29/05/07 We Allowed No Womb

Imophelp angrily read one by one the million entries of the report. One of the scientists involved in the project, Associate Geneticist Timothy, was staying in the room with him, visibly uncomfortable.

It took a few hours.

Once finished Imophelp calmly closed the report, and pushed it away, further unto the table. He then spoke:

“Do it again.”

“You won’t keep any of them?” inquired the nervous teenager. “Some of them show incredible potential.”

“Must I repeat myself.” spoke Imophelp, the words of a question that had every appearance of an axe aiming to dismember a few young scientists.

“..n.. n.. n.... no... No” replied Associate Geneticist Timothy.

Associate Geneticist Timothy was experiencing the emotion named ‘terror’.

“I. A-M. B-U-Y-I-N-G.” began Imophelp, as if his interlocutor was deaf, “another batch of one million boys. These ones are not satisfactory, and I refuse to keep them.”

“I must inform you that it will result in the immediate termination of the incubations.”

“I am now informed!”... mildly sarcastic.

Later that day - not without drinking a shooter of rum - Timmy made his way to the mezzanine of the work floor. There, he flicked a switch, and looked down and away through a telescope. He made sure that among the ten million four hundred and sixty-four pods that were present in that room of the facility, the proper one million developing fetuses of the sons of Imophelp were now being marked for termination, their pods’ individual light bulbs turning on into a bright red.

Individual floor workers made their way to individual pods, methodically murdering defenseless children by cutting off their oxygen. Murder was followed by clearing of the fluids, then clearing of the solids, then cleaning of the surfaces and chemical sanitation of the pod.

It had become usual enough for them to justify the installation of a dedicated switch.

20 YEARS LATER

Teacher Lozmikep was passing a black light on his students. He called it a “game” - what he was doing was against school policy, yet he figured that he was discreet enough and infrequent enough not to raise attention. He figured putting even one child rapist in a death camp was a reasonable sacrifice that he could take.

He had forty pupils age five. He was a mathematician background teacher, yet had failed to rank high enough to pursue that specialization. He had - eventually - landed this gig. He had been lucky, really, as it had become trendy for mathematics to be taught in general classes.

He had been crafted with the genes for a particular occupation (teaching mathematics to mathematicians), and had somehow dislodged others whom had been crafted properly for teaching the basics to a heterogenous group of young children.

Three were freakishly tall; Seventeen had quite large heads that required additional neck bones for support; one had blue pigmented skin; another, Gamzor, had been born with defective skin modding. He was intelligent, yet trapped in a reddish, orangish chaos of disfigurement.

Five were both muscular and intelligent; in so many words, they had been betrayed by their well-intentioned fathers, as they were now doomed to roam the Earth with no reasonable opportunity of employment, having been crafted with the ability to do anything making it an impossibility for them of ever becoming an absolutely optimal specialist. There were no sport specialists in Teacher Lozmikep’s class, obviously: having no rational mind, their heads - if they had any - served purely to detect their environment and coordinate their limbs. As such they were incapable of learning.

The rest were all the same: large, colorful eyes; full lisps; long hair; they would retain the appearance of children for most of their life. Teacher Lozmikep was convinced every last one of them would be happier dead than alive, having been crafted and brought unto the world for the one and only possible reason that they were molested by adult men. Teacher Lozmikep had been born to teach, yet found it impossible to achieve the level of emotional comfort he was expected to be capable of realizing in his professional occupation. That was largely due to having to interact with clear, ongoing, victims of sexual abuse.

Unless he could find by himself some sort of physical evidence to show to the Moral Police, he happened to live in a country in which people had the individualistic belief in “bedroom freedom”; as long as a man was not publicly admitting to committing a crime within the bounds of his private life, no matter how oppressively obvious it was that very specific types of children were made for only one purpose, standing in his way was a felony worth five years of rehabilitative imprisonment. The freedom had originated from homosexual tolerance, in the early years of Mankind.

Then there was Tutenkeilomon.

The one without a soul.

“What is a soul?” whispered a fictional Tutenkeilomon to Teacher Lozmikep in their fictional empty class.

“A soul means that we go to the afterlife.”

“Is it any good? The afterlife?”

“To our current understanding, the life after this one still contains women. So it is probably miserable.”

Such a conversation did not happen; yet Teacher Lozmikep manifested his urge to reach out by daydreaming a deep conversational exchange with the barely bipedal animal.

“Ultimately, child, we are where we are for one and only one reason.” spoke Teacher Lozmikep, “Given a binary choice between sterile sexuality and womanless reproduction, our ancestors took the decision to survive. Remember, remember! We took from women their only true power over us, only because, as men, we could not do otherwise but to look down the abyss created by their hubris!”

He continued:

“This as not been without consequences. I have nightmares of what fellow man perpetrates upon fellow man - even to their own blood kin! I could not imagine - perhaps literally, that I was not crafted to be capable of understanding - why your father selected such a horrible destiny for his own descendant. Yet, how much more worse it could have been! Do we not still exist, mostly, under our original form? We have arms and legs; we purchase the products we care to possess; we do possess freedom, still, more than reason.”

“Women served a crucial purpose in making each, individual life so important, so... so.. Expansive! I honestly believe that without their initial influence, we would have transformed into some sort of Meat Planet, scourging the universe to acquire biomass.“

“Yes. That is my purpose, my function, my destiny.” replied Tutenkeilomon.

“Then.. the sacrifice of my life is to kill you?”

Teacher Lozmikep violently shook his head and answered, in chalk, the equation he had written in the midst of his waking dream.

He went on with his life, and his afterlife, and his after-afterlife, and his after-after-afterlife as a peaceable mathematician.