Men lost the war.
Now they are used for breeding.

One — The Arena Dome

Neen Salvek was tired of waiting. It was insufferable.

It had been weeks since she’d finished her degree, and still the council hadn’t notified her about her work assignment.

The sun outside was setting, its tired beams marking the end of another day. Neen looked out across the skyline of High City. The pinkish light from the sunset caught the reflection of the city’s central district’s gleaming white towers and glass windows. Off in the distance, the Arena Dome shimmered. Its exterior was all glass — a special kind that allowed only those from outside to look in.

Neen’s residence was too far away for her to see inside the Dome now, but there were times when she’d walked about the city and wandered by it to see what the males were doing.

She never got too close, of course. Even though none of the males could see out of the one-way glass, she felt uncomfortable getting near. Neen knew her history well. The males were not to be trusted.

Since it was twilight now, the glass of the Dome would be shifting soon. It was almost time for the evening report. When that time came, the glass would switch to a giant LED screen, and all the screens across the city would broadcast the news.

Three times a day, High City officials would broadcast these reports: sunrise, midday, and sunset. They were never particularly interesting — what news could there be in a city with no real crime, no social ills, no suffering? — but the council insisted on the thrice-daily routine.

Sisterhood. Community. A reminder of how far the world of EVE had come since the dark days before the revolution.

The women of High City, it was believed, needed these reminders. Despite the security of the dome, women still needed males to breed with. Every month, there would still be intimate contact between them. The citizens of EVE needed to remember the horrors of male dominance; there was no letting one’s guard down, even during breeding sessions. As repetitive as these reports were, they were necessary. The survival of the sisterhood depended on it.

Neen didn’t need to worry about becoming too attached to a male breeding partner. She was classified at fertility level D, the lowest. Even if she was interested in breeding, she would never be selected. The doctors who ran the breeding program only wanted the women with the most chance for successful insemination and full-term, healthy pregnancy.

Like Ems.

Neen’s best friend would be arriving soon from her clan lands. After all, it was almost time for the breeding trials, and Ems would need to watch the males compete in order to make an informed selection.

Neen wasn’t sure how she felt about Ems getting designated a breeder. As children, they’d both laughed when their teachers explained the breeding process. It was still quite comical to Neen even now, but she understood the necessity. The genetic processes necessary to develop the clans' specialized traits meant breeding the old-fashioned way.

Scientists had tried to replicate the process in the lab, but the experiments always delivered inferior results. If they wanted to keep the genetic enhancements of each clan intact, then for better or for worse, they needed to breed with the males.

Still, Neen thought the whole thing sounded awkward. She respected the women who had the courage to breed with the males, but she had decided a long time ago that she could never go through with it herself. It wasn’t like she had a choice anyways, low breeding class and all.

Ems had been of a similar mind, but perhaps that had changed now. This was the first time Ems had been classified as fertility level A.

Neen missed her. They hadn’t seen each other since Ems finished her training early and was assigned to the leadership circle in her clan lands. That was over a year ago. Ems had risen fast since getting her assignment. She was most likely going to be selected clan leader anytime now.

Seeing her friend’s success made Neen even more restless. Her classes at the university never really challenged her, her internship work had been monotonous, and now that she had graduated, all this waiting for an assignment was driving her crazy.

It insulted her too. Hadn’t she been at the top of her class as a Triverser? Hadn’t she finished her training faster than anyone except her Sixter friend Ems?

It was ridiculous that the high council hadn’t chosen an assignment for her yet.

Wandering around the city, reading books alone in her residence, chatting with Ems every other day via their networked screens — it was just too much sameness, day after day, no change.

Neen needed a challenge. All her life she had felt this restlessness. Nothing seemed to be enough.

And yet she felt guilty at the same time. Was she ungrateful for the world her foremothers had created, a world free from want and needless suffering? A world in which women could finally — after centuries of oppression — flourish?

But her mind was never still. Everywhere Neen looked, she analyzed and contemplated and wondered how things could be made better. Their society was nearly flawless, but it wasn’t perfect. There were still things that could be improved. Neen was hoping the high council would give her a position within city planning or even the breeding labs. Perhaps there was a way to revisit the old experiments of breeding without intercourse, of ensuring the genetic enhancements for each clan were successful without having to mate with the males.

Or perhaps there was a way to change the males. To make them less dangerous.

Neen knew she shouldn’t be entertaining such thoughts, but they had crossed her mind more than once before. With all their scientific breakthroughs in genetic technology, wouldn’t it be possible to breed males who were not like their ancestors, who weren’t violent or deceitful or hardwired to desire the subjugation of women?

These were dangerous thoughts. The idea that males could be reformed, that they could be fundamentally changed, was not the kind of thing a woman said openly.

She heard a familiar shrill whistle from the kitchen, the antique kettle ringing loudly in the quiet apartment.

She got up to make her tea, choosing an herbal mix from her tidy cupboard and breathing in the bright smell of camomile and mint. She scooped the loose leaves into her brew basket, placed it over her teacup, and then lifted the ancient cast iron kettle from the stove. She admired the sturdy kettle as its hot contents poured over the tea leaves.

Neen had found the kettle in an antique market years ago, and while Ems had found it annoying, Neen adored the ancient relic. A calmness came over her as she breathed in the scent of steeping tea. It was a calmness she had longed for all day. Neen yawned and rubbed her eyes. She hadn’t slept well last night, tossing and turning with uncertainty.

Neen sighed, waiting for the evening report to begin. It was the last thing she wanted to see, but there was simply no choice. Even if she tried to block out the images and sounds, the evening report couldn’t be turned off.

Just as the Dome glass outside and the networked screen on her lap both shimmered and went black, there was a knock at her door.

Both the knock and the voice announcer from the evening report startled Neen. She could hear the familiar, too-happy voice of councilwoman Sienax echoing from her tablet screen, but she blocked it out and went to the door.

Standing there was high council member Nekka, the representative of Clan Triverser.

Neen stepped back and looked at her with wide eyes. The council members didn’t usually make personal visits to new graduates awaiting assignment, councilwoman Nekka least of all.

Nekka had sometimes observed Neen in her classes and even given the younger Triverser a few half-hearted kudos on occasion, but she wasn’t exactly a warm or friendly presence to the students in the Institute, or even the clerks in government.

Nekka was distant and somewhat unapproachable. Perhaps it was her Triverser nature — many of Neen’s clan were cerebral, more focused on solving an equation than on being bosom buddies — but Nekka was perhaps the most inscrutable of all the high council members. She was certainly the least amiable. To have her standing in Neen’s doorway right now, her gray hair tied back tightly in a neat bun, was a bit intimidating.

“Councilwoman Nekka,” Neen said, stepping aside so the older woman could enter, “what an unexpected honor.” She held out her hands so that Nekka could greet her in the formal manner.

“Hm?” Nekka looked at Neen’s outstretched hands, palms facing up, waiting to be clasped. But Nekka waved them away. “Never mind all that,” she said. “There’s no one watching.”

Without being asked, Nekka took a seat on Neen’s sofa. The two women were dressed almost identically, each wearing a jumpsuit with the light brown Triverser colors on the top and the circular EVE insignia just under the collarbone on the left side.

Nekka looked Neen up and down. “You’re much prettier than I remember,” said the councilwoman. “Not very typical.”

Neen squirmed under the gaze of the older woman. Her physical appearance had been a slight source of embarrassment when Neen was a child; Triversers were valued for their intelligence, not their looks. Only the males cared about such things; it was another way they had dehumanized women in ancient times.

“It can’t be helped,” Neen replied, ignoring her discomfort. “I don’t let it get in the way, though.”

“No, you don’t.”

They both had to speak loudly, ignoring the prattling of Sienax and the other voices coming from Neen’s tablet. Despite the banality and repetitiveness of the evening broadcast, there was no way to turn it off.

“Congratulations, by the way,” Nekka continued. “Graduating early. Youngest in your cohort. Impressive.” The way she said it, though, didn’t sound particularly complimentary. Something in Nekka’s matter-of-fact manner was off-putting.

Still, Neen knew the councilwoman was incredibly intelligent and well-respected. A true matriarch of society. A compliment from Nekka — even a perfunctory one — was something to be proud of.

“Thank you, councilwoman,” Neen replied. “I must admit I’m anxious to get my work assignment.”

Nekka nodded and a thin smile spread across her lips. “I bet you are.”

Neen waited for her to say more, but the droning of the report was all that passed between them. Not knowing what else to do, Neen glanced at her tablet.

The broadcast was showing its usual ode to the glories of EVE, a montage of the ways different women in High City had helped each other throughout the day. There were shots of Triverser doctors chatting with their patients, images of Evox actors performing for an amphitheater of patrons, scenes of smiling Trabador construction workers building a new public library. The voice-over reveled in the achievements of this woman-centered society, all while lovely, harmonious melodies flowed from the soundtrack.

Then the bucolic images faded and darkness covered the screen. The glass panels of the far-off arena dome turned dark as well. Every screen in the city was showing the same thing: darkness.

Sienax’s voice grew lower, more ominous. “We cannot forget, my sisters. We can never let it happen again. The beauty of EVE must never be tarnished.”

Then a flurry of images. Burning torches marching through ancient streets, women screaming, bodies being trampled by soldiers, gunshots and teargas everywhere. Then sporadic, grainy footage of men speaking to audiences from centuries ago, defending their draconian laws, fear-mongering about the breakdown of society, justifying the subjugation of women as the only way to restore law and order.

The images were disturbing, even after seeing them night after night for nearly her entire life. What men had done to women in those ancient times was awful.

Neen picked up the tablet and flipped it over so that the images couldn’t be seen. Only the sound was still audible, just more muted.

“The males are too dangerous to be trusted,” Sienax’s voice continued. “Never forget the ringing of the bells and the birth of EVE. Together, as women, we are stronger than any male. Together, as women, we will flourish. Together, as women, we will see a new tomorrow. Together.”

The music was now that beautiful and sentimental strain again, a final crescendo just before the end of the broadcast.

Nekka stared at Neen. “Don’t like what you’ve seen?”

“No,” said Neen. “It’s an important message. Necessary, even. It’s just— we’re trying to talk. I’d appreciate having an off switch sometimes.”

As soon as she said it, Neen wished she hadn’t. It wasn’t acceptable to question such things, especially in front of a high council member.

But Nekka didn’t react. She simply observed Neen with that thin smile on her lips.

Neen decided to sit down across from her. She felt less on display if she was sitting down.

“The males are too dangerous to be trusted,” Nekka repeated, almost to herself. “Isn’t that right, Neen Salvek?”