“She’s amazing in floods isn’t she.”

“Yeah. It’s the water-proofed body and chassis, plus the battery case.”

“But the ford is so smooth. No bumps.

“Horses for courses. It’s the raised suspension discs.” Charlie shrugged again then closed up to become his inimitable taciturn self.

Chloe tried getting him to talk again but it seemed once he re-joined the main world again, Charlie just clammed up. It set her wondering again as to what sort of existence had changed the chattering lively boy of their happy shared childhood into the mute brute of adulthood.

When they arrived at Ronnie’s Garage he quickly explained the situation in a few brief sentences then turned To Chloe.

“I’m off, Ronnie will sort you. He’ll be borrowing my hired digger.”

Chloe watched the little car travel silently down the road then she turned to the garage staff.

“We’d best get started then.”

When they returned to the crossing, Ronnie studied the situation and frowned.

“It still a bit deep but we’ll do it. I’ll get the digger first.”

The ford proved to be no obstacle to Ronnie and the digger but he ruefully grinned as he measured the water up to his long rubberised thigh-boots.

“Three feet deep. I’ll never work out how he gets that little car across.”

The things waterproofed and it just seems to float across.” Chloe offered.

“That I’d like to see, but he doesn’t pass this way all that often.”

“Well I saw it this morning, He enters the stream quite quickly then he sort of glides through the wave.

Ronnie nodded thoughtfully and put Chloe’s description down to woman’s ideas. Eventually, Ronnie got the car back to his garage and arranged for a replacement battery. Chloe was given the repair bill and she gasped.

“Eight hundred for a New Battery!! That’s extortion.”

Ronnie had expected such a reaction and he guided Chloe to the maintenance manual.

“There it is miss. The car will only accept the dealership battery and we have to pay the dealer price.”

By the time Chloe’s car was sorted Charlie was getting ready to go home. He was just about to leave the factory gates when the Manager Mrs Anson called out to him to come up to her office. Carlie sighed and turned about back into the yard. In her office she questioned him.

“Yes Ma-am.” Charlie replied respectfully.

“That young lady Miss Carpenter has asked me to pass on her thanks for the help you afforded her last night. She would like to ask you out to a meal by way of saying thank you.”

“Thank you Ma-am, she’s got my number but her phone was dunked. I suppose she’ll call when she got a new phone and all her affairs in order.”

“What exactly happened? She says she had to overnight at your new house.”

“It’s not a new house, it’s my mobile home. She followed me home to find out where I lived. She tried to ford a stream during that horrendous storm last night and she got swept off the lane.”

“Was she in danger?”

“No Ma-am. The stream is very strong but shallow. It’s only a foot or so deep normally but the storm made it three feet deep. I suppose the ford was too deep for her car.”

“That concurs with what you said but your car handles floods well.”

“I’ve waterproofed it Ma-am. The battery is protected. I have to cross the ford every day.”

“I see and you say she stayed overnight.”

“She had to mam. We fell into the stream as I was getting her out both of us got very cold and totally immersed.”

“I see. Well let me give you some advice Mr Sage. That young lady seems to be after you. She seems to know about your uhmm, intellectual abilities, from your schooldays apparently and she works in a plant breeding laboratory so she’ll have access to lots of science. I’m pretty sure she after your DNA.”

“She’s definitely after my DNA Ma-am. I’m frightened.”

“You surprise me Mr Sage. Most men would jump at the chance to spread their genes especially with a lady as pretty and intelligent as her.”

“I’m not most men Ma-am.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” She nodded firmly. “You puzzle me. If you want a peaceful life, I suggest you donate your sperm then disassociate.”

“Unless she invokes the compulsory Paternity act, I want nothing to do with parenthood, - fatherhood that is.”

“You won’t endear yourself to her and it will reflect badly if there are any future disputes.”

“I’ll take my chances. For now, I’m just staying away. If she comes to the factory, can I not get a stalking order taken out.”

“That usually applies to women being stalked. You’d have to prove that you’re in danger.”

“She put me in danger last night Ma-am. I nearly froze to death in that stream while getting her out.”

“Make a note of it and place on the company log-book file. I don’t want a valuable reserved worker being put at risk.”

“When did I become a VRW Ma-am. I’m a man, only women can be classed as VRW’s can’t they.”

“There can be exceptions. I showed your exam paper to the authorities today and they allowed me to retain you on RSW Status.

“Like a slave?”

“No! Certainly not! You’re valuable asset to the company.”

“But I can’t leave and I’m still on the Supervisory grade.”

“If you allowed your sperm to be donated and accepted a castrated feminised procedure. You could rise up in the ranks. Plenty have.”

“No thank you Ma-am. You know my feelings about parenting.”

“Yes, that worries me. I hope you don’t become politicised, that could seriously affect your liberty. You’re too valuable.”

“Advice noted Ma-am. May I leave now?”

“Yes, but heed my advice, take care.”

Charlie had to bite his lip to avoid making some sarcastic remark and he left work late. On the way home he stocked up on groceries and some extra materials and equipment to work on the air-tight innards he intended to install inside his mobile home. He also had some stuff to pick up from Ronnie the garage owner.

Ronnie was just closing down his garage/shop when Charlie turned up but he made an allowance for his friend.

“You’re a bit late Charlie.”

“Oooh I know! That woman who was around last night has caused questions to be asked about me. I think she’s looking to subpoena some of my DNA; my sperm!”

“Fuck me Charlie, you’re a lucky bastard, she’s fucking stunning. Grab it mate. Action like, is every guy’s dream. You’re saying she actually want’s you.”

“Yeah,” Charlie sighed.

“Bloody hell! Are you gay or something?”

“No! I’m bloody not!”

“Well I think you’re fool, especially if she wants to do it the old way, the natural way. Won’t she need a dispensation for that?”

“Yes, but they’re not hard to get. She’s in the trade, genetics and all that.”

Ronnie just wagged his head in disbelief.

“I don’t gerr’it Charlie. I just don’t gerr’it. A chance to sleep with a real broad and a stunner like her. You’re daft!”

“Well each to his own Ronnie. How much is this lot?” He asked as he leaned his elbows on the car roof.

“Hundred and seventy to you. Doin some more weldin’ are you.”

“Yeah, Putting some beams up in the big barn.”

“Will you need a hand.”

“Not yet. Later, maybe. Got some plate-work to do this winter.”

“Well, I’m yer man Charlie. Time served Welder I am.”

“I know, I’ll be using you later Ronnie, I promise you.”

“Hey-up. That girl’s here again. She must love you Charlie.”

“Oh shit! Just wharr’I don’t need.”

Chloe’s car pulled up and she waved a smile. Ronnie waved and smiled back which caused her to grimace. She made it perfectly obvious who she was waving to. Charlie leant on the roof of his little car and cupped his head forehead in his hands.

“What does she want now? Are your forecourt cameras on?”

“To shag you probably.” Ronnie grinned, “and yes, the cameras are on, Jeeze! Charlie!”

Charlie pushed back from his car, gripped the roof edge and stared up into the heavens as he mouthed a prayer. Chloe bit her lip for she instantly recognised his body language. Realising he wasn’t about to come to her, Chloe got out of her car and walked nervously across.

When she got close to him she spoke softly.

“Can we talk Charlie? Somewhere more private.”

“Wharrabout Chloe?” You know my take on this.

“No, not here. I said somewhere private.”

“Oooo-kay then. There’s a café down the road. Is Charlotte’s Tea-house open Ronnie?”

“Til seven Charlie.”

“No" Chloe objected, "somewhere totally private. Like your mobile home thing.”

“What? D’ you want to try another dip in the stream?”

“I’ll cross in your little mermaid if the stream’s still swollen.”

“Oooo-kay then. I don’t suppose you’ll be happy until I surrender. Ronnie!”

“What.”

“Send a search party if I don’t return here by ten.”

“You’d best not be late mate. Winter curfew times start tomorrow. And you treat ‘im right lady!”

She walked angrily with Charlie to his car and scolded him.

“D’ you have to discuss all our business in public!”

“We don’t have any business to discuss Chloe. I’ve told you I’m NOT up for paternity duties.”

“I’m revising my offer. Can we go to your van to discuss it.”

“Revising your offer? How?”

“In the van. This is far too public!”

“I can’t offer you any food. All the stuff I’ve bought is single, ready-meals. I’ve got a lot of work planned.”

“I’ve been shopping too. There’s plenty of food in my boot (trunk)!”

“So you’ve thought of everything. Whassort-of-trap are you setting?”

“It’s NOT a trap. I’m offering you a fair deal”.

Charlie snorted derisively.

“Ha! Listen Chloe, in the Royal Queendom of feminism, there’s no such thing as a fair deal, - for men that is. I’ve heard enough. I’m going home.”

“Wait. You haven’t even heard my offer!”

“I don’t want to. I’ve heard enough. If I refuse after your offer, you’ll only subpoena my sperm anyway. God! This is a fuck-awful world. Who’d want to bring kids into this?”

“You still haven’t heard my offer.” Chloe pleaded.

Resigning himself to the inevitable subpoena scenario, Charlie resigned himself to having to listen. He could always commit suicide anyway.

“Okay then. I’ll hear what you’ve got to say back in my van. If I don’t like it – and I won’t. I can set about preparing for my suicide. A simple killer draught of Euthanasia medicine and it’s good night Vienna. By the time you’ve served your subpoena, Charlie will be out of it.”

Chloe’s jaw sagged.

“You’re serious aren’t you?”

“Yesss!” He hissed. “You’d better come in my car. Your car will get stuck again.”
Chloe smirked somewhat philosophically then took a bag of shopping out of her car.

“What’s that for?” Charlie asked.

“Maybe it’s the last supper if you’re serious and my offer doesn’t cut the mustard.”

“Oh just get in. Let’s get this over with then it can end once and for all.”

As they pulled out of the garage forecourt Charlie called to Ronnie.

“Ron! Here are the keys to Chloe’s car. Park it somewhere safe please.”

“What time ‘re you back.” He replied.

“Bout’ Tennish, irrespective.”

“You watch that bloody stream then. The digger nearly got stuck this morning.”

Charlie drove steadily down the lane for he never had been a speed merchant and Chloe asked.

“Can this thing go any faster?”

“Yes – but I don’t.”

“Thought it was something like that.” Chloe surmised fatalistically.

Chloe was so pre-occupied with her thoughts and hopes, she remained silent until they came to the stream.

“It’s still as flooded as last night.”

“Don’t worry,” Charlie reassured her. we’ll get across.”

Once again, Chloe failed to notice the surreptitious button and the very soft hum as the antigrav pads kicked in. The little car almost glided through the water while once again, huge gouts of spray spouted from around the wheels to hide the antigrav disc’s forceful effect.

“There’s three feet of water here. Why doesn’t your car sink?”

“As I said. It’s water-proof and it floats. There we are, safe across and all dry!”

When they reached the house, Chloe got out to look around the car but Charlie had been true to his word, there was a virtually intact hull woven into the little car’s body.

“Gosh! You’ve done a lot of work on this,” Chloe admired.

“Yes. It’s my spare time hobby. Now, shall we go into my mobile home and you can tell me your idea.”

Chloe’s happy mood faded as she contemplated her next few minutes. As Charlie unlocked the door to his van she almost felt like running away but she stiffened her resolve and stepped inside to sit nervously on the edge of the table seat. Charlie put the kettle on and asked her.

“Tea or coffee? The coffee’s only instant, and the tea’s only bags.”

“Nothing fancy then. You don’t pamper yourself.” She tried to smile.

“I can’t afford such luxuries. Most of my money goes on renovating the house.

“I see. Yes of course. Can I have coffee please?”

She sat silently as he made the coffee and served it in two fancy porcelain mugs. Finally he put some biscuits on a delicate porcelain tea-plate then he settled to face her.

“Now what’s this idea of years?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Full marks,” Charlie gave a lop-sided grin. “Go on.”

“Seeing those badgers last night and then that vixen.”

“Where’s this going?” He frowned.

“No! Hear me out!”

“Hhhmmmmmm.” Charlie gave long soft sigh.

“No please. Those badgers. They were a family. They all hung together, played together.”

“Yeeeess” Charlie conceded slowly.

“Well, have you ever heard of the word marriage?”

“Nooo. I’ve heard of ‘married’, like when two metal plates are welded together – joined together; forever. Married together. Is it like marriage?”

“Yes! She replied enthusiastically. “That’s exactly what it is. When two humans are married together it’s called a marriage.”

“Uugh! How would they do that?”

Chloe let an explosive laugh escape as she realised what Charlie was thinking.

“Not like that you dummy; not welded together. No, , not conjoined, Joined together as a pair like those badgers.”

“Is that what they used to do? Humans I mean.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what they used to do.”

“But that’s like, illegal – today isn’t it? Human’s don’t join together. They live separately; like leopards and tigers. Men supply the sperm then are booted out. Well they don’t even see the babies.”

“Do you think that’s wrong?” Chloe asked him.

“What I think is immaterial, what I say could get me into awful trouble. Is this some sort of trap. I warn you my camera is on.”

“Can you switch it off?”

“I’d rather not, a man’s word and all that. Doesn’t count in law.”

“It used to.” Chloe told him.

“Oh I know lots of things used to, - but this is the age of feminism. Women rule and things are peaceful, - well for women and children.”

“Well that’s how it should be. Women must be kept safe or society would fail.”

“If you say so.”

“Don’t you agree.”

“I’ll take the fifth.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“Mummy told me, - and she explained it to me. She was a rebel.”

“Did you agree with her.”

“If I had agreed with her, I’d have been listed as a suspected terrorist. Mummy told me that as well. So I’m saying nothing.”

“God you’re a coward aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. I just want to get through life intact and leave in one piece. Ipso-facto I keep shtum. That I DID learn – in junior school no less!”

“Do you think the world is a safer place, with women in charge?”

“I don’t know. I’ve known no other world.”

“Well it certainly is. I can walk anywhere in safety, you can as well.”

“Walk in safety; yeah maybe. Talk in safety. – well. Make what you will.”

“You were safe as a child.”

“Was I? I never thought so.”

“You didn’t get bullied.”

“Didn’t I? Don’t you remember when they changed my bus and the trouble I got into?”

“That was a one off and quickly stopped.”

“So what about the bullying over books and being stopped from going to the library?”

“You were breaking the law.”

“Yeah. Legalised bullying. Oops! Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that. As an eleven-year old I was physically stopped from doing a harmless cerebral thing. Yes! Actually physically held and prevented from reading. Was that not bullying, using force?”

Chloe fell momentarily silent. She had not realised what bullying really meant, especially to a child as cerebral as Charlie. She was losing her way. She had come with what she thought was a fair offer and yet, somehow she hadn’t even got past first base. She changed course.

“D’ you want to listen to my offer?”

“Well that’s why you’re here, - isn’t it? Go on.”

“Marriage.”

“What? Between two people? Can’t happen, it’s illegal.”

“It’s not actually.”

“Isn’t it. How would I know I only have your word for it.”

“Didn’t your ‘Mummy’ tell you that as well.”

“I never asked.”

“She told you about the fifth amendment.”

“I asked. She explained after I heard her say it to a friend.”

Okay, I take your point. Anyway, Marriage is not actually illegal.

“So who’ve you checked with?”

“I asked a lawyer friend. When she told me, I checked with the courts. It’s true, marriage is still legal but it’s frowned upon. There’s a lot of hoops to jump through.”

“Well there would be wouldn’t there.”

“Don’t be so cynical! Work with me here!”

Charlie rolled his eyes and took a deep breath.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Fatherhood.”

“You mean paternity don’t you.”

“And the difference?” She let her question hang.

Charlie didn’t bother answering at first. There were so many elements to fatherhood as he saw it but paternity, that was just law – and science.

“I’m waiting.” Chloe challenged.

“For what?”

“An answer. Paternity and fatherhood; the difference please.

“You should know the difference, you’re a woman, women are supposed to understand these things.”

“I don’t know what a man thinks.”

“The law says you do, or more correctly, the law-makers say they do.”

“All they see is the Rookeries.” Chloe replied dismissively.

“That’s all there is to see.”

“What about you? There are others like you. What do you say when you meet.”

“I’ve never ever met. Well not knowingly. If I did, I’d keep Shtum. Conspiracists and all that. My feet wouldn’t touch.”
Chloe realised they were off track again so she returned to marriage.

“If we got married, you get to have father’s right’s.”

“As allowed and determined by law, your law. Feminist law. If you unmarried me, I’d lose all father’s rights and it’d be down to paternity again.”

“Why would I unmarry you?”

“People change, with age and familiarity. Mrs Anson has probably told you, I’m a mathematician, albeit one with my own ways and methods. We would almost certainly change. What into. – I don’t know. I’m a mathematician not a seer.”

“If people really love each other, they grow older and closer together. That’s what I’ve read in some old history books.”

“What’s love?” Charlie riposted.

“Well, your mummy loved you. That’s a good example.”

“And now she’s dead, so no love there anymore. No growing old together there.”

“What about the love of one adult for another.”

“What’s that?” Charlie almost squeaked with derision. “You mean like in the Rookeries? They just love to kill, and by killing each other, they’re doing each other a kindness. I told you that last night, the suicide thing.”

“No! No! That’s not it at all. Love is tenderness and caring, looking after each other, sharing lives.”

Charlie looked askance.

“Well find yourself another woman. I know that’s what you women do; Mummy told me that as well. But men, - I dunno. The lucky ones are the gay ones. They find love. All ordinary men get is sexbots, violence and eventually suicide, - in the Rookeries.”

“You’re not an ordinary man.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re intelligent; very intelligent. You could break the mould.”

“How!”

“I don’t know, but marriage might be somewhere to start. Somehow demonstrate that some men, - men like you; don’t have to live in Rookeries, Ghettos, Charnel houses.

“I’m doing that here, and now. I’m not married. I avoid all that Rookery mess by living in isolation and living alone. How does marriage add to it?”

“A trouble shared is a trouble halved, a joy shared is a joy doubled.”
Chloe countered.

“I’ve never heard that. Where did you read that?”

“It’s an old saying, a proverb.”

“Yeeah. That works, the maths is right.”

Chloe felt a visceral twist of pleasure in her guts. It was the first argument to have gained her any traction.

“Well that’s how marriage works or ought to work.”

“But it still needs to be equal sided.”

“Well shall we try it, sharing our spaces.”

“We can’t. I’m a man and you live in a femicondo. Men aren’t allowed.”

“Who told you I lived in a femicon?”

Charlie paused uncertainly.

“I, uuhm. Well nobody actually, I just sort of assumed. All young women lived in femicons unless they went slumming.”

“I still live with my mother and I am certainly not slumming. You don’t know anything outside your own little world do you?”
“Yeah. Well I keep it that way, I keep myself safe.”

“Try reaching out. You’ve got nobody since your mum died.”

“I’m not sure I’ve got time. This house takes up my time. There’s a year’s work using every hour of daylight.”

“I could help you. A pleasure shared and all that.”

“It’s heavy work. Man’s work as the rules say.”

“Your mother kept that huge garden, that was heavy work right up to the last year of her life. And she cleaned my mother’s house, moving furniture and all sorts.”

Charlie almost told Chloe that His mother was a lot more but he decided to respect his mother and her memory.

They continued chatting until Charlie’s curfew alarm warned him and Chloe was forced to take her leave. He drove her back to Ronnie’s garage and she drove herself home. Charlie made it home with minutes to spare before the man-curfew tolled. The rest of the week, he ploughed his normal furrow. Work, house repair and sleep with the occasional hour or so working on his secret project in the barn. A steel replica of his mobile home.

On the Friday evening, he was food shopping at his regular store when Chloe phoned him.

“Can you talk?”

“Yes, I’m in the supermarket.”

“Good. I’ve got some more stuff on marriages. You have to satisfy the authorities that you’re not a risk to women and that you’re disease free.”

“Oh great. And how do I do the first one. Stand up before a judge or something.”

“I’ve already done it, well at least an informal background search. You really have been a little ‘goodie-two-shoes’ haven’t you.”

“I keep my nose clean if that’s what you mean,” but I thought you already knew that.

“The search bureau were really impressed almost suspicious in fact. They ran cross reference checks with other departments and your record raised quite some comment. Squeaky clean. No curfew breaches, no litter offences, no abuse claims, no traffic offences, no STD’s, no public order offences, no drunkenness, absolutely nothing.

Only your school report concerning trying to access forbidden material but every half intelligent boy does that. If it’s not serious, it gets written off when you’re an adult.

Since you were fourteen there’s been nothing. They wanted to know where you’ve been hiding. (Figuratively I mean.)”

“I’ve been hiding in my head, in plain sight as it were. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to search me?”

“I don’t have to, ladies’ privileges.”

“Which shows you still don’t trust me.” Charlie charged.

“Which shows I’m serious. Do you know how much flak I’m getting from my peers. Even my mom has tried to dissuade me.”

“I can’t do much about that.” Charlie observed. “Are you coming over tomorrow, Saturday?”

“I’d like to come over tonight. How’s the crossing, is the stream deep?”

“The ford has been re-instated. Ronnie had to bring some stuff in and he point-blank refused until I put it back as it was. You can drive over it easily now.”

“Why did you deepen it in the first place?”

“Privacy, to keep out unwanted callers.”

“So you only did it for Ronnie.”

“No, I did it for both reasons. You’ve only just started coming here and Ronnie needs to bring in materials with his flat-bed. I’ve been sorting it out with the digger each evening and Ronnie helped me cap it off with concrete last night. The ford is now hard-topped and easy to cross. Most of the time it’s dry and runs through the under-pipes. It’s only wet when it rains and even then it’s usually just a splash through a couple of inches. You’ll have no difficulty crossing.”

“I’d like to see this. Can I come around tonight?”

“I’ve got nowhere for you to stay except the van. Same arrangements as last weekend. I’ve done nothing to the house what with re-fixing the crossing and all.”

“That’ll suite me. I’ll be there about sevenish.”

“Okay. Can you stop in at Ronnie’s garage and get some extra milk. I’m okay for everything else.”

Chloe closed her mobile and gave herself a little hug. She had actually evinced a human response but more importantly a positive response. From Charlie’s tone of voice he sounded happy to receive her. Barely able to contain her anticipation she scrubbed up, then chose some suitable out-door country clothes with strong walking shoes plus a pair of wellies (gum-boots) in case she found him knee deep in some project.

Chapter 6

When Chloe came to the crossing, she stopped first just to look ar his handiwork. There was water pouring through the pipes below the roadway but a slight trickle was trickling across the concrete pave. She was about to get back into her car when he called to her from the terrace he was creating with the digger.

“Are you happy to cross?”

“Yes. It looks really good. What are you doing.”

“Come up and see.”

She drove up the path across the field and stopped by the digger.

“Are you terracing all the way down to the stream?”

He slid out of the seat and stood looking thoughtfully down to the stream.

“I’m not sure. I hadn’t thought of that, but now you mention it.”

She was a bit disappointed that he hadn’t taken her in his arms and kissed her but it was very early days yet. So far, he had clearly demonstrated that he was as reluctant as all hell to cross or even approach any boundaries of intimacy.

She reached into her passenger side and leaned over to recover the supersized carton of milk while giving him a splendid view of her tightly contained but deliciously curvy bum. There seemed to be no response, and he just continued studying the stream. As she held out the carton of milk, he turned to say.

“Yeah. It could look nice with a series of terraces, I – oh! You got the milk, thank you. Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee again please.”

“It’s instant again, I haven’t risen to any sophisticated heights yet.”

“Instant will do. I brought some biscuits as well.”

“Oh that was kind. Thank you.”

She was impressed that he had the good manners to show real appreciation and thanks but still there was not the slightest inkling of a hug or a kiss. Despite this, she somehow felt totally at ease whilst being alone with him in a remote, derelict cottage. His aura was one of paternalistic caring and it made her feel warm, - and safe.

‘Why weren’t all men like this’, she wondered, and if there were others, where did they hang out?’ She wondered as they stepped into the van.

She had very occasionally visited one of the large London Rookeries on an escorted field trip during college research but the predatory stares and smirks had left her and all her class-mates with feelings of revulsion and loathing. While in town near the genetics laboratory where she now worked, the men on the streets would occasionally glance then walk on by avoiding any potential situation that might invite censure.

Even so when they had passed her, she would sense the innate predation coupled with suppressed resentment; an aura of potential threat.

“Shall we drink it on my new terrace?” He asked turning from the little galley stove.

“That’s a good idea, the view is quite nice.”

They settled on the first abutments of the low stone wall he had started and faced each other as they sipped the coffee. Chloe wondered if she dared try a simple attempt at intimacy then the biscuits gave her inspiration. She picked up a biscuit and smiled.

“Open wide!”

“Wha, -?”

“Open wide,” she repeated as she held the biscuit up to his lips.

He got the message and opened his mouth as she popped the tit-bit between his teeth. A nervous grin crossed his face as he crunched the chocolate coated whole-meal.

“Mmm. Thank you. I won’t reciprocate, I’ve washed my hands but my nails are still a bit, - you know.”

“That’s okay. Another?” She offered.

“You’ll make me fat at this rate.”

“Just this one then.” She ordered.

After the second biscuit he finished drinking his coffee then Chloe suddenly remembered.

“Oh! That guy Ronnie at the garage. He’s got some plates for you or something. He said he’d bring them over about eightish and to have your digger boom ready to lift them off the flat-bed.”

“Okay. Thanks, Ill set things up in the morning.”

“I wonder why he didn’t phone you.”

“Was his sister there?”

“Yes. She served me the milk.”

“That’ll be it then. He fancies you like mad. It was simply an excuse to talk; - in front of his sister mind so no abuse charges or anything untoward.. All he probably hoped for were a few kind words.”

“I told him I’d give you the message.”

“And then he went back to his repair shop I suppose.”

“Yes. How did you know that.”

“He’s lonely, shy and cautious. He just saw a brief opportunity to say a few words to a beautiful woman. Those chances don’t come around here very often. Electric cars don’t break down very often, he mostly repairs tractors and agricultural stuff. A few kind words, - from a woman that is, would put Ronnie in seventh heaven.”

“I’m surprised some woman hasn’t asked for his sperm. He’s quite handsome.”

“I’ve no idea what handsome is. What do women look for?”

“You Charlie; someone like you.”

“Careful Chlo’, my head will start growing. I’m no beauty,”

‘That’s the first time he’s shortened my name.’ she thought, god this going to be slow.’

She softened her voice in a typical feminine ploy then spoke quietly.

“You are Charlie. Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re not bad looking.”

“And that can be a death sentence down the Rookeries. It’s even dangerous on the ordinary streets.”

“How.”

“Oh come oo-on. Give me a break Chloe.”

“I don’t get you.”

Charlie shook his head irritably and struggled to keep his cool.

“Look! “ He started to list the scenarios.

“One.

Ugly man sees beautiful woman but daren’t raise a finger or even a glance without risking punishment. Especially if woman is not attracted to him. He goes on his way and bites his tongue. No problem, peace reigns – for the woman that is.

Ugly man is frustrated and angry, goes down the rookeries hires a sexbot and finds physical relief. No emotional satisfaction but he’s not entitle to any anyway. Walks around angry and eventually ends up in a fight and eventually he loses a fight. He’s dead, peace reigns.

Two.
Handsome man sees beautiful woman maybe glances at her but steers a careful course to avoid confrontation. Why, because he’s heard from his brothers that women only want one thing, his sperm. Handsome man therefore goes out of his way to avoid women and avoid any entanglement that leads to trouble.

When an entanglement finally does erupt, his sperm is subpoenaed then he ends up angry and goes down the Rookeries to find a sexbot. They’re beautiful, sympathetic and disease free. It’s his only recourse to some sort of sexual relief but of course no emotional relief. He ends up angry and disfigured or dead. Eventually he most definitely ends up dead, peace reigns.

Three.

“Ugly woman sees any man walking down street and decides she wants to subpoena his sperm.

He has no choice save suicide so he delivers the goods. What difference is it to him. He has no rights, he’s lost all feelings, he’s even lost his emotions except perhaps hate. The sexbot does its job then’ if he’s still frustrated’ he ends up in a fight down the Rookeries. After multiple instances, he eventually finds final peace in death. Peace reigns.

Four.

Finally, pretty woman sees any man walking down the street. He, knowing the law and what his older brothers have told him, does not stare or even glance. He avoids her eyes at all costs and walks on by, as fast as he can without appearing to show contempt, or lust or any other emotion that can be misinterpreted. – Or even interpreted for that matter.

Pretty woman tries to catch his attention, usually she’s seeking re-affirmation of her beauty or some such thing, otherwise she wants his sperm. Either way, it’s a ‘man-trap’. Man uses any desperate ploy to avoid confrontation or association. Ducking into a shop door way, crossing the road, bending down to tie his shoe, staring into a shop window; just about anything. If his endeavours cause her offence she’s got him right where she wants him. Do you follow?”

“I’m following you,” Chloe nods.

Charlie took a sip of his cooling coffee before continuing.

“Now it’s inevitable that every man, if he walks in public, will encounter a pretty woman, just passing on the pavement or crossing the road. So going out in public is a minefield chock full of femibombs ready to blow their minds to hell and gone.

When you women ask; ‘where are all the decent men?’

They’re either down the Rookeries avoiding Femibombs and getting drunk or fighting amongst the not-so-decent men.

If not there, they are picking their way carefully through the aforementioned public minefield, or they are hiding in dark, dingy, dirty bars where women don’t normally go.

Or, if they are lucky, like I was. Mummy leaves them a legacy and they can buy some isolation. I was stripped of my old home but the compensation enabled me to buy this tiny rural, isolated slum and funds enough to fix it..

Isolation is my way to avoid the femibomb trap. That and living entirely up here.”

He tapped his temple significantly. Chloe frowned.

“I’ve never heard all this stuff.”

“When did you last speak to a man? Socially that is; just chat to him about life in general. I’ll bet even in work, it’s just to tell him to fetch a tray of samples or carry some instrument or some menial task You don’t even share the same canteens.”

Chloe knew this to be true indeed she had to admit it to herself that she preferred it that way. Whenever she had overheard ‘man-speak’ in any circumstance, it was banal and raucus. When she had stopped to listen, the men instantly clammed up or changed the subject so she had never really communicated with men at any but the very lowest level since high-school. Listening to Charlie had been an eye-opener.

“Do the men talk like you just did amongst yourselves?” Chloe asked.

Charlie sagged and reflected dejectedly.

“No. That’s the whole point. They don’t Most are too dumb anyway. They’re not allowed to learn, so they won’t learn. It’s eventually imprinted in their genes; feministic law is driving a race to the bottom and people are getting dumber.”

“Where did you learn that?” Chloe gasped. “It’s a huge point of discussion in medicine. Social politics and stuff.”

“Yeah. The sky’s blue and rain’s wet.” Charlie mocked. “The whole thing is self-evident.”

“You should be in our discussions at work Charlie Sage.”

Charlie let out an explosion of laughter that left him lying flat on the wall and gasping for breath. As the convulsions shook his frame he accidentally knocked his coffee mug over and it smashed to the floor. Chloe looked on aghast. She never seen Charlie react in such a typically loud, male, oafish way before. And she was not amused at his attitude to her endeavour to project sympathetic inclusivity. She glared at him as two angry red spots formed on her cheeks.

Then she noted he was actually crying; genuine tears. His response had not been some form of male macho putdown. Her suggestion had genuinely disturbed and distressed him. She sat there stunned by the extent of his despair and concluded she had better wait until he had recovered his composure. Eventually, he uncoiled from his tortuous foetal rigour and slowly started to weep softly, genuine tears of despair.

Chloe actually reached over him and gently rubbed his back and shoulders in an effort to ease his torment. By far the most intimate contact she had ever shared with a man - - - ever!.

Eventually he recovered and ruefully gathered the broken pieces of his mug as though it was an expression of remorse.

“What’s upset you so much?” Chloe asked.

Charlie wiped his eyes and dumped the mug chippings into a dry concrete mix he had set aside for the next mix.

“They’ll make good chippings and the concrete’s not load-bearing.” He explained with a self-conscious grin.”

“Never mind the bloody concrete.” Chloe cursed. “What’s got you so upset?”

“Oh it doesn’t matter. You’d only say I had no knowledge or that I was ‘mansplaining’.

“Try me.” Chloe charged him.

“Naah. It’s not for me to cause bother. Your sisters will learn soon enough. Ask them.”

“What are you saying.”

“What I said just now, it’s race to the bottom. Intelligent men get despondent, decide they don’t want to have anything to do with the feministic Gulag, find whatever relief they can with sexbots and close up their reproductive shop. Eventually they choose a suicidal fight in the Rookeries because they are dreading old age. They’ve nothing to live for short of a quick itch occasionally, so they scratch it and die.

Tell me Chloe, how many old men d’you see?” Out on the streets in public that is.

“Plenty, why?”

“What do the population curves show, especially men, - - - average ages, median ages and so on.”

“I can get you the figures.”

“Fine, I don’t need the figures. Your sister’s do. Then they can measure average IQ’s for each male percentile.”

“We’ve done that. Well we’ve done it with general male population. Rookery figures are skewed.”

“Rookery figures are where it matters. Those violent deaths are the tells, - once you realise that those supposed murders are suicides. Men choosing to die quickly, violently for want of a quick, painless way out.
You should be measuring their IQ’s.”

“We can’t do that. We can’t forecast and then identify the suicidal deaths. How do you know all this anyway?”

“Anecdotal stories from survivors who exit the rookeries. They talk, I listen. Anecdotes are all I’ve got so I can’t make accurate predictions. The feminista have got the figures, ask them.”

“We’ve got the figures, well some of them anyway.”

“Well you pick the bones out of them. “ Charlie suggested.

“Could you pick the bones, as you call it?”

“I don’t know what you’ve got.”

“I’ve got a mountain of figures and tables. I had to run them off again today because the originals got sodden when my car got flooded.

“Can you get onto your works computer from here?”

“I can but I’ll have to get my desktop from the car.”

“Right, if you plug your computer through to your mainframe, I’ll piggy back my laptop to yours, while I do my calculations separately on my Tablet . Don’t worry about the funny squiggles scratched onto some of the tablet keys. I’ve got my own language and maths going on as well as conventional stuff.”

“What!. You’ve written your own language?” She squeaked.

“Yeah sort of.”

“Are you sure you won’t crash the data?”

“No, I won’t lose any data or information, but - - -, I might leave footprints in the butter.”

Chloe couldn’t help giggling at his expression.

“Will they recognise the elephant?” She asked.

“No, but they’ll know a whole herd has trampled through your departmental data banks.”

“What about security.”

“Security will be breached but the data will only be available to the Elephants.”

“You’ve got a certain way with words, haven’t you.”

“I can do it in such a way that if you claim responsibility for the activity, you’ll get the credit when they realise the facts, and implications. If you argue your corner well enough, they’ll have to concede and admit you are right.”

“You mean, you’re right.”

“I don’t exist on the internet, at least, not as a British address. I want to keep it that way.”

“Right, show me. You’ve got all night.”

“I won’t need all night. Ten o’ clock and I’ll be in bed. You’ll be at home as well.”

‘Not if I can help it Charlie boy. You’re just too good a catch!’ She thought.

To aid her in her plans, it had started to rain again, not heavily but enough for her to cry off attempting the lane by pretending to be a wimp.

Having decided she would definitely like to stay the night and possibly even advance things in what she hoped would become a relationship she stepped out to her car and collected her laptop off the front passenger seat. She brought Charlie her computer and they signed in.

She watched as he piggy-backed his own computer then his fingers skipped across the key board. Strangely, he squiggled some undecipherable hieroglyphs down in a note book then she watched fascinated as he kept transposing stuff then punching it into his own separated tablet.

“It seems a bit long-handed why not just piggyback your tablet to your lap-top?” .

“My Tablet is incompatible with any standard circuits and keyboard. It works only with my notations. The whole thing is upside-down and back to front. It only handles complex maths equations that I’ve developed for my sort of maths. For example I vary the logarithms to various bases depending on how many unknowns I’m looking for. My maths leaves them floundering.

“Is that why Mrs Anson was so cock-a-snook to the wide boys who came down from Cheltenham.”

“How did you know about that?”

“Women talk Charlie. We c-o-m-m-u-n-i-c-a-t-e.”

“Hah. I shouldn’t have asked. Yeah. She’s got me down as an irreplaceable asset. It means I can’t hand in my notice or leave the company unless she and the government say so. It pissed the spooks off in Cheltenham. It also pissed me but who am I?”

He finished despondently as he turned to study the screens.

“Ahh! Here we are. The data’s starting to roll. I don’t need the endless numbers but I’ll know what I want when I see it scroll down. This is going to take a few hours. There’s millions and millions of names and ages in there. You’d better go and get your shower or knock up a couple of one-pounds in my micro.”

“I’ll do the Micro. I haven’t eaten since eleven.” She agreed.

“Thanks love.”

Chloe flushed with pleasure at the word ‘love’, but Charlie did not see it, so engrossed as he was in the computers.

They shared their ‘one-pound-meals’ over the computer then Chloe chose to shower. When she came out she decided to test the mathematical enigma she had fallen for. She emerged from the shower naked but he was far too engrossed to realise and she had nearly finished dressing when he leaned back and yawned before he realised she was there.

“Ah! You’re out of the shower.” He observed then declared. “I’ll be in there myself then I’ll drive you home. We will have analysed the data by then. These last set of figures will take about five minutes to run then I can put them on a memory stick for you. The solutions will be the last lines of figures and I’ll tidy them up for you with headings and explanations. Finally, a cup of coffee and I’ll see you safely home, I don’t like the look of that sky. The rain’s getting worse again.”

“You don’t have to drive me home.” She replied suggestively, as she delayed buttoning up her blouse.

His response completely threw her.

“Oh sorry, yes, you came in your own car. Silly me.”

Chloe simply rolled her eyes in despair.

“What does it take to get your engine running?”

Charlie’s eyes widened with uncertain fear as he finally realised she was offering herself to him. Her blouse was still undone and he had a clear view of the soft creamy mounds spilling out of her pretty ‘date bra’.

“I knew it! I knew it! I trusted you but it was all a ploy.”

“Oh for god’s sake Charlie! All I’ve done is ask. I haven’t stripped off naked and attacked you. I haven’t pulled you onto the bed. I simply suggested that you don’t have to drive me home. Just let me stay the night, like you did last Saturday.”

“But why?” He wondered. “You’ve got your friends back at your femicon; lots of friends. Besides, I only let you stay last time because your car was stuck.”

“Do you like me Charlie?”

“That’s a loaded question, - and for me a dangerous one. Don’t forget, my security camera is running.”

“I know, I checked it.”

She stepped across the narrow space and hitched her pencil skirt right up her thigh to get her knees up on the dining table. Once positioned, she reached up to the camera bracket and smiled into the camera then pretended to kiss it before sliding down and simultaneously causing the hem of her skirt to slide further up to her panties. Even through the sheer tights, Charlie could see they matched the lace on her bra.

“There. Is that proof enough that I’ve instigated my offer?”

Charlie was struggling to keep his eyes off her thighs.

“It’s still too dangerous for me; you know what the laws are, - I’m a man. Please, please, button up your blouse and straighten your skirt.”

Chloe smiled to herself as she realised that even under extreme provocation, Charlie still chose his words carefully. He hadn’t asked her to ‘pull down her skirt’ as that could be misinterpreted;- no, he’d asked her to ‘straighten her skirt’. She had total control and she felt perfectly safe.

“Did you say that because you’re genuinely not interested or to protect yourself via the camera.”

“The camera.” He answered then corrected himself as he realised that could be twisted. “I still wouldn’t attack you ever! Pleease; you’re not being kind or fair. Either way, I’m gutted.”

Chloe suddenly had an epiphany and it drove a spike of guilt through her very core. Charlie was pleading, nay almost crying and he’d done nothing wrong.

‘Fuck me!’ she cursed inwardly, ‘he’s terrified. I don’t want a relationship based on fear. That’s the whole raison d’etre for my getting him alone. To create trust, not destroy it.”

Having realised she had let her own feeling get the better of her, she pulled back from the abyss of her own making.

“Shit! I’m sorry Charlie, truly sorry.”

She watched him virtually collapse with relief onto his bed and momentarily lie deathly still. Then he curled into a ball and pulled the duvet tightly around himself in what was obviously a gesture of defence. The act caused Chloe to wonder if it was also an act of rejection as well.

Fearful of how much she’d obviously hurt him she feared for his life. Their afternoon’s discussion about the connectivity between male suicide and high intelligence only served to reinforce her fears and she concluded she would have to keep a vigil beside him all night. She looked across to find him asleep or feigning sleep so she quietly prepared the ‘put-you-up’ bed from the table fittings then lay down to wait.

She decided to leave the ‘separator doors’ unlocked and realised just how confident and safe she had felt in Charlie’s presence.

Throughout the evening the rain and wind increased and she was grateful that the mobile home was tethered and parked in a sheltered spot. The cold however proved a problem so she quietly took down the extra duvet stored in the Luton and snuggled up in that. Sleep inevitably overtook her.
ooo000ooo

Sometime during the night the wind eased but the rain still persisted. The van had stopped rocking and the lack of motion caused Chloe to stir. She glanced towards the rear of the van and realised that Charlie wasn’t lying on the large, wrap-around couchette.

A nervous spasm gripped her chest as she sat up while a dozen scenarios flashed through her mind. Not finding him in the van she flung the door open in a rush to check around the house.

“Ow!” Charlie squawked as the van door slammed his head.

Chloe looked down just in time to see the boar badger wheel around off Charlies knees and trundle of towards the house, Charlie had been sitting on the step, handing the badger some meat scraps.

“You’ve frightened him!” Charlie accused.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. Your head’s bleeding.”

“Never!” Charlie riposted ironically as the blood trickled behind his ear.

Chloe snatched a clean tea-towel and immediately applied it to the cut on Charlie’s scalp.

“This’ll need stitches.” She observed as Charlie took over the compression duties with the tea-towel.”

“No it won’t.” He argued It’s hidden in the hair. I’ll just compress the flap.”

“Don’t try being the hero. If you don’t close the wound properly, it ‘ll leave a nasty scar.”

“And?”

“It’ ll look terrible.”

“Why does that bother you?”

“I don’t want you looking like a rookery escapee. If we’re going to live a proper life you’ll have to be able to show that wounds and scars are not part of marriage.”

“You’ve just smacked me with a door.” He sniggered.

“That was an accident!” She thumped him affectionately.

“Ow. Now you’ve hit an injured man!”

“Oh stoppit. I didn’t hurt you, well not that much. Sorry about the door.”

“What possessed you to come bursting out like that?”

“I was worried. You weren’t in your bed.”

“You should have been sleeping. I was feeding the old boar badger. Trying to gain his trust.”

Those words struck home for that’s exactly what Chloe was trying to do. – gain a man’s trust.”

“Snap,” She countered.

“What d’ you mean?” Charlie frowned.

“I’ve been trying to gain your trust.”

“Oh yeah. Fat chance! First you try to entice me with sexy clothes, then you whack me over the head with a door.”

He almost smiled but she noticed it and struggled to suppress her giggle as she replied.

“I’m not doing very well am I?”

“I’ve encountered better tactics.” He almost spluttered and the convulsion dislodged the tea-towel.

She quickly recognised his failed attempts to suppress his amusement and let her own giggle finally escape. This caused Charlie to laugh and there was a brief moment of rapport that sent waves of joy crashing through Chloe’s heart. Scared to destroy the moment, she gently lifted his hair and quickly re-applied the tea-towel.

“You are going to need stitches. Let me drive you to the hospital, pleeease.”

“I’m not going near the Rookeries, They’re just butchers. They don’t even use anaesthetics and their bloody knives are blunt, not to mention the antibiotics are usually out of date! Hand-me-downs from your lot.”

“I’ll take you to my hospital. They’ll treat you if I explain.”

“I’ve never heard of them doing that.”

“Who told you that?” Chloe bristled slightly.

“We men talk as well you know; we can c-m-m-u-n-i
-c-a-t-e as well you know.”

“You spelt it wrong. What does that tell you.”

“Everything.” Charlie replied softly in a tone thick with irony.

Chloe cursed inwardly. How did he always manage to make a point?’

“Get in!” She demanded, “never mind the seats it’s got to be sorted after the flood.”

Charlie slipped in beside her and looked down the path.

“Take care, it’s a bit slippy up here as well until I concrete the yard.”

She took his advice and they arrived safely at the end of the lane. It was not long before they arrived at the gates of what was officially called ‘The General Hospital’, but most men regarded it as, ‘The Women’s Hospital.’ Chloe stopped at the gates and showed her laboratory pass. It showed that she was connected medically to the university hospital and that satisfied the guard.

When they presented at the emergency room the receptionist eyed Charlie with an expression of mistrust and revulsion but could not help noticing his handsome features. It was only because Chloe had brought him in that she was prepared to accept him.

“What happened?” She directed her questions to Chloe.

“I hit him accidentally with the door.”

“At this time of night. Shouldn’t he be under curfew?”

“He was on his own property. Look just have the surgeon stitch his scalp, it was my fault and it was an accident.”

“Okay. Name?”

Chloe answered all the questions until it came to ‘time of accident’.

“Two forty-five.”

“What, this morning?”

“Yes. This morning.”

“What were you doing associating with this man at two forty-five in the morning?”

“Feeding badgers. That’s nothing to do with you! Now I can see that the waiting room is empty and I know that Josephine Flint is the surgeon on duty. Let her know that Chloe Carpenter is here with a male.”

Within minutes Josephine Flint emerged from the surgical cubicles and walked straight to Chloe.

“Helloo! She enthused.

“Hi Jo’ He’s cut his scalp, well actually, I cut his scalp. Bit of a funny story but all good.”

Josephine eyed the superb specimen of manhood appreciatively and bluntly declared.

“Nice genes Chlo’.”

“Don’t even go there Jo’ He’ll eat you alive, - intellectually I mean.”

“Don’t tell me, a one woman man.”

“More a case of ‘Willy can you fight a bear.’ Chloe melodied.

“Oh; strong silent type is he?”

“I’ve warned you Jo’, don’t go there, he’s got a mind like a bear-trap and brain better than a computer.”

“I won’t ask how he escaped feminisation then.”

“Good,” Chloe answered.

As Josephine introduced the local anaesthetic to Charlie’s scalp she spoke to him for the first time.

“Don’t you mind us talking over your head about you.”

“It’s women’s chatter. I don’t waste my time.”

“Don’t you try putting me down matey.”

“You put yourself down by being so bad-mannered.”

“How dare you be so presumptuous!” She snapped as she pulled at the suture angrily.

Charlie didn’t flinch and she looked at him thoughtfully.

“Didn’t you feel that?”

“Was I meant to?”

Josephine suddenly realised he had caught her in a trap. If she said yes it exposed her as a bad bully, if she said no it exposed her as a bad surgeon. To escape her embarrassment she turned again to Chloe.

“I see what you mean. How do you manage him?”

“Not like that Josephine, and that’s a fact.”

“Do you feel safe with him? I mean bringing him in here.”

“I’ve never felt safer.” Chloe replied as she caught the briefest of knowing smiles from Charlie.

“I saw that!” Josephine charged.

“I think you were meant to.” Chloe replied softly before continuing. “As I said Jo; mind like a bear trap.”

“Can I speak to you some other time?” Josephine asked. “We’re finished here.”

“I’ll be at the genetics labs all week. Researching connectivity between animal and viral genes with ‘x’ and ‘y’ chromosomes.”

“I’ll speak to you on Monday; bye for now.” Josephine advised as she watched the pair leave. She never had Chloe down as a man-lover.

Chapter 7

When they arrived back at Charlie’s cottage they found Ronnie just preparing the digger to unload the plates Charlie, still in his work jeans from the previous day, immediately pitched in and by nine o’clock the job was completed. Chloe emerged with two large breakfasts and both men smiled appreciatively as they sat on the terrace wall and tucked into the food.

“They, say they’ll have the cutter set on Tuesday plus the gas bottles, shall I bring them up?”

“Please, and there’s a couple of other jobs.”

“That’s okay Charlie and by the way, my sister’s girl Briony, she’d like a hand with some maths, are you able to help her?”

“Fine. Same time Tuesday evening. Bring her and her text books with you on Tuesday when you bring the kit. Nobody will see us up here.”

Chloe came out looking concerned as she asked Charlie

“Are you teaching Ronnie’s niece?”

Ronnie went grey.

“Please Mrs Carpenter. Charlie only helps if she’s really stuck on something. I can’t help her nor can her mum and her teacher’s useless. Well that’s what Briony tells us. I can’t judge.”

Chloe stared hard at Charlie.

“You know that’s illegal. By right’s I should report you. How old is she?”

Ronnie answered. “Seventeen. She’s legal to talk to men now.”

“Well that’s something. I’m going to say nothing.” Chloe conceded.

She caught Charlie staring down to the stream with a look of disgust and anger. Fortunately, Ronnie couldn’t see Charlie’s face. After Ronnie had left, Chloe asked Charlie.

“What was the dark face about?”

“You know Ronnie won’t bring Briony now don’t you?”

“Why not. I won’t talk.”

“He’s very shy and nervous. Like lots of ‘ordinary’ men he goes in dread of the Feminista and he’s terrified of ending up in the Rookeries. He’ll never bring the kid up here now and I’ve seen the quality of maths teaching Briony’s getting. It’s all by rote and book learning. She doesn’t get an insight into the higher aspects of problem solving with Calculus.”

“Well how would you help her with your so-called own special mathematical tools?”

“When she brings her text-books with her, I go through the chapter with her and pick up the conventional thinking. It’s not bloody rocket science. Then we go through the chapter word by word and when she needs explanations I show her.”

“And do you show her your hi-falutin’ tricks.”

“Im not a circus dog or something, performing tricks for the ringmaster. For me it’s simplicity itself to ‘back-engineer’ the maths then show her the conventional way. Briony’s not stupid, she’s just got a bad teacher. The whole of her year is suffering. Lots of the kids in her class are getting external tutoring, it’s just that Ronnie can’t afford it.”
I won’t see my mate’s children fail when I can help. So thanks for the damage you’ve done.”

Chloe paled as she contemplated her mistake. It had become clear to her that Charlie and Ronnie were good friends. It was true they didn’t go down the pub together or watch football together or share other ‘man-stuff, but when it came to helping each other, quietly, sharing their own company, they were really good caring friends.

It was the first time Chloe had ever seen real male bonding operating below the parapet, away from the spotlight of the feminista surveillance. She reflected ruefully that even though they lifted things and did things together they only seemed to talk about ‘the job’ or fetching and carrying. They never seemed to talk about mutual acquaintances or shared experiences or family, or even their childhoods and they must have shared the same hardships that she had now come to recognise.

As Charlie was washing the breakfast things she asked him.

“Do you ever talk politics with Ronnie?”

“Never.”

“Not ever?”

“He’s too, - how shall I say; shy, cautious, withdrawn, risk averse.”

“Do you talk politics to the men at work?”

“I refer the honourable member to the answer I gave a moment ago.”

This long established Parliamentary riposte told Chloe all she needed to know. Charlie made a religion of ‘keeping shtum’. Keeping things that mattered to himself. Whatever Charlies political thoughts were, he kept pretty much to himself.
It made her feel privileged that he had occasionally opened up to her. It also burdened her with a heavy responsibility.

With the breakfast things cleared Charlie made his excuses and explained he had work to do in the barn.

“What are you doing in there?”

“Oh some fabrication work. Modifications that fit the van. I work mostly on essential work on the house during the evenings. If I need help Ronnie comes up on Saturdays. Then Sunday’s my own time, my day off as it were. If Ronnie needs help, I go down to his garage.

“D’ you fancy a ride into the country this afternoon?”

He grinned.

“I’ve got news for you lady. We are in the country.”

“No! You know what I mean.”

“Well I want to get these plates under cover and start erecting them. I should be free by mid-afternoon. Say three.”

“What am I supposed to do until then?”

Charlie was stumped. Chloe had arrived unexpectedly and his whole weekend had been thrown into disarray. He had nearly missed Ronnie’s delivery. Then he had an Idea.

“You could go down to Charlie’s petrol station and chat to his sister. Reassure them that you have no intentions of harming Briony’s tutorials and ask them to come up on the Tuesday as we had planned. Ask Ronnie and his sister and her three children to come up for a Tuesday dinner. It would be the neighbourly thing to do. His sister will be Ronnie’s Chaperone so he’d probably jump at the chance.”

“What are his nephews and nieces like.?

“They’re good kids and bright as well. Briony’s certainly college material and the boy is as well. He’s another example of wasted talent; maybe not intelligent enough to be feminised but a bright kid, nevertheless.
The little girl I have nothing to do with of course, feminista laws.”

“What do you think of old fashioned families?! Chloe tested him.

“Ha.” Charlie exclaimed. “I’m not allowed to think about ----old-fashioned-families-----, am I?”

“But you must wonder. I know I do.”

“Well. Just look at those badgers; that’s all I can say.”

“So you do have thoughts about it.”

“I look at Ronnie and think he’s found just about the best reasonable family solution a man can hope for He lives with his sister just like I lived with my mother but he’s got three lovely kids to share the pleasure with his sister. They treat him like a dad and they love him; I’ve seen it.”

“What does he do for, - you know – sex?”

“Same as all the rest I suppose. I haven’t asked him and I don’t intend to. If he uses sexbots, they’re clinically clean and he doesn’t get diseased so I don’t judge him. Ronnie and I are just buddies, neither of us are each other’s confessors.”

“You men operate at a very banal level don’t you? No emotional stuff in case it degenerates to violence.”

Charlie gave one of his inimitable shrugs.

“Precisely. Banality is safe. Well I find it so, I think Ronnie does too, that’s why our friendship works.”

“I think I will go and visit his sister. Reassure her about Briony’s tutorials and re-secure your friendship with Ronnie as well.”

“That would be a nice thing, I’ll be in the barn until four then I’ll make a meal for you for about six-ish.”

“That would be wonderful. Can I ask you if I can stay again tonight?”

“Why? I’m thinking you’ve got a lovely apartment in the femicons. Why on earth d’ you choose a draughty old mobile home out in the sticks.”

By this point, she had sidled close to him and he was surprised when she slid an arm into the arm he had the tea-towel draped over.

“Because I like the company. That’s why.”

Charlie hesitated but she was pleased that he did not tense up or extricate his arm.

“Are you really serious?”

“Marriage is still legal Charlie. “I’ve checked and double checked. It may be frowned upon by almost the whole professional female population but it’s legal. It’s like the old idea of first cousins getting married. That was frowned upon because of inbreeding dangers but it was legal

“But it’s now illegal, the genetic arguments made it so.”

“Yes. But there are no genetic arguments against old fashioned ‘girl-meets-boy’ marriages.

“But won’t your friends condemn you, shun you. They say it’s the Neanderthal way whatever that means.”

“What do you think?”

“I’m just a man.”

“Yes, but what upset you with those figures you analysed.”

“We’re heading for a genetic retardation. He almost whispered it, as though he did not even want to hear it for himself. The dumb genes are breeding faster than the clever genes, or more correctly, they’re surviving longer. Male suicides are driving this equation.”

“But if we allow old fashioned marriages again it will balance up again.”

“Not if the clever genes on the Y chromosomes are still driven to the same rates of suicide. No matter which chromosomes they’re on.
Old fashioned marriages won’t solve that because the probabilities are too random and the gender birth rates aren’t changing.. The genetic pool is approaching a tipping point, he corrected her.”

“So what will?”

“You’ll have to change the system.”

“What system. What d’ you mean?”

“The system that drives the suicides. The feminista superiority imposition.”

“But that’s what keeps the system stable, makes life safer for women, and children for that matter.”

“Well the maths seems to say otherwise.”

“Meaning.”

“The IQ of the species. I can’t give you the exact figures because I wasn’t able to determine all the data. Your feminist society has not been gathering all the pertinent data, only about ninety percent. But on the present intelligent IQ scales zero point oh three percentage points advancement per century and zero point oh five percentage points retardation per century. I can’t be any more accurate than that. Put simply, the odds are that the human race will start to go backwards within fifty years and then the descent will be irreversible or at least harder and harder to stop.
Suicide rates in the Rookeries show that the IQ progression is teetering between zero point oh and and minus point oh, two."

“Are you serious?” Chloe pressed.

“Here I stand. I can say no other. The science won’t let me, or more importantly, the maths!”

“You can choose whatever system of selective breeding you think best suites, but it will have to be some sort of selective breeding, eugenics and all that shit. That’s your field isn’t it.

“No. I’m a geneticist.”

“Well from where I’m standing,” Charlie opined, “if feminista don’t move soon to correct the trend, you’ll be forced to used selective breeding and if you haven’t isolated the intelligence genes on the genome, you’ll have to employ some rigorous eugenics. Infanticide, or worse to weed out the low IQ’s. That’s why I weep for humanity.”

“How so?”

“Think of all the Beethoven’s you’ll kill. Yours is not an exact science is it?”

“No,” Chloe confessed as she contemplated his observations.

“Mine is.” Charlie replied brittlely.

Chapter 8.

The rest of the day went as they had planned, Charlie busied himself cutting and shaping the steel plates and clamping them together ready for Ronnie to deliver the Welder machine and assorted tools as they’d arranged. Chloe came back buzzing with news about the joyous time she’d had with Ronnie’s family. The three children had lifted her spirits as they walked the back woods on the opposite side of the valley to Charlie’s house. She returned as arranged at six to find a delicious meal ready and Charlie in a clean dress shirt and jeans for once.

“He’s made an effort,” she told herself happily.

After eating they chatted about many things and Chloe silently thanked Charlie for not dwelling upon the prognosis he’d arrived at. Mostly they talked about children and the chances of carrying off an ‘old-fashioned’ girl-meets-boy type of marriage.

Chloe stayed decidedly clear of advancing the sleeping arrangements and the procedures remained as before. The last act they shared was to spread the dinner scraps much further from the mobile home. Neither of them wanted to be disturbed because both knew there would be inquisitions come the morrow.

The next morning it was raining hard but Chloe was now familiar with the mud but she got some funny looks when she arrived at work with her car virtually covered in mud. She had expected to find her boss waiting for her but instead the whole department was buzzing with alarm as the tech department was urgently checking every terminal.

“What’s happening?” Chloe asked.

“Oh, somebody was using the computer on Saturday night. They went right through all the data files and they’ve produced some rather alarming projections.”

“That was me.” She openly declared. “The department was having an argument last Wednesday so I thought I’d check some stuff out.”

“You’d better come and explain. The bosses are going tonto.”

With a thrill of visceral tension she knocked on the professor’s door.

“Come in.” A worried voice called.

“Morning Proff. I’ve heard you’re worried about some work I took home over the weekend.”

“Oh! It was you was it?” He responded as he was already reaching for his phone.

“Yes. They’re okay aren’t they?”

“Apparently they think they are but they’re still trying to determine how whoever did the analysis, did it so quickly. The analyst department has been working one them since Wednesday and they still have some way to go.”

“The figures are accurate to half a percentile either side of the projections.” Chloe pronounced matter-of-factly.

“The chief analyst is on his way. Can you explain it to her.”

“Not really. I had some help but no security was breached. My assistant has already signed the official secrets act.”

“Thank heavens for that. Ah here comes Brenda now. She looks upset.”

“Morning Prof. Any further along.”

“Yes Brenda. Miss Carpenter here has a hand in it apparently. She was seemingly so intrigued by the session we had on Wednesday, that she took some homework home. She believes her figures and projections are reliable.”

“If they are, and it looks as though they might be. The Feminista is up against a wall.”

“How’s that?”

“Come down to the mainframe and I’ll show you.”

The three of them returned to the mainframe set up were a dozen analysts and mathematicians were bent over several long sheets of print-out. Furthermore, several other machines were humming away furiously and periodically churning out more.

“What’s upset your little babies Brenda.”

“They’re getting overloaded. The girls here keep getting requests for specific instructions that they cannot supply or if they do, they fragment them and have to wait for this mainframe here to re-iterate them over and over. It’s slow but it’s going to take days.”

“So where are those figures that landed on my desk first thing.”

“Every departmental head has a copy. By reverse programming, we can see that the results are probably right but until we can crack the coding that started this, we might as well be monkeys. There’s a programme out there that puts our stuff in the shade. Whoever wrote it, should be working here or somewhere very high in the computing field.”

“Is this what you were alluding to Miss Carpenter.”

“Yes professor.”

“Do you know this lady.”

“That’s the first issue prof. It’s a man not a lady.”

“A trans-lady you mean.”

“No professor. A real, full blown, stand up – knock me down man.”

“That’s a bad choice of words Miss Carpenter so who is she - uuhmm he and where does uuhmm he - live?”

It was obvious that the professor was having trouble with pronouns. After years of never dealing with men in any managerial or professional level she was having to consciously correct herself.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you where he lives, that’s apparently restricted information but I can refer you to the director of Anston Electronics, here’s her private number.”

“Anston? D ‘you mean the Aerospace company?”

The same, Chloe confirmed.

“But they’re the top aircraft company.”

“Yes. They Keep our Feminist Queendom at the top of the aviation tree.”

“Does he have full security clearance, I mean, - he’s a man.

“He does. When I mentioned our problems, he asked to see my computer and within a few hours, voila! He wrote his own programming that cut through your analysis in a couple of hours on Saturday. Our computers as Brenda says, may take days. He’s clever. Very, very clever.”

“How come he missed being feminised?”

“I don’t know professor. He does not talk much but Anston are adamant he’s vital to their success staying ahead in the race. If you go trying to probe around him, as I stupidly did, you’ll have Whitehall stomping all over you. The day I made that blunder, I got a call from a very, very high ranking member of the government. Cabinet level.”

“Good gracious.”

“Exactly professor, and I’m just some meagre minion at the lowest level here in the labs.”

“If he’s that high up, how come you got tangled with him? Where you seeking a sperm doner?”

“He’s not that high up, he’s just a factory floor supervisor. I only knew him from our school days. His mother and mine were well acquainted and when his mother died, I went to her funeral.. The old childhood friendship which of course became illegal under the feminista educational laws was re-kindled when we met at the funeral in our twenties. It was legal then to meet each other as adults. One thing led to another and now we are friends.”

“Good gracious. You’re not thinking of some sort of relationship are you? - With a man!”

“It’s not illegal Professor!”

“Maybe not but you be very careful young lady. You’d be going against some very deeply entrenched conventions. You could even lose your job.”

“I’ve already been to the lawyers Professor. He cannot lose his job; in fact, he’s been put under a retention order by the government to Anston Aerospace. If he cannot lose his job then, under the equality laws, I as a female associate, cannot be treated worse than him, I cannot be held lower than him. I cannot lose my job.”

The professor looked at Brenda and they both shook their heads. For a woman to actually choose to be associated with a male was deemed to be a deliberate plunge into the abyss of disadvantage. A step back into the dark ages. After all the education that Chloe had received it was considered an insult to and a betrayal of the establishment to take a step backwards and downwards on the social scale. The professor spoke carefully and slowly to Chloe.

“You do realise that a lot of the staff here will be offended by your actions. You will most likely be shunned and ignored at every turn.”

“Provided they don’t actually abuse me, I think I can survive.”

“How?” Brenda added.

“I’ll be able to use his input, pick his brains as it were, when we hit our next problem like the one we’ve been having all last week. You have to admit, he’s pulled off an incredible trick to have done in a few hours what Brenda predicted would take several days. And he did it on his lap-top and tablet. No access to the main-frame at all except through my laptop and a single domestic remote portal.”

“Is our data safe?” Brenda asked. “I mean personal laptops and tablets are notoriously leaky.”

“Having seen his tablet, and the geeky keyboard, I’d challenge anybody to find their way around his stuff. For starter’s he uses a different sort of maths and keyboard hieroglyphs that are gobbledygook.”

“A different sort of maths? What d’ you mean?” The professor pressed.

“Think about it. He was turfed out of school at fourteen with only the most rudimentary maths and science and stuck into an apprenticeship with Anston Aerospace. It was Anston Electric when he joined as a snotty-nosed kid now it’s one of the most advanced industries on the planet. The government is falling over itself to contract them into problem solving and design improvement. It’s all because of a geeky nerd and his untidy work bench on the lowest factory floor. . . .”

Chloe suddenly corrected herself as she realised she had been a bit unkind about Charlie.

“Well he’s not that geeky actually. He’s a bit of a looker.”

“But he’s still a man.” The professor pointed out.

“Yes, and just think about it. He avoided being feminised and he’s avoided all the feminista snares since leaving boy-school. Check his record, - not a single misdemeanour, or offence on his record.”

“How’s he done that? Avoided sperm donation that is?”

“He’s untidy, well frankly he’s scruffy and dirty, mainly because he’s so engrossed in his work. In his normal garb, I’d almost call it camouflage, a woman wouldn’t look twice at him. When he shambles down the street he looks like a walking trash dump.”

“But when he scrubs up?” The professor responded.

“He’s a woman’s wet dream.” Chloe replied unashamedly.

“I think I’d like to meet this Charlie.” Brenda added.

“Good luck with that,” Chloe explained, “reclusive doesn’t begin to describe it…. And don’t hold out hopes for a sperm donation. He’s got old fashioned views about that as well. Trouble is that the government retention clause at Anston Aerospace protects him from sperm-predation. They don’t want to endanger his sanity.

Speak to Mrs Anston, the main shareholder of Anston Aerospace, but beware. If she thinks you might put Charlie at risk, the full weight of the government will be knocking on your door same day. Anyway, was there anything else you want to talk to me about. I’ve got some sample work on my lab bench and it’s decaying as we speak.”

“It’s not his sperm is it? Your relationship and all.”

“God forbid.” Chloe wagged her head despondently. “If only.”

ooo000ooo

Back in her office Chloe tried to get stuck into her work but her mind was fizzing like a firework. The weekend with Charlie and his badgers had set her thinking. All the lessons of her life had directed her towards a life devoid of men, a safe, clean, uncomplicated life that encouraged her academic research. Now her emotions were in turmoil and she could not get the reclusive oaf out of her brain. She could not wait for Tuesday evening and the anticipated evening meal with Charlie and his Friend Ronnie’s family.

‘Should she call it a family?’ She wondered. ‘Was it legal?’

In the women’s canteen she was chewing disinterestedly on a salad when Josephine appeared at her table.

“How’s the oaf?”

“Oh! Hello to you as well. The oaf, as you put it, is okay I suppose. He was this morning anyway.”

“Are you saying you slept with him, can’t blame you if you did.”

“No. I stayed the night with him, but sleeping with him ….. I can only wish.”

“Give him to me for a night.”

“No hope, on both counts.”

“Is he gay?”

“No – caring!”

“Ooooh. Somebody’s got the hotties for him!”

“Are you eating or talking?”

“No, but I’m listening – if you want.”

“Then sit and drink your coffee – silently.”

“Go on then, dish the dirt.”

“There is no dirt but there’s a nuclear explosion coming our way.”

Josephine frowned uncomprehendingly.

“I’m listening.”

“If I told you something really crazy would you still be my friend?”

“How crazy is crazy?”

“It’s about him.”

“And?”

“I like him.”

“Go – oon.”

“No, listen, I really like him. We talked all day and half the night last weekend. He’s really interesting and – and – well – I felt safe with him. Two nights up in his mobile home and nary a whisper of a threat. I was safe-safe.”
“This sounds interesting. Is he just afraid of the feminista.”

“He’s no reason to be, he’s got a record as clean as a whistle.”

“How clean? Suspiciously clean? You know, secret axeman or something.”

“I doubt it Jo’ he feeds badgers.”

“Aaah. The great yardstick of decency. Proof positive.”

“Be serious Jo’”

“It was your yardstick. Does he have any normal pets? You know, cats, dogs, rabbits!”

“No. He’s a working man and he works very long hours. He obviously knows he couldn’t give a domestic pet the attention it needs.”

“Is he giving you attention?”

“Well sort of. He’s happy having me around and I’m happy to be around but the attention you’re alluding to, well no – not yet anyway.”

“Sperm donation?”

“Big no-no. He’s made that clear.”

“So what then; a platonic thing.”

“No, not as far as I can discern. Can you keep this a secret?”

“Nothing illegal is it?”

“No. It’s just, well it’s just that I think he’s a sort of old fashioned geek in a way.”

“This sounds sinister.”

“He’s not sinister. When I’m around him, we come alive.”

“It’s not him, it’s you isn’t it?”

“No! You don’t get it. It’s both of us. We both care for each other, but he cares just that bit more, he cares for the relationship.”

“Relationship!” “You want a relationship! ….. With a man. Good luck with that Chloe.”

Chloe clenched her fists in frustration. It seemed that nobody but nobody could or would understand. She thumped the table and got up to stalk away but Josephine was too quick. Although she was a surgeon, she had enough medical sensitivity to see her friend was in turmoil. She caught Chloe at the door and whispered.

“My office now.”

ooo000ooo

“So! Chloe; what’s this really about? It’s okay, these offices are sound-proofed.”

Chloe looked at the surgeon and Josephine noted the glistening tear.

“Come on, out with it.”

“This is confidential. No recording.”

“Of course, doctor patient.”

“I’m not your patient. This is friend to friend.”

“Go on.”

In a tiny nervous squeak Chloe revealed.

“I want to marry him.”

There was a stunned silence before Josephine recovered her composure.

“Good God!”

“Is it so bad?” Chloe cried. “Do you really think it’s so bad?”

“It’s a backward step. You have to share your rights and once a man has equal rights, well, there’s no knowing.”

“They don’t share equal rights. Even when they’re married. They’re still subject to curfews, albeit less onerous ones; and there’s a whole host of other stuff – obstacles, - prejudices. I’ve already encountered them even in your A&E the other night. You were rude to him. D’ you know he preferred to take the risk of going to the male A&E down the rookeries, than face the women’s hospital.

“It’s the general hospital.” Josephine countered. “We treat everybody.”

“Do me a favour Jo’ Don’t lie. I saw you; I was there with him; remember. There were evils everywhere he turned, even I got them and the receptionist was an absolute pig!”

“It was in the middle of the night outside the curfew. There was blood everywhere. A typical man injury, an assault. What do you expect people to think?”

“It – was – an – emergency – Jo’! An a – c – c –i - d – e – n – t! Three weeks ago, I would have been casting those evils. Now, after being with a man for two weekends I’ve changed my mind. I look beyond the apparent; or at least I try to.”

“Okay. Point taken. So what about this marriage thing. Are you truly serious?”

“Yes! And I’d like someone to be there from my side as a witness. I’ve looked up the law and we need two witnesses. Usually, they are parents or close friends. His mother is dead but he’s got a long-time friend who’s loyal and honest. I can ask my mother and she might do it under duress but I’d prefer a friend. One who I could then call a true friend.”

“I’m not sure I could – I mean I -.”

“Okay. That’s fine. I’m learning who my true friends are. Forget I ever asked.”

“Whoa! Hold on there! Give me a chance to get my head around this.”

Chloe hesitated by the door.
“It’s not much to ask. Five minutes down the town hall. It used to be a clear sign of best friends. Best man was the man’s best friend and bride’s maid was the woman’s best friend. I’ve looked it up down in the historical archives. If you are interested, let me know soon. I’ve not fixed a date yet but I think it will be weeks rather than months; well I hope so.”

“Have you not agreed a date yet?” Josephine asked.

“I haven’t even asked him yet.” Chloe grinned as she left.

Josephine simply sat at her desk stunned until her alarm call reminded her she was assisting at another operation in an hour. She at least proved she could keep her promise and told nobody.

Across town, Mrs Anston had asked her favourite repair-man to step into her office

“Hello Mr Sage.”

“Morning Ma-am.”

“I’ll come straight to the point. I’ve had a strange telephone call from the medical director of the National Institute of genetic research.”

“Really Ma-am.”

“You don’t seem untowardly surprised.”

“No Ma-am. I was half expecting it.”

“Would you like to explain?”

“There’s not much for me to tell Ma-am. I simply assisted a member of staff; a Miss Chloe Carpenter with some number-crunching.”

“The director tells me that you crossed a line and entered into the realms of the official secrets act.”

“I have signed the official secrets Ma-am. Or more correctly you assigned my name and signature to the act when I was put on retention by the government. I am allowed access to the official secrets act; I’ve broken no law.”

“Hrr-mph! I see. Let me just check that.”

Charlie sat there quietly as Mrs Anston fetched up the act on one of her screens and read through it. Charlie offered some information.

“Sections, four eight and nine are the pertinent bits Ma-am.”

“Oh! I see you’ve actually read the thing then.”

“End to end Ma-am, and inwardly digested.” Charlie sat there ‘po-faced’.

She smiled slightly then it spread to a grin as she read the first pertinent sections. Eventually she wagged her head and chuckled.

“Charlie! May I call you Charlie?”

“You’re privilege Ma-am.”

“Good. Charlie, this is just the sort of thing I would have expected from you. You have indeed broken no law but my god, you’ve got the bug boffins all a-flutter.”

“Bug Boffin’s Ma-am?”

“You know what I mean,” she chuckled. “What exactly did you do?”

“I gave their analysis section a lesson in sums and computer science Ma-am.”

“Like you did to us with the new multi-target traffic control radar.”

“Same sort of thing Ma-am. The new radar takes up less than a quarter of the old radars and creates more free space in the cockpit.”

“I, well that is we, at Anston Aerospace know perfectly well what it does Charlie. It puts our planes ten years ahead of the Yanks and the Chinese.”

“Passenger planes I hasten to add Ma-am. I don’t do war planes.”

“Yes that’s a good thing, by the way. Have you had any secret offers from our transatlantic cousins or anybody else for that matter?”
“Yes. But who’d want to live over there. It’s worse still for men over there. I did report the offers Ma-am, they’re there buried deep in my file I suppose.”

“Well let’s not be getting into the politics. So what did you do that’s got the Bug Boffins flapping like wet hens.

Over his years at Anston Aerospace, Charlie had gradually grown to like Mrs Anston. Once she had been forced to recognise and acknowledge his Genius she had started to behave more like a human being towards him. So much so that the younger female executives were growing jealous, especially when his ideas took the company’s technology forward another order of science. However, as long as Charlie came up with the goods, he was bomb-proof. Sadly, he could not patent his ideas; men could not hold patent rights. He explained in simple terms what his analysis had predicted. Mrs Anston paled slightly when she grasped the reality.

“So if we don’t do something about High IQ male murders, we get stupider.”

“They’re not really murders ma-am, they’re suicides but they get listed as murders in the records because those high IQ’s despair and there’s no easy way to end their lives by their own hand in the Rookeries. Too much surveillance. Picking a fight then getting killed is the fastest way to do it.

If a suicide is reported then there has to be an inquiry about stuff like conditions in the community. Murders are simply ascribed to testosterone and male brutality. I for one know it’s all hypocrisy but who am I?”

Anyway, as you said, enough of the politics. The fact is, any high I Q genes carried on the ‘Y’ chromosome get to disappear from the human genome. Ipso-facto, dummies begin to rule. Mitochondrial genetic stability is not the way forward but the factors associated with the ‘Y’ chromosome are so small as to be indefinable because the ‘Y’ chromosome is so vulnerable to variations until you deal with billions of samples.

It’s only then that the trends can be a) detected and b) tracked. My maths and programming did that going through Mis Chloe Carpenter’s computer portal.
When the trends were shown to be quite definable by my figures, the ‘Bug Boffins’ as you call them – I like that, - bug boffins.” He chuckled.

“Well the bug boffins threw a wobbly.” He couldn’t help chuckling some more and Mrs Anston became infected momentarily.

“All right Charlie. Joke over, I don’t know why we’re amused, this is quite serious isn’t it?”

“Only if the ‘Y’ Chromosome suicides continue if the high IQ strata’s.”

“And as a mathematician, where do you see the solutions Mr Sage?”

“As I told my companion Mrs Carpenter, the solution is in the politics. I feel like Martin Luther.

“Here I stand, it is all I can do. The truth is in the maths.”

“Where did you learn about the reformation?”

“I’m signatory to your official secrets act Ma-am. I have the same access to the internet as women.”

“Dammit! Of course.”

“And I don’t just do maths Ma-am. I need relaxation as well. Reading is one of my relaxations. I can’t always just mindlessly cement bricks or lay roof-tiles. Truly I’d go bonkers.”

“Well I can’t condemn you for that. It’s a pity you weren’t feminised in childhood.”

“I’m not an enemy Ma-am. If you’ve got an enemy; if women have got an enemy that is - …. It’s in the maths, the maths of your feminista culture. I can do nothing but stand there and point at it. Who am I?””

“Very well Charlie. You’ve been perfectly honest with me. I’ll let you go back to your precious work-bench. By the way, the young lady, Miss Chloe Carpenter. What about her? Is she in trouble with the Genetics Institute?”

“I don’t think so, she would have called me I think if she was. All she did was help me access the figures. As a signatory, albeit an unusual male signatory, I have authorised access to all government statistics that are in the authorised domains. Their figures are authorised and I checked with her that my authorisation was legal. It was, you put me on a very high grade, thank you for that.”

“Was that irony I think I detected,”

“No Ma-am, I just want to make sure that we don’t destroy the human race, slowly and inevitably, if my maths can do that, my job is done.”

“Confidentially, Charlie. Do you disapprove of the feminista.”

“I disapprove of genocide Ma-am, intentional or accidental.”

“Clever answer Charlie. You can be very slippery sometimes.”

“I wasn’t being disingenuous Ma-am. It’s like Galileo and the old Catholic church. Maths is as true as the earth orbiting the sun.”

“If another mathematician were to prove you wrong what would you say.”

“Thank the stars Ma-am, thank the stars I’m wrong.”

“I admire your transparency Charlie. If anybody calls about this, I’ll ask you to come to my private office to discuss it. How do you feel?”

“Talk is cheap Ma-am but if it’s starts some action, I can only hope they choose the right path.”

“And that is?”

“Where the maths takes us, that will lead the science.”

“I’m thinking you may be right Charlie. Thank you for your thoughts and information. You’d better get back to your bench, I’m betting there’s a queue of wannabe’s lining up to solve somethings.”

“Nothing changes Ma-am.”

“Well not in maths it doesn’t Charlie. You’re a lucky fellow to live in such a certain universe. Thank you for your time.”
“Thank-you Ma-am.”

ooo000ooo

By the time Charlie had returned to his bench it was close to lunch but there was a queue waiting with problems.

“After lunch please guys. I need to eat and talk with somebody.”

A knowing smirk rippled through the queue before the first man spoke.

“Is that the girl who met you at the gates last Friday?”

“Well it was actually, but what’s it to you?”

“You’re brave phoning a woman. It’s usually their prerogative to pester us.”

“I’m not pestering her as you put it. It’s work.”

“Ooo-ooh Charlie boy’s working with the women. Who’s a clever boy then?”

“Who’s a silly parrot then?” Charlie mimicked a Brazilian Macaw.

“There’s no need to take the mick.” The queuer protested.

“Then don’t do it. It’s genuinely about work. Now please, after lunch.”

“When he reached the end of the queue the canteen manager was sitting at the till doing a meal relief.”

“Don’t take any nonsense from them Charlie. We all know about your work keeping this company ahead.”

“Thanks Tilly.”

“Good luck with the young lady.”

Charlie frowned,

“Does everybody know my business?”

“She was waiting for you outside the gates nearly an hour before came out. You chatted briefly then she followed you home. What do you expect.”

“Oooh, I suppose so. I suppose I’ll have to arrange a more secret rendezvous.”

“Don’t Charlie. The men secretly envy you and the machinists are all rooting for you. They all watched you at the gate, their shop looks right down on you. Don’t hide it Charlie, we all know what you’re doing for everybody.”

“I’m not doing anything for anybody. We’re just friends that’s all.”

Tilley gave him a slow, knowing look but said no more. She had given him what support she could. The machinist behind him in the queue joined him at the condiments servery and spoke quietly before she diverged into the girl’s canteen to eat her food.

“You may think you’re doing nothing Charlie but your young lady is certainly stretching the boundaries. Look after her. It’s for all of us.”

Charlie rolled his eyes anxiously then made for an empty table. The moment he sat he noticed a delegation sidling towards him. Cautiously, he set his Mobile to record for his own protection. As they casually took seats around him he took the initiative.

“What’s this about?”

“The girls in the machinists shop.”

“What about them?”

“They hear things.”

“Like what?”

“Well two of the supervisors sometimes sit with the female managers, the junior managers. They say you’ve been in and out of old turbo-knicker’s office all morning.”

“Surprise, surprise. You all know I do clever stuff for her. It’s no secret, we have to talk, long and often.”
“Are you seeing to her Charlie,” One wag cackled.

“Fuck off.” Charlie replied, “If I dobbed you for that your feet wouldn’t touch.

“All-right Charlie, calm down,” an older man spoke softly, “but there have been rumours.”

“What about?”

“Well apparently, you’ve been doing some moonlighting, with that young lady of yours.”

Charlie thought quickly. News travels fast on the grape-vine, he concluded.

“Well, I’ve been helping her, so what? That’s why she followed me home.”

“That’s risky isn’t it.”

“She followed me. I didn’t follow her, more than my job’s worth.”

“But seemingly when you helped her, you caused a stir.”

“My work often causes a stir. Look at the new high density traffic radar. It put us years ahead and made your jobs more secure.”

“Yeah, we appreciate that but this girl, she works for the gender labs or something doesn’t she?”

“No she doesn’t but I’m not prepared to discuss my friends and my private lives with the likes of you guys. What I tell you would be all round the FQ in hours and what I don’t tell you would be made up for the rag-tops. Now, it you please, I’m eating my lunch.”

The men finished their food and left in dribs and drabs like any normal table. Charlie was about the fifth to leave out of a table of twelve. As he looked back, he could see problems brewing. He knew the time was coming when he would have to break first with the factory floor then possibly even with Anston itself. He was NOT going to get involved with politics for then every man’s hand would be against him.

He thought back to his childhood times with his mother. She had kept him out of the feminisation trap and any accusations of being a terrorist. What he’d just encountered at the dining table had all the markings of a terrorist cell or some such illegality. Suppressing his anger at their presumptions he stalked back to his beloved bench only to find the inevitable queue.

“Hey-up lads. Grumpy’s back.”

“Less of the shit, you guys. I’m not up for it. If you want a hand, shut up and join the queue. If you’re here to stir shit then fuck off! The only questions I’ll answer are work related.”

“The first man in the queue was an old acquaintance of Charlie’s but his first words found him in trouble.”

“Back to the old grumpy we all know is it Charlie?”

“Right! That’s it. Take your job and go to the back of the queue. Maybe you can talk to one of the others and sort it while you’re waiting.”

“Aah. Come on Charlie I was only joking.”

“I’ve had enough of joking and bloody politics all morning and all through lunch. Strictly engineering now and NOTHING else.”

A mutter of concern rippled through the queue and several men left. It was obvious that they had joined to just chat to Charlie about the gorgeous girl at the gate. The so-called problem they had with some component was simply a ploy. As the queue shortened appreciably Charlie looked down it and saw several components that looked as though they had the same failure or problem. Charlie called them to the front and made them stand around to follow his instructions.

This was a regular procedure and it told the men that Charlie was back to normal in technical mode. The queue moved relatively quickly and by four o’clock, Charlie was doing his own work which was a complex problem with a newly introduced very high temperature sensor for Jet exhausts. Charlie quickly established the problem and shook his head at what he considered somewhat crude science.

Back home in his barn contained the next big step, as did his little car; antigravity.
That Monday he drove home alone but stopped at Ronnie’s to discuss the Tuesday evening meal they were organising. Briony dashed out to hug him and they shared one of her mother’s scones as a treat.

“Tomorrow then kids. This time.”

They waved as he disappeared down the lane.

At the house he noted a car parked below the first terrace and he drove straight up to it as two drivers emerged. He recognised them both as the professor and the chief analyst from Chloe’s institute.

“Hello.” He offered cheerfully.

“Hello Mr Sage, we were wondering if you could help us or at least demonstrate how you performed those miracles with your computer.”

“Sure. It won’t help you much because you won’t understand my maths but I’ll show you what I did. Understanding HOW I did it will depend on your innate intelligence.”

He unlocked his mobile home and the women looked inside with some distaste.

“Is this where you live?”

“Til’ I’ve finished the cottage; yes.”

“And how long will that take?”

“’Bout two years I’m calculating. Here put your lap-tops on the table while I make a drink; tea or coffee.”

The women located the wandering lead and plugged in their computers. A small portable generator rattled into life and they looked somewhat askance.

“It’s on a trip-demand switch,” He explained. “If I need hot water and stuff for showers or laundry, the bigger genny starts up. The wi-fi password is on the router, there’s a satellite connection.”

“Thank you. Miss Carpenter mentioned you had a laptop and a tablet.”

“They’re in the drawer. My second laptop is by my bed. I like to relax when I’m surfing.”

“Quite. Is this where Miss Carpenter stays when she comes.”

“Yes. The table and the seats fold down to make the second bed. The divide pulls out and unfolds from the side of the wardrobe. I sleep here, she sleeps there.”

“And that’s it.”

“Yes. Are you here to snoop on our sleeping arrangements or to see what I did with the computers.”

“Oh the computers Mr Sage, the computers,” the professor hurried to reassure him.”

“Okay. Connect your laptops to your mainframe and we’ll get started.”

This was quickly done and very quickly the data that Charlie had analysed started to roll. Soon the information was reciprocating back and forth so Charlie ‘piggy-backed’ his tablet and punched in his password. The scrolling numbers stopped scrolling and some strange hieroglyphics popped up on both his tablet and his bedside lap-top.

“Oh. Naughty, naughty’ naughty, ladies. Who’s trying to get into Charlie’s second laptop and tablet by the back door.”

The lady’s faces reddened with embarrassment as their ruse was exposed.

“Now that’s really sneaky. How can I be expected to trust you if you’re hoping to steal my maths?”

“We were hoping you would explain this stuff. The stuff on your tablet and your bedside laptop.”

“Well asking would have been nice, though I’d have to tell you that it wouldn’t work. Even the engineers and Anston Aerospace give up.”

“Why is that?”

“The function’s I’ve formulated go a long way past calculus and to tell the truth, I’ve tried to explain it to Anston but they’ve given up. They just let me do my own calculations then I design the circuitry based on my equations; then comes the hard part, turning the designs into functioning
Components that can be produced on a factory floor. It’s what makes Anston rich and keeps FQ ahead of the technical game. That’s where I enjoy tinkering and fiddling.”

“And the maths?” Brenda the chief analyst asked.

“I’ve tried explaining it but making the connection between maths, science and analysis for problem solving with my tools, seems to escape people. There was a Hindu girl who asked me to explain it once and she actually seemed to grasp it. I had high hopes but apparently her study grant was stopped by the Pakistani government.

She had no other funds so she went back to Pakistan and was married to some muslim guy. I didn’t know they could do that. anyway, I got a couple of emails then she sent the last one asking me to try and help her get the FQ government to help with a grant. Of course, being a man, I had no access to academia in any shape or form.

The next message came from her new husband saying he was closing down her email account and there would be no more communication with infidels. I’ve never heard from her again. Sad that cos she really showed promise.”

“Do you have her email address?”

Yes but it’s no longer active, or at least I’ve been blocked.”

“I’m sure Whitehall has got ways of locating people.”

“Well. That’s not for me to try is it; being a man and all.”

“But if you’ve got official secrets clearance. You’ll have your coded authority.”

“Doesn’t work like that. If they want to contact me about anything, they check if my authority is still valid and contact Anston Aerospace. If I try to do anything they see a male name and block me. Men aren’t allowed high level access to gov.uk.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Tell the feminista, not me.”

“If we managed to get this girl out of Pakistan, would you be prepared to teach her?”

“Good luck with that, Pakistan is almost at war with the Feminista.”

“Can you give us a copy of your Tablet’s hard-drive?”

“I literally disassembled it and rebuilt it. It took me several years in my teens to put it back the way I wanted it. Partly because I was inventing my maths at the same time. I’m not sure I could find the right parts now. These newer chips have consolidated the conventional maths and binary system. I invented my own quadrenary code and altered some very old fashioned chips from some computers that were donkey’s years old. Anston Aerospace were throwing them in the skip.

The old chips are easier to tamper with. They make my tablet’s CPU exceeding slow, but the quadrenary code and my maths tools get much faster results. D’you want to see?”

“Please!!”

When the exercise they were running had completed, Charlie took his care-worn tablet with crude alternative cyphers scratched on the function buttons and he literally popped open the back. He unslotted the CPU and the two scientists were astounded to see the ancient chips rearranged in no system that made sense to them.

“There’s no logic to it.” Brenda remarked.

“Oh there is,” Charlie declared with a hint of pride. It’s my logic.”

“Can we photograph this?”

“Be my guest but don’t break any chips or terminals. They are buggers to repair . See those tii-nyeee little soldered pins. They took me a week to refashion and restore.”

“It looks bloody clunky,” Brenda sniggered.

“It is, but it works, - for me that is.”

“And thereby hangs a tale I presume.” The professor remarked.

“Yeah. A very long and painful one.” Charlie replied softly.

They finally finished their investigations and shared a bottle of wine before returning home. The professor drank most of it because Brenda was driving and Charlie hardly ever imbibed. He watched both women driving down the lane then settled down to a pound-meal with a few extra vegetables. He had little to fear from their examination of his little tablet, they would need his maths to write programmes to suite it.

As he was turning in, Chloe phoned.

“They’ve been to snoop on you haven’t they?”

“Don’t worry darling, all they saw was the antediluvian contents of my altered tablet. They’d need my maths to make sense of the CPU. Technically, they won’t have advanced an inch.”

“But obviously, they suspected you and that can’t be good.”

“I’ve just texted Mrs Anston, she’ll be letting Whitehall no tomorrow.”

“They’re having a big meeting tomorrow about your findings.”

“Well I can’t do anything about that unless the government becomes involved and orders me to lay out the facts, - as I see them, that is.”

“They’ve got all the facts. I was running through another part of the figures on our main-frame. The more I break your calculations down, piece by painful piece. The more your seem to be right. It’s a worry.”

“It’s a worry for the feministas, as they stand; but it’s not a worry if they take the right biological steps.”

“And?” She challenged.

“Not my pigeon. We’ve been through this.”

“You’re going to have to tell them and prove it.”

“Best if we let your friends work it out for themselves. It might take a few weeks, but time’s not the issue, honesty is. It’s really not my problem, secretly I think I’m glad I can’t be involved, - just a simple supervisor me.”

“Stoppit! Are you set for tomorrow evening?”

“I Can’t wait. Ronnie’s kids are buzzing. It’s not often they get to sit with two men at the same table.”

“Yeah, signs of the times. I’m turning in now darling. Sleep safe, sleep tight.”

“Thank you, that’s nice. Goodnight darling. Tsk.”

“Tsk, tsk.” He responded and she went to feel warm all over while turning the word ‘darling’ over and over in her mind. Very soon she was asleep.

ooo000ooo

Chapter 9

“The next day’s work proved to be pretty much ‘hum-drum’. He wasn’t called up to the board room and he wasn’t bothered much by requests for help. By three o’clock, his work was finished and he filled the last hours checking through the skips to find anything useful. Mrs Anston watched him through her large corner window and smiled. Charlie was well known for his regular forays into the scrap bins and she knew for a fact that a couple of his successful modifications had been born of recycled components, deemed broken beyond repair.

He took some recognisable parts out of the none ferrous bin then scooped up some white spongy material that did not seem to have any useful value at all. It was a de-compressed composite absorbent that was used mostly as a coolant and lubricant at very high temperatures.

Even as a professional engineer, she could not think of a single alternative use for the spongy, expanded waste. Once the liquid coolant had been expended from the spongy forms, the residual material was useless. As far as she could see, the spongy bits were useful only as shock absorbers if they were compressed into discs or balls. As alternatives to coiled shock absorbers or something.

Charlie however, obviously had other ideas as he bagged up several kilograms of the greasy stuff and threw it into the boot (trunk) of his car. She kept watching as he was finishing, when a colleague arrived with two large thick discs and exchanged a few ribald comments about Charlie’s scrounging habits. Then Charlie asked him for the metal discs and without a pause, he put them also in the boot. Mrs Anston made a note to check what the discs were made of for they looked like a rust resistant alloy. Then she smiled and turned to resume her work.

‘Charlie would no doubt be using them to some useful purpose,’ she concluded. His idea’s seemed endless and the Shop floor manager openly declared that she had given Charlie carte-blanche out of the various scrap bins.

A year previously, Mrs Anston and the chief accountant had tallied up how much Charlie had earned the company with his inventions, innovations and modifications. They were shocked to find it amounted to tens, if not hundreds of millions of pounds in the ten years he had been working there. Yet, nary a penny had been paid to him for patent rights.

Because – he - was - a - man, - and - Men - couldn’t – hold - patents !

The situation had caused her concern on numerous occasions.

‘A few pieces of valuable scrap metal could hardly be denied to him then; especially if it would likely bring in a few more millions to her company.’ She mused.

As she was turning away from the window, she noticed the Carpenter girl Chloe, reputedly the girl who wanted to actually marry the eccentric junk collector. Chloe had parked her car and had approached the main gates where she had attracted Charlie’s attention. They exchanged a few words then she returned to her car and took station to await his finishing. Mrs Anston called the main gate security office.

“Security. Yes Ma-am.”

“The young lady in the car opposite your office.”

“Yes Ma-am.”

“Her name is Chloe Carpenter. Could you invite her up to my office please.”

“Certainly, Ma-am.”

She watched as the guard secured the gates then spoke to the girl who accepted the invitation. A few minutes later, Chloe was tapping respectfully on the managing director’s door.

“Come in Miss Carpenter.”

Chloe stepped in and paused.

“You know my name!”

“Of course I do Chloe. I’m Mrs Anston, the owner of Anston Aerospace. You of course are acquainted with Charlie Sage I believe.”

“Well, - yes. But, - “

“No but’s Miss. You’ve certainly affected the feelings of my star engineer.”

“I thought he was just a production floor supervisor.”

“Well technically he is but unfortunately, the poor guy is a man and if he wants to advance into management, -“

“He has to undergo feminisation!” Chloe finished the sentence.”

“Yes.”

“Well that’s not going to happen Mrs Anton. I’ve got other ideas for Charlie.”

“Which are?”

“Marriage!” Chloe stated very bluntly.

“Marriage!, - !” Mrs Anston exclaimed. “Are you serious?”

“Quite serious. It’s still legal, I’ve asked him, and he’s willing. He’s a single man with no female relatives to account to, so we are getting married.”

“But, think of the consequences. He gets to share some of your rights not to mention the – the stigma. Won’t it affect your position at work?”

“I’ve had the law checked by a good lawyer and examined by a judge for a legal opinion. We can marry and we are going to.”

“Are you aware that you’ll have to share common property rights?”

“Ye-ess. Charlie actually owns a remote derelict cottage and we intend to do it up together. It’s unfit for habitation as yet so the feminista can’t confiscate it, and by the time it’s habitable, we’ll be married so they can’t confiscate my half. I might even be pregnant by then and then they can’t touch the house at all, I’ll be a pregnant mother.”

“A married, pregnant mother! How extraordinary!” Mrs Anston exclaimed.

“Quaint even, - but we’ll get by.” Chloe grinned slightly pugnaciously. “I can’t lose my job; I’ve checked the law and I know for certain that you’ll not want to lose Charlie. In fact you can’t lose him can you. Government retention order I believe.”

“Retention order or not, we certainly don’t want to lose Charlie!”

“Well that’s settled then. I’ve got all my ducks in a row; Charlie and I will be getting married at the end of this academic semester. I’m attached to the Institute anyway so the holidays will be an excellent chance for a honeymoon.”

“A what?”

“A honeymoon. It’s like a long holiday after the wedding for a man and a woman to grow to understand each other.”

“Really; how unusual. So you’ll not be using a sperm bank.”

“Certainly not. I think you’ll agree that Charlie is possibly one the best sperm banks a lady could own. He’s got looks, and brains; plenty of brains!”

“Indeed he has. Have you considered tha fact that your starving the gene pool of his genes?”

“He refuses to donate sperm anyway, he’s old fashioned insofar as he believes a man should know his children.”

“I think that’s a bit selfish, don’t you. Other women I’m sure would want his sperm.”

“Oh. That’s not a problem, he’s only got one stipulation.”

“And that is?”

“Women must agree that he donates his sperm to them in person, that is, he knows where his sperm is going. He’ll know his children, and they will be able to find him and know him in later life.”

“By conventional artificial insemination I hope.”

“Of course, only my babies, that is OUR babies will be conceived by the old fashioned route; the natural route!”

“How delightful. You’ll be the talk of the town, the country no less. It won’t be nice talk though.”

“We know that. Fortunately, his little cottage is fairly isolated so the rag-tops won’t be able invade our privacy.”

“It all sounds very primitive.”

“It probably is, but it’s our primitive. – And our privacy.”

“Well, all I can say is good luck and stay safe. I’m worried that there might be feminista mobs ready to hound you at every turn.”

“We’ll cross that bridge . . . . .”

“When you come to it I suppose.” Mrs Anston finished.

“Got it in one. Ah, I see Charlie’s car is waiting outside the gate. I’ve got to go; we’ve got an important dinner tonight.”

“Well go on then. Don’t let me stop you.”

Chloe paused and squinted perspicaciously.

“Am I getting vibes. You don’t entirely disapprove do you?”

“Now, now Chloe. Let’s not be getting political.”

Chloe left with a tight knowing smile pinching her cheeks.

At the main gate she met Charlie and several knowing smirks from other workers.

“Just follow my car darling. We can chat when we’re out of here.”

She did just that and they drove until they were at Ronnie’s garage. There, he paused and stepped into the garage shop. Ronnie’s sister Pauline was sitting behind the counter while her son was leaning on the counter writing into an exercise book. He nervously slipped it under the counter until he realised it was his ‘uncle Charlie’. Pauline reddened slightly as she realised Charlie had caught her red handed giving her son some sort of extra lesson.

“Can you do me a favour Pauline?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Can we hide Chloe’s car in your garage for tonight.”

“Oooh. Do I hear wedding bells.”

Charlie simply blushed and smiled as Pauline told her son.

“Tell uncle Ronnie that Charlie and Chloe are here.”

The boy trotted around the back to his uncle’s workshop while Charlie reassured Pauline.

“I’m glad to see your giving him extra lessons. If he ever needs help you know Chloe or I will help. Where’s Briony.”

“Oh getting ready for tonight.”

“No she’s not,” Ronnie corrected as he craned is neck, “she’s sitting in the car with Chloe.”

Both Pauline and Charlie simply smiled then Ronnie appeared with his nephew.

“You want to hide the car?”

“Please just for the night.”

“Bring it round the back and I’ll put it inside the workshop.”

“Thanks see you later. I see Briony’s made a new friend and she’s already dressed for tonight. Shall we take her up to the house. She can help prepare the food.”

“She’d like that.”

The cars were quickly sorted and Briony chatted away eagerly to Chloe as Charlie drove. Once at the house, preparations were quickly completed and by seven, Ronnie and the rest of his ‘family’ arrived. By pre-arrangement, he left his car blocking the crossing and they walked up to the house.”

“I saw a couple of nosey ‘drive-by’s’ already. It’s already causing a stir.” Pauline observed as they reached the cottage.

“I’m sure it’ll get worse. News travels fast.” Chloe sighed.

“I could make you an iron gate for the crossing. It’ll keep people away from the house. Can’t block the lane though.”

“We could if we bought the woods and water meadow on the other side. Then vehicular access would only be required by us.” People could walk of course but cars would have to wait by Ronnie’s fore-court.” Chloe opined.

“We could charge for parking, Pauline laughed.

“I refuse to be a specimen in a zoo. Charlie declared. Come on, it’ll be a tight squeeze in the van but this won’t happen again until there’s a roof on the house and we’re married.”

They gathered in the mobile home and the pre-prepared food was quickly served with wine which Charlie’s kids delighted in. The evening was a complete success and in front of Charlie and Pauline, Charlie and Chloe exchanged rings.

“Is that all there is? Are you married now, Pauline’s youngest daughter Gemma asked.
“No, we’re engaged,” Chloe explained. “You can come to the wedding when we do get married.”

Then the rest of the diners took their drinks outside while Charlie gave Bryony her maths lesson. By ten p.m., the party was over and the guests well-wished the newly engaged couple a happy night. By eleven Charlie was surprised and yet delighted when a soft curvy form slid into his bed and spooned into him.

“This is nice. I’ve been wanting to do this since I first saw you. Shall we do it tonight, - you know?” Chloe whispered

“Wait til we’re properly married. Let’s not make any complications that might stymie things. We’ve got this far without any foul ups.” Charlie replied.

ooo000ooo.

The smell of bacon and eggs disturbed Chloe from her slumbers as she stretched luxuriously and peeked out through the curtain to see the morning mist gathered in the little valley of the stream.

“Mmmm. You know how to waken a girl. Tasty breakfast and a gorgeous view.”

“I’ve got a better view,” he chuckled and she quickly tugged her nighty over her pantied bum.

She blushed as she smiled and he expanded.

“Now an even better view, - a beautiful smile.”

“Stoppit.” She protested as she saw her breakfast already served.”

“Mmmm. Well if we start as we mean to go on, I can live with this.”

“Who’s showering first. I’m afraid it’s too small to share.”

“You go first, I need to put my face on as well.”

He did as suggested and they left for work on schedule. Pauline had already put Chloe’s car out on the forecourt so there was no delay and Chloe arrived unusually early for work. She decided to do some more analysis and her boss the professor was surprised when she arrived at eight.

“What brings you out so early Chloe?”

Chloe smiled enigmatically.

“Oh! I see. So you’re going ahead then. You stayed over I presume. Did he hurt you? Was he rough?”

“I stayed over and he didn’t hurt me. In fact we didn’t do it. He says he want’s to wait until we’re properly married.”

“What! Are you trying to tell me that, -“

“Exactly that! He didn’t pester me or bully me or anything. I even suggested it but that’s what he said, - - - ‘wait until we’ve tied the knot.”

“You’ve got an odd one there girl.”

“No! I’ve got a rare one. Did you ever sleep with a man?”

“Good gracious no!”

“Have you ever woken up in the arms of a man, or even a woman?”

“Don’t be rude!”

“Well when you’ve curled up and felt an arm just lightly draped around you and a hard muscular belly pressing against your bum, don’t you try to tell me what’s good or bad about sharing a bed.”

“What? You spooned together?”

“Yes!”

“Did you not feel - - - you know, his penis, you know; trying to . . . ugh!”

“I felt it, but it certainly wasn’t attacking. It felt quite nice; through my panties that is. Just pressed gently against my bum. I’m going to ask him to show me what it looks like, when next we sleep together.”

“But you’ll have seen the pictures during you hygiene lessons. It’s not a pretty site is it.”

“It may look ugly, but it didn’t feel ugly. I’ve never ever felt one, to handle I mean. I certainly felt one with my bum last night and it felt good. I can’t wait to go the whole way but he’s for waiting.”

“He’s just tantalising you. Playing with you.”

“Well if that was playing last night, then … play up, … play up …and play the game, is what I say.”

The professor looked stunned.

“You’re saying he wasn’t rough or ‘urgent’!”

“No, he was as gentle as a lamb. Like a lion, playing with a lioness . . . and I liked it! I can’t wait!”

“I think I’d like to meet this man.”

“But does he want to meet you?”

“I’m a geneticist Chloe, I’d like to see what makes him tick.”

“Oh for God’s sake! It was his mother that moulded him, not his genome. He’s got his father’s genes as well but what do we know of his father, - or his father’s genes. He will never know and you will never know. Just another sperm donor – from the bank!”

“You’re letting emotions run away with you.”

“And which emotions would those be, love, hate, fear, joy, anger, resolve, happiness, sadness? D’ you know, last night, I was truly happy. The happiest I have been since the day the school forced us to separate and follow different paths.

Yes; we were at junior school together, happy, happy children, until! Until! Now please professor, I’d like to do some worthwhile work. Sorting the stuff he slammed us with over the weekend. Stuff that’s left us all floundering; - and afraid I’ll wager.”

“Well, yes. It is a worry,” the professor agreed, glad to change the subject. “Carry on with what your doing. Have you spoken to him any more about it?”

“No. He says, - rightly I believe – that he’s done his bit. Only the feminista can carry the baton now.”

“So what’s he doing now? Wasting his time repairing aeroplanes I suppose.”

“Don’t let Mrs Anston hear you say that, and she’s got the ear of the prime-minister.”
An attitude like that could wreck our funding and my job.”

The professor stalked away. The girl had spoken the truth and it was very hard to swallow.

ooo000ooo

That evening, Chloe went home alone and didn’t see Charlie until the weekend. When she drove up in the mid-afternoon of Friday, she was excited to see Charlie and Ronnie and a gang of builders finally re-roofing the cottage. Charlie made her welcome and when she took a tray of tea, coffee and biscuits out to the builders they showed their appreciation in the typical builder’s fashion. Chloe began to see what her professor boss meant about ‘men’.

The builders were not rude to her but their constant ribald chit-chat and banter did not endear them to her. There was a constant undertone of soft judgement even though they were not talking about her. The innuendoes and asides somehow crept up to the threshold of discomfort but never crossed it. Eventually after the second tray of teas and coffees Chloe mentioned it privately to Charlie.

To her horror, Charlie promptly climbed up the ladder and collectively addressed the team. Chloe had plainly heard his words addressed to them and the men fell silent as they got the message. When he returned down the ladder the men resumed working but with far less banter.

“I could never had said that to them.”

“It’s not what you say darling, it’s the way that you say it.”
When she emerged with the third round of tea and coffee, instead of calling them down, she boldly climbed the ladder with the full mugs in a domestic hand crate and deposited them on the wall plate as the only level place.

“Oh thank you Mrs Sage, you’re an angel.”

“I’m neither Mrs Sage nor am I an angel and thanks for toning it down gentlemen.”

The mood immediately lightened as several of the builders who where re-pointing the chimney-breasts, tipped their hats to her with the points of their trowels. Chloe was shocked by how much the whole atmosphere had been discharged of tension. When she reached ground level again, Charlie was loading tiles in a hod and he paused to observe.

“You seem happier, I’m glad.”

“Your chat worked wonders.”

“And your meeting them half-way (up the ladder that is,) impressed them. It meant they didn’t have to stop work and waste time. They’re on piece-work so they appreciate little things like that. They probably thought you were a ‘stuck-up bitch’ bitch at first, what with turning up in a posh car and all. Your ladder thing impressed them, but please, don’t take risks.”

Chloe felt a warm thrill of satisfaction. By dint of one simple action, she had got them eating out of her hand. Men were so easy to please.

“Are they working tomorrow?”

Yes and Sunday morning but it looks bad for Sunday afternoon. We’ll suck it and see. We’re trying to get the roof finished this weekend. Once the house has got it’s hat on, things will start to move.”

“I’ll make sure I’ve got plenty of biscuits in.”

“That’ll always work, and take note, builders are hungry bastards.”

She grinned at his advice and promptly set off down the lane to buy a large tin of assorted biscuits. In the shop, she chatted with Pauline.

“More rubber-necks been around I’m afraid. It looked like the feminista warriors.
“Well, we’ve got a load of builders in so they’ should stay away.”

“Oh I don’t think they’ll be violent; it’ll be mostly flags and shouting if they do.”

“Well, if they step onto our land, they’ll be guilty of trespass.”

“Why so many biscuits?” Pauline asked.

“A tip from Charlie. Armies march on their stomachs. It’s like feeding time at the zoo up there.”
“It’ll pay off tenfold,” Pauline advised. “If there’s one thing builders like, it’s women being generous with treats.”

“As I’m finding out.” Chloe grinned.

“Just make sure they know where your preferences lie.”

“No problem there. See you Saturday evening, probably another box of biccies.”

When she got back the builders were packing up and she gave them a wave as the first van left before she entered the mobile home. Immediately, she put two TV dinners in the microwave and took out three mugs of tea for Charlie, Ronnie and the foreman as they were examining the drawings. Then she left them to their ‘man’s stuff’ as she opened her laptop.

As darkness finally arrived, she savoured the thought of the shared bed and cuddles. There they chatted and planned until midnight.

Saturday caught the both of them completely unawares. They awoke to find their lane completely blocked with Feminista protesters with banners condemning ‘backward steps’ and a whole swathe of assorted slogans ranging from women’s rights and primitive ceremonies to gender terrorism. The protesters had even spilled over Charlie’s ford and taken station on his side of the stream.
Naturally, the two of them called the police and eventually a pair of police officers managed to struggle through the chanting, screaming crowds and reach the crossing. There they found it impossible to cross to Charlie’s side and Chloe refused to let Charlie risk some sort of incident with the screaming mob of feminista warriors. The police had even failed to prevent the mob encroaching further up to the house almost to the bottom slope of Charlie’s newly sculpted terrace.

It took another four hours until fourteen hundred, before the police managed to provide an effective cordon.

“So”. Chloe demanded of the senior inspector. How are you going to protect this man’s property and even his life.”

“Well he’s rather brought it upon himself.” She observed somewhat irately.

Chloe clearly felt the Inspector’s antagonism and replied somewhat more forcefully.

“How? He has not broken any laws. Nor have I for that matter.”

“He’s transgressed rather a lot of well-established taboos.”

“But broken no laws.” Chloe repeated. “And you’re not prepared to uphold the law.”

“There is a dangerous situation developing here, somebody could easily get hurt.”

“So what do you intend to do about it.”

“We might have to evacuate you two by helicopter.”

“To where? This mob can spring up anywhere in Britain.”

“Well, away from here for starters.”

“And who’s going to protect our property, my soon to be home?”

“You’ll have to hire security.”

“Against this mob.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“It would dozen’s of security staff. A hundred even.”

“My job is to get you to safety.”

At this juncture, Charlie who had been respectfully keeping a low profile by the house, approached Chloe and invited her into their mobile home.

“What is it darling?”

“I’ve got a way that can get us out of here, but I’ve got to have your promise.”

“You’ve already got my promise, just as I’ve got yours. We’re engaged to be married.”

“Right. Ask the inspector to give us a couple of days to find a place of refuge, and we can promise her we’ll be out of here by Sunday night.”

“How. We’ll never get the cars or the Mobile home through that lot. They’ve blocked the lane with cars all the way to Ronnie’s garage.”

“Trust me darling. We can do it. Just ask the inspector to give us two days’ notice and we hope to find a safe refuge by Sunday night. They can send the helicopter for us on Monday morning.”

“How?”

“Trust me darling. Just try to get the inspector to agree.”

“Ooooh-kay!” Chloe agreed. “I’ll try.

The inspector listened to Chloe’s plea then demanded to speak ‘that man’!”
“So, Sage! Miss Carpenter tells me you have some sort of plan.”

Charlie rankled at the bald use of his name without any respectful title but, as he had done all his life. He swallowed his pride and explained.

“Inspector. I’ve spoken to a friend who’s prepared to offer me a safe place until this business is sorted - through the court.”

“I don’t think you’ll have much success there Sage. You and Miss Carpenter have trampled over some deeply rooted customs and conventions.”
“We have not broken any laws inspector.” Charlie repeated.

“I’ll concede that. The public prosecutor has confirmed that. I can arrange for the helicopter to be here by Monday.”

“All I want to do, is secure the site and try and protect my property from vandalism. I need to move my building equipment and cars into the barn. If any of these protesters break into my barn, they’ll be guilty of breaking and entry. If they steal anything. It’ll be burglary.”

“Very well. You’ll have to show your insurance company that you have taken reasonable steps to protect your property.”

“Yes indeed inspector. I will.” Can your secure my cottage? I’ll accept trespass onto my little field and the water meadow. But can you protect my house until Monday.”

“Yes. The helicopter can be here to collect you and Miss Carpenter at noon on Monday.”

“Thank you. I’ll start putting my stuff in the barn and then I’ll fortify it and secure it as much as I can.”

“Be my guest.”

“No inspector. You are my guest; this is my home.”

“Not for much longer it Seems.”
“Indeed inspector. I’m going to secure my stuff now.”

As the inspector started explaining the situation into his radio Charlie gave Chloe’s sleeve a gentle tug to get her to follow him into the mobile home or ‘van’ as he often referred to it.

Chloe’s eyebrows wrinkled in puzzlement.

“What’s going on.”

Charlie just motioned with his eyes to the mobile home.

Inside the van, Charlie sat her down, took a deep breath and explained.

“Now darling, you know that everybody seems to think I’m some sort of wierdo whizz kid who’s a genius with electronics.”

“Ye-ees,” Chloe agreed. “I tend to agree with them, sometimes.”

“Yeah, well that’s as may be. No offence taken. Come into the barn with me.”

Chloe trudged after Charlie while giving the inspector a passing smile then she entered the barn. Charlie switched on a wandering lead and the generator chugged into life but even in the dark shadow she could see what looked like an armoured shape like the mobile home.”

“What’s this?”

“It’s an outer coat for Doris my mobile home.”

“Doris!” Chloe spluttered.”

“Don’t laugh. I’ve been working on this each night since we had Ronnie’s kid here on Tuesday.”

“So what’s it supposed to do?”

“I’ll show you. Firstly, I’ll bring your car into the barn to protect it. Then I’ll reverse Doris into position onto this shell. Next I use my digger to lift that shaped plate on top and secure the shell in place like an outer skin for Doris.”

“D’ you mean like making some sort of Tank?” Chloe hazarded as she fingered the 15mm thick shaped metal carapace. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of smashing your way down the lane. There’s about a hundred cars there. You’ll never do it! Besides, this thing must way a ton!”

“About five tons altogether but that’s not a problem.”

“Go on. I’m intrigued.”

“Good, I like that in a person. Let’s put you car in first then Doris then my little beloved baby, the car that wades through floods.”

“You’re telling me something here aren’t you?”

“Watch and listen, Go and get your car and reverse into that spot at the back of the barn. I’ll follow you in with Doris. Tell the inspector your just putting your car safe until stuff blows over.”

Chloe did as requested and Charlie started the mobile home after disconnecting the mains drainage and power cable. Once Chloe was parked as he asked, he carefully reversed Doris so that she sat between the sides and backed right up to the end plate of the carapace. Chloe did a double take as she recognised that Doris now sported a thick outer skin of heavy steel plate.

“Bloody Hell. She IS like a tank. I see the cut-outs for the wheels.

“Waite and see.” Charlie grinned. I’ve got to lift that top plate with the boom of the digger. You’d better get your work gloves and jeans out of Doris and get changed. You’re going to be a steel erector.”

“Ooooh! Can’t wait,” she smirked irreligiously.”

“Just get ready with that little step ladder and this podger.”

“What’s this for?”

“When I suspend the roof plate over Doris. You use the podger to stick into a suitable bolt hole and we use it to locate the roof to match the long corner bolts sticking up from the sides.”

“Why are they so long?”

“I have to then lift the main carapace off the ground to fit tight to Doris’s under side.

“Will the digger lift it.

“Yes, just, I’ve tried it.”

“Okay, I follow you.”

It proved easier than Charlie had anticipated and he had good cause to thank Ronnie and his excellent steel fabrication skills, not to mention his discretion and probity. Chloe had a huge grin on her face when she scrambled down the step ladder and reported with a mock ‘Benny Hill salute.

“Arrll, ship shape an’ Brizzle Fashion cap’n. Roof fastened securely!”

“Very good, admiral” Now let me show you the secrets of this magical craft.”

“I’m fascinated.” She remarked.

“Have a look under there, what do you see.”
“Chloe bent down and peered between the spaces between the chassis and the heavy bottom pates. While Chloe had been tightening down the roof plate, Charlie had been underneath bolting the belly plate and side plates securely to the chassis and some outriggers that had clearly been pre-installed on Doris. Chloe realised that Charlie had been working on Doris the mobile home for months but it was all under the skin and initially in visible. Only now was the final thick outer plate apparent. Doris was firmly encased in the massive, armoured shell.

As Chloe bent down to look at the strange discs set like a series of large white barnacles under a ship’s hull, Charlies eyes drifted covetously to her shapely bum.

“God forgive me!” He sighed, “Just a week or two and she’ll put it on my finger.” His silent prayer however gained volume and she got up to ask him.

“What about your finger.” She asked.

“Oh damn!” He chuckled.

“Well? What about it?”

“I was offering up a private prayer, a very private prayer.”

“To whom? I thought you were pretty much an atheist.”

“I am. It was a very private prayer.”

“Am I allowed to hear it.”

“It cant do any harm I suppose.”

“Go on then. No secrets now. We’re getting married in two months.”

“I was praying to the goddess of love.”

“Why?”

“Just then; when you bent under Doris. Your bum looked delicious. I was praying for the day when you put your ring on my finger – and I put mine on yours for that matter.”

“That’s nice. I’m finding it hard to wait as well.”

“Yeah, it’s a bummer. By the way, have you spoken to your mum?”

“Never mind that. What are those barnacle things under Doris?”

“They’re anti-gravity disks. Doris can fly.”

“Your joking!!!”

“Give me an hour in the meantime can you bring my little ‘go-anywhere’ mini machine into the barn. Then I’ll show you.”

She did as requested after explaining to the police inspector that all their property was going to be secured in the barn and they were going to fasten a substantial steel strap to lock the door.

“Good Idea Miss Carpenter. Have you secured everything yet.”

“A couple of hours, he’s putting our most treasured items in the middle of the pile and covering them with a heavy tarpaulin. Then we’ll lock the barn. You can only get in if you smash the locks or break into the house and enter via the connecting door.”

“So where will you be hiding out?” The inspector asked.

“He hasn’t said yet. His friend Ronnie from the garage is organising it. He’ll give the police the location in the morning, meanwhile, we sleep in the Mobile Home inside the barn”

“Very well. I’ll leave a couple of officers to guard the perimeter. I don’t anticipate any trouble. They’re already beginning to lose interest and I’ve seen lots of cars leaving. There’s heavy rain tonight so lots more will probably leave in dribs and drabs.”

“All through the night I suppose, when their tents begin to leak or get flooded.” Chloe grinned.

“Flooded?” The inspector asked nervously.”

“Yes. Those idiots who’ve pitched their tents down in that corner, it’s a water meadow and invariably floods to about a couple of feet when it rains. They’ll be washed out but not drowned. Silly buggers.” They deserve it anyway, for driving me and my future husband from our future home.”

The inspector smirked. She had better places to be than a soaking farm yard on a Saturday night.
“I’ won’t tell them then, until I see the field flooding. Roust everybody out just as the water pours in. Three in the morning should be just about nice. Pandemonium when everybody’s sleeping their deepest.”
And they say worse is to follow tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you inspector. I couldn’t agree more. See you in the morning then.

Inside the huge barn, Charlie was just completing the conversion of Doris and Chloe had just cooked some tasty ready-meals. He settled on a straw bale to eat as he explained.

Both my car and Doris have got joy sticks that control the antigravity pads. Move the joystick in any direction and both the car and the mobile home move in that direction. After this food I’ll show you in the car. It’s really easy.”

“What about Doris?”

“I’ll move her. She’s a bit bigger and clumsier and this is your first time. Once we’re outside, the sky’s the limit. You can have a go with Doris. They’re both easier than a car, honestly.

ooo000ooo

Chapter 10.

After finishing the pound-meals they cleaned up all signs of food to deter rats in the barn then Charlie smiled at Chloe and asked.

“Are you ready to take your first lesson in anti-gravity levitation and control.”

“You are serious aren’t you?”

“Never more serious. It’s so easy you can do it here inside the barn.”

Chloe felt a vicarious thrill as she realised the importance of this event. She was about to be inducted as the second ever pilot of an antigravity device that, if her reckoning was right, could very soon be adapted to take her to the moon.

‘Early days yet, Chloe my girl’. She pinched herself to make sure she was not dreaming ‘but this has got to be the most stupendous event in the ascent of woman. Reach for the stars girl! Reach for the stars.’

She reached out to her intended companion and hugged him tightly as he opened the driver’s door and invited her to sit in the cheap, canvas seat that reflected the minimalist, frugality associated with all products designed for men. Their low wages allowed for only the cheapest, and simply built, utilitarian goods. Her own expensive car was a far cry from Charlie’s run-about.

Once she was seated, Charlie reached into the trunk and produced a joy-stick’ As he settled into the passenger seat, he peeled back a small square of tired and worn out carpet and inserted the base of the joystick into the exposed socket. Then he produced a long, complicate key and pushed it into a lock at the base of the stick. This done he looked into her eyes and smiled.

“Right beloved. Get ready for the ride of your life. There’s a button down the side of your seat. I hid it down there so nobody would see it. Nobody would steal a shabby old wreck like this anyway, but it pays to be cautious. Have you found it.?”

“Not yet, hold on. Aah. This is it I think. It’s well hidden.”

There was the slightest of clicks and the battery-driven little car quietly hummed into life.

“It’s very quiet. She observed.”

“Yes, it’s very low powered. Now take the joystick and gently squeeze the little trigger on the pistol grip. This will cause her to Rise. Do it very gently with slow easy movements. We don’t want to burst through the barn roof.”

Chloe took hold of the pistol grip and cautiously squeezed the trigger. To her delight the little car started to rise very slowly until she eased the trigger then it stopped as solid as a rock about a meter off the floor.

“Now if you see the button for your thumb. Gently press that and she’ll lower again.”
Chloe did so and it was easy. The car descended until it touched the ground with a gentle bump.

“The joystick can be operated from either side; the only difference is that you have to flick the button over to use the other hand. It suites left or right handed people.”

Chloe carefully repeated the procedure several times until she was happy. Charlie watched her then explained.

“You’ve got two ways to change direction. Push the stick forward to go ahead, pull it back to go astern push it sideways to go sideways. The moment you take pressure off she stops moving. Try that.”

Chloe carefully did as instructed and watched with satisfaction as the car did exactly as she expected.

“This is simplicity itself she giggled.”

“Finally, to turn the car just twist the joystick left or right.” Charlie finished.

As the hovered two metres above the ground, she did as instructed and the car promptly turned. If she held the stick in the twist position, the car simply kept rotating.

“Oh my Gaawd! This is incredible, and so light to touch. A child could do this!”

“Our children I hope.”

She released the joystick and leant across to kiss him. He responded in kind and their lips met for the first time over the centre console. As she pressed to keep kissing he suddenly released his embrace.

“Careful love, your leg is pushing the joystick forward and sideways.

“Oops!” She giggled as the joystick flicked back to dead centre and the car stopped moving towards the side of the barn.

“You’d better do a few circuits inside the barn to get really familiar. I’m going to do some final checks to Doris.”

“Shouldn’t you give this dear little car a name as well.”

“You think of a name. I’m going to run final checks on Doris, I’ve never flown her with heavy armour. I think she’ll be slow and clumsy.”

They each did their stuff and by one in the morning, they were ready for bed. Chloe once again savoured the tender delight of a protective embrace while never once having to fend off Charlies penis, even though she could feel the hardness through her panties and nighty

At four they were suddenly woken by a monstrous crash of thunder and within seconds Charlie was peering out of the door.”
“This is exactly what I hoped for. It’s raining stair rods and it’s pitch black and nobody will see us leaving. I’ll open the doors; you take the car out and wait just below the cloud base. That little screen is a proximity detector. If we lose each other in the clouds these babies will enable us to rendezvous. I’ll follow you up with Doris but I’m going to secure the Barn and make it look as though we crept away on foot. Give me a few minutes.”

Chloe did as advised and took station below the cloud base to look down as Charlie eased Doris out of the barn. Then he parked Chloe’s smart saloon immediately behind the doors of the barn to make it look as though all the vehicles were still in the barn. Finally she watched him lock the barn securely and then ascend silently to take station behind her. Through the front windscreen he waved is mobile phone at her and she dialled him.

“We can use these like radios just to get away from here, then we’ll find a safe place to land and hide Doris. I’m thinking Ronnie’s workshop eventually. He knows what I’ve been doing to Doris, but he’s no idea Doris can fly. Do you want to lead or follow?”

“I’ll follow. Where are we going?”

“I know a place where we can his Doris, then we can return here with the care as though nothing has happened.”

“Poppy”

“What? Charlie wondered.
“The car. I’ve called your car Poppy.”

“Oh the car. Poppy. Yes that suites, sounds like a little girl’s name. Poppy. Yes Poppy’s nice. Okay follow me using the proximity locater. The red ‘X’ on the screen should remain within the blue circle. That puts us about twenty metres apart. It doesn’t matter if we’re in thick cloud provided we remain low. The heavy rain will hide us from any radar. We’ll go slowly about fifty knots and we’ll be well clear by dawn.”

Chloe remained fixated on the proximity indicator and Charlie grinned as he watched his screen. Chloe was stuck to him like glue. At dawn, Charlie landed in a remote piece of dense woodland and Chloe followed him down. As she joined him for a simple breakfast he frowned as he studied Doris.

“She should be okay here until this afternoon. Eventually, I’m going to have to paint her the same colour as she is underneath then she’ll be roughly approximate to her log book. We’ll leave her here until this afternoon. Finish your breakfast and we’ll return to Ronnie’s”

“I wish this rain would stop?”

“I don’t. It makes us invisible and people don’t usually look up much. Heavy rain blinds radar and we can hide in a thick cloud with rain.

Helicopters and aeroplanes avoid thunder clouds like the plague. Come on, back to Ronnie’s. If this rain keeps up, the water-meadows will have flooded and hopefully the rent-a-mob will have packed up and gone home.”
Chloe grinned.

“Can I fly Poppy to Ronnie’s?”

“Sure. We land somewhere un-noticed in this rain then drive the rest of the way. We turn up at Ronnie’s, check out the situation and if it’s okay we drive up to the house. If the police ask where we’ve been, we simply say we escaped in the mayhem of the storm. It was pitch black and pissing down. It would have been pandemonium with those mothers and kids in the water meadow. The police will have to take our word for it. You might also recover your car from the barn.”

As they flew through dense low clouds alternating between high and low stratocumulus, Chloe was growing more and more confident and excited with Poppy’s amazing ability.

“I’m getting to like Poppy. She’s got character.”

“You mean she’s got antigrav!” Charlie chuckled.

“Well yes. That as well.”

Charlie looked down then pointed.

“That’s a good place to land. Drop through the forest canopy, thread between the trees then land on that lane where the trees hide the road. There’s no houses here.”
“This going to be fun,” Chloe grinned. “I Hope nobody’s about.”
“In this rain.” Charlie shrugged. “I hope so too. If they’re sensible they should be indoors.”

And they were.

Chloe landed without any incident through the trees and she gave herself a ‘pat on the back’ as Charlie smiled.

“You’re getting the hang of this.”

“What now, straight to Ronnie’s?” she asked.

“Yes. You’re an ordinary car now, albeit a bit of an old banger.”

“Some banger!” Chloe chuckled. “Eye teeth an ‘all!”

“Don’t worry partner of mine. I’ll modify your car next.”

“You’d better,” Chloe giggled and they drove to Ronnie’s garage in rare good humour.

ooo000ooo

“The police are looking for you.”

“We got out early this morning in that storm.” Chloe told half the truth.

“Oh yeah. The great skid-addle! It was pandemonium here at four o’clock and the silly buggers had the cheek to come looking for Pauline to open the shop. Drowned rats, dozens of em.” We told them to bugger off after the trouble they caused you, - and us for that matter; they broke our ice-cream spinner sign and damaged Billy’s bike. Some bastard tried to break the lock on it.”

“Thanks Ronnie.” Chloe replied. “Tell Billy I’ll sort his bike out for all the shit you guys had to take.”

“It’s all done. I am a car and tractor mechanic you know.”

“Even so.” Chloe insisted. “We owe you for the trouble, and the help.”

“We’re going up to the house to collect Chloe’s car. We couldn’t risk trying to get that through the mob. You know how jealous and vindictive those bastards can be.”

“You should be okay. That inspector left as soon as the stampeding herds had gone. She asked if we’d seen you, we hadn’t, but we weren’t looking. I think there’s a copper or two still up there.”

“Okay. We’re going up there now. See you later no doubt.”

“Not if that rain storm comes back, that’s the forecast. Beaks under blankets and all that.”

Charlie and Chloe went to the house and met two police looking pretty miserable with their duty.
“Hello officers, have the rent-a-mob gone?”

They assured Chloe that the place was clear and called the inspector on their radios. After a brief chat, Charlie thanked the inspector for their work and she stood her two officers down, After the police had shared some hot drinks and biscuits they left. Charlie waited until the forecasted storm broke and once again they recovered Doris to park her up, back in the barn.

“So! “ Chloe expostulated as she finally slumped onto the ‘wrap-around-couchette in the rear of Doris, and let out a long, relieved sigh.

“D’you want a nap?” Charlie asked, “cos I do.”

“Yeah. I could sleep for a week!” Chloe responded. “Why won’t these busy-bodies just leave us alone.”

“I think we’re getting there. So far, only you and I know about the anti-gravity engines. Let’s try and keep it that way”

“What happens when we fly. It’s pointless going out only when it’s pissing down with rain and besides, somebody’s bound to see us eventually.”

“I don’t know,” Charlie confided. This is the only practical form of escape I can find that works. All other endeavours keep bringing me full circle to meet and have to face my situation.”

“But your situation has never changed since school days. You’ve been virtually chained to your bench on the workshop floor at Anston Aerospace from the day you left school.”

“Well today things have changed. Not sure how much, not sure how far but this is the first small step.”

Chloe sensed a distinct mood change in Charlie as she spooned tight into his embrace.

“Let’s fly this change together.” She whispered.

For an answer, Charlie gave her a quick soft squeeze before he drifted off to sleep.

ooo000ooo