The Equality Of Violence

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
In a future where biotechnology means anyone can breed with or without whoever they want, the breeding population fragments and a new breed of terror raises it's ugly head.

Submitted: November 02, 2009

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Submitted: November 02, 2009

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Her slack broken face hit the floor like never before and was soon surrounded by a halo of blood that was pouring from the ragged crater that used be her sternum. She was dying inside her skull, but already she was dead to the world. She had not been a good woman or even a pleasant woman, but she was a young beautiful woman and her death was a stain on the man that had just set her death in motion. Her mind, in time-honoured fashion, tried to outlive the body; but she was dead and her presence in this universe suddenly ceased. The Selection Agent put the sin to the back of his mind, stepped over the corpse and began to sweep the rest of the office. There were bound to be more women hiding out here, there must be to do that much damage to the male hostages that had been thrown from the building’s third floor. Daniel had already extinguished four females and there was another floor to go. He did not think he could make it, but they must be extinguished from the wave function of Humana socialista. Humana socialista was the future of humanity, the only way to save it from the barbarism and chaos that had engulfed it in the first half of the twenty first century.

A woman suddenly stood up from behind a bullet-sprayed desk. She had a handgun pressed against the bleeding neck of a young pregnant soft male. She thrust her hostage out towards Dan with her body safely behind his. Her other hand rested on the fuse cap of a tube grenade that was buried in an open wound in the hostage’s chest. Like the others she was on dust, which gave her boosted strength and reactions. She was suicidally committed to her cause and would kill as many men as possible and demand that male pregnancy be outlawed. From his experience with Kill-Chicks, as they had become known, he knew she had already killed the baby with a negligent knife thrust. Kill-Chicks saw children without mothers as less than human, a danger to humanity, “Death to Bastards” as the cause paradoxically said.

“Leave the building, send female negotiators or all hostages die and we kill you all.”

“Hey, I’m female. Negotiate with that,” said Sam after standing up unnaturally fast and retiring the suspect with a flechete pistol. “She won’t be doing that again”, Sam concluded with a smirk and the look of dust in her eyes. It was against regulations to raid a hostage situation on illegal stimulants but as many in the force said it’s the only way to remove their edge. The woman died and the pregnant male collapsed. With a flurry of activity the team cleared the floor, guarded the stairs and let the medics come in to attend to any wounded.

Dan knew what was happening, the horror, struggle and death that was engulfing human society was a social species divergence event. With males and females able to breed independently of the other sex or another individual, the breeding population was fragmenting. The basic definition of species is a group of interbreeding organisms; the species was fragmenting with the population. The new species were struggling to secure the most resources and therefore the dominant position. There wasn’t room for more than one human species on the already struggling planet. The new species would fight for the right to exist as all species had done before it. The old species would fight to preserve itself and wipeout the new ones. If something were not done soon countries would begin to streamline to different ways of breeding - whole countries would speciate. Then the passions of the wars of old would be briefly outshined by the last one that would surely wipe us out. Or something terrible and inhuman would rise from the ashes. This is where Humana socialista came in, the great project at the department of human engineering to promote the evolution of a truly social human being. A species united psychologically and biologically, constantly exchanging information via viral packages about one another so division could never exist again.

The Pro-Males had not helped matters when the first anti-male rally started. The first Fems carried a vast collection of placards with anti-male sentiment including the old and tired “Dead Men Don’t Rape”, the extreme Pro-males responded with “Dead Women Don’t Report Rape”. The Kill-Chicks or the End Male Pregnancy Alliance of the Traditional Human Youth were a paranoid group of traditionalist females who despised male reproduction in any form; strangely they did not object - well, violently anyway - to females cloning themselves or female couples cross-breeding. They were one of the largest and most notoriously violent terror groups, more concerned with death than demands. Theorists on subconscious species motivation believed that the Kill-Chick cause went deeper than subspecies struggle; it was a reaction against a possible species split on the gender level. They feared males and females competing as individual species with females having lost their advantage. Whatever their motivation they were here to kill and spread fear of death, but mainly to kill. This was a very liberal area and many of the men here were indulging in what the Chicks saw as wrong, but many led traditional but tolerant lives, they had all been treated the same.

With increasing liberal politics it was the old breeding population that was drawn to violence in the species fights. Their argument was that modern human breeding techniques would damage the species and that humans should continue to breed as they always had. This argument was largely ignored as ignorant. It was generally felt that the science of breeding had matured and any individual or combination of man or woman could have a child, it was a basic human right and that male pregnancy would most definitely not be outlawed. The homosexual population was expanding, seeing this as the final stage of their freedom. Maybe they also felt a subconscious comfort in numbers or their subspecies was just consolidating its position. Many young men and women were opting to have children by themselves, not marrying and any relationships they did have had nothing to do with their children.

So the liberal fought by breeding, as was their right, the breeding fundamentalists protested, these protests became increasingly violent and then the murders began. Long before coordinated terror groups arose, the law had to stand against the traditionalists. Dan came from a traditional family and was married but their children were both clones, he had carried a male clone of his wife and Elaine a female clone of Dan. Samantha and her bisexual partner Tim had one traditional child and Tim was currently carrying a clone of Samantha. Both of the Selector’s partners were in special secure Selector accommodation until the crisis was over, the crisis had lasted eighteen months so far.

Daniel and Sam took point, for the final assault on the final floor of the building. As they approached the staircase they readied themselves for death, either theirs or the horror that would unfold upstairs. Heavy artillery took up place behind them to absorb the possible sudden rush if the entire terrorist population of the building attacked to take out as many Selectors as possible. This in recent months had been a popular tactic among the death squads. But humans in their species flux had become far more organic. Suicide attacks, inhuman brutality, the species spoke and the species cried war. So the technique had rapidly disappeared once it was expected and prepared for. It increasingly seemed Mother Nature had not given us freedom with our brains; she had merely tricked us into thinking that our thoughts were our own.

A silent order was passed to Dan and Sam simultaneously through their skull-phones and they charged with a balance of speed and stealth. They survived the stairs as they were neither guarded nor booby-trapped. The carnage of the top floor removed Dan’s guilt temporarily. Due to the possible lack of time the terrorists had, they had already killed all the hostages in the most violent degrading ways possible. Therapy theorists said this was probably the once-normal female mind trying to convince them that they really thought these men were less than human. It was all over in seconds. They reacted, as thought would have wasted any chance of survival. Sam went for the bomb and Dan covered her; they would probably now both die to save the other Selection agents, medics and hostages in the building. This was a new organic ploy to exterminate the crack Selectors, the distraction would give enough time for the remaining terrorists to kill the point takers. But as all selectors knew, the application of selection if applied too directly only strengthens what you are trying to control rather than exterminate it.

Three women jumped up and opened fire. Sam was hit just above the hip - Kill-Chicks nearly always aimed for the groin, trying to “brain” males as some of the rarely-captured terrorists would say – Sam used a pre-timed kick and the momentum of the bullet to help herself spin out of the path of the rest of the women’s fire that would have shredded her armour. She landed beside the conical bomb, that if it exploded would aim an expanding ball of force straight down and out, killing everyone in the building and burying everyone outside it in an expanding halo of rubble. Military grade, where the hell did they get that? Sam touched a small device to the bomb; her mind dived into the bomb program and tried to persuade the bomb that it had already fired the explosive charge.

Dan fell to one side behind an armoured filing cabinet while taking out all three women with a wide-angle blast from his storm-rifle. The groin level salvo of the three dead Kill-Chicks took out the ceiling of the staircase. The cover profile of the room and Sam’s position correlated with Dan’s firing instincts to kill each of the women as they rose to shoot Sam. Neither Sam nor Dan flinched as Dan’s kill-stincts calculated where his own kill shot would come from, assuming one of these women was a professional and playing it like he did. He decided where she was coming from and feinted to take out a non-existent terrorist, this appearing to his real enemy as a fatal misjudgement. But the mistake was hers: his seemingly random fire pattern at an unoffending wall was actually a variation of Morse code that gave Sam an xyz to fire at. Which she did killing the Final Kill-Chick as she took a grinning aim at Dan’s prone, panicked-looking form.

Dan was not impressed by Sam’s style, Sam was from a long line of gaming champions and was a total geek when it came to recollecting all of game history’s finest “finishing moves”. Sam performed an “Eye Spy” with wasted marksmanship and specialised munitions: she fired a bullet that went through the Kill-Chick’s eye, ricocheted inside her skull braining her several times over, and then exited via her remaining eye. The huge vascular damage, the cyclonic path of the bullet and the pressure gradient provided by the passage of the bullet made the corpse look like she was crying an explosion of crimson tears. Dan checked the floor for any more threats - none.

Sam powered down the detonator and joined Dan in scanning the floor. There was a sound at the back of the office, hurried breathing and tears, the desk on the left closest to the window. Dan and Sam raced over to it, guns readied. She was curled up in the corner in a puddle of piss her gun discarded and unused thrown out in front of her. Sam kicked the gun away, pulled her forward on to her front, frisked her, cuffed her and turned her over. She was young, terrified and obviously not a real Kill-Chick. Dan pulled back her thick brown hair and looked into her frightened eyes.

“I believed them,” she pleaded. “They said it was going to be a sit-down protest.”

“Kill-Chicks don’t do sit-down” Sam told her with little sympathy. The girl looked to Dan for help, understanding, absolution he didn’t know.

“Kill-Chicks? They told me they were the Peaceful Female Alliance.”

“The PFA. Ha! That’s a good one, must be a Kill-Chick in-joke,” Sam may have laughed but she was not smiling, her brother had been killed by a Kill-Chick. “Look, you are a terrorist suspect from a reproductionist terror front and will be treated as such until it is otherwise proven, no matter how much you cry and piss yourself. You have no legal rights under the emergency protocols.” Then Sam turned to Dan. “Are we going to call backup or what?” The girl’s panicked face turned to Dan, but he had nothing to say to her, his guilt was returning. Backup waited for a joint signal from the point takers and streamed over the rubble of the staircase to look for survivors, booby traps and live terrorists. The security officers responsible for this final task took the girl away. Only two hostages were saved in the whole building, each of them had only a 10% chance of survival, had lost their unborn children and were now being prepped for transport to ITU. ‘We have lost our children forever’ – that comes straight out of the EMPATHY propaganda manifesto, terrorists have no sense of irony.


© Copyright 2020 Richard J Perry. All rights reserved.

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