Chapter #2Anna, the Libertarian by: batman1   About a decade ago, Stenchlandia had been compromised, not by outside forces invading our homeland but by the corrupt and unchecked authority of its predominantly male-dominated government.
In our greatest time of need, those who had sworn an oath to put the needs of the many above their own faltered on that promise and left us all to suffer the consequences of their actions.
Laissez-faire economics, they said, always have a way of working itself out in the end. It didn’t. Not this time.
Thousands lost their jobs as the domino effect of the economic collapse threatened and very nearly destroyed our way of living.
Even more were forced out of their homes and had to sell coveted family heirlooms and other valuables just to feed their families and keep clothes on their backs. This was the price that we all paid for our government’s political gambling and gluttony, and it was a high price indeed.
Many would (and did) compare it to the Great Depression that had plagued the United States of America back in the early 20th Century. But at least there was a clear leadership and a plan of recovery for the Americans to overcome their economic decline with the progressive legislation proposed by President Roosevelt’s administration and the subsequent Second World War.
In Stenchlandia however, the government had vetoed any such legislation that would lift all of its plighted denizens out of this slump. For years, we the people of this once prosperous land, suffered while the gluttonous gentlemen in office preferred to watch us struggle from their posh balconies atop multi story mansions and offices.
So per the terms of the universal social contract forged between the government and the people, the long-suffering people of the Stenchlandian State decided unanimously to use the most important right: the right to rebel.
The National Feminist Liberation League, comprised of many of the disgruntled and disillusioned female workers and politicians who had long endured the blundering and utter ineptness of the male patriarchy, staged a political coup in 2012 and successfully overthrew the pre-existing Stenchlandian government.
It was a hostile takeover in name only, as the federal army had long deserted their posts by that point to be with their families leaving only a skeleton crew behind to fight off this insurrection.
Those who fought against this new political machine, however, were never heard from again.
Once all of the talking heads who had filled our televisions with their condescending promises of a better tomorrow had been ousted from their thrones, the country was rebuilt from the ground up with a new leadership.
Stenchlandia became the Feminist Republic of Stenchlandia, and a Council of all-female Representatives was established to change the social pecking order.
With our mistrust of prominent male authority figures the impetus for this uprising in the first place, it was child’s play for them to manipulate public favor towards changing the very societal structure of the nation. Within the same month, the NFLL signed into law something that would forever change our lives: Bill 66.
This bill rendered all male citizens of Stenchlandia perpetually subservient to females with direct and indirect defiance of said act punishable by cruel and unusual means carried out by the newly appointed Stenchlandian State Security.
In the eyes of the Feminist Liberation League, men were the cause of our economic drought to begin with so naturally the logical step would be to remove them permanently from any kind of leadership role not just in politics but in the community as well.
Once boys became of age, they were taught to serve at the feet of their female counterparts: friend, family, stranger, or otherwise. Those who complied and conformed without question were the lucky ones:
Anyone who resisted would be made compliant either by the SSS or female citizens, and the methods that they use to break someone’s spirit is the stuff of nightmares.
This is the reality that we all live in now, yet something tells me if you’re still reading this you don’t believe that this is how life should be.
You might be asking how did we as a once proud nation devolve to this tribalistic mentality of 'might makes right', with no room for grey areas.
You may also be wondering to yourself how things like treating our sons like the family pet and never looking an SSS officer in the eye became so normalized in our lives that we do it without even thinking.
The truth is that they don’t want you to think, because that interferes with whatever propaganda they’ve plastered over our television sets and computer screens to convince us of their ‘altruistic’ intentions.
After all, let’s look at a condensed version of what they want you to believe.
Man gets power. Power corrupts man. Man fails to serve the people. The people overthrows man. Man now serves the people.
This, as I’m sure you know, has been the same formula you’ve been force fed since 2012 until it’s sapped away enough at your brain’s higher functions that you’ve become just another docile denizen singing the praises of the NFLL like the thousands of Stenchlandians who do so on a daily basis.
This is the truth that they would, but as my late mother often said, “Truth is a matter of perspective.” So if you would, allow me to offer mine.
The truth in my opinion, is that the National Feminist Liberation League do not have our best interests at heart, and are quite frankly, full of complete and utter bullshit.
The promises that they made were the same that those before them made, with the only difference being that the Council has a militarized gestapo at the ready in case you start thinking too hard about what’s being said.
And yes, the previous government was by no means perfect but they at least abided by the democratic principles that Stenchlandia was originally founded upon: freedom of speech, due process and natural rights for all citizens just to name a few.
We could criticize the government openly without the constant fear of being dragged from our homes at night and subjected to unspeakable tortures befitting that of a prisoner of war. Punishments for crimes weren’t exclusive to only males, and the perpetrators were at least given a fair trial to prove their innocence.
Most importantly of all, all people, both male and female, were treated like beings of the same race instead of one subgroup being designated with servicing another.
Once upon a time, life wasn’t just a daily routine of having your documents at hand to show SSS officers before going to work in a rare likelihood that they don’t tie your face to the wrong end of their boot just on the basis of something so trivial as an alleged ‘dirty look.’
Once upon a time, dear reader, we had a choice. There was no Council presiding over our every move, dictating which of us would be the bootlickers and which of us would be wearing the boots.
Yet somehow, that choice magically disappeared when the people voted the National Feminist Liberation League into power and it’s been gone ever since.
Now, you may ask why I do this, why I put myself in the public arena knowing that my days could very well be numbered.
Because I choose to.
My fiancee, Paul, was one of the few brave soldiers who stood in the way of the NFLL’s crusade to the capital of Stenchlandia all those years ago.
He knew the government was corrupt to the core, but he didn’t care. Flawed as they may be, those politicians had families and loved ones and he put his life before theirs to ensure that they could return to them.
Once his unit was overwhelmed by what would become the SSS, I lost contact with him and the love of my life became a faded memory in this new nightmare that I wake up to everyday.
We were to be married on August 1st, the same day that the crown of leadership over our beloved nation would be worn by hypocritical fascists who think that superiority over all men is the equivalent of feminism.
I will never see my husband again, and chances are slim that I will ever learn of the hellish fate that he’s subjected to for simply doing the right thing.
He was never given a choice, and I can no longer stand by the sidewalk another day and watch thousands of men like my beloved be dragged across the streets to places I would never subject my worst enemy to.
So I ask you, the people of Stenchlandia, to take action.
Choose to act of your own free will, not conform to the martial law that’s pounded us into submission for far too long.
Choose to resist.
We overthrew this government once after all.
Who’s to say we can’t do it again?
Another bead of anxious sweat trickled down the forehead of Anna Durand as her eyes frantically scanned the electronic pages she had just typed up.
The computer screen lit up her face in a bluish hue, illuminating her petite features.
With shoulder-length brunette hair draped across her cardigan in strands, hazel brown eyes scrutinizing almost every word from behind her glasses, and her pale white skin caked in sweat, she looked every bit the archetype of the typical college graduate still trying to fit into the real world.
Her street clothes were simple and basic: a pair of khaki pants, buttoned up white shirt, brown cardigan, and a pair of used sneakers.
With her index finger hovering nervously above the right-click of the mouse, she bit her lip nervously as she prepared to publish her manifesto for all to see, including those at the very forefront of her digital rebellion.
“This is for you Paul,” she finally said, before pressing the button.  | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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