Even Braver New World State

by Rick K. Reut

  “Wow, what’s that?!” the Director exclaimed.

  “What’s what?” wondered the Controller, looking around disconcertedly.

  “That thing between your breasts.”

  The Controller looked down at the T-shaped pendant hanging on a thin silver string around It’s neck. Made of two platinum capital “F” letters mirroring each other in a way that they formed a “T”, the pendant was Controller Fordy’s parting gift to Its European colleague.

  “Oh, that? That’s nothing.”

  “Nothing my ass!” Darlina cried out, ecstatically, “I saw exactly what nothing looks like when I read some ancient conservative moralizers. And I assure you that it’s not it! Not even close!”

  “And what is it then?”

  “It!? Are you kidding me?! It’s just marvelous!” Director Downing nearly screamed with delight. “Where did you get it? Did someone give it to you? “FF”? Is it someone I know?” It smiled shrewdly.

  “O, it’s simply a souvenir from another Continent Controller!” mumbled Gianna Globe. “The double “F” stands for the name of our double-headed prophet FordorFreud.”

  “Or else…?” Darlina bit Its lip, impishly. “I know someone else going by those initials.”

  “Really? I wonder who it may be.”

  “You know who it may be better than I,” grinned the Director. “Freudina Fordy!”

  “Please don’t be preposterous, Director. Freudina and I are simply good friends.”

  “And who said you weren’t. We’re all good friends here. Unlike those savages on the Islands. No offence, Mister Marx.”

  The Director’s last words were addressed to Adam, who was still lost in his own thoughts off screen.

  “So, don’t make it look that terribly pre-transsexual, Ginny,” the Director added with an artful wink.

  “Pre-transsexual? What do you mean by that?”

  The European Controller was astounded by Its subordinate’s lack of tact.

  “You know exactly what I mean, my dear.” Darlina gave Gianna another wink. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. But I must warn you that it won’t work because everyone already knows everything.”

  “Everyone already knows everything?” echoed the astounded Controller, struggling to grasp the meaning of these words.

  “That’s right.”

  “Wait a minute. What exactly does everyone know!?”

  “Nothing,” chuckled the Director

  “What do you mean, nothing?”

  “I mean nothing about you and Freudina.”

  “And what is there to know about me and Freudina?”

  “I’ve just told you. Nothing.”

  “Now stop being a wiseass tranny. It doesn’t suit your slutty face.” said Controller Globe, crossly.

  “My slutty face?!”

  “Yes, your slutty face I’m going to very severely abuse as soon as I come back to the mainland.”

  “Abuse? Why only abuse?” Darlina beamed with excitement. “Don’t you know any other big “F” words apart from Our FordorFreud and your beloved Freudina?”

  “It’s not only my beloved Freudina,” glared Controller Globe, “For your information, It was asking about you when we parted.”

  “About me!?”

  It was Darlina’s turn to be surprised.

  “What do you mean, me?!”

  “I mean you, Director Darlina Downing. It couldn’t take Its mind off you most of the time we were together.”

  “Take Its mind off me?!” the Director could barely believe Its ears.

  “Precisely! And who’s pre-transsexual now?!”

  “Well, I’d say It is.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, it was It who couldn’t take Its mind off me when you were together, not

  The Director’s logic looked bulletproof.

  “You wily strumpet!” the Controller cried out. “It just asked me to bring you along for an orgy. You, me, It and a thousand anonymous trannies.”

  “Well, I’ll think about it.”

  “Sure. Like your conditioning is going to let you.”

  “Then I guess I’ll just have to pretend to be thinking about it,” the Director smiled. “But really, it’s so nice to be a slave of something you love being a slave of. So much better than to be free and hate being one.”

  “That’s totally true,” grinned Controller Globe. “Your first wise thought for the day”.

  “At least I’ve had one.”

  “What?!” Controller Globe’s eyebrows suddenly crossed on Its nose bridge, like two fighting swords. “You seem to be forgetting yourself, Director,” It snapped, switching to a serious tone.”

  The Director instantly realized Its mistake and made haste to mend it.

  “Well, you know what I mean,” It said smarmily.

  But it was too late. The change in the Controller’s conduct clearly indicated that It didn’t know what Its subordinate meant and, what was worse, didn’t want to know. The Director felt like It had wandered too far down this thin-iced lake and was starting to hear it crack.

  “Now come on, Controller! You know I was just joking, just teasing you,” It heard Itself stutter in somebody else’s wavering voice, feeling Its mouth go dry and the rest of the body wash over with cold, blood-curdling sweat. Still, the Controller’s face remained frozen with sternness, even severity.

  “I hope you’re not going to deprive me of sexual intercourse for such mild misdemeanor,” the Director dared to ask after a tense spell of silence.

  The frozen face stayed the same for some time and then suddenly twitched and cracked in an eruption of watery laughter.

  “I’ve got you! I’ve got you!” cried Controller Globe, with tears of mirth twinkling in Its eyes.

  “Very funny,” the Director heaved a waist-deep sigh of relief.

  “I’ve got you!”

  The Controller’s joy seemed to know no limits right until it started to die down in a spasm of short, sporadic snorts.

  “But let’s get back to business,” It concluded, turning serious again. “From one of your recent remarks I gather that our candidate is currently with you.”

  “It is correct, Controller!” Director Downing confirmed, coining each word. “He’s sitting right next to me.”

  “Is he? Let me look. And while you are at it, plug in your headset so that we can converse privately.”

  “Certainly, Controller,” the Director disappeared from the display, where Its face gave way to a stubbly mien of a young man showing against the silhouette of the Trans Tower Bridge.

  “So I see. But why is he so glum?” wondered Controller Globe, when Director Downing reemerged.

  “Well, that’s because he is from the Island. Being glum is a natural state of a thinking mind there.”

  “Yes, I know that. But he’s not there anymore, is he? You’re already in London, as far as I can tell.”

  “Indeed we are, Controller. We are, in fact, flying over our former House of Parliament, approaching Huge Henry. However, I don’t think that your Freudship should expect such a rapid change of a character that’s been so carelessly chance-conditioned for two and a half decades from a mere change of scenery.”

  “Of course not, but… two and a half decades!?” the Controller cried out. “You did not tell me he was so…” – It stumbled in search of a suitable adjective – “…old. How the Freud are we going to work with an already molded mind? Couldn’t you have found anyone a bit younger?”

  “Well, I certainly could, your Freudship, but,” the Director looked sideways, lowering Its voice to a whisper. “It isn’t so much his age as his historic heredity that attracted me.”

  “His historic heredity?”

  “Yes. Didn’t I tell you that he is a direct descendent of Bernard Marx.”

  “Bernard Marx?” echoed the Controller, coldly. “O, right, I remember you saying something like that. But are you absolutely sure that that’s the very same Bernard Marx?”
r />   “Yes, I am, your Freudship. I’ve checked his birth certificate at the clinic. It says that he is literally The Bernard Marx with a bold capital “T” at the beginning. Which means that this young man here is his grandson.”

  “Grandson?”

  “Yes, in the language of pre-transsexuals, it means that he is the son of…”

  “I know what it means, Director. Don’t take me for a total Epsilon. What I can’t help but wonder is if it is truly so.”

  “It is indeed. There isn’t a dot of doubt about it, Controller. And besides, I don’t think it’ll be that hard to convert him after all. He only needs some time to get used to the happiness that has befallen him lately.”

  “Happiness?” Controller Globe scowled suspiciously, “I hope you haven’t done any preliminary conditioning without my authorization?”

  “Welllllllllll…”

  “I don’t like the sound of that “well” of yours, Director. At least I definitely wouldn’t dare dip my pinkish pail into it without written permission from a higher standing authority if I were you,” commented the Controller, warningly. “ For your own good, I hope you haven’t lowered your lustful bucket into that well of his, Director Downing.”

  “Well, maybe a little,” the Director smiled. “During his psychological assessment interview. We had to check his reaction to that sort of stimuli after all,” It added apologetically.

  “And you certainly did it, didn’t you?”

  “But of course! How could we not have!?”

  “How could you not have,” sneered the Controller. “And what was the reaction, if I may ask?”

  “Well, it looked positive in the process.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that he seemed to like it. And then…” the Director bit Its lip, looking away from the screen.

  “And then what?! Spill it out!”

  “And then,” stammered the Director, “as a result of some redundant reflection he started showing signs of a once pretty popular psychological disease, which pre-transsexuals called guilt.

  “Guilt?! You mean like remorse?”

  “Yes, something like that,” the Director continued, regaining confidence, as It spoke. “He seems to think that he’s done something wrong. Even though he can’t explain why it’s wrong even to himself. In other words, it looks like a textbook example of the Savage Syndrome.”

  “Ah, the notorious Savage Syndrome. I should have thought of that myself. Still, we’d have to face it sooner or later. So, I don’t think I should sow the seeds of this guilt thing to sprout in you too, Director. After all, it was I who authorized it. Besides, I’m sure that with our sensible guidance the sample will overcome this social atavism in no time. Perhaps even no more time than it takes to travel around the world these globalized days.”

  Its Freudships turned Its face to the darkness-draped window, now turned into a looking glass by the night.

  “Speaking of the world and traveling. My T-rocket’s already approaching London. We may, in fact, be landing at the same time and possibly even place. So, why don’t we do it on top of the Conditioning Center, Director?”

  “That’s a truly ingenious idea, Controller.”

  “And one more thing, Darlina,” the Controller turned Its head back towards the touchscreen.

  “Yes, Controller?”

  “Stop calling me Controller and, while you are at it, flattering me with my supposedly ingenious ideas. Sycophancy sounds really silly these days, don’t you think?”

  “Alright, I’ll remember that next time I’m on top of you, Ginny,” grinned the Director.

  “Dream on,” smiled the Controller, clicking the switch-off icon.

  PART II

  Chapter Twelve

  The clock on the T-shaped Trans Tower of Huge Henry, which was no other than the recently rebuilt and renamed Big Ben, had just struck midnight, when the Director’s T-plane and the Controller’s T-rocket both landed on the Conditioning Center’s rooftop.

  “Here we are, Mister Marx,” announced the Director, turning to Adam, who hadn’t said one single word since they’d left the Isle of Man and was still silent.

  “Mister Ma-arx!” the Director repeated his last name a little louder, stretching the syllables in an attempt to attract Adam’s attention. But he just sat there transfixed in thought, staring straight through the soundproof windscreen of the hollowly humming T-plane. Director Downing could clearly see that he had hardly heard anything. The transformed plane’s propellers were still turning, though slower, slower and slower…

  Both assistants had already left their seats and were swiftly dwindling towards the T-rocket, swaying their steadily shrinking thighs. Director Downing knew that the Controller would soon appear in the doorway and dared not linger any longer in haste to greet It. And then there It was. The celestial silhouette of one of the planet’s most powerful people, shriveled to the size of an average bedbug by the distance that divided them, spilled out onto the boarding bridge and began to descend down this stainless steel stairway to earth on the other end of the rooftop.

  “Mister Ma-arx,” sang the Director, slightly touching his shoulder.

  Adam started and stared at Darlina with the dazed eyes of a drunkard just dragged out of a deep, dreamful sleep.

  “Wake up, prince charming. There’s no time for daydreaming tonight,” the Director’s lips stretched in a smooth, soothing smile. “I want you to meet someone incredibly important in this world.”

  With these words the Director shut down the T-plane’s engine and opened the cockpit doors. A cool evening wind rushed in like a capering child, making Adam’s sweat-soaked-shirt-covered body shudder as he watched Director Downing climb out of the chopper.

  “When you’re ready, we’ll be waiting for you over there,” the Director pointed to the toy-sized trans-rocket on the other side of the rooftop. “Just don’t keep us waiting too long. Its Freudship doesn’t like it. But then who does?” It added rhetorically, before starting to grow smaller into a group of three ant-sized people by the T-rocket’s trapdoor.

  The Director’s assistants, Leonarda and Rafaela, were already chatting with the Controller, when Darlina approached them, swinging Its huge haunches.

  “Greetings, Controller Globe!” the Director balanced on a carefully placed comma between familiarity and formality, watching which way to fall. The latter depended solely on the Controller’s changeable mood.

  “Hi, honey,” with a welcoming smile, the Controller pushed It towards the former. “We were just talking about your promising professional catch. Where is it, by the way?”

  “Where’s what?” wondered the Director.

  “Not what, but who! I mean your man,” corrected the Controller, with a snobbish smirk lolling on Its lips.

  “Well, he isn’t my man exactly. But if you prefer to put it that way, I think he’s still taking his time in the cockpit.”

  “So I see. But unfortunately for all of us, tonight his time happens to be our time, too. So I’d prefer him not to take too much of it. Besides, what can he possibly be doing there all alone anyway?”

  “I don’t know. Thinking, I think.”

  “Thinking?” the Controller wondered. “But what in the Freud’s name about?”

  “I know the first two, but who’s the third one?” thought Adam, gazing at Gianna Globe’s shadowy silhouette through the windscreen. Despite the distance that divided them, he could clearly tell that the Controller was at least a foot taller than the rest of the assemblage, which appeared absolutely astonishing. Back on the Island, he could hardly have imagined that such tall women could exist. Even though they were not exactly women, as he now knew.

  The inbred bitchiness the majority of naturally born females were prone to seemed totally alien to these creatures. In fact, he was pleased to note that not only did he not have to sweat like hell to attract their attention, but could easily afford to lay back, relax and let them do all the hard work of initial acquaintance and fo
replay for him. Perhaps it was still too early to say, but from what he’d seen so far, it looked like no initiative from his part was required at all. And initiative was exactly what he’d always had problems with when the matter concerned women. And there lay the main advantage of transsexuals. They were not women in the strict sense of the word. Possessing all women’s positive traits and none of their natural, as well as acquired defects, they were better, much better. Not only were they taller and better built, but they also had something all women subconsciously desired, but couldn’t actually have – the only part of a man’s body which was really worth having. For it was this very part that made them wholesome, universal and versatile, so versatile that their behavior no longer had to be so blindly one-sided.

  Unlike most naturally born and conventionally conditioned men and women of almost all pre-transsexual societies, as Rafaela had told him in the aftermath of his interview, followed by his first full-fledged sexual intercourse, they could both have and be had at the same time, which expanded their existential experience to before rarely reachable bounds.

  As a result of this expansion, transsexuals felt more wholesome and happy. There was also nobody to discriminate them out of fear, misapprehension, spite or sheer envy for being who and what they were, for the simple reason that everybody else was exactly like them. Adam felt like he could like to be like them, too.

  Suddenly, Adam’s dark, brooding face brightened, for he remembered that there were at least four people in this world waiting for him to join them. So, why keep them waiting?

  As an answer to this unvoiced question, he literally leaped out of the cockpit and, completely forgetting the ache in his anus and feeling warm and welcome despite the still blowing wind, headed straight towards them.

  “Finally, there he is!” the Controller commented, seeing the man’s stunted silhouette climb out of the cockpit.

  “You shouldn’t have left him alone for so long,” It added, watching the small man start to grow bigger. “Only Freud knows what kind psychotic thoughts could creep into his incorrectly conditioned brain in stark solitude.”