One in Ten Ch. 05

"We need to talk," Flame regarded me quizzically. She was insane, if not insane like me.

"Sure," I nodded. I leaned in, kissed Flame, aka Brigit, on the lips then turned us so that we both faced up the sidewalk to City Hall. She slid a hand around my waist and I followed suit.

"Miss me?" Flame teased. 'Every time I breathe' was the proper reply.

"With all the sane chicks around me," I sighed. "I think you're the only one who understands." Flame found that hilarious. She was a raving psychopath after all. My hand started stroking her ass. Flame actually leaned into me in what might have been construed as a romantic gesture. I sure as hell wasn't going to ask her.

The three of us arrived at a doorway somewhat off the well-traveled path.

"Little M wants to see you," Flame purred, holding me face to face and close. "Prometheus' at 12:30 tomorrow for lunch." Flame's buddy still looked like she expected me to rabbit at any second, which I found oddly amusing. Where would I go?

"Are you going to be there?" I murmured to Flame.

"Yeah," she rubbed up against me.

"I'll show up," I agreed. I kissed Flame again but this time with much more passion. As I broke it off and returned to the route to work, I smiled at the other mobster.

"I know, she's going to end up driving an ice pick through my eye somewhere along the line, but it will be worth it," I referred to Flame. I couldn't tell what the goon thought.

"I love this guy," Flame laughed and slapped her buddy. "He's tons of fun." Until that encounter, I thought nothing could make me even remotely happy to city CH Security.

They did their usual rigmarole but when they came to my small collection of batons, they become curious.

"What are these for?" one asked me.

"They're curtain dowels, with surgical tape so they don't slip," I replied innocently.

"They are awfully small," she noted.

"Small windows," I bantered back. She put them back in my satchel and handed it to me. Had I given a crap I would have complained to Francesca about the intellectual quality of our security force. Admittedly, curtain dowels aren't great weapons, but still, it is a 12" freaking stick.

I whistled as I left, in the elevator and down the hall to my work station as if this was the best day ever. Bethany homed in on me immediately.

"What are you wearing?" she blinked.

"Clothes you bought for me some time ago," I replied pleasantly.

"That's not proper work attire," she explained.

"Yep. You got that right. Is there any other obvious things you want to point out, or can we get to work now?" I kept grinning.

"Israel, what's gotten into you?" Bethany was getting annoyed.

"You are right," I nodded. "That is a problem we should address. Come with me," I demanded as I grabbed her by the wrist and started to drag her out of the office.

"What's going on?" she resisted.

"As you pointed out, there is a problem of what's gotten into who and I think I can correct that," I said happily.

"We are going to have sex - now?" she gulped.

"Now or never again," I told her. "Your choice." She had claimed I was the best dick she'd ever had and I was about to find out if that was true. She came along meekly. I rushed us into the Women's Room, pushed her into a stall and bent her over a toilet.

"Israel, I'd like - Ow!" she yelped as I yanked her panties off. Unless she had a spare set in her desk, Bethany was going commando for the rest of the work day. She tried to turn around but I wouldn't let her. Thankfully, Bethany always warmed up quickly because I had neither the desire nor time for some good cunnilingus.

I did have time for a good hard fucking though and I slammed the hell out of her. Bethany tried to remain in control and quiet but I knew all her weak spots and I doubled up on them all. She was howling and screaming to Goddess Almighty just like the old days. If she thought this was an apology, she was sorely mistaken. She was sore alright and this was punishment.

Unlike all my previous efforts which had been fuelled by love, this fucking was driven by hate, rage and a desire to inflict pain. Bethany couldn't even grasp the significance though she felt this was something new for us. Bethany didn't even care that she was being screwed by a man who was clearly unhinged.

Only after I left her a crumpled heap on the bathroom floor did she wearily look up and realize I was still hard.

"You didn't cum," she whispered. She was pretty hoarse.

"Of course not. I'm not letting you or your mother within a thousand meters of my sperm," I patted her on the head. "Let's get to work."

I showed up thirty minutes early to work because I was in my second week of training. Bethany and I were seriously late getting back to our desks. No one said a thing. They just looked. I took perverse pleasure when Bethany actually stumbled getting to her station. She looked like she'd been hammered by a hurricane and couldn't decide if she liked it or not.

I think way back when, they called that a grudge fuck. I hadn't surrendered to Bethany, I had used her like she used me - for my own selfish reasons and profit. I had unleashed plenty of negative energy that would complicate things later. I needed to be as reasonable as possible and she'd helped me with that - by giving me her body and letting me use it as I wished, if not how she intended.

I didn't feel bad about it one bit. I hadn't lost ground. I hadn't turned Bethany into a faceless entity. I had come at her knowing right who she was and what she deserved, from one royally pissed off human being to another, 'should have been more fucking careful about what she asked for', human being.

I didn't last two minutes at my desk before Francesca summoned me.

"Care to explain?" she scanned my clothing.

"All I can say is that I apologize if I disappoint you, Ms. Francesca Silverhorn. You have tried really hard to be decent to me," I gave her the first genuine smile of the morning.

"But?" she waited for it.

"But, in next year's dictionary they are going to have my picture beside the definition of 'aggressive'," I shrugged. "It will probably do double billing with 'dumb ass'." Francesca laughed. She didn't even try to hold it in.

"Good luck with that Initiative, Mr. Jensen," she chuckled. We were both going to Hell. "There is a press conference at ten-thirty concerning the Federation's new program. It is called Men's Action League. It plans to further invest men in the governing process."

"Wow, my career is going to end sooner than I thought it was," I snorted in amusement.

"Anything else I need to know before I go, Captain my Captain?" I really liked her.

"GNN and a half-dozen other stations are covering this live. You're microscopically famous now and yet they sense an epic public relations catastrophe in the making," Francesca fed me the news, "and they want to be there when it happens."

"I won't let you down, Jeffe," I smirked.

"That's what I'm afraid of," she shook her head. "But, I'm starting to think the future isn't going to be all that bright and cheery anyway." I gave a crummy salute, about-faced and returned to my desk. There was a notice on my computer to contact Ms. Cho.

Damn it, how was I supposed to get any work done? I called and she told me come right up.

"Are we ever going to finish what you started last Monday?" I teased. Was it only one week?

"Maybe," Ms. Cho sounded coy. Fat chance I'd ever do anything with her. She was an evil henchman.

"Okay," I laughed because she didn't have a clue to her own barbarity. I warned Francesca where I was off to then headed up to the Mayor's Chief of Staff's offices. Ms. Cho gave me a smile then waved me in. Whatever Isobel was going to say was lost when she caught sight of me.

"What are wearing?" she snapped.

"Clothes?" I responded. That didn't seem to mollify her. "Casual clothes?"

"Get into the proper attire before the news conference and you'd better not fuck it up or what security did to you Thursday will seem like a walk in the park after I get through with you. Do you understand?" Ms. Diaz growled.

"I understand," I parroted back. I understood that I didn't give a damn about what she said. Come on, it wasn't like I woke up thinking this was Sunday. I knew exactly what I was doing, who it would piss off and how little I would care about that.

"Fine. Now what did Magdalena Keverich want with you?" we got down the reason I was there.

"Me in particular? No clue. I know she wasn't happy with my performance, she likes people to watch and she's very demanding," I informed Isobel.

"What did she want to know about me? About us?" she pressed.

"Us? Lady, there is no us," I grew angry. "I don't know you and I don't want to know you."

"Screw it all, I didn't want to go to your damn party, I didn't want to meet her and I certainly don't want to relate my shitty experience to you," I added. "Let me straighten you out; if you were drowning, I'd toss you an anchor. If you were asleep in the tub, I'd pour in quick drying cement then hold you under with a broom."

"If you were paralyzed, I'd cover you in honey and leave you in the path of army ants. Are we clear now?" I growled. "I hate you. I hate what you represent. I hate this whole sick society that allows you to exist and prosper."

"You didn't answer my question," Isobel kept trying to break me with her eyes.

"Ugh," I sighed. "I don't know anything but if I did, I wouldn't tell you. I don't know in what nightmarish fantasy you imagine that woman would tell me ANYTHING, but glaring at me isn't going to help. You can't touch me."

"I can't?" she replied sinisterly.

"Yes, Ma'am. I've made my peace with God and said good-bye to the ones I love," I snickered. "I'm bulletproof." I saw the light go off in her eyes. She finally realized I'd lost my mind. There was no rational response to my challenge because I was no longer rational. Circumstances had intervened so that I simply couldn't 'go away' either.

There were too few men left and I had a flicker of popularity. She wanted to believe that she'd get me later, but she had looked into my soul and knew I had no 'later'. This was it. Her ability to grind me up was only a threat if I planned to leave anything to be ground.

"We are done here," I dismissed her. I turned and walked away.

"We are done when I say we're done," she seethed. I already had the door open and was half-way out. I raised up my left hand like a sock-puppet.

"Did you hear something?" I asked my hand.

"It sounded like a feminine 'poof'," my hand responded in a shrill voice.

"Whatever it was," I nodded sagely to my hand, "we had better not hang around in case it stinks up the room." There were six people and Ms. Cho in the office, staring at me with wide eyes. I could hear Isobel's blood boiling. "Have a good morning everyone," I waved to the room and quickly exited the main door.

I decided that the elevator was a trap so I took the stairs instead. I didn't get two feet inside the door before Selma pointed me to Francesca's office.

"Oh, Goddess," Francesca moaned. "I'm stunned my screen didn't melt. What did you do this time?"

"Ah - ummm, ah," I struggled for the words. "I dismissed her from our conversation and while exiting her main office, I insulted her with a hand/sock puppet - in front of witnesses."

"Wow...you do realize you now qualify for two minority hires; you are male and clearly mentally handicapped," Francesca tried not to smirk.

"You are welcome, Boss," I grinned.

"Oh, and she wants you in proper attire when you get on stage in...twenty minutes. I promised her you would be. Do you plan to change?" she inquired.

"Nope," I rolled my shoulders.

"Okay," she nodded. "Just checking. You need to be briefed by Selma on the latest developments. Are you and Bethany reconciling?"

"Noooo..." I drew that out. "I used her for my own carnal frustrations, that's all."

"We know," Francesca looked amused. "We ALL know. We had some women from the second floor come up to see if someone was dying, or being murdered. In the future, you might want to offer another girl in the office a chance - take that as a suggestion."

Hmmm, second floor. We were on the fourth floor. This building had pretty good acoustics. I walked over to Selma. You know your co-workers respect you when they attribute God-like powers to your actions.

"We are going to die, aren't we?" Selma stared at me intently. "We are going to lose our jobs and be blackballed from anything associated with broadcast and internet journalism, right?"

"We may go down Selma, but we will take a whole bunch with us when we go," I assured her.

"That is no comfort whatsoever, you idiot," Selma glared. "Now, here is what you need to know..." she began. That's when I learned that my district had lost another one, leaving us at eight.

According to the geniuses who developed the sex quota system, I now had to service 625 woman. I wasn't sure how that was supposed to work. That was nearly two women a day, every day each and every year until I died. By law, I only had to have sex 13 times a year which would mean each woman could only expect sex once every five years. I sensed a flaw in the plan.

"Stop giggling," Selma hissed. "You are scaring the crap out of the girls." Ah, a few people were counting lifeboats on the Titanic it seemed. I stopped being 'unmanly' then gave Selma the mathematical data I had just come up with.

"Oh damn it," she groaned. "Don't bring this up."

"Fat chance," I grinned evilly. Selma threw up her hands and stormed off to Francesca's office. A minute later Francesca and Selma came out.

"Ladies, anyone who wants to retroactively call in sick today and avoid being associated with this fiasco, you may do so," Francesca Silverhorn announced.

The two married women and a third older lady gathered their belongings and left. I was surprised Selma stuck it out. As far as I could tell, she hated me.

"Israel, can you give us a clue as to what we should be preparing for?" Tabitha inquired with a surprisingly upbeat attitude. I looked to Francesca who gave me a motherly 'go ahead'.

"Short version, we are going under - this society," I started off. "The government is lying about male births, covering up the increasing rate of male miscarriages, and that the Gender Plague is getting stronger and at an increasing rate. It is not just here, but all over the planet. Humanity is sliding into extinction."

"The immediate concern is that if you are in the economic bottom 90% of the female population, there are not going to be enough men for you and the crunch is setting in," I explained. "My district is slated for 125 males my age. As of this morning, it has eight." I let that sink in.

"Can't the men work harder?" Wanda stepped up. I wasn't insulted - too much.

"I hear they are going to tighten up the Gender Inequality Act - move the cycle to fourteen days," she added.

"Wanda - good question and that's the beauty of this disaster," I was darkly mirthful. "The governments have known this for almost two decades."

"The cause of the Plague getting more deadly is stress. The more you stress your male population, the quicker your male birth rate plummets," I stated. "It becomes a vicious cycle. Your birth rate drops - you put more pressure on the males which makes your rate plummet faster."

"What do we do?" Bethany mumbled.

"Ask you Mom, Bethany. She is the one who told me most of this stuff," I let the room focus on her for a moment. "What do we do? I don't know. Women started down this path forty years ago when they passed the Gender Inequality Act."

"If you could have been saved, that train came and went twenty years ago when your scientists first figured out what was happening. Ten years ago they stopped enforcing the gender quotas in twelve of the poorest districts of the city. Look it up if you don't believe me," I said. "Look under registered complaints, not the official city records."

"Until last year, every time a district accumulated enough complaints, they rotated a group of guys in but all they did was steal them from other poor, under populated areas," I revealed.

"What happened last year?" Selma spoke first.

"As far as the people I worked with can tell, they stopped giving a crap," I sighed.

"Too many districts were perpetually below 80%. They started quietly padding the higher income districts first. When the marriage rate spiked this Spring, the system began to fail. The pressure was building up on low income men, so when the opportunity arrived, they pledged their nuptials and bailed out of their already reeling neighborhoods," I continued.

"As of this moment, I am one of eight men in my age group in my district. There are supposed to be 125. My district is extreme, but virtually all the other poor districts are running between 20 and 30% of their quota," I kept watching the faces pale around me. "You can also look at the school roles for any 'track' in the public school system."

"You can see a consistent decline in the male population by going back each class year," I had them now.

"How come no one has spoken up on this?" Francesca questioned.

"Why? What would it accomplish? Who wants to be the first to stand up on the sinking ship and scream 'we are all going to die!'?" I replied.

"Why are we doing this?" Selma shook her head. "We aren't journalists. We are part of the civil government. We are supposed to keep the people calm."

"Who are you serving by hiding the truth?" I asked calmly. "No one in my neighborhood, but you are helping the people upstairs - the ones lying to the rest of you."

That was my best pitch. The people around me were civilian bureaucrats. They were not non-conformists, anarchists, public crusaders, or dispatch riders of the Apocalypse. Outside of Bethany Fremont, none of them appeared to be politically motivated. They had nice, safe lives and I was a raving lunatic.

"Francesca?" Tabitha pled with her leader for direction.

"Israel, do you have anything else?" Francesca pressed me. I had one ace left up my sleeve and I had saved it for this - debate.

"Argentina," I told Tabitha.

"Check out their government's Department of Public Health's population projections. Not what is published with the WHO, or UN, but what they are telling their own people," I told her. Tabitha turned to the closest system and began typing away. She was our research whiz so it didn't take her long. She put her hand to her mouth.

The other women gathered around Tabitha and began reading the translated document. No one congratulated me for being right. I had just murdered their hopes of great-grandchildren, if not their grandchildren.

"Selma, start working up a public release on whatever factual data we can gather," Francesca took charge once more.

"Focus on what we can do to make the best of this situation. We have to have hope, but pedaling lies at this point will be counter-productive," she laid out a strategy. "Bethany, you are coming with Israel and me." When Bethany joined us, Francesca told her to stay put then retrieved her purse from her office. Before leaving, I got a baton from my satchel and stuck it in my back pocket.

"Aren't you going to change?" Bethany questioned.

"No time," Francesca answered for me. As we went down in the elevator, I flashed Francesca a smile that Bethany missed. Bethany wasn't there for support. She was with us because Francesca didn't trust her not to tip off the powers-that-be if she was left alone.

Security was likely to mug me on the stage as it was. Being jumped before I could get before the press would be disastrous for my little band of rebels - technically Francesca's band of rebels. Francesca maneuvered me on stage before the Press Secretary, Naomi List, knew what was going on.