The office building apparently was from around the beginning of the century. All chrome and insulating glass, well-maintained. A metal plate at the entrance listed the companies inside. According to it, Montafun Statistics occupied the twelfth floor.

The floor turned out to have a single wide corridor with half a dozen of doors at each side. At its end, a big Venetian window offered a nice view of the east of Milan. Its beginning was arranged as a little lobby, presided over by a massive wooden desk with a stocky, gray-haired woman behind it.

“Hello, my name is Damiano Rossi. I’m coming for the job interview, at 10 o’clock.”

“Welcome, Mr. Rossi. You are a bit early, please take a seat—”

“No need for waiting, Fabricia. Welcome, Mr. Rossi, please come in,” boomed a deep voice. A door covered with leatherette had opened near the end of the corridor. Next to it was standing a tall man about seventy, in a dark blue suit. “I am Sergio Montafun. Do you have your resume and diploma on paper?”

“Yes, Mr. Montafun, as requested.” I had heard his name, but couldn’t remember where.

He scrutinized my papers through golden-rimmed glasses and led me in to the big table that occupied most of the room. Next to it, on the one side there were a wide wooden desk and a sleek processing desk, arranged around an armchair, and a big cabinet. Obviously this place served both as his office and a meeting room.

“Hm, hm… You had excellent grades. Why have you worked in building renovation for these three years since graduating?”

“I sought a job as a statistician for all that time, but the AIs already do for pennies all the statistics one needs, you surely know it. Couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw your job ad…”

“Correct… Being a good student, you undoubtedly can explain the mathematical difference between T-Test and ANOVA?…”

The next hour was a thorough exam on the entire statistics course. He obviously knew it to the last dot in the textbooks. Much to my amazement, I did pretty well… After that, he thought for a minute, then announced:

“I am sorry, but I cannot offer you the job.”

I was about to explode. What the hell more he wanted?!… I clenched my teeth and tried to be polite:

“Mr. Montafun, could you please tell me where I was not up to your expectations? It would be useful for me, to know where I need to improve. Maybe if you offer a job again, I will be already able to match your requirements…”

He get up, went to the wide window and watched for some time the city skyline. When he turned back, his face had slightly reddened.

“The fault is not yours. I would take you on the spot, but am constrained by some requirements…” His piercing gaze stopped on me for a second or two. Then he sighed:

“Strictly off the record, almost all of our work is for the European Commission. They are the almost only ones who insist on having their statistics done by humans. However, receiving their orders requires me to maintain a gender balance in the company, by their rules. That is why we actually seek a woman – but, because of the anti-discrimination laws, couldn’t write it in the job advertisement, and save you the time and the effort to apply…”

I barely constrained myself from spewing out a long and sharp comment about the EC rules and laws.

“So, Mr. Rossi, if you know a female statistician who seeks a job, I would highly value your recommendation. And… Apparently we work well and the EC is happy with us, and we get more and more orders. I hope to be able to open more jobs in a year at most, and if you still seek one then, I would love to have you on board… I rely on your confidence about what I told you, and wish you a nice day.”

I was boiling on the inside.

Since graduating, I worked on outside insulation and painting of older buildings. The EU grants were pushing a lot of money into energy effectiveness and city aesthetics, and good climbers easily found a job with renovation companies. However, 2040 was the last year for the grants, and since then I was jobless, already more than a year. Tried to work as a loader, but every company would send me off the moment they saw me – short, slim and redhead. Nobody cared that I am more wiry than their strongest workers, and that superstitions belong in the Dark Ages…

So, I was surviving off selling whatever I had, and helping clean a local bistro after working hours, in exchange for some leftover food. Luckily, I had inherited a small apartment when Dad died, so didn’t had to pay rent. And most bills – water, grid power, Net connectivity – could be ignored: the providers couldn’t deny you these services even if you stop paying, they were basic human rights by an EU law, and I tried hard to economize on them too…

Until yesterday, when I got a letter from some debt collection lawyers. Threatening me with prison if I don’t start paying the debts. Over five thousand Euro… And just two hours later, I had the best luck in the world – to see a job ad for a statistician, for a first time since I graduated. Offering a good salary, too… All that lost because of being a man! Screaming that men are oppressed have never been my thing, a real man never complains, but right now I felt that there might be some truth in that.

With just pennies in my pocket, nowhere to hurry for and plenty of steam to vent out, I decided to walk home. Walking down the street, I passed a mall, and I couldn’t help but look at it. Big windows, full with opulence. Happy people coming in and out of its doors, lining before the fast-food stalls at the end of the sidewalk, living a good life. A lot of beautiful girls, sweetly dressed. Well, at least looking at them is free…

The collision was so strong that I almost fell. It took me a moment to return to the reality. There lying on the gray sidewalk was a girl, dressed goth style, her eyes blazing with anger. Over and around her was scattered the stuffing of a kebab.

“You idiot, why don’t you look where you are going?!”

“A crash takes two idiots who don’t look,” I noted. I didn’t wanted to get angry at a girl.

“It’s you men who don’t! Always thinking you are privileged!” She got up and looked at me indignantly. “You ruined my lunch, you brainless gawker!”

Suddenly all of my blood rushed to my head.

“Ruined your lunch? Oookay, I will buy you one!”

She paled a bit and tried to step back, but I grabbed her wrist.

“Where did you buy it? That stall there? Come with me… Was your kebab veggie?… One vegetarian kebab, please.”

I took my wallet out and shook the money on my palm. For a moment my heart froze – I was several pennies short. However, the stocky, Arabic-looking man behind the stall had noticed my hesitation. Stretched out his hand and winked slightly, took the money, threw them in the drawer without counting and handed me the kebab. I nodded to him with gratitude and put the package unceremoniously in the hand of the girl:

“Here, have your lunch. And a very pleasant day, too!”

I turned back, but before taking a stride, heard her voice.

“Hey… Was that the last of your money?”

She sounded a bit ashamed, but I was too angry to be polite.

“Why should you care? You got your lunch, right? We men are privileged, remember?”

“You are that. Be honest about it, you get it better about everything—”

I turned to her, on the verge of explosion:

“You want me to be honest? Get it, dear! I am neck deep in debt, to be sent to prison for it, because I can’t find a job for years! And right now, I just came from an interview, where I was the perfect candidate, but they didn’t hired me, because I’m male! Do you see any male privilege in that?!”

She looked at me agape, without saying anything.

“Good appetite, dear. And don’t forget to always complain how oppressed you women are, and how privileged men are! While you have a job, and a man is behind the bars for not having one, because of his sex!”

I turned back, still steaming, but suddenly felt her hand on my shoulder.

“Hey… Come with me.”

“Why? What for?”

“I’ll help you.”

“Why?”

“Women aren’t the scum you imagine, believe it or not…”

She dragged me into the mall and to the underground floor. After two turns into bright-lit corridors, she stopped before a small shop and unlocked the door. Above it, there was a neon sign “Sex Shop Donatella”.

“What’s this place?”

“I work here.” She ushered me inside. I looked at the assortment of goods for sale.

“Gonna offer me a job? I understand nothing in condoms and sex toys.”

“No. Some jobs just need a woman. And teach you a lot of nice things about men…” She winced and opened a small door at the bottom of the shop. Through it, I could see a storage room. She went in and returned with an unmarked white box.

“Might help you. If you are brave enough, that is. Some Bravehearts you men are… Open it at home.”

“What’s in it? Shoes?”

“You’ll see.”

“I can’t pay—”

“A gift… Don’t worry, it’s manufacturer’s free demo. Now get out, I have some things to do.” She pulled a small phone out of a pocket. “Phone, dial ‘Mall Tech Support’… Hello? Yeah, from the sex shop again. Will your guys finally be coming? I can’t sell with a busted card terminal… Yeah, it doesn’t even start, I told you already…”

The look of my home was depressing. The living room was almost empty. Gone were the paintings from the walls, the pianino, the old library with the books – all sold during the last year. Even most of my clothes too. The only things remaining were the old wardrobe, my bed, a small table and a chair next to it, and the wall Net screen.

Mom had died during my birth; I knew her only from images. Dad died too when I was five, and a schoolmate of his, Uncle Franco, raised me. He was a professional mountain climber, working for ICAR as a rescuer, living in a station high in the Alps, having no family besides me. There I grew up, no other kid for many kilometers around, homeschooled by him and the rest of the rescue team, and learned to love the mountain and to climb.

And what a true man is, from his example. Uncle Franco, who rarely said anything, had lost all his toes and a couple of fingers to frostbite, but even the worst snowstorm couldn’t stop him from going out on a rescue. He was a legend. Where rocks and steel broke, he held. Where God himself reneged on a promise, he kept his… When I was seventeen, he helped securing a climb on Eiger’s North Wall. Died there, saving eight climbers from falling 500 meters down.

After that, I moved back to my parents’ home. The rescue team wanted me to stay, but everything there reminded me of the loss. I found I couldn’t bear with it. The station was not the same without Uncle Franco.

Dad had managed to save some money to get me through the university, but I had to support myself after that. And had failed. Shame on me…

I hesitated for some moments. Then put the box on the bed and carefully opened it.

In there was an inflatable sexdoll.

How the hell that girl believed it will help me? Mumbo-jumbo about spending pent-up male aggressiveness? Or maybe she meant me to sell it?

I took the folded doll out of the box and spread it on the bed. It might indeed be costly – its quality was unbelievable. I had seen anyone’s share of sex dolls over the Net – next to this one, even the newest ones would look like cheap vinyl. Inflated, it would probably be impossible to tell from a very beautiful sleeping girl. Its skin was indistinguishable from perfect female skin, its complexion was absolutely flawless and yet looked natural, the lashes of its closed eyes were longer and thicker than those of any girl without make-up I had ever seen, its lips appeared a heaven to kiss… Yet, it left the impression of a real beautiful girl. Its breasts were not inflatable, but filled with something that felt even better than the original…

But still, I knew from the news that the newest sex dolls can walk, talk, perform a lot of sexual feats, learn simple things, do house work. This was just an inflatable one. And already unpacked. Nobody would give more than a hundred for it, and that couldn’t solve my problems.

I still decided to be grateful to the sex shop girl for it. The life is like the mountain climbing. When someone is in need of help, every true mountaineer helps with what they can. Even if it is not the right thing, it gives some moral support, helps the stranded go on longer and last until the needed help arrives.

I turned the screen on and spent several more hours seeking job offers, only to see the usual lack of. The best I could find was a mountain guide for tourists in Cambodia, and that required excellent knowledge of Khmer. I still called them – the requirement was non-negotiable, and they would examine the candidates for it.

It was already getting dark outside. Soon Salazzo’s would close. I sighed and went to help them with the cleaning.

Couple of hours later I was back home, with a small pot with chicken soup, some bread and an almost full bottle of grappa, left over by some client. I don’t drink at all, alcohol is a no-no for mountain rescuers, but this evening was either drink or jump from the roof. Luckily Salazzo noticed my mood and gave me the bottle… I started some movie on the screen, after a bit of thinking put the food in the kitchen fridge and took to the bottle without eating. After a shock like today’s, the alcohol probably would not affect me easily.

Before the movie was halfway through, I was more than halfway through the bottle, but it had no effect on me at all. Still, the movie was not bad, despite being old. I love Jackie Chan. Or maybe that was not him. A black guy, motormouth talker. Was about to kill that drug dealer, but the idiots with the ads interrupted him. Had him advertise some coffee instead.

I screamed at him to drop the coffee and go kill that baddie. He only turned into Aunt Lauretta, the old gossip from the first floor. She came out of the screen, sat on my table and continued to explain how good that coffee is. Liar! I have tried it at Salazzo’s, it is thin and had a bad aftertaste!… I asked her very politely to turn back into Jackie Chan, but she only dissolved into the air. Well, not bad too.

Tried to watch the movie again. The screen was having problems, the image on it was twisting and doubling. Well, it was almost ten years old already. Must find a way to fix it, or won’t be able to seek a job. Or leave it this way, it would show double amount of job offers. I’m a genius!

Tried to get up and dance, despite that the room was twisting and shaking too, and it was hard to keep balance. After all, the apartment is even older than ten years, likely has problems too. However, the sight of Sandra standing on the door of the room stopped me right there. I slipped off my clothes and invited her to get in the bed, but she wouldn’t listen. Just stood there and droned that I am a total loser and nerd. That I was good only for climbing rocks, and understood nothing in people and even less in women. That, if she hadn’t decided to woo me, I would never find a girlfriend. That it was her biggest mistake, to find a loser who can’t make a penny. That I was good for nothing, and never will be anything… Luckily she wasn’t doubled, right now one of her was already too much for me.

I kept silent for some time, but finally went ballistic. Told her that she already said all that. Two years ago, when she left me. And that she is wrong, I have a girlfriend, look there on the bed. Beautiful like you can’t imagine. Will become even more beautiful when I blow her up. Wanna see?

The distance between the chair and the bed was a hard terrain. However, I’m a certified rock climber, took it in less than ten minutes. There was some crawling, but sometimes it is only prudent, we climbers know it… Tried to blow the doll up – no go! It was badly made, the opening for blowing up was a slit on the back all the way from the top of head to the butt. Probably that was why that goth girl gave it to me for free.

Tried to think of a way around it. Sandra continued to drone what a loser I am, messing with my thinking. Suddenly, a great idea came to me – to hide from her instead. Inside the sexdoll, that’s the only place here she doesn’t know. I told you I am a genius!

It took a lot of wrangling, the arms and the legs of the doll constantly changed places and numbers, but finally I managed to push myself inside it. Sandra however started repeating that I must press simultaneously the buttons “Action” and “Up Arrow” on the remote. In English. Then, probably the same, in German and French. Wonder when she learned German and French. English she knew. And always was good at repeating endlessly. Started seeking that remote, to finally shut her up. Wasn’t easy, the sexdoll obstructed my movements. Finally found it in the box of the doll. Have no idea how it got there, and why. Pressed the buttons. Sandra started telling me to relax, but I suddenly felt too tired to pay her any attention. Dropped on the bed like dead. At some moment, she stopped speaking. When I looked at the door, she was gone.