3 SUM (3 page)

“There have been reports of cruelty on the front line. Do either of you have any idea what they refer to?” asked the surgeon general, taking a seat.

“The Undiagnosed show no quarter to prisoners, and neither do we. But I thought the order had been passed,” said Rolliet.

“I meant to our troops by their commanding officers. Anais, you're at the front, what do you say?”

“Some of my officers have been a little heavy handed; if that's what you mean.”

“And what do you mean?” snapped Vespertina.

“Floggings for disobedience, rations withheld for cowardice, extra pegging for incompetence.”

“Sadism?” asked Vespertina, her eyes glowing.

“I can assure you my officers take no pleasure in it.”

Anais looked down as if she had seen enough cruelty, reluctant to carry the whip hand.

“Of course not, and you, Anais, do you think it is a little unfair?”

“Perhaps, but we are taught a man's life holds less value.”

“And do you believe it?” asked Vespertina.

Her beady eyes seemed to move visibly closer across the room, and Anais took a deep breath. Sympathy to the lot of the common soldier was justified on the grounds of winning the war. But questioning the social order could get you court martialled. What she heard next took her completely by surprise.

“The lot of man is completely unfair,” said Vespertina.

“Then why do we mistreat them?” asked Anais.

Rolliet looked at her empty holster; no weapons were allowed near the Surgeon General. Instead she looked at Anais, daggers drawn.

“The desire of man has not been kind to women, Anais. He has lied to control us, then cheated on us,” said Vespertina. “Do you wish to return to those days, concerned what the fools think of us?”

“Of course not,” answered Anais.

“Because we have tamed the beasts, risen above them,” said Vespertina.

They needed medication to achieve their goal, and plenty of it, but women were finally in control.

“Women can be equally selfish,” pondered Anais.

Rolliet raised a hand to slap the insubordinate before Vespertina interjected with one of her own.

“Those women are quickly removed,” said Vespertina.

“Killed,” said Anais.

“My dear Anais, those that survive this world are neither the strongest, nor the most intelligent, but those able to adapt the quickest.”

Young women were educated in self-sacrifice at the Academies. Mother Nature could be harsh, and their quarters were as Spartan as their lessons.

“May I?” asked Rolliet.

“Be my guest,” said Vespertina.

“No boy will ever grow into a monster again. Already they are more concerned with their hair and conditioner than social conditioning. And bullies are terminated.”

She spoke as though they were taking away the dirty dishes, and perhaps they were.

“Of course, there is an alternative,” said Vespertina. “We could revert to the days of men behaving like dogs, whistling like wolves.”

“Perhaps we should lose the war, surrender our cause?” said Rolliet, positioning Anais for the firing squad.

“I am not a traitor,” said Anais. “I merely wondered if we are not a little harsh on the males. But you have made it clear to me and my foggy mind. I gratefully understand and accept your wisdom, my Surgeon General.”

‘Don't worry, Anais, your courage and willingness to fight for the cause is not in doubt. I have studied your file in great detail. It is a shame that not even you can transform the Depressed Brigade into a ruthless killing machine. However, that only highlights the difficulties we have with such men, and not your prowess as a commander.”

Vespertina slowly got up; they had made her suit as mobile as possible, but it still caused some stiffness. She went to the bulletproof window. They were high in the mountains.

“The view is magnificent.”

Rolliet stood by her side.

“I always find disagreement tedious when Mother Nature presents us with such spectacles. After all, so much of life is truly pointless,” said Vespertina.

She often bordered on the nihilistic; love used to make the world go ‘round, now it was war.

“Forgive my manners,” said Rolliet. “Let me get you a drink.”

“I will call my shemale guard. No disrespect, General Rolliet, but I have to be careful. The Undiagnosed would love to see me dead.”

She blew on her whistle, and the MP's, plastered in makeup and wearing camouflage dresses and boots, returned to the room.

“Vodka for everyone,” announced Vespertina.

An MP opened a briefcase on the table, and pried free three shatterproof glasses. The other unlocked a bottle shaped carrier before pouring the still chilled vodka, lime pre-added.

Vespertina waited until the shemales left the room before shouting, “Cheers.”

“Let me divulge the reason for my visit, Anais.”

“Shall I stay?” asked Rolliet.

“Of course, I am not plotting an apocalypse just yet, and the idea was yours, General.”

“Anything and everything I can do for the war effort,” said Rolliet.

“The Council approved your plan against my better judgement,” said Vespertina.

She chaired a council of six wise women, and was usually the most influential and manipulative.

The three of them sat around the round table, hawkish, as Vespertina spoke.

“How do we remove male violence from society, and yet have soldiers able to kill in our defence?”

There was an uncomfortable silence, and the others could hear every breath of Vespertina as she became exhausted by their ignorance. She carried on.

“Our studies have proven beyond doubt that male aggression and sexual psychology are linked. Indeed, the biological process of entering another body is an act of force, assertion upon another. As their brains were once programmed to respond primarily to testosterone this leaves us with a problem, one we must solve quickly to defeat the Undiagnosed.”

Anais was flattered to be in such high company, but wondering why she was there. Her consternation was apparent, and her commanding officer, Rolliet, tried to dispel her disquiet.

“Vespertina asked me to find a candidate worthy, and I came up with you, Anais.”

Vespertina coughed loudly, clearing the vodka from her throat.

“Actually I chose Colonel Rea, but Vespertina wanted you,” said Rolliet.

“Worthy for what?” asked Anais.

“Delivering the solution,” said Vespertina. “You have seen our problems first hand on the front, and studied psychiatry in Rome.”

“And what tools are at my disposal?” asked Anais.

“You will fly with me back to London, where you will find a suitable male to test; one who will experience a new drug that will heighten aggression but not arousal. Make him harder without being hard, if you see what I mean.”

“A guinea pig,” said Anais.

“Let's just say pig,” said Vespertina.

“And where will I find such a man?” asked Anais.

“Contact Professor Caveat at Dame University, he has started the balls rolling.”

“And what if it proves impossible to make the specimen beastly without the beast surfacing from below?”

“Then you must be very careful, Anais,” said Vespertina. “But if you have no choice, do feel free to shoot the poor devil.”

Rolliet looked at the latest message on her cell phone.

“With your permission, Surgeon General, the other colonels wish to report.”

“Of course, but tell my shemales to search them first. I can't be too careful. And no more briefcases please, I would hate for a bomb to go off; it would play havoc with my costume.”

One by one the colonels lined up to kiss Vespertina on the cheek before taking a seat. They were dressed identically to Anais, with one exception; their nylons that flashed between boot and hem. Some wore woollen ribbed nylons, others lace floral, with one daring to flaunt seamed stockings, and another fishnet. But all were black, like the mood amongst the Corps elite.

“This isn't our best day, nor our finest hour,” began Vespertina, “but we are a long way off from losing the war. Your thoughts, please.”

“The Undiagnosed are fighting like animals; it is only our superior weaponry that holds them back at the moment,” said Colonel Rea.

Vespertina looked at Rolliet.

“Our machine gunners can now fire twice as many rounds in the same time, and armour piercing shells are standard.”

“The tanks?” asked Vespertina.

“Superior in every detail.”

“Surgeon General, if I might suggest, we need more air cover,” said one of the colonels, and the others nodded.

Vespertina was making notes. Exhibitionists made better pilots, the anorexic good submariners. If you had obsessive compulsive disorder the role of gunner was ideal; the equipment never jammed. Voyeurs were excellent spies unless they were frotteuristic, in which case they were soon captured.

The troops were marched into battle with bipolar blockers behind; guns were pointed at the backs of their own men, should they try and escape the battle. The grandiose were used to infect each brigade with a sense of purpose, but something was lacking; the magic bullet that Anais might find.

They were in the twilight, and it was time for Anais to accompany Vespertina back to London. She didn't have time to collect her ration of Lusterone from the barracks. The stars were out and she looked up; the world kept turning no matter what happened. Empires came and went, and civilisations adapted. She was a grain of sand trapped in a storm.

Chapter Three

I was nervous returning to work, my mouth was dry. It was always the same: an anxiety that crept along the flesh and into my bones. I stepped off the works bus and headed for the gates. We followed each other blindly, checked with handheld scanners. Medication was part of the war effort, and part of our lives. I was in the queue behind a blonde bimbo named Steve 873, my work colleague and best mate.

I wasn't happy. I felt awkward, and constantly tried to redefine myself in a world from which I felt nothing but increasing detachment. I needed something other than the war to believe in; I needed to believe in myself. And damn these steel suspender clips Gillian, my new supervisor, insisted I wear under my skirt. They were digging in like hell. The things a guy had to do to get ahead.

“Hey Valery, you've done something different with your hair.”

I turned and smiled, Dorian 3309 was obsessed with hair. He'd made the cover of a magazine once, and never let the rest of the office forget it. Fortunately, he was part time. Wigs were his forte, the hair looked almost human.

“No, it's just the same as last week,” I replied meekly.

“You don't say.”

Actually I did say. Dorian frowned. He'd once pushed a note into my desk drawer asking for a date. I wasn't gay, and he came across as creepy, obsessed. The way he watched me, undressed me, made my skin crawl. He once asked for a lock of my hair, and was my main suspect for the brush missing from my desk.

“Must be the shampoo then, or the conditioner; you've changed your routine.”

I just smiled limply, as we headed to our desks.

There was a poster at the side, hanging down like my head. ‘Crossdress for Success', it read, and there was a picture of a tranny. He wore a black power suit with shoulder pads, and a smile wrapped in thick red lipstick.

A paperclip hit the back of my head and I turned around. Sitting, smirking, behind me were Cassie and Trudi, two crossdressers still waiting for success. Cassie put her hand to her mouth as she spoke and Trudi giggled. They had me in their sights, the office gossips.

Claire Morgan, our manager, entered the room in her tight skirt. She wore flats but had the legs for it; though I wasn't supposed to notice.

“Valery, so glad to see you back,” she said. I was surprised to see her; she rarely came out of her office.

She undid the top button of her blouse, carefully watching my eyes for the slightest reaction that might give me away. No need, the new meds had kicked in. My sex drive was in reverse, like so many others. But I still wondered what it would be like to hold her in my arms and smell her hair.

“Valery, are you listening?” she asked.

I wasn't.

“Sorry, I was looking at your hair.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Meaning?” she asked.

Had I been caught out? Were my hormones racing out of control again?

“The colour, it's simply divine. I must go for it next time at the salon.”

“Hmm,” she appeared neither convinced nor impressed.

“I'll give you the number,” shouted Dorian from his desk. “I go all the time.”

Light streamed into the office through the large glass windows. The grass had just been cut, and the smell of freshly mowed lawns permeated the air.

“Oh, how pretty,” I said looking out of my window, “a swallow.”

“Where?” asked Cassie, running to my side.

“Settle down,” said Claire, “There's work to be done. Important news from the War Office, they want a new design in camouflage.”

“Oh my,” I heard Trudi say.

“Catch me, I'm going to faint,” said Cassie.

“Is that possible?” I asked. “You are talking about one coat, a single brushstroke?”

“Indeed, invigorating isn't it? The most exciting war project I, sorry, the team has been involved in.”

Claire was overstating our importance to the war effort a little. We at 15 Payton Gardens designed nail polish, including the packaging. We received free samples every Friday.

“Well, get to work. I'll be back at mid-day,” said Claire.

Now just how did you combine two colours that when painted on the nail separated in two, green and brown? But not clearly divided, mottled, with one blending into the other. I went to the coffee machine and met Steve, he was clearly excited.