Domination, Chapter One

Chapter One

The year was 2073 and things had been running smoothly under the women’s control for decades. Men were born, they did their jobs, and they were “sacrificed.” Women were born, rose to the top of their professions, and backed away to live the rest of their lives in peace. The new societal order had proven successful, and the women were confident that such a lifestyle would be prominent for thousands of years to come.

Life on the women’s side flowed perfectly and flawlessly, and each day more beautiful and successful women were brought to the forefront as leaders and dignitaries. They worked as nurses, doctors, teachers, politicians, and lawyers. Crime rates were at a near zero percent, and women were very happy with their lives. Pristine was a word often used to describe the women’s side. The sun was always shining. Homes, buildings, and shops were always kept in the cleanest conditions imaginable. Women’s sides were varying degrees of modern, from a slightly modern twist of tradition to as modern as they came. New technology was always gleaming from their perfectly manicured hands. Life was picture perfect for the females of the United States. Life for the men, however, was a completely different story.

On the men’s side, crime rates were high, suicide rates were escalating, and depression was a common problem. They held jobs as laundry men, garbage gatherers, and janitors. They did all their cleaning at night so as to not be seen or noticed by the women. Many had never seen a woman, nor had a woman ever seen a man. The men held dirty jobs that permanently stained their skin with dirt and tormented their minds with suffering. Many men went insane living in such terrible conditions. The men rarely saw the sun since they worked all night and slept all day. Their homes, which one could only call mere shacks, were dirty and crumbling. They lived off of diets of leftovers from the women. Men didn’t know of the technology women did. If they used technology at all, it was either for their profession or outdated junk from the women. Life on the men’s side was the complete opposite of life on the women’s side.

When a boy reached his eighteenth birthday, or his first Donation Day, he was given the opportunity to choose his career. He didn’t have many professions to choose from. There were janitors, laundrymen, transporters, mechanics, postmen, and garbage gatherers. A few odd professions would spring up and die out from time to time, but those few were the most prominent. Boys looked upon their choice as merely that: a choice. It didn’t have anything to do with their future, their skills, or their weaknesses. It was a man’s only decision in life, and it held very little merit in their eyes. To them, life was like a book that had already been written for them. All they could do was ride it out.

Amongst the newest generation of D-Day boys, the Garbage Union was the most popular choice. This baffled the elder men in other professions, but they didn’t argue. Instead, they accepted the other, quieter boys as their apprentices. The three boys that had just begun training in the Garbage Union were quite boisterous and outgoing. This was rare for men, given the high rate of depression and suicide among their gender. Usually men would sulk, put their heads down, and do the job in silence. These three new Garbage Gatherers were different. They were friends; they talked and made jokes while they did their job and tried their best to enjoy the life they had been given. They stood out from the rest of the men on their side, and it was for this reason that they tried so desperately to blend in. Standing out was a bad thing. If a woman found out that a man was becoming too happy, she would take immediate action. Only one man had ever been known to be happy before. His name was Tom. When Tom entered the clinic on his fourth D-Day, he made a joke with one of his fellow workers. A concerned doctor alerted officials on the women’s side and they ordered his immediate Sacrifice, by force if necessary. To women, a man’s happiness was a sign of rebellion, and rebellion could only lead to disaster. It was a woman’s greatest fear to be undermined by the very gender she fought so hard to dominate. Girls were raised not only to feel superior, but to prevent a rebellion at all costs.

Tyler was the most well-known boy from the current D-Day generation. He had scruffy dirty blonde hair and glowing blue eyes. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail at the back of his head, since men were allowed haircuts only on their third D-Day. Happiness shone from every pore of his body, and this made others around him worry. He was the boy that could always be depended on to make others laugh and smile, which also meant he was the boy that was always avoided. Tyler acted as though he enjoyed his life as a Garbage Gatherer and this behavior confused and scared others. Men that actually enjoyed their jobs were few and far between. He had managed to round up a couple of friends during his training years in the hospital and they stuck with him into the garbage profession. Tyler liked to brag that he had a reason to sign up for a job in the Garbage Union, but enjoyed teasing his friends by telling them that it "wasn't time" to explain his reasoning yet. His companions were skeptical of him, but waited hopefully for the day that Tyler would fill them in on his motivation. He always had his head in the sky and came up with ridiculous ideas, but for some reason his friends Matt and Brandon remained by his side. Never before had his ideas and out of the box thinking caused them any trouble, so they didn’t feel the need to stamp his imagination out. As long as they managed to keep him somewhat grounded and taught him to hide his happiness, their friendship couldn’t be tarnished.

Matt was a quieter more sarcastic version of Tyler. He had a long brown ponytail and green eyes. Whether he liked it or not, Matt absorbed most of his happiness from Tyler. He was always trying to cut Tyler down and make him less happy, mainly because he didn’t want to lose him as a friend. That and he was desperate to find out Tyler’s “motivation” for joining the Garbage Union. Unlike Tyler, Matt had no motivation for joining the Garbage Union. He merely joined because Tyler asked him to. He wasn’t very trusting of anybody but his closest friends, and he was very down-to-earth. He was practically the polar opposite of Tyler personality-wise. While he didn’t have a sense of humor, Matt had his own little unique quirk that worried the other men. Sometimes he would break into song while working without even realizing it, and this confused him. His friends told him that he had a great singing voice, but Matt was determined to keep this talent of his hidden.

Brandon was the final member of the “trio” that entered the Garbage Union. He was a friend of Matt and Tyler and he possessed absolutely no sense of humor. Most of the time, Brandon would just acknowledge their jokes with a small chuckle or a nod. He was a very thoughtful, stoic boy. It took a lot to arouse emotion in him, so rarely would one hear him laugh. He had long, shaggy black hair and striking gray eyes. During his childhood, many of the kids called him a freak because of his introverted personality, but Tyler and Matt appreciated his hidden strengths. Brandon was the smart one out of the three of them and could solve anything at the drop of a hat. He helped Matt and Tyler to pass their teaching years and was the reason that all three of them were permitted to enter the same field. Usually jobs were restricted to up to two D-Day kids per year, since there were only twelve boys per generation. He had researched and found enough information to convince the women overseeing their job placement to allow all three of them to enter the same field.

All three boys reported to one elder, Jack. Jack was a rugged man. He was nearing his fourth D-Day on which he would turn 27. He had a rough face that was permanently dirtied from his nine years of garbage removal. He was a no-nonsense type of man that was frequently annoyed with Tyler's constant joking around. The boys had been working for him ever since they joined the union. On Jack's fourth D-Day, the boys would be celebrating their second. They were turning twenty-one and were looking forward to their increase in jobs. A man’s second D-Day was when they would learn some of the more difficult or responsibility-laden parts of their jobs. For Tyler, Matt, and Brandon, this meant learning how to drive and control the garbage truck by themselves. Tyler was exceptionally thrilled to be moving up in the ranks, and this confused Matt and Brandon.

The night before the boys’ second D-Day, they were seated quietly around their lopsided table eating a mush of leftovers for dinner. The mood was morose and the boys didn’t say anything. “Well, after tomorrow we’ve got two down and three to go,” Matt commented sarcastically, hoping to get a laugh.

Tyler let out a chuckle, but Brandon didn’t move. The silence was deafening. They continued to eat in silence as the darkness loomed around them. “At least we get to learn how to use the truck,” Matt spoke again.

This time Tyler uttered a word with his nod of acknowledgement, “Yeah.”

Brandon, once again, remained stoic. Tyler’s eyes switched between Matt and Brandon with anticipation. Matt didn’t notice as he continued to eat. Brandon, being the observant one, noticed this at once. Hoping to culminate Tyler’s anxiousness, he asked, “What?”

The blonde boy grinned at Brandon’s question. “You guys have always wanted to know why I decided to join the Garbage Union, right?” he asked. His companions nodded, and he continued, “And you’ve wondered why I dragged you two along with me, right?” Again, Matt and Brandon nodded. “Well,” Tyler grinned. “The time has come to answer your questions.”

“It’s about time!” Matt burst out.

“Good,” Brandon said flatly.

Mischief covered Tyler’s face as he held up a finger. “But,” he began, and the other two instantly deflated. “There’s a catch. You have to hear me out completely. No questions or anything. Deal?”

Brandon nodded wordlessly, and Matt unwillingly groaned, “Fine.”

“I joined the Garbage Union,” he began slowly, taunting his friends, “because it’s the first step in my plan to end female domination.”

Matt looked at him incredulously, “No, but really. Why did you join?”

“That’s why,” Tyler said flatly. “I’m not kidding.”

“No,” was all Brandon could think to say.

The conversation was obviously not going as well as Tyler would have liked. He suspected they might not completely agree with it, but he didn’t expect such bullheadedness. “What the hell does garbage gathering have to do with ending female domination?” Matt challenged. “Besides, there’s no way that three of us can change the entire country.”

“Yes, we can!” Tyler insisted. “Just listen to me! You promised you’d hear me out.”

“This is just too ridiculous,” Matt shook his head and stood from the table.

Brandon joined Matt, leaving Tyler sitting at the table looking frustrated. “Come on, guys,” Tyler begged. “It’s not as farfetched as it sounds.”

“No,” both boys refused without even considering it again.

“Forget about it,” Matt shook his head. “I refuse. This plan is just too risky. I can tell already.”

“I haven’t even told you about it!” Tyler argued.

“Go to bed,” Brandon instructed roughly.

Matt and Brandon climbed into their ragged cots in silence, leaving a shocked and disgruntled Tyler still at the table. He stood and put his dishes by the sink, making as much noise as possible. “Stop pouting,” came a muffled cry from Matt’s cot.

Tyler huffed his way to his cot and climbed in as well. He took his time, making sure that he made as much noise as he possibly could. All three teens fell asleep in an annoyed, frustrated mood that would carry over well into their morning. At least they didn’t have to worry about coming off as suspiciously happy when they went into the clinic to donate.

When they woke, they changed and ate their breakfast leftovers from the women in silence. Tyler continued to pout, hoping to stir some sort of emotion or reaction from his friends. Instead, they ignored him completely. Tyler was beginning to go insane from the lack of attention. He tried to speak once, but Matt cut him off and told him to grow up. They walked across the men’s side of town to the doorway to the towering, gleaming marble building. “I don’t miss this place at all,” Matt commented, observing the clinic before him.

“We’d better go in before they think we don’t want to be here,” Tyler said sharply.

If a woman overseeing the clinic entrance noticed that men were talking or behaving as though they didn’t want to partake in their “civic duty” to donate, he would be instantly killed. Men were no longer allowed a fair trial in court. Their behavior had to be perfect and completely unsuspicious. Many men lived in fear of making a mistake in the eyesight of a woman, which drove many men to insanity. The three teens trudged through the doorway and received their clean, pressed white tee shirt. Donation Days were the only day on which a man was allowed to wear something other than his work uniform: black slacks and a blue button down shirt. The white tee shirt served as a signifier to all those in the hospital what the man’s purpose was. Male and female interaction was expected to be kept at a minimum, and by color coding a man based on his purpose, it prevented questioning, which was obvious interaction. “Here goes nothing,” Tyler shrugged, entering the laboratory first.

A line of men trailed down the hallway. The men were all from various generations, although it was obvious which men were there for their first and fifth D-Days. Men that were there for their first D-Day were easy to pick out even though they wore a white tee shirt like everyone else. They were terrified. The teachers would inform the men what they were required to donate, but they did not explain how it was done. Expecting the worst, the boys stood around anxiously; worst case scenarios were swimming around in their heads. Men that were in the clinic for their fifth D-Days were also easy to pick out. Instead of wearing a white tee shirt, they wore a black tee shirt. This was to signify mourning at their passing, but also to help them stand out from the rest. Some men offered their condolences, and some offered congratulations at the man’s success in his career. Either way, the men in the black shirts did not look happy.

Inconspicuously, as each of the trio donated, they hung around with the rest of the line so they could make their way back to the men’s side together. As they were passing a dark corridor, something caught Tyler’s eye. “What?” Matt whispered, slightly panicked.

Tyler ignored his comment and moved closer to what had caught his attention. A simple clear garbage bag was sitting in the empty hallway. It was filled with objects of different bright colors like pinks, purples, and yellows. “What is it?” Matt asked.

Brandon lifted a finger to his lips to quiet his friend. Tyler just touched it gingerly. “So easy…” he whispered.

Tyler looked up at his friends with a smile. A clicking of high heels from the other end of the hallway brought all three of them back to reality. Brandon, being the tallest and strongest of the group, grabbed both boys by their collars and pulled them back to the exit where they exchanged their white shirt for their old, blue work shirt. As soon as they were out of earshot of the woman, Matt burst, “What the hell was that!? You could have gotten us killed!”

“It was perfect,” Tyler said dreamily. “Just sitting there…begging us to take it.”

“That bag of garbage wasn’t doing anything,” Matt shook his head. “You’re insane.”

“Explain,” Brandon demanded.

“You didn’t want to hear it last night, so I’m not going to bother now,” Tyler said simply with a smirk on his face.

Matt stopped and faced Tyler. He grabbed him by the collar and shook him, “Explain what the hell that was. Now.”

Tyler waited in silence until Matt let go of him. “Fine,” he shrugged. “If we can get our hands on some old clothes the women throw out, we can sneak onto their side. From there we have access to a lot of things that will help us get the word out. If we can infiltrate them, we can overtake them.”

Matt and Brandon watched their friend in shock. “That’s it? We dress in the women’s garbage clothes to end their control?” Matt asked.

Tyler nodded triumphantly. “It won’t work,” Brandon shook his head.

“Maybe not for every guy, but there are quite a few guys that could pass as girls. I could, and Matt could,” the blonde explained. “I’ve thought this all through.”

“And when the women find out and kill us?” Matt challenged.

“They won’t.”

“What about if it works? What about the women in all the other cities?” Matt continued to question his friend.

“That’s why we have to get the postal union in on this, too. They can pass the word on to the other cities and keep us updated on how things are going in other places,” Tyler said simply. “We use them to network, and the garbage gatherers can get the clothes.”

“I just don’t think it will work,” Matt shook his head. “I mean…”

“Work,” Brandon interrupted.

The teens hadn’t realized that they’d arrived at work. If anybody there heard them before they properly explained their plan, they could be reported and killed for conspiracy. “Fine, just think about it. Please,” Tyler begged his friends.

Neither companion acknowledged Tyler’s last request. The three of them set to work without another word.