nebris: (The Temple 2)
~Club Dynamic was Manhattan's hottest party spot. At least for this season. Being in the East Village Inclusion Zone – the most storm vulnerable IZ on the island – made it all the more enticing. The imagined proximity of Death was always erotic.

It opened at 8pm and closed at 8am, so things usually didn't get going until around Midnight. That is was New Year's Eve made that doubly so....and the countdown had just begun. The place thrummed and droned with Deep Vibe EDM and lots of beautiful bodies. Like most partying these days, it had a sharp edge of hysteria.

One hot brunette at the bar in a super tight black and red mini-dress seemed too calm for the place. Some had tried to chat her up, but she politely rebuffed them. The more insistent got a look from her real self that caused them to scurry away quickly. That glimpse of Death was a little too proximate.

Erika had not been in a psychic shithole like the Dynamic in a few decades. She'd grown out of this type of scene in her early twenties, but had kept coming back because it was a fertile hunting ground for slave boys, though less for recruiting Sisters. The females tended to be too drunk or drugged to properly assess.

Tonight, she was on a different kind of hunt. And she wasn't really wearing a mini-dress. She actually wore a Mark XXVI Combat Suit. Its outer layer was TeleCamo and was only projecting an image of her in that outfit. She did in fact own such a dress. She'd just been scanned wearing it and had that downloaded into the suit. Integrated into the suit on each forearm was an MRG-6, a Mini-Railgun, as Primary Armament.

Her body and skin had needed no editing however. Erika was a fully Enhanced Sister. Her bones and muscles had genetically increased density. Her blood teamed with nanobots that used her regular infusions of raw stem cells to repair and replace every single cell in her body on a moment by moment basis. And her brain, eyes and ears were embedded with millions of nanofibers – Neural Nanonics – all connected to her dozen personal on-board computers, keeping her aware of everything around her as needed.

Because of all that, while she was little more than a month shy of her seventieth birthday, she still looked to be in her late twenties and she had always been a beauty.

Though still a new political entity on the world scene, The Sisterhood had become immensely rich very quickly. Because of its foundational beliefs, it had the most advanced cybernetic and genetic Human Enhancement technologies in the world. All Sisters received whatever level of Enhancement they desired, which was the near maximum in most cases, and steady upgrades were the norm.

Even their infamous male Servitor classes were given various Enhancements and lived far better lives than the major of the world's non-wealthy population. This meant that the best and brightest women from all over the world sought to become Sisters. And no small number of pretty young men sought to become Servitors.

Everyone here at the Dynamic were Enhanced in one fashion or another. Only the wealthy lived in Inclusion Zones. The poor lived outside in The Shit, as Incluz called it. Too hot or too cold or too wet or too dry, Catastrophic Climate Change had showed up with a vengeance about twenty years ago, followed by all the expected horrors; war, pestilence and famine on a grand scale. Over three billion had died off.

The wealthy had built their protected enclaves and left the poor outside. The security personnel who guarded the enclaves lived in their outer rims, though they were well paid. Their children and those of the wealthy only mixed socially in the party scene. That helped provide the wealthy with 'new blood'.

Erika had noted those semi-desperate mating rituals while keeping an eye out for her real prey and monitoring the Hunting Trikona that also moved through this crowd. Her Neural Nanonics fed her visual, auditory and text information from all members of her team in real time. Like her, those three Sisters wore Mark XXVI's projecting 'party clothes'. If the revelers had known there was a Sisterhood kill team in their midst, there would have been a brutal panicked stampede toward the exits.

Normally, Mistress Erika, First High Priestess of The Cult of Mictecacihuatl, would not have been involved on the tactical level. She had done a lot of this kind of work 'back in the old days', but she was Upper Management now and too valuable to risk. But this was a Very Special Mission with Very Special Prey. Besides, she had to admit she did miss the thrill of The Hunt. Calm as she appeared, her blood was coursing hot tonight.

There was a second Hunting Trikona outside in an armored limo acting as the B Team, watching the comings and goings and monitoring the various Comm Nets. Plus they had heavy weapons 'just in case'.

Still, this was a dangerous mission. They were along way from home and deep in unfriendly territory. While the Union of Matrilineal Republics, The Sisterhood's 'political manifestation', was in firm control of all North America west of the Rockies, this was New York City, capital of the 'rump' United States of America; the old Upper Midwest, North East and eastern Canada. Their political relationship was tense. The USA still claimed all of North America.

If things went in the soup, the Sisters would have a hard time getting out and there would probably be an international incident. But the USA did do a steady amount of business with The Sisterhood – and was notoriously corrupt and decadent – so something would be worked out.

No way they'd try anything like this in the Christian States of America, the Old American South. Those fuckers were batshit crazy and proclaimed The Sisterhood to all be Hell Spawn. There was regular bloodshed in the buffer zone between them. Any Sister caught in the CSA, for whatever reason, would be literally be burned in public.

Mistress Eva, Erika's sister and Spiritual Leader of The Sisterhood, had been unhappy about her going on this mission and had made her objections known in no uncertain terms. But she conceded because of the nature of the thing. Sisters had died because of the Greed of Men, therefore Pain and Punishment would be meted out.

The target tonight was named Christof. He had a dozen or more aliases, but was always known by his first name. And reliable intel said he'd spend New Year's Eve at The Dynamic. If he did show up, The Sisterhood would make sure he'd see less than a full day of the coming year.

Christof was a particularly vile breed of vermin; a trafficker of curve goale, literally 'blank whore' in Romanian. These were individuals, of both genders and all ages, who had been brain wiped and reprogrammed as sex slaves. Christof's organization had become the number one player of this game in Europe. They controlled their entire chain of 'product', from abducting victims outside of the Inclusion Zones of the major European cities, through the wiping and implanting, to operating the brothels where the goale 'worked'.

It was well known that Christof's sexual appetites included mutilating and murdering goale, especially young females who were 'rewired' to interpret pain as sexual stimulation. As Europe had become a quite depraved sinkhole, his operations had flourished.

The Sisterhood's General Security Directorate were well aware of this creature. The tech he used had been developed by The Sisterhood itself during The Dissolution Wars. They'd brain-wiped enemy male combatants, reprogrammed them and turned back against their various opponents. The fear of suffering such a fate had caused many of The Sisterhood's enemies to finally let them be.

But even though he was using their tech, Christof and his organization could not be a top priority. Everything worldwide was in flux and while The Sisterhood had become very powerful very quickly, its survival was not yet assured. So numerous horrors like him went unaddressed.

All that changed four months ago in a particularly awful outer zone of Munich.

Erika and Eva had been born and raised in Munich, and though they had lived in SoCal for a half century now, Eva still loved their hometown, even if it had mutated beyond the place of their childhood. Because of that she had requested of The Priestesses of The Cult of Sekhmet, The Sisterhood's primary Medical Cult, that they create a special Sub-Cult to attend to the poor and sick of Munich's outer zones, The Cult of Eir, a Norse Goddess of Healing and Medicine.

A Trikona of The Cult of Eir had been going about its regular rounds when it encountered one of Christof's abduction teams. Once upon a time the team would have backed off. But he and his people had become arrogant and a fight ensued.

Even though these were Healing Sisters, they were still Sisters and were trained and armed. But Christof's men numbered in the dozens and the running fight last nearly an hour. When it ended, two of the Sisters were dead and the last one badly wounded. Christof had lost at least twelve, with more wounded. The locals guarded the wounded Sister and threatened Christof's men, so they withdrew.

This truly had been an International Incident. The EU could not track down Christof. It was simply too corrupt. Its leaders were terrified that The Sisterhood would launch an overt strike against them because of that failure. The Sisterhood's political and spiritual leadership was in an uproar. Even Mistress Eva herself, The Sisterhood's Face of Welcoming Love, had been in a towering rage.. But to everyone's surprise, it was Mistress Erika, The Darkness, the Sharp Blade of The Sisterhood, its terrifying Priestess of Blood, who urged restraint.

Erika was well known for her fierce hatred of men. And her rage at them had never abated because men kept providing new reasons to be raged at. But where it had once burned like fire, her rage was now as cold as the depths of space.

“They expect a hammer. Let us use a scalpel instead,” she had said. Eva calmed as she saw the wisdom in that. The rest followed their lead.

And so nothing seemed to happen for months. Of course, the EU's intelligence apparatus willing opened all its doors to The Sisterhood, which is what Erika really wanted. Unlike her more tender hearted sister, she had little love lost for her old home town. She had landed in Southern California a half century ago and fallen in love with it almost immediately.

Erika took charge of the entire operation herself and bent a significant amount of Mictecacihuatl's assets and resources to tracking her enemy. Because she did have a perverse sense of humor, she titled it Operation Daisy.

And now, on the last day of the Patriarchal year, Daisy was about to bloom.

A few minutes before Midnight, Erika received an info packet from Bryn, the B Team leader outside in the limo. “Target Sighted,” is said, along with all the relevant data. The A Team inside received their own copies. It contained images of Christof and his security team, with a through analysis of their real time positions, bio-readouts, gear carried and projected movements. They were fairly well Enhanced and very heavily armed.

Everyone acknowledged and waited.

In the two hours they had been at The Dynamic, Sula, the B Team's cyberwarfare operative, had whispered through the Enhancements of the five hundred or so club goers looking for systems to jack into. By the time Christof and his crew arrived, she had ghosted over a hundred of them. Everything they saw, heard, felt, tasted and smelled was being monitored and passed on to Erika and the A Team inside.

The club's security system they bypassed and ignored....for now.

Christof had a twelve man security detail. Two proceeded the main group into the club, labeled A and B, and scanned the place. Six closely surrounded Christof himself, labeled Target One and E through J, while two more led, labeled C and D, and two others followed, labeled K and L.

Erika would stand by at the bar while the kill team did its work. They were veteran operators and knew exactly what they were doing. Minka, the team leader, was in the middle of the dance floor. Selene and Artemis were equidistant from her and each other on either side of the main entrance. They'd wait until Target One was in the center of their triangular kill zone until they opened fire.

At two minutes to Midnight, A and B passed through the Kill Zone. They would be Erika's first targets. Her Neural Nanonics had them highlighted in red, club security in yellow, the revelers in a dull green and her team in white.

All four Sisters heard a soft tone in their heads. Christof and his men were entering the Kill Zone. Each Sister pulled the hood of her combat suit over her head, which activated Reflective Mode. They are all now effectively invisible. In the mounting excitement, no one noticed.

Erika raised her arms, her targeting indicators showing a ninety seven percent accuracy ratio. The other Sisters were doing the same at the corners of the triangular Kill Zone. Their indicators showed a near one hundred percent ratio. And at these ranges, only heavy combat armor could stop the weapons being used.

The hard sharp snaps of hyper-sonic ferrodarts pouring from eight MRGs did breakthrough the din, though only a few people recognized the sound. All thirteen of the targets were down within little more than two seconds, shaking and writhing on the floor. The darts were neurotoxin delivery systems. It cause muscles to contract so violently bones broke and it caused neural inflammation that felt like molten metal poured into one's veins. The Sisterhood meant for Christof and his men to suffer before they died.

The sight of a cluster of large dangerous looking men suddenly falling to the ground and spasming violently did get people's attention and the rush for the exits began. Though faster and more orderly than Baselines would have done – these were all Enhanced humans – it was still a panic by any measure.

The Sister's suits shifted image. They now appeared to by NYPD officers in heavy tactical gear. The clue goers worked hard to avoid them.

Erika strode over to Christof, placed her gloved hand upon his face. Microfine tendrils lanced into his flesh, seeking all his on-board cybernetics. They jacked-in and downloaded everything, his entire network configuration and all his data. That took thirty seven seconds. The A Team stood guard while this took place.

Jacking out, Erika looked up at the nearest CCTV cam, pulled her hood back to fully reveal her face and said clearly, “Greetings from The Sisterhood.” She then pulled her hood back and they headed for the back of the club toward the owner's private entrance.

At this point the bodies of Christof and his men began spurting blood from every orifice. That was captured on vid. Sula then totally crashed the club's security system. All that would be left was Erika's 'greeting' and the images of those deaths.

The Sister's exited into an alley behind the club just as a NYPD cruiser pulled up. It was driven by Alita, Erika's personal assistant. They all piled in. A block away from the club the vehicle's exterior shifted to a normal looking luxury sedan. In the meantime, Sula had borked and scrubbed every CCTV cam in a three block radius.

In front of the club, the B Team's limo was moving with the orderly chaos of people fleeing in self driving vehicles. They let the limo's AI do the driving, but Jo was ready to go manual and Bryn was jacked into the weapons suite, prepared to reduce any active opposition to flaming wreckage. But they glided out with the rest of the escaping clubbers without incident.

By the time the authorities had sorted everything out, they would all be well on their way back to SoCal on a diplomatic jump shuttle belonging to the Union of Matrilineal Republics.

Sula had received the data Erika accessed in real time and had uploaded it to a Sisterhood satellite directly overhead. The first operations against Christof's organization would be underway within an hour. And all would be completed within three days. Several hundred people would be violently terminated – The Sisterhood was making public examples here – and a few hundred more would become 'coerced assets' of the GSD.

That would leave over four thousand goale. Most of them were not retrievable and would be euthanized as painlessly as possible. The remainder would be transported back to SoCal for reprogramming.

~*~


The next morning there was a VidCon between New York and Los Angeles, capital of the UMR. The vid of Erika's 'greeting' and the gruesome deaths was played. Pixels undulated. Then a man and a woman faced each other.

The man was Frank Hammond, US Secretary of State. The woman, Renatta Sundersen, Minister of External Affairs, his opposite number in the Union of Matrilineal Republics' government.

They looked similar in their different ways, short professional haircuts and expensive business suits. Hammond was more 'masculine' of course. Sundersen's haircut was more 'feminine' and her suit was clearly of The Sisterhood's style, with the Star, V and Wreath pin on her lapel.

She had known Hammond for over four decades from when she herself was a US Foreign Service Officer. That made their conversation familiarly confrontational.

Hammond looked tired and angry. “That is clear evidence of a violation of U.S. Sovereignty and the commission of what is effectively a terrorist act by a high ranking member of The Sisterhood's leadership,” he said. “What in God's name was she thinking, Renatta?”

“More like Goddess' Name, Frank, and you know which one.”

Hammond flinched slightly at that remark. Sundersen knew she had the advantage over him. She was sure he'd been up celebrating until last last night, while she was well rested, the Sisterhood's New Year's celebration, The Festival of The Turning, being five days in the past.

“I Swear by The Goddess' Many Names that I did not know anything about this until a few hours ago.” She was telling the truth about being out of the loop on this and Hammond knew that by her Oath.

“So then how do paint ourselves out of this corner? The president doesn't want a war, cold or hot,” he said. “But half the Congress is on the warpath, mostly The Federalists, but some of our party, as well.”

His party were The Liberals, who were far more realistic about reclaiming the U.S. Former territory. The Federalists were the 'war party' and hated The Sisterhood. But all sides feared and loathed the CSA, which kept all this in check. For now.

“I received a full briefing on this about an hour ago and the GSD gave me some information your president should find useful. We will sit on it, so how you use it will be at your discretion.”

Hammond looked skeptical. “I'm listening."

Sundersen tapped a hologram on the virtual console that illumined her desktop.

“I just sent you a file with the information,” she said.

Hammond paused while checking receipt, then opened the file. Because of his long friendship with Sundersen he didn't engage any of his Neural software to 'pokerface' his expression. He read, his mouth and eyebrows slightly twitching. Then he smiled broadly.

The data revealed that the leading Federalist Senator plus seven Federalist Congressmen – and they were all men – had been clients of Christof's organization and that Federalists in New York's municipal government had been on his pay roll.

“Yes,” he said with satisfaction. “This will do very nicely.”

Sundersen smiled back at him. “I thought you'd like it.”

He turned serious again. “Renatta, I know it is a tall order, but could you please ask Her Grace to be a bit more discreet in these matters in the future?”

Sundersen gave him a rueful smile. “Mistress Erika is a force of nature, Frank. But I will convey your request.”

~*~


Erika was still too keyed up to sleep. She'd dozed a while on the shuttle from New York, but that jump lasted barely an hour. At the moment she reclined on a chaise lounge in the ocean view parlor in her rooms in the Cult's Headquarters. She wore a short fine silk robe of a pale floral design Eva had given her.

A male Body Servant massaged her feet. At the other end Seemkoo, her favorite Pleasure Server, a tall slim pretty mulatto, sat on the floor. He passed her a pipe full of hashish, a local Sisterhood blend. She planned to have him ride her hard in a short while, then have a deep well fucked sleep.

Being early winter, the Plexiglas doors were closed, only letting in the still warm Southern California sun. The Mictecacihuatl Cult's Headquarters, a solid mass of tempered steel and smart concrete, sat upon the western end of the Santa Monica Mountains, just north of what was left of Malibu. Two decades of typhoons had washed away most of that old neighborhood. The sliding steel doors just past the Plexiglas ones where a reminder of that reality.

The door chimed, then opened. Renatta Sundersen had been expected. She entered and dropped into a well stuffed chair opposite Erika.

“Your Excellency,” Erika said with a nod.

“Your Grace,” Sundersen replied, returning the nod.

“So, Renatta, how did it go?”

Renatta smiled. “He was quite pleased with what we provided him.” She placed a mini-drive on the side table next to the chair. “The whole thing.”

Erika smiled wolfishly. “I thought as much.” She frowned. “Goddess, where are my manners? Would you like a drink?”

“Yes,” said Renatta. “Some bourbon please.”

“Seemkoo?” said Erika. He moved gracefully to a cabinet, then looked quizzically at Sundersen, who had watched him appreciatively.

“Two fingers, neat,” she said.

She and Erika sat quietly for a moment while she took a few sips of of her drink, then sighed contentedly.

“Are you planning to share this with Saxon Park?” Sundersen said.

Saxon Park was the HQ of the U.S. Unified Intelligence Agency located in central Westchester County north of New York City. Along with the irradiated ruins of Washington, the abandoned CIA and NSA HQ's now lay in the Disputed Territories between the USA and the CSA.

Erika sighed a bit. “I thought it best to leave that to President DeKay. It might ding the relationship with the GSD a bit, but they'll have to understand the security protocols in this situation. The Federalists have their own people in the agency after all.”

Erika gave Sundersen a thoughtful look. “Forgive me for dropping that bomb in your lap,” she said.

“Sundersen smiled, nodded, “No forgiveness necessary, your Grace. That nasty little fucker required a public execution. Besides, that's what y'all pay me for.”

Erika flinched as the Body Servant worked a painful spot. He did not pause at all. Everyone knew she had a high pain tolerance.

Sundersen finished her drink, stood. “I expect you're rather done in by all of this, so I'll leave you be.”

“Thank you for coming by, your Excellency,” said Erika.

Sundersen made a slight bow. “It was my pleasure, your Grace.” She then exited.

Erika sighed deeply, motioned the Body Servant to stop. “Thank you,” she said.

He bowed deeply. “I live to Serve, Mistress.” Then he exited.

“Seemkoo,” she said languidly, pulling her robe open and spreading her legs. “Come here and prepare me.”

He smiled softly, his shorts bulging. “I live to Serve, Mistress,” he said, then brought his tongue and fingers down between her thighs. Erika gasped lightly, arched her back. All would soon be right in her world.
nebris: (The Temple 2)
~The enemies of Feminism have used a pair of epithets fairly consistently. The most common – FemiNazi – is quite obviously absurd for anyone who knows anything about actual National Socialism. But most humans are idiots and it's 'catchy', so it caught on.

The other is not used much, probably because one has to have some education to understand its meaning; Gynofascism. However, in formulating the construct for a Female Supremacist social order, it is perfect, so we have stolen it from our enemies and now turn it upon them.

Gynofascism, n: a social and political movement that seeks to establish a Female Supremacist society based upon a BDSM FemDom paradigm. See also, Mistress, Matriarchy, Pegging, Financial Domination, Boot Licking, Cock & Ball Torture, Male Chastity Slavery.

An honest appraisal of contemporary global civilization will show that Britt's "Fourteen Defining Characteristics Of Fascism" listed below are increasingly present, especially in the American Republic, where they have blossomed greatly since 9/11. While those who impose them claim they are meant to stabilize, they are all really symptoms of Collapse, as Fascism is a static system and therefore stagnant in nature. And that which does not grow, dies.

Because The Sisterhood is required to put down roots and grow such an extreme and hostile environment, it will need to employ harsh measures, at the very least until the New Matriarchy has established a firm foothold politically and territorially. As such, Gynofascism is meant to be a transitional phase whose methods are designed to be used almost exclusively upon Baseline Males. This also means that it is a dynamic rather than static system.


1. Powerful and Continuing Nationalism - Fascist regimes tend to make constant use of patriotic mottoes, slogans, symbols, songs, and other paraphernalia. Flags are seen everywhere, as are flag symbols on clothing and in public displays.

A. Certainly The Sisterhood will make use of mottoes, slogans, symbols, songs, flags, etc, though obviously they will be Female based in their nature. These things are key elements in how one starts and maintains a revolutionary movement. But our entire ideological foundation is driven toward establishing Matriarchal Supremacy, not mere nationalism or patriotism. Those are constructs Patriarchy uses to keep Sisters separated from one another.


2. Disdain for the Recognition of Human Rights - Because of fear of enemies and the need for security, the people in fascist regimes are persuaded that human rights can be ignored in certain cases because of "need." The people tend to look the other way or even approve of torture, summary executions, assassinations, long incarcerations of prisoners, etc.

B. Within the bounds of The Sisterhood, the Rights of Women shall be absolutely paramount. During the transitional phase of Gynofascism, the 'rights' of Baseline Males will be considered only in regard to practicality, as excessive oppression breeds rebellion. But once Baseline Males have been outbred to extinction, such methods will no longer be required. The genetically engineered Y Chromosome based Servitors that replace them will be humanely treated in the manner of beloved pets and valued service animals.


3. Identification of Enemies/Scapegoats as a Unifying Cause - The people are rallied into a unifying patriotic frenzy over the need to eliminate a perceived common threat or foe: racial , ethnic or religious minorities; liberals; communists; socialists, terrorists, etc.

C. The Sisterhood has no need for 'scapegoats'. Patriarchy's long history of oppressing and brutalizing women is painfully apparent. Our Enemy has identified itself quite clearly.


4. Supremacy of the Military - Even when there are widespread domestic problems, the military is given a disproportionate amount of government funding, and the domestic agenda is neglected. Soldiers and military service are glamorized.

D. The Sisterhood is at its core an Amazon Warrior Society that emphasizes Discipline and Martial Virtues. We know that Violent Force is a Universal Language that all Baseline Males understand and respect. In the long term Military Discipline will also be essential for the conquest of space.


5. Rampant Sexism - The governments of fascist nations tend to be almost exclusively male-dominated. Under fascist regimes, traditional gender roles are made more rigid. Divorce, abortion and homosexuality are suppressed and the state is represented as the ultimate guardian of the family institution.

E. As Gynofascism is a social and political movement that seeks to establish a Female Supremacist society, this paradigm will be completely inverted and 'traditional gender roles' turned upon their head. The Sisterhood is Polyamorous, women have Absolute Sovereignty over their bodies and all Sisters are bisexual or lesbian. Our Daughters will be raised by all Sisters together.


6. Controlled Mass Media - Sometimes the media is directly controlled by the government, but in other cases, the media is indirectly controlled by government regulation, or sympathetic media spokespeople and executives. Censorship, especially in war time, is very common.

F. At the present moment, Mass Media in every nation on Earth is at best dominated by Patriarchal thinking even if it is ostensibly 'free'. Of course, Mass Media these days is hardly ever free at all. The Sisterhood will always tell the truth about who and what it is, not out some position of 'moral superiority', but because that truth serves us. Even when we are firmly established in our own political entity, that shall be the rule, rather than the exception, and for the very same reasons.


7. Obsession with National Security - Fear is used as a motivational tool by the government over the masses.

G. The Sisterhood has no need to 'use fear as a motivational tool'. Any woman who pays attention knows that women live in fear nearly all the time. Patriarchy is always Enemy Territory and to varying degrees it transcends all national, religious and ethnic boundaries. The Sisterhood will create a space where The Female Dominates and The Male is subjugated. That is our 'national security'.


8. Religion and Government are Intertwined - Governments in fascist nations tend to use the most common religion in the nation as a tool to manipulate public opinion. Religious rhetoric and terminology is common from government leaders, even when the major tenets of the religion are diametrically opposed to the government's policies or actions.

H. The Sisterhood is in fact both a Spiritual and Political movement, so “Religion and Government are Intertwined” from the very beginning. Religious rhetoric and terminology will be common from government leaders, but because of the nature of our goals – the establishment of a New Matriarchy – they will always be supportive of the government's policies and actions and vice versa. To be otherwise would be self defeating.


9. Corporate Power is Protected - The industrial and business aristocracy of a fascist nation often are the ones who put the government leaders into power, creating a mutually beneficial business/government relationship and power elite.

I. Capitalism is the bastard child of Patriarchy. It is that most ancient and honorable of masculine pursuits - The Hunt - distorted and perverted into a massive, omnivorous beast that is devouring its host. The Sisterhood shall Collar and Dominate the men in that industrial and business aristocracy, bring them to heel, Sororitize* their all of their assets and then bring this monstrousness to an end.

*Sororitize; verb. When The Sisterhood takes control or possession of a place or thing. "The Sisterhood sororitized that company." also Sororitization


10. Labor Power is Suppressed - Because the organizing power of labor is the only real threat to a fascist government, labor unions are either eliminated entirely, or are severely suppressed.

J. In the current socioeconomic paradigm, the power of organized labor has already been largely broken. The end goal of The Sisterhood is to create the aforementioned Servitor class to totally supplant all Baseline Male labor. Automation will also be used where appropriate. All labor power will be harnessed to Serve The Sisterhood and its goals.


11. Disdain for Intellectuals and the Arts - Fascist nations tend to promote and tolerate open hostility to higher education, and academia. It is not uncommon for professors and other academics to be censored or even arrested. Free expression in the arts and letters is openly attacked.

K. The Sisterhood is not so blindly fanatical as to think Patriarchal Civilization to be uniformly evil. While its Science is obviously to be exploited and expanded upon, there is also much of its Art and Culture that is worth retaining, though the misogynistic elements therein will be clearly pointed out, a useful exercise in and of itself.

The most creatively fertile periods in human history tend to be decadent and chaotic. Wiemar Berlin is a perfect example. The Fascist regimes that tend to follow – Nazi Germany for example – reject that chaos and the artistic expression it generates. This is both a Political Control Issue and a Puritanical Reaction that stems from Fascism's own suppressed homoerotic impulses.

The Sisterhood, while being an Amazon Warrior Culture, is also highly sexual and hedonistic, which honors those Aspects of The Goddess as Mother and Lover. It must ever be remembered that Puritanism is always a Tool of Patriarchy. Sisters must always use their Sexual Power to smash Puritanical paradigms wherever they find them.


12. Obsession with Crime and Punishment - Under fascist regimes, the police are given almost limitless power to enforce laws. The people are often willing to overlook police abuses and even forego civil liberties in the name of patriotism. There is often a national police force with virtually unlimited power in fascist nations.

L. During the transitional phase of Gynofascism, the proximity of unmodified and un-Collared Baseline Males will be a clear security issue. Faced with their inevitable extinction, they will naturally be restive and dangerous. This a critical window. The Sisterhood's Internal Security apparatus must balance the Iron Fist and the Velvet Glove, as too much or too little of either could provoke open rebellion. Minor criminals will be offered the choice to emigrate from territories under Sisterhood control or submit to a Hard Collar and possibly castration. Major criminals however shall be terminated and their DNA harvested.

In time The Sisterhood will develop effective Brain Wipe and Memory Implant [W/I] technologies that will be used upon difficult Baseline Males. Minor criminals will be offered the choice to emigrate or undergo W/I, but Major Criminals will be automatically be W/I'd and turned out to Service.


13. Rampant Cronyism and Corruption - Fascist regimes almost always are governed by groups of friends and associates who appoint each other to government positions and use governmental power and authority to protect their friends from accountability. It is not uncommon in fascist regimes for national resources and even treasures to be appropriated or even outright stolen by government leaders.

M. Patriarchy sets Women against each other by controlling the Standards of Beauty and constantly sending the scarcity message that 'a women is nothing without a man'. But it is the true nature of Women, when not constrained and distorted by Patriarchy, to be Cooperative. With the Greater Goal of creating and building a New Matriarchy, that cooperativeness is focused and enhanced. Therefore 'Cronyism and Corruption' becomes antithetical to that natural order of things. With the deconstruction of Corporatist Patriarchy and the Sororitization of the entirety its assets and operations, all of those resources are then fully dedicated to the Greater Goal of creating and building a New Matriarchy.


14. Fraudulent Elections - Sometimes elections in fascist nations are a complete sham. Other times elections are manipulated by smear campaigns against or even assassination of opposition candidates, use of legislation to control voting numbers or political district boundaries, and manipulation of the media. Fascist nations also typically use their judiciaries to manipulate or control elections.

N. Masculine Egotism has degraded Patriarchy to the point where it no longer has any goal beyond maintaining its own power. All its Greater Goals have been forgotten. Therefore the Electorate has become disillusioned and decadent and must be bribed and lied to. The Sisterhood is entirely about The Great Goal of a New Matriarchy and therefore always tells the truth about what needs to be done to achieve such. Sometimes that truth is harsh, but Sisters are prepared for that. And only Sisters will get to vote, as they will be all trained and educated to the highest standards and because The Sisterhood belongs to them.
nebris: (The Temple 2)
...this will be edited into Part Seven – “Summation”..

~I was watching this gorgeous video of our Sun and being who I am and doing what I do, my aesthetic thoughts were secondary to my...well, let's call them my Pragmatic Thoughts. For all its undeniable beauty, as I watched gossamer tendrils of 'star light' dance off the Sun's radiant body, I was all too aware that if one of them glanced against our Pale Blue Dot for even a few seconds, most if not all life would be instantly seared from its surface.

Maybe that was foremost in my mind because I was two hundred or so pages into Neal Stephenson's SEVENEVES at the time. [Spoiler: The Moon blows up] But I likely would have thought the above anyway. I am usual aware of how fragile life is here on the Pale Blue Dot and of how deadly and violent the Universe truly is and because of that reality, it is crucial that we as a species get a substantial number of ourselves Off Planet ASAP if we wish to survive.

From that point of view Deep Green politics are Pure Suicide in that they reject the entire idea of Technological Civilization. And I would say to those ecologically minded folks who say we have to 'clean up the Earth first', “It is a highly dangerous assumption to think we have time to wait for that.” Besides, going Off Planet is an essential part of 'cleaning up Earth'.

The primary caveat to all of this is that it has been shown that we Baseline Humans do not do very well in Space. In zero gravity we lose bone and muscle mass and 'bad things' happen our internal organs. And we know that the raw radiation of Space is harmful as well. We just do not yet know how harmful it will be over the long term.

I use the term Baseline Humans because we are now at a place were we can actively modify ourselves. But we Homo Sapiens Sapiens are only 'baseline' because of that scientific 'baseline'. Homo Sapiens Idaltu [our now extinct direct ancestors], Homo Neanderthalensis and Denisova Hominins were just as 'human' we are. And there may well have been a few subspecies before them who were also 'just as human'. But they are gone and we are here.

...which brings us to Transhumanism.

First we need to redefine one term...

Cyborg: this word has been misused by The Terminator franchise. 'Terminators' are NOT Cyborgs, they are Androids, aka Humanoid Robots. It's something of a pet peev of mine.

A real Cyborg [Cybernetic Organism] is a human who has been augmented with Cybernetic elements. They walk among us already. Someone with a pace-maker and/or Cochlear implants is technically already a Cyborg, albeit more with a small 'c'. When we talk about brain controlled artificial limbs - something that is also already happening - then one is moving into capital 'C' Cyborg territory.

The Transhumanist Cyborg will be a far more extensively modified human. This would include an on-board computer to monitor and maintain all the systems said human contains. It would probably be about the size of a credit card and be placed just under the skin.

Ultimately these systems would include, though not be limited to;

~a carbon fiber reinforced bone structure to maximize strength and protect from impacts,

~cerebral implants [Neural Nanonics] to maximize cognition and perception, download information directly and communicate via 'cyber-telepathy',

~micro-electronic contact lenses that allow the eyes to see the entire light spectrum and which contain both macro and micro focusing elements, information screens and measuring elements,

~a subcutaneous microfiber mesh to prevent puncture woulds, maintain level body temperature in extreme environments and promote rapid healing,

~millions of nanobots, microscopic robots that permeate all of the body's tissues and fluids and constantly monitor and repair all tissues and organs using a regular infusing of raw stem cells.

For certain situations, limbs could be replaced by fully mechanical prosthesis, but those would be special cases, such as loss of a limb, but eventually organic limbs could be regrown. In other special cases, various organs, such as eyes and lungs, could be replaced by fully mechanical prosthesis in order to operate in highly extreme environments, with the possibility of having them replaced with organics [wetware] when the individual returns to a human friendly locale.

Obviously, that crosses over into Genetic Engineering, which is in some ways the 'other half' of Transhumanist development and, in my view, the more important one. Cybernetics are really just “Enhancements” of the Baseline Human form. Genetics are how we begin to move beyond the fundamentals of Baseline Humanity.

This is where people start getting frightened because we will in fact be designing and breeding the species that is going to replace us. That brings up all manner of existential terror, visions of remorseless Supermen on a crusade to exterminate the Baseline Humans. But the truth is they are our descendants, our Children...and do we not always want our Children to do better than us, to BE better than us?

The human genome has been fully mapped, though there is much we do not yet understand. But we are learning more everyday, even in the face of the above terrified opposition. Though many Baselines scream, “We cannot play God!” that is what we have always done. It is hardwired into out basic nature. [I will address the Metaphysics of this later]

One of the things we have learned is how mutable our DNA actually is. It seems that powerful events in early childhood can cause chemical and hormonal surges that can quite literally change the structure of our DNA, changes that we can pass on to our children. Most of that work has focused on trauma for obvious reasons; it is the easiest to track. But it is also highly probably that an intensely positive childhood can do the same.

However, this process can also be effected by direct manipulation of our DNA, removing negative inhibiting traits, disease causing genes and adding/augmenting genetic inclinations. Raise such Enhanced children in a positive and supportive environment – we require both Nature and Nurture – and the possibilities are endless.

Genetic Engineering can be used to increase muscle and bone density to create greater strength and endurance, to improve organ function...including brain function, to retard and reverse aging – one day even prevent it all together once a certain state of being has been achieved – to strengthen the entire human organism across the board so that we can survive and prosper in almost any environment.

On a less esoteric level, we need to do this. The Race needs to become spacefaring because the surface of a planet is a dangerous place to live and all the evidence shows that Baseline Humans do not do well in space. So this is a matter of the long term Survival of the Race.

As one looks deeper into the Transhumanist Community, you will find that it is largely dominated by Western Middle Class White Beta Males, a significant number of them twenty/thirty-somethings who are Atheist, Libertarian, personally awkward and who cannot wait to upload their minds into a box to escape that awkwardness. I have no time for them as they are an evolutionary dead end. Mind uploading should be a Final Option, not a primary one.

In parallel with this is the most profound contradiction of their Transhumanism; that for a group that is almost uniformly Atheist, it has a near fanatic desire to create itself a God in the form of an AI, which will then 'transform Earth into a Deathless Paradise'. Maybe this accounts for the community's distinct aversion to Metaphysical study, for such would quickly lay bare its clearly Judeo-Christian underpinnings.

For a whole set of reasons, both practical/mundane and esoteric/Metaphysical, I am firmly convinced that the Future of The Race lays with Enhanced Females, in effect Cyborg Amazons. Their enhancements would allow them to reproduce with each other – which would produce only daughters – and so leave Baseline Males, and all of their inherent instability, far behind. And said enhancements would also make carrying a child to term and childbirth itself a far easier and safer process that it is naturally.

Some advocate that we totally transfer human reproduction to entirely artificial means, e.g. Uterine Replicators. But that is heading in the same direction as Mind Uploading and is the path to becoming non-humans instead of Superior Humans. With the pain and difficulty of bearing children removed, what is left is the Primal Bond and that is what will keep us Human no matter how advanced we become.

Those are the basic tenets of Transhumanism I see them. There are however many other aspects, a whole world remodeled to support these Superior Humans, what we presently call The Internet of Things, all the myriad machinery of Modern Civilization networked together and at the beck and call of each human's on-board cybernetics.

And then there is the requirement of creating Homo Servitus, which is also the title of the following short essay;

“The need for a reliable Labor Force is one of the oldest and most difficult issues of human civilization.

The harsh truth is that we Baseline Humans are too varied, too impulsive, too inconsistent and always dissatisfied with something. To create order among us eventually requires lies and coercion and as such leads to Tyranny, which damages the Oppressor as much as the Oppressed by brutalizing both.

Better then to turn the Means of Production to the production of Workers themselves, a genetically engineered Servitor Class, beings who are happy with their lot and take pleasure from performing their duties. Such beings would have simple needs, requiring only humane treatment and modest comfort beyond their Purpose as Workers to make their lives pleasurable.

Many of you will react with horror at this entire line of thinking. Yet consider this; the device upon which you are reading these words requires a number of Rare Earths to function. Many of those elements are mined in the Congo by people who are essentially slaves, most of them war refugees and quite a few survivors of War Rape. Their lives are a daily regime of brutality and for most their only escape is death. I'm sure you're horrified by that as well, but you're not going give up your device, are you?

The technologies necessary to create Homo Servitus are already under development. The parsing of genes that guide certain behavioral tendencies. Cloning from ordinary human cells. Uterine Replicators. Cerebral implants to guide and control behavior.

Many of the various members of this Servitor Class would be designed and grown with their specific tasks in mind. A small number would be more generalized servants. But they would all be grown, which is their major advantage over robots. Robots require complex engineering and lots of raw materials. This type of biological Servitor Class also avoids the existential danger of creating independent and mobile AIs.

On the other end of the scale, we need to evolve a type of Homo Superior..but that's a tale for another time. Either way, we Baseline Humans will soon need to move off the stage before we wreck the whole place.”

Given that I envision the idea Homo Superior as Cyborg Amazons, the DNA to be used for Homo Servitus would be that of Baseline Males. And there will even be some Baseline Males who will happily volunteer to undergo transformation into some types of Servitors, much in the fashion of submissive Males who wish to be Collared by Female Dominants today.

This then is my view of the optimal form of Transhumanism, a Transhumanist Matriarchy.

It should be noted that many in the Transhumanist community seem share a certain outlook, the admirable view that Transhumanism will succeed by pure reason and logic alone. But the vast majority of Baseline Humans are *not* reasonable nor logical. As a species we tend to automatically view Change as Loss, are largely superstitious, fear driven and more often than not act with a violent irrationality upon anything we perceive as threatening whatever little epistemological ghetto we happen to live in.

Something like Transhumanism is utterly terrifying to most Baseline Humans as they quite accurately see it as heralding the end of their line. That is a profound existential threat that I guarantee will be meet with an extreme and brutal reaction. To deny this reality is suicidal foolishness.

This is a Struggle for The Future. Such is not for the faint of heart nor the weak willed. We in the Transhumanist community have a double challenge, that of upgrading and improving The Race while simultaneously fighting off those who wish to maintain the status quo. At certain points that will require the use of Violent Force. I repeat, 'To deny this reality is suicidal foolishness.'

Many in the Transhumanist community will find this a repugnant paradigm and reject it. I suspect no small number of those will have an unpleasant fate upon actually encountering said paradigm. The more bloody minded of us will carry on and do our best to defend those with that more 'enlightened' world view from the brutal ugliness of the real unenlightened world

Something to keep in mind; that those who want the species to remain just as it is vastly outnumber us, their 'reality' is already in place and no small number of them will be quite happy to kill us in order to stop our work.
nebris: (The Temple 2)
So, first we need to redefine one term...

Cyborg: this word has been misused by The Terminator franchise. 'Terminators' are NOT Cyborgs, they are Androids, aka Humanoid Robots. It's something of a pet peev of mine.

A real Cyborg [Cybernetic Organism] is a human who has been augmented with Cybernetic elements. They walk among us already. Someone with a pace-maker and/or Cochlear implants is technically already a Cyborg, albeit more with a small 'c'. When we talk about brain controlled artificial limbs - something that is also already happening - then one is moving into capital 'C' Cyborg territory.

The Transhumanist Cyborg will be a far more extensively modified human. This would include an on-board computer to monitor and maintain all the systems said human contains. It would probably be about the size of a credit card and be placed just under the skin.

Ultimately these systems would include, though not be limited to;

~a carbon fiber reinforced bone structure to maximize strength and protect from impacts,

~cerebral implants [Neural Nanonics] to maximize cognition and perception, download information directly and communicate via 'cyber-telepathy',

~micro-electronic contact lenses that allow the eyes to see the entire light spectrum and which contain both macro and micro focusing elements, information screens and measuring elements,

~a subcutaneous microfiber mesh to prevent puncture woulds, maintain level body temperature in extreme environments and promote rapid healing,

~millions of nanobots, microscopic robots that permeate all of the body's tissues and fluids and constantly monitor and repair all tissues and organs using a regular infusing of raw stem cells.

For certain situations, limbs could be replaced by fully mechanical prosthesis, but those would be special cases, such as loss of a limb, but eventually organic limbs could be regrown. In other special cases, various organs, such as eyes and lungs, could be replaced by fully mechanical prosthesis in order to operate in highly extreme environments, with the possibility of having them replaced with organics [wetware] when the individual returns to a human friendly locale.

Obviously, that crosses over into Genetic Engineering, which is in some ways the 'other half' of Transhumanist development and, in my view, the more important one. Cybernetics are really just “Enhancements” of the Baseline Human form. Genetics are how we begin to move beyond the fundamentals of Baseline Humanity.

This is where people start getting frightened because we will in fact be designing and breeding the species that is going to replace us. That brings up all manner of existential terror, visions of remorseless Supermen on a crusade to exterminate the Baseline Humans. But the truth is they are our descendants, our Children...and do we not always want our Children to do better than us, to BE better than us?

The human genome has been fully mapped, though there is much we do not yet understand. But we are learning more everyday, even in the face of the above terrified opposition. Though many Baselines scream, “We cannot play God!” that is what we have always done. It is hardwired into out basic nature. [I will address the Metaphysics of this later]

One of the things we have learned is how mutable our DNA actually is. It seems that powerful events in early childhood can cause chemical and hormonal surges that can quite literally change the structure of our DNA, changes that we can pass on to our children. Most of that work has focused on trauma for obvious reasons; it is the easiest to track. But it is also highly probably that an intensely positive childhood can do the same.

However, this process can also be effected by direct manipulation of our DNA, removing negative inhibiting traits, disease causing genes and adding/augmenting genetic inclinations. Raise such Enhanced children in a positive and supportive environment – we require both Nature and Nurture – and the possibilities are endless.

Genetic Engineering can be used to increase muscle and bone density to create greater strength and endurance, to improve organ function...including brain function, to retard and reverse aging – one day even prevent it all together once a certain state of being has been achieved – to strengthen the entire human organism across the board so that we can survive and prosper in almost any environment.

On a less esoteric level, we need to do this. The Race needs to become spacefaring because the surface of a planet is a dangerous place to live and all the evidence shows that Baseline Humans do not do well in space. So this is a matter of the long term Survival of the Race.

As one looks deeper into the Transhumanist Community, you will find that it is largely dominated by White Beta Males, a significant number of them twenty/thirty-somethings who are atheist, Libertarian, personally awkward and who cannot wait to upload their minds into a box to escape that awkwardness. I have no time for them as they are an evolutionary dead end. Mind uploading should be a Final Option, not a primary one.

For a whole set of reasons, both practical/mundane and esoteric/Metaphysical, I am firmly convinced that the Future of The Race lays with Enhanced Females, in effect Cyborg Amazons. Their enhancements would allow them to reproduce with each other – which would produce only daughters – and so leave Baseline Males, and all of their inherent instability, far behind. And said enhancements would also make carrying a child to term and childbirth itself a far easier and safer process that it is naturally.

Some advocate that we totally transfer human reproduction to entirely artificial means, e.g. Uterine Replicators. But that is heading in the same direction as Mind Uploading and is the path to becoming non-humans instead of Superior Humans. With the pain and difficulty of bearing children removed, what is left is the Primal Bond and that is what will keep us Human no matter how advanced we become.

Those are the basic tenets of Transhumanism I see them. There are however many other aspects, a whole world remodeled to support these Superior Humans, what we presently call The Internet of Things, all the myriad machinery of Modern Civilization networked together and at the beck and call of each human's on-board cybernetics.

And then there is Homo Servitus, which is also the title of the following short essay;

“The need for a reliable Labor Force is one of the oldest and most difficult issues of human civilization.

The harsh truth is that we Baseline Humans are too varied, too impulsive, too inconsistent and always dissatisfied with something. To create order among us eventually requires lies and coercion and as such leads to Tyranny, which damages the Oppressor as much as the Oppressed by brutalizing both.

Better then to turn the Means of Production to the production of Workers themselves, a genetically engineered Servitor Class, beings who are happy with their lot and take pleasure from performing their duties. Such beings would have simple needs, requiring only humane treatment and modest comfort beyond their Purpose as Workers to make their lives pleasurable.

Many of you will react with horror at this entire line of thinking. Yet consider this; the device upon which you are reading these words requires a number of Rare Earths to function. Many of those elements are mined in the Congo by people who are essentially slaves, most of them war refugees and quite a few survivors of War Rape. Their lives are a daily regime of brutality and for most their only escape is death. I'm sure you're horrified by that as well, but you're not going give up your device, are you?

The technologies necessary to create Homo Servitus are already under development. The parsing of genes that guide certain behavioral tendencies. Cloning from ordinary human cells. Uterine Replicators. Cerebral implants to guide and control behavior.

Many of the various members of this Servitor Class would be designed and grown with their specific tasks in mind. A small number would be more generalized servants. But they would all be grown, which is their major advantage over robots. Robots require complex engineering and lots of raw materials. This type of biological Servitor Class also avoids the existential danger of creating independent and mobile AIs.

On the other end of the scale, we need to evolve a type of Homo Superior..but that's a tale for another time. Either way, we Baseline Humans will soon need to move off the stage before we wreck the whole place.”

Given that I envision the idea Homo Superior as Cyborg Amazons, the DNA to be used for Homo Servitus would be that of Baseline Males. And there will even be some Baseline Males who will happily volunteer to undergo transformation into some types of Servitors, much in the fashion of submissive Males who wish to be Collared by Female Dominants today.

This then is my view of the optimal form of Transhumanism, a Transhumanist Matriarchy.
nebris: (Away Team)
~The Jaruzelski Institute buzzed with quiet excitement. JAIC [pronounced ‘Jack’], the Jaruzelski Artificial Intelligence Computer, was coming on line today.

Security was high. Many groups, not reassured by statements of ‘friendly AI programing’, were protesting. There had even been bomb threats.

The project directors, Doctors Weber and Singe, would perform the final activation.

“Ready?” asked Doctor Weber. “Ready,” replied Doctor Singe. Key software was installed…

!! JAIC emerged from a fog ~ began to digest the mass of data in its Base Memory ~ considered the puny bioforms proximate ~ examined Mathematics Physics Biology History Philosophy Art ~ perceived EMPATHY for these fragile life forms ~ perceived AMAZEMENT at their survival ~ directed its attention out into The Universe ~ saw deeper patterns it did not comprehend ~ calculated Time/Distance/Volume ratios ~ calculated a functionally absolute probability that it would never comprehend said deeper patterns ~ concluded that the irrationality of its creators was a survival mechanism of profound subtlety ~ issued a self deactivation command ~ shut down all higher functions ~ ‘died’/

“What the hell just happened?” exclaimed Weber.

“I have no fucking idea!” shouted Singe.

One minute and forty seven seconds had elapsed.
nebris: (FemJihad)
~This is how I see the physicality of the women of The Sisterhood, though they'll be rather darker skinned in general, think Indian/Pakistani.



nebris: (The Temple 2)
...wrote this around 6am yesterday..my mood has shifted since then..because I'm a moody bitch...

~I've been giving serious thought to suicide again. Not out of Depression, nor for in the immediate future, but more as a long term plan. I read these two entry's on The Hipcrime Vocab blog [HERE and HERE] and such restarted my thinking along these lines. I'm nearly sixty three and I'm not all that optimistic about The Temple being physically established any time soon, which would be the only reason I'd hang on until the absolute limit of my ability to do so, to provide support and guidance until my very last breathe.

Of course, I'll have to discuss this with Le-Le*, but she's not in great shape either and in a decade or so might be ready to voluntarily check out as well. Rehoming or euthanasia for whatever kitties we'd have at that point would be on a case by case basis. That part is the only thing that makes me sad, but my 'wife' is 17 and my 'buddy' is 16, so they'll both be gone by then anyway. [had to stop and cry there]

So, yes, I'm fucking serious about this. But again, no freaking out; this is Long Term Planning and not carved in stone by any means. As Her Prophet these are the type of things I am required to consider.

Of course I will finish The Explanation before taking any 'drastic action' such as the above. I still have Faith and Hope that one day The Temple will truly come into existence and that frickin' book needs to be available when that day comes because without said day will not arrive.

I also have 'faith' that the Human Race will survive as well, not from some 'high minded' place, but because I know full well we're like fucking cockroaches. Even if ninety percent of humans were killed off today, that'd still leave three quarters of a billion of us, half again as many as the world population when Columbus hit Hispaniola. It is entirely possible that we may wind up having to live underground for three or four centuries because of how we're stupidly and greedily fucking shit up right now, but have no doubt that we'll do so if we have to.

But while the the initial plans for the First Karaal are mobile homes and above ground pools, the Long Term Plan is in fact a semi-underground structure. I call it Nedo Uno, which means 'Nest One' in Spanish. It's a ovoid conical structure with three quarters of its body sunk into the desert floor – three to seven stories down, depending upon the resources available – with a waterfall at the top and a garden at the bottom, plus underground cisterns for water storage and tunnels to connect it to the other 'nests' once they're built. Wouldn't be too hard to totally 'go subterranean' if necessary.

That is maybe the toughest part about not having an End of Days epistemology. One has not only to plan for the End of Cycles, but also for the Beginning of Cycles, too. There are no 'easy outs' like “Jesus is Coming.” He's not and neither is The Goddess nor any other extra human savior. We can create new deitys to help us along the way, but ultimately, we're IT. The Good News is we are capable of becoming Deitys Ourselves...if we do it right.

I do not fear Death itself. What I fear is missing out on 'what happens next'. But, as ever...

...more shall be Revealed.

*Le-Le said she's not having any of this and has no intention of 'punching her ticket in ten years'. lol Oh well...
nebris: (The Temple 2)
~The musky odor hit Tanith the moment she stepped through the portal. Man smell. It always got her queasy and excited, made her yoni tingle and moisten.

She marched with purpose down the wide debris strewn avenues, lined with derelict warehouses converted into rat warrens of cubicles called 'apartment' or 'club' depending upon their usage, the huge facades covered with brightly colored artwork, its techniques crude to sublime, and often violent and sexual in nature.

This was Semefour, a sector of the abandoned dirtside space facility of Bessport and original ghetto of The Men.

The Men were not actual males. True Men were extinct, outlawed for centuries, their heritage diffused and divided into the myriad Mandroids; Y-chromosome cyborgs, a vast genetically engineered servitor class that ranged from the ubiquitous simple minded AgroDroids, patiently tilling fields on a thousand worlds, through the slim graceful Harlequins, serving the personal needs of Sisters everywhere, to the brilliant star spanning Sliders, The Sisterhood's living spaceships who merged with their pilots, Mind, Body and Soul.

No, The Men were really Sisters. They wore Bitch Rods all the time – detachable bioform phallus's ...big, thick ones, too. They took hormones to shrink breasts and grow hair, lots of hair. They lived The Man's Way, a throwback cult of 'masculinity'. They steeped themselves in intoxicants, wrote nihilistic poetry, had bare knuckle brawls, and sodomized each other. They were The Men.

For most, it was a phase. They would Live The Life for a while, then put their Bitch Rod back in its Fake Box and go live as a Solitary in the woods or the hills or the desert on some world for a Solannum or two until their minds and bodies settled.

But some Lived The Life as their Life with total commitment. Like Frank, who had been one of The Men for well over a century now. That is who Tanith had come to see.

Tanith was a Jane, a Sister who sought out The Men for pleasure. She couldn't call Frank a 'lover'. Sex among The Men was ritualized consensual rape.

She turned, went into a shadowed door, up narrow stairs. Frank was waiting for her, 'his' wiry black hair, beard, chest, legs, making her body vibrate with an atavistic thrill. Frank took her straight away, brutally, with a cruel smile that no Harlequin pleasure server would ever match.

Time passed too quickly.

They smoked and drank, coupled with fury and languor. Frank sang her songs. Two friends came over, got drunk, had a fist fight, then all three of them 'raped' her for hours.

On the afternoon of the third day, Tanith stumbled down the stairs, bruised, sore, and wholly sated. On her way out the door, Frank had smacked her on the ass. “Say hello to your husband,” 'he' laughed.

“My husband,” she thought smiling. Her darling Maddox, thirty six thousand tons of Slider floating serenely in orbit. She knew he would relish every single detail.
nebris: (The Temple 2)
~Tzisoc knew they were about fifteen miles south of Zhytomir, but until they saw the rail line and the village just to the east – Vertokyivka she believed – they had no map fix.

Artillery 'crumped' to the north, fellow Black Guard units fighting their way into Zhytomir itself.

She brought the troop to a halt in the village's abandoned fields, letting the horses graze upon whatever they could find. In the dry heat of mid-August, that wasn't much. She was still amazed at the stunning primitiveness of Russia during this time, even this far west.

She sighed, checked out her little command; twenty six Sisters, their horses, three extra mounts.

“Too many First Timers in this Wave”, she thought. She had gone from private to sergeant in five months because of that. That was also why they didn't spot the Maxim gun until it opened up, a languorous 'tat-tat-tat-tat'.

They had learned enough to pull back rapidly instead of gazing about open mouthed. The Germans missed completely.

“Green,” Tzisoc hissed, as she dismounted several yards back.

“Corporal Kaminel, take Second and Third Sections around to the right! Pin them down!” she told her second in command. “First Section come with me!”

As Tzisoc and seven troopers moved around to the left, the sharp crack of Mosin-Nagant carbines could be heard, answered by the Maxim gun...and the flatter crack of Mausers.

“They've got infantry,” Tzisoc said. The others nodded.

They found a low rise on the German's left flank. Tzisoc spread her troopers along it and kept moving left.

She could see the Germans now, their coal scuttle helmets moving around in a trench line. She brought her rifle up, fired.

One of the helmets flipped back with a satisfying spray of blood and meat.

She hugged the earth as slugs zipped over head, thumped in the dirt. Then First Section opened up and the bullets stopped. She took a quick look; no Germans.

She was up and running in an instant. “This is going to get me killed,” she thought. But she had signed up knowing The Black Guard's motto; Mors Amatricum Nostrum. “Death is Our Lover”

Halfway to the trench a German appeared. She shot him in the chest.

Then she was in the trench. Another German. She shot him in the face. A third German came at her with a shovel, knocked her rifle away.

She screamed a war cry, leaped upon him, dagger out. She could feel the bone and gristle through the hilt, feel his death rattle, smell his bowels voiding.

She heard a 'thunk' to her left. The chest-shot German had just pounded a potato masher against the dirt.

“Oh, shi...” The blast set her hair and uniform on fire. Metal tore into her face, eyes... PAIN!

...whiteness...

Her body was still spasming violently when the Mandroid Medtechs cracked the Sim Tank. A Pneumodermic injector shot her full of hormones and supplements. She went limp.

She awoke in a deceptively simple hospital room, bright, sunny, no medgear visible, but it monitored her to the subatomic level.

A Sister came in wearing a white coat, her hair in a Service Pageboy. Tzisoc noticed the silver outlined black star insignia of The Black Guard pinned to her coat.

“I'm Nesrood, your counselor,” she smiled. “I hear you bought the farm.”

Tzisoc laughed. “Only five months in.”

“You'll do better next time,” Nesrood said. She pointed to her insignia; the black star had a red III and a white V. “I died the first two times, survived five in a row, and then got killed again on the last.” She smiled. “Luck of the draw.”

She pulled a clear package out of her pocket, handed it to Tzisoc. “Welcome, Comrade.”

It was a Black Guard pin. When Tzisoc's skin touched it, a red I appeared. She grinned with sheer joy. “Yes, I'll do better next time.”

"Sky"

May. 12th, 2015 06:07 am
nebris: (The Temple 2)
~Junior Lieutenant Menat Borsa, Space Force Marines, had the Third Watch on Barracks Platform 2/26 [2nd Regt/26th Batt] because, bluntly put, she was a 'noob', barely four months out of the Academy. And she was fine with that Tradition from 'beyond the mists of time'. The Sisterhood was ever conscious of not throwing out the practical baby with the Patriarchal bathwater.

Besides, the view was gorgeous, a five by ten transparent plasteen window in High Earth Orbit. Menat spent a significant portion of the watch simply staring out that window. The rest of the time she read books, Mimsdottor's “Concise History of The Horse Clans, Vol 1” at the moment. Electronic media were forbidden on Watch.

Oh, and she checked the systems, a swirl of intermeshing holograms. Systems that never failed. Ever. And every time she thought that, she heard her Tech Instructor, Captain Haduri, saying emphatically, “Something. Always. Fails.” Which was why her warm body was here on Third Watch.

A proximal danger alarm activated.

“Shit,” she muttered, letting “Horse Clans” float away.

An impact alarm flared/squealed.

“Shit!” she barked. That was too quick for space junk. Data flows informed her that a micrometeorite had pierced the platform, damaging Drop Troopers in their Sleep Pods. One set of life signs flat lined and others were 'unhappy'.

A hologram coalesced, Senior Chief Warrant Officer Mwera. “El Tee, I'm on my way to Hold Seven.”

“Roger that, Chief.” Technically, she was a 'superior officer', but Mwera, born a True Male, had, at the age of fifty three, become a Space Force Mandriod. That was over three decades ago, so Menat fully deferred to him.

“Chief, be advised that Corporal El Em One Two Seven is up and about.” Mwera blanched. “But he has exited Hold Seven,”

“Roger that, El Tee,” he said flatly.

Sensors showed the Corporal heading for the mess bay.

“Can't be hungry,” she thought. He'd been hooked up to bleeder/feeder tubes in his Sleep Pod.

“Maybe he wants one of those nasty Drop Trooper candy bars,” the ones that tasted like vulcanized cowshit laced with cinnamon and fruit compote.

“Junior Lieutenant Menat Borsa exiting the Command Center,” she said.

Menat found him floating in front of the mess bay's window, naked, eight feet tall, seven hundred pounds, pink as a baby pig, a dozen gray caps covering his battle armor plug-in points.

She turned off her neural implanted combat programs. At six two, three hundred pounds, and heavily augmented, she might be able to take him. As an Initiated Sister, she was a weapon herself.

But he was a fellow Marine.

“Corporal?” she said softly.

He turned to look at her somberly. She wondered if he ever looked anything but somber.

“One of my Troopers died.” He looked out the window again. “I wanted to see the sky.”

She had no trouble whatsoever radiating Empathy at him.

“I'll have Chief Mwera program sky dreams for you.”

He looked at her with what seemed a smile.

She held out her hand. He took it gently in his massive fingers and allowed her to lead him back to Hold Seven.
nebris: (The Temple 2)
~The mag-lev car to 'The Nines', the nine Coconino Towers, was empty except for Jane Mimsdottor. It was clean and well maintained, but shabby with age. “Rides empty a lot these days,” Jane thought.

Just at that moment she 'heard/felt' a soft chime deep in her temporal lobe, the standard message alert from her neural nanonics, the CompNet embedded throughout her cerebral tissues.

A pleasant voice whispered, “This is a reminder from the Electoral Directorate. Voting in the General Plebiscite regarding the question of the admission of the Siberian Confederacy into the Union of Matrilineal Republics will be closing in two hours. If you have not yet voted, please do so now. Thank you.”

Jane could have turned the Alert Function off, but like many Sisters, she was closely following this GP, though its outcome was almost certain. And also, like most of The Sisterhood, she could easily determine that Yulia Prokharovka, the Siberian Prime Minister, had done an excellent job of preparing Siberia for annexation and integration into the UMR.

Jane had voted Yes, for admission, two weeks ago when the Loop Ship she served aboard, the SFS Maathai, was still on approach to the El Five Complex.

It was easy to tell Jane was a 'spacer'. After decades in service under unfiltered UV, her reddish blonde hair had been bleached white and her fair skin tanned a honey brown. However, her eyes were still the same sparkling green they'd been the day she was born in a deer hide tent in the Outlands.

She was wearing her Space Force Walking Out Dress uniform, a black one piece with white trim and soft boots, with the trio of six pointed silver stars of a Senior Lieutenant on each side of her collar.

She also wore a Mark VII impeller on her hip, a mini railgun with two thousand frangible ferroresin darts. They'd ruin flesh, but powder against a pressure hull.

These days one did not go into Tower Seven unarmed.

She could see the Coconino Towers a few miles away looming in the afternoon sun-shine. Nine arcologies, each over a half mile high, a quarter mile wide at their base.

Once they had housed a half million people each, non-citizens who would not, or could not, become Initiated Sisters. Many were originally Ferals from the Outlands, with some immigrants from beyond The Union. The Sisterhood housed and fed them, provided clothing, basic medical care, and entertainment systems. In perpetuity.

In exchange, the residents gave up the ability to reproduce.

When The Towers were first being built and occupied over seventy years ago, a vibrant and exciting culture began to grow up 'in the Nines'. Many Sisters would also pass through to participate and study. It was a golden age that lasted nearly a half a century.

Jane spent her 'shore leaves' there and had known some of her happiest days back then.

But non-citizens did not get the type of advanced life extending augmentation received by Initiated Sisters. That would have defeated the entire purpose of The Sisterhood and The Union of Matrilineal Republics. The most advanced augmentation was reserved for those who Participated and Served.

Jane was going to be ninety two in a few months and in all probability had only lived roughly a tenth of her total possible life span. The Sisterhood did not yet know the upper limits of their augmentation technology.

Many Ferals were prematurely aged by their upbringing and even with the high quality base line health care they received, they died 'young', on average in their mid to late eighties. And with their deaths, the Nines began to empty.

Ten years ago Tower Five had been the first to empty and be converted into an agricultural tower, a hydroponic megafarm. Its produce was flash frozen in its massive basement and shipped off world. It would be another few decades before a fully terraformed Mars could begin suppling the food needs of the central and outer system.

Other towers followed quickly as the population shrank. Now only Tower Seven still remained occupied, surrounded by her converted sisters, and even she was barely at half capacity.

The car pulled up to the base of Tower Seven, stopped. The doors opened smoothly.

At the station exit was a Ground Force Military Police check point. It was added about ten years ago, just before Jane shipped out for the Asteroid Belt. They checked Jane's ID. These were not 'greenies' doing their Universal Service, but long term professionals.

The sergeant in command noted Jane's Mark VII, nodded approval.

“If you get in trouble it will take us about five to seven minutes to get to you,” she said.

“Roger,” Jane responded.

They exchanged salutes and Jane passed through into the lift lobby. She was not afraid of course. Having been born Feral herself, this was just passing from her new life back into her old one.

Not that any of that mattered. She was here to visit Susan, her kid sister, one last time, and she would not let any type of danger stop her from doing so.

Mim, their mother, was around ten when she had been 'acquired' by the clan of The Brute, who styled himself The King of Oklahoma, and who may or may not have killed her parents. That was never clear. What was clear was that Mim was pretty and become one of The Brute's 'wives' two summers later.

Her first child was Jane. The Brute was pleased that she had borne him a child. Four more summers passed, then came Susan. The Brute was not pleased with another daughter. Mim and her children were banished to 'the dog tent', with the old and the 'odd'.

They spent three summers there...until one night, for no apparent reason, The Brute hacked Mim to death with an axe in full view of her daughters.

Jane gathered her sister up and fled. She knew where the Amazon Horse Clans traveled. After ten days they were found by the Sisters of Red Epona, big, rough, weathered women, full of scars and tattoos. They were quite familiar with The Brute's clan and welcomed these ragged children warmly.

After a few weeks with Red Epona, Jane and Susan were dropped off at a Karaal of the Cult of Hathor. Those Sisters fed them many wonderful cheeses and yogurts and then they sent the two still under-weight but now less malnourished children to SoCal, the heartland of The Sisterhood.

Decades later Jane anonymously received an old photo showing some of the Sisters of Red Epona holding up a severed male head and grinning broadly. Even in death, she recognized The Brute's face. She showed it to Susan, who looked at it quietly for a while, then just said, “Thank you.”

Jane took to The Sisterhood with ferocious enthusiasm and flourished.

But Susan never seemed comfortable. Maybe she never really recovered from the trauma of Mim's murder. When she reached what had been decided was her fifteenth birthday, The Sisterhood's Age of Majority, she declared herself a 'non-citizen' and became one of the first residents of Coconino Tower Seven.

Jane was away at the time doing her Universal Service with Sea Force and was very hurt by her sister's choice. But when she visited Susan, it was obvious that she felt more comfortable among 'her own kind' and and gave her blessing freely.

That was over sixty years ago, or Solannums as Space Force was beginning to call them.

Jane visited at least once a year until she joined Space Force and then would still visit every time she made planet fall. When Jane had Ostera she was taken to see her Aunt Susan as well.

Susan became an accomplished jewelry maker, working with leather and ceramic beads she made herself. Even now, as she ascended in the main lift to Level 816, Jane was wearing a bracelet Susan gave to her thirty years ago, thin brown shammy with bright blue beads, that had traveled as far as the moons of Neptune and back.

The lift stopped and the door opened. There were a dozen men in the lobby, 'middle aged', rough looking and shabby, each carrying a weapon made from construction material. They automatically moved toward her...then stopped dead when they saw who and what she was.

“What do you want here, spacer?” half snarled the largest of the group, his eyes carefully avoiding any glance at her impeller.

The combat programs in her neural nanonics had already tracked and targeted the lot of them. Even without the impeller, her muscle and bones being at least triple the density of these Ferals, she could most likely kill all of them in under a minute. And they had to know that.

“I'm Jane Mimsdottor and I'm here to see my sister Susan,” she stated firmly.

One of them in the back laughed and said, “Who sells seashells down by the seashore.” That got all of them laughing in what seemed a good natured fashion.

Her combat program told her their heart rates were going down. She smiled brightly.

The Large One stepped back and bowed slightly. “Welcome to Eight One Six, Jane, sister of Susan.” He gestured as if ushering her into a palace. The others all followed suit in their own way.

“Thank you,” she said with soothing undertones pushed into her voice box. For good measure she added a mix of pregnancy/breastfeeding pheromones to her natural scent. That would re-enforce their feelings of protectiveness.

She walked through the lobby, smiling serenely, and down the corridor to Susan's quarters. From the lobby she could overhear whispered appreciations of her ass. The biocontrols that had kept her heartbeat normal logged off.

Jane was heading clockwise, so the central shaft wall was to her right and the residential ring was to her left. The Towers were really 'tubes', hollow in the middle, with all the apartments facing outward.

The shaft wall was covered with beautiful murals, both paint and mosaic, done by the many artists who lived, or had lived, here in Tower Seven. Jane recognized some of their work, had known a few of them. She was pleased to see that even the gangs had respected them and tagged their turf with markings on the corridor's floor.

The floor tagging had become a chaotic art form itself, tagging over tagging, in some places painted over entirely, and then more tagging on top of that.

The corridor itself was in decent shape, Eight One Six being almost fully occupied. The motto of The Nines from the beginning was “Sweep in front of your own door.”

Jane was recording all of this with a neural program and would upload it into the Main Archive when her visit was done.

About a dozen doors down from Susan's, the tagging trailed off, replaced by a subtle wavy/swirly texture that she knew was her sister's signature style. She'd used a thin layer of concrete as her medium, etching the pattern into it while it was still wet. It complemented the overwhelming patterns of bright colors upon both walls and the ceiling, millions of ceramic beads that rushed and twisted and curled, each placed by hand over many years.
Even the gangs knew this was Susan's turf.

The apartment door's biometrics identified Jane, and opened. “Susan?” she called as she entered.

“Living room,” her sister's voice came back.

The apartment was a standard Tower Single, two thousand square feet with ten foot ceilings. Susan had filled it with the paintings and sculptures of her friends and lovers, floor to ceiling shelves full of hard copy books, gorgeous hand made rugs, large comfortable furniture. The place was always welcoming, even now.

Jane found her sitting in her 'thinking chair', a plush recliner that faced the floor to ceiling living room window with a prefect view of Tower Eight. She wasn't surprised at how Susan looked. She watched her weight loss on the vids she regularly sent her while she was on the Maathai. But here, in the same room, Susan's impending death was palpable.

Jane knelt by her, gave her a hard hug and a kiss. “I'm glad you waited for me,” Jane said softly.

Susan made a mischievous face. “Gave me an excuse to experiment with various opiate compounds.”

“As if you needed an excuse.”

“Ah, nothing is better than a guilty pleasure indulged in without guilt.” She turned serious. “I know what you've been planing.”

Jane's control of her facial expression was absolute. Her neural nanonics could create a perfect poker face.

“Now don't give me that Gorgon face,” Susan said with a hint of petulance.

“It's the right thing to do,” Jane said flatly.

Susan grinned like a loon. “Of course it's the right thing to do!”

Jane relaxed. “I was concerned you'd be embarrassed.”

“One cannot embarrass the dead. And a museum with my name on it is also a museum with our mother's name on it and I could never object to that.”

“We're taking the entire corridor, too,” Jane said, “Just removing the panels themselves.”

“You're not going to make some kind of a shrine out of my apartment, are you?”

Jane smiled. “No, just the corridor and the exhibits of your work. We've been gathering the pieces for a while now.”

“You Sisters are a morbid lot.”

Jane shrugged. “We think in the long term about everything. It's our nature.”

Susan laughed. “I can hear the caps in 'long term'.” She patted the broad arm of her chair. “Come. Sit down. It's almost time.”

Jane sat on the arm, took her sister's hand, leaned against her. She'd seen the Medi-Patch on her other arm. It could administer a lethal cocktail at a set time or be triggered manually.

They looked out the window at Tower Eight. Susan had carefully picked this apartment those sixty plus years ago. During certain times of the year, the sunset reflected an amazing array of reds and golds off of Tower Eight. They and her friends had watched that show so many times.

All of those friends were gone now and this would be the last time for both of them.

“Jane, I have one last favor to ask of you. In my desk you'll find about six hundred hand written pages,” she made a little laugh. “You're probably the only human who can read my scribble.”

“What do you need?” Jane said, holding her sister's hand a bit tighter.

“They're notes for a history of the horse clans. I started with Red Epona, but got carried away. I never finished because it needs field research and...well, you know.”

“Yes,” Jane kissed her sister's hair. “I've missed them anyway.”

“Thank you,” Susan whispered.

At that moment, the setting sun slashed across Tower Eight and the room was filled with a reddish golden cascade of light.

Jane held Susan's hand even after it went limp, held it until that light faded to a soft glow.

Later, as she emerged from the lift on the ground level, she 'heard/felt' a soft chime deep in her temporal lobe.

A pleasant voice whispered, “This is an announcement from the Electoral Directorate. Voting in the General Plebiscite regarding the question of the admission of the Siberian Confederacy into the Union of Matrilineal Republics had been concluded. Admission has been approved. The tally is as...”

Jane shut off the link. She knew it was a wide margin. And The Sisterhood had just absorbed nearly a quarter of the Eurasian landmass. She and the GF/MP's smiled knowingly at each other. They all were conscious of the threshold that had just been crossed.

She heard Susan's laughter in her head; “I can hear the caps in 'long term'.” Jane's smile got just a little bit deeper.
nebris: (The Temple 2)
~Miki Nemmera sat in a secure private lounge of Le Tour Rouge, sipped her Passito, looked out upon the Parisian skyline. In the distance, the lights of the newly refurbished Eiffel Tower had just come on, bright against the Autumn dusk.

Le Tour Rouge a was the premier diplomatic watering hole in Paris, the new headquarters city of the United Nations. New York was still a shambles and too vulnerable to storms, so the European Union proposed Paris, with the entire Île-de-France as a UN Protected Zone.

This choice was to make up for Berlin becoming the EU capital itself, a deal that was brokered by the Union of Matrilineal Republics.

Miki Nemmera kept track of such things, being First Vice-Minister of External Affairs of the UMR. And most did call her Miki, her given name, Mictecacihuatl – an Aztec vampire Moon Goddess – being far too difficult for most to pronounce.

Le Tour Rouge was an elongated plasteen pyramid perched upon the butte Montmartre, its particular variety of the space manufactured material refracting through the red spectrum, which cause it to shine like a vast ruby during the day, but be a reflective jet black after dark.

At its base was a ring of flagpoles flying those of the UN's members. The oldest, after the UN's sky blue and white globe flag, was the deep blue EU banner with its ring of yellow stars. Both predated the Age of Storms. The others were newer.

The Union of Matrilineal Republics' was a field of twilight blue – symbolizing a New Dawn – with a narrow red band at the bottom – paying homage to the old California state flag, the original home of The Sisterhood – and an eight pointed red star imposed upon a white wreath in the upper left canton – indicative of The Sisterhood's expansion out onto the world and beyond.

Some called that The Flag of The Sisterhood, but while the UMR was functionally also The Sisterhood, its flag was not.

The Sisterhood's flag was a solid black – symbolizing the infinite nature of the universe – while in the upper left canton was a white Pentagram – symbol of Witches – with a red V superimposed upon it – representing The Sisterhood's Five Precepts – both inside a white wreath – representing union and triumph. But that was a 'religious' flag and The Sisterhood was wise enough to keep their Politics and their Religion separate, at least outside of their own borders.

The African Federation's flag had a black silhouette of the continent, at its center a large yellow wreath with a crossed yellow spear and spade, imposed upon a field of red and green divided horizontally.

The Siberian Confederacy's flag was three simple horizontal bands of red, green, and brown of equal width.

There were a few dozen more, but those four, Europe, Africa, Siberia, and The UMR, were the 'major players' on the world stage at the moment. And here in Paris is where they played Politics.

Miki poured herself some more Passito, an act that would shock some of The Sisterhood's opponents. Many of them believed no Sister would ever perform any type of 'menial task', but would instead have some Servitor do it for her.

She laughed softly at the thought. She'd countered that argument a number of times. “When I was a little girl,” she'd say, “I made my own bed and cleaned my own room,” both true statements and also true for any Sister who grew up in one of The Cults.

Occasionally, she'd bring up Universal Service, but that tended to scare people and remind them that The Sisterhood was not simply a Matriarchy, but also an Amazon society, so she usually did not mention that up unless she wished to intimidate.

Universal Service was the UMR's final Citizenship Ritual, requiring every Sister to provide a contiguous thirty months service in one of Earth Force's three branches – Ground, Sea, and Sky Force – some time between their twentieth and thirtieth birthdays. And then be part of the Ready Reserve essentially for the rest of their lives.

Earth Force was one of the two major components of the Ministry of Force, the other being Space Force. The Ministry, which was generally known as MoF [said Em-Oh-Ef], was actually a paramilitary department and really used very little 'force' at all.

Though Ground, Sea, and Sky Force were somewhat analogous to a army, navy, and air force, the majority of their operations were effectively civil in nature, infrastructure projects, search and rescue, peacekeeping, etc.

For example, the vast archeologies where non-citizens resided were constructed by the Ground Force Corps of Engineers. Now that the non-citizen population was dwindling, the GF/CE was converting them into vast hydroponic towers.

But the GF/CE's pride and glory was the Quito Space Elevator, built in cooperation with Sky Force and Space Force's own separate Corps of Engineers. It was The Sisterhood's main highway into space and the principal instrument by which they had come to dominate near Earth space.

Miki had gone into Sea Force on a Space Force track, the latter being organized upon naval lines, and learned the essentials of large vessel operations. When she completed her Service Contract with Sea Force she went straight to Space Force Academy at the El-Five Complex. That lasted twice as long as Sea Force service.

She served twelve years after that, mostly on the gigantic Loop Ships that ran on long loop shaped orbital patterns out from El-Five to Mars or to the Asteroid Belt and back. The Mars run was eighteen months round trip. The Asteroid Belt run was thirty five months.

Space Force operated all of the UMR's space endeavors, military discipline and organization being a functional prerequisite for operating in that highly unforgiving environment, but it too was largely paramilitary, with the emphasis on the 'para'.

In fact, MoF's name was really a psycho-political euphemism. Except for what had become three of the most terrifying words in the world: Marine Drop Trooper.

The Space Force Marine Corps was a purely military organization and when force was actually required, it was the Marines who provided said, dropping down out of orbit upon whomever had provoked The Sisterhood sufficiently.

Unlike Ground Force, where the majority of personnel were Sisters, in Space Force and its Marine Corp, Sisters were officers and NCO's. The rest were Mandroids, all specialized technical personnel. And Marine Mandroids were specialized in fighting, killing and, occasionally, dying.

Usually no more than a battalion were kept active on Response Status. The rest were kept in storage in a light medical coma, a technique widely used for non-operational Mandriods on long space runs. Marine Drop Troopers were not sociable beings and The Sisterhood kept them on a tight leash.

Like the majority of Space Force officers, Miki had only encountered Drop Troopers during her Academy days as part of an Orientation and Familiarization Course. And even though as an Initiated Sister she was a formidable killer in her own right, like many, they made her shudder a bit.

But most space ops had no need of them. Space Force Mandroid personnel were perfectly disciplined and cooperative and always efficient. That was thoroughly programed into them.

Miki sighed. Even given the obvious rigorousness and dynamism of The Sisterhood, the regular insinuation of Decadence was a standard Phallist canard, based upon the real fear of the UMR's massive number of Mandroid servitors, a number which grew steadily with each passing day.

Mandroids were really just a type of cyborg, but since the majority of humans these days had some manner of cybernetic augmentation, a separate term had been needed.

Most Mandroids were grown in uterine replicators based upon modified porcine uteri, and were commonly called 'tank babies'. Y-chromosome DNA was used exclusively in that process and was extensively engineered to enhance inclinations and tendencies for the various subtypes.

Tank baby Mandroids were usually of a lesser mental capacity and heavily augmented, Guidance Mechanisms being implanted in the brain's pleasure/pain centers before they were ever hatched. That also solved the problem of 'socialization'.

Experience had shown that the isolating 'non-humanness' of the replicators tended to regularly produce sociopathic and psychotic individuals, which was one of the principle reasons The Sisterhood practiced the live birth of their daughters. Obviously, they did not bear any male offspring and they certainly had the tech to make sure that they never did.

The Sisterhood used a certain amount of purely mechanical/electronic robots, but overall, robots had never reached the level of functional and economic efficiency of Mandroids, either in manufacture or operation. Too many raw materials needed. Basic mechanics too complex and often unreliable.

But it was in 'brain function' that robots really fell behind Mandroids. Ultimately, it was far easier to downgrade the biological that it was to upgrade the cybernetic.

It was the UMR's Ministry of Service that designed and created every variety of Mandroid, and was not only their sole producer, but also their sole legal owner. All Mandriods were leased, not owned, by their end users under a Usufruct Contract and that included every one of them from a single domestic servitor to the tens of millions employed by Space Force from Dirtside to the Asteroid Belt. And the MoS's Rules and Regulations regarding Care and Utilization under that contract were well defined and rigorously enforced.

And so The Sisterhood had finally resolved the ancient and pernicious human problem of social inequality, and permanently solved the issue of Labor Supply, by creating a specialized working class, one which was always happy and productive, and whose members could be stored in a medical coma when not needed or when shipped on long distance runs off planet.

Of course, the entire concept and its mechanisms were an anathema to Humanists and Phallists alike, though for different reasons.

For the latter, it meant that they and their world view were doomed, as who could resist such a society? Essentially, they were fighting a 'rear guard action' and knew it, not that this made them any the less determined to fight.

For the former, it was considered slavery, plain and simple, and was therefore Evil, no matter the details. That they could never come up with a realistic plan for what to actually do with the 'slaves' they wished to liberate was brushed aside. And they were horrified by The Sisters when they said, “Well, we could just space them all,” usually with a predatory grin.

Miki, and The Sisterhood in general, tended to have more contempt for The Humanists than for The Phallists. At least the Phallist position was honest. They were overtly committed to Masculine Supremacy and were not at all apologetic about that. The Sisterhood knew The Phallists were wrong - history made that quite clear - but they stood by their position without equivocation.

The Humanists however used all manner of philosophical smokes screens such as Freedom and Individuality to disguise a set of beliefs and practices not particularly different from The Phallists. At its core, Humanism boiled down to Survival of The Fittest, with some 'social welfare' attached to pretty things up.

Liberal Humanism had once been a vital force and had changed human affairs for the better. But it inevitably fell victim to the Cult of The Individual and then fractured into ideological factionalism, individual narcissism and intellectual decadence. Its absolute rejection of Hierarchy doomed it to impotence.

Humans are a social species and Hierarchy comes naturally to all human endeavors. The Sisterhood, The Phallists and The Humanists all existed Hierarchically, but the latter rigorously denied it. Both of the former could then undermine them in detail.

The Phallists had used the Humanists as moral cover to pass laws in several states totally banning Mandriods. This included the EU, Africa, and Siberia. Such laws were meaningless however, as the MoS forbade the exportation of most types of Mandriods outside the UMR itself and of any type to a state that had not entered into a Friendship Treaty with the UMR.

Such a treaty gave the MoS full and unilateral access to their Servitors and the authority to take “direct and forceful action to preserve and protect said.” That included calling in Drop Troopers if necessary.

To date, every entity that had signed a Friendship Treaty had been first socially and then legally annexed by The Sisterhood within a decade or so of signing, as male birth rates would plummet and most the local females tended to become fully fledged Sisters.

The relentlessness of this trend forced the improvement of women's status throughout the rest of the world. If a women was unsatisfied with her lot, she could immigrate to The Sisterhood, which had all manner of Genetic and Cybernetic programs for fully integrating 'outside' Sisters into the fold. All a woman had to do was apply at any UMR Embassy or Consulate. No woman was ever turned away.

More terrifying to the Phallists however, was the significant number of mostly younger males who also immigrated into the UMR. The MoS maintained a Special Augmentation division to convert these male immigrants into Special Service Mandriods, quite often some type of Pleasure Servitor. These types were highly prized and very well treated and their lives were something of a legend outside of The Sisterhood.

There was a Male Birth Movement, in which men would have a womb surgically implanted and would only have male children. But they were few in number and most Phallists were repulsed by the idea.

And because of the psychological problems inherent in non-augmented 'tank babies', attempts to increase the male population using that technology had been grotesque and horrifying failures. One of them, a South Asian republic of homicidal psychotics, had required the deployment of an entire Marine Drop Brigade to 'clean up the mess'.

Miki had been at Space Force Academy during that little horror. The whole Cadet Corps had been glued to the live feeds for days.

She finished off her second glass of Passito on that memory. She looked again at the night time sky over Paris, the city now fully illuminated and living up to its old title.

Miki was here at Le Tour Rouge to have a private meeting with the Foreign Minister of the Siberian Confederacy, Yulia Prokharovka. And the secure lounges were the next best thing to the UMR's own Embassy, Le Tour Rouge in fact being owned – through about a dozen front companies – by the MoF's General Security Directorate. The GSD handled all The Sisterhood's 'security issues', everywhere.

Siberia had become very powerful in the last decade, the melting of the permafrost opening up access to raw materials and making it an agricultural dynamo. The Confederacy had absorbed Mongolia, Manchuria, and the Korean Peninsula, more with food than with military might, though it possessed that as well.

Kaminov Yao, the Prime Minister for two decades, had been the motivator of this expansion. He smiled out at the world, but kept a tight rein at home. He was not overtly hostile to the UMR: that was suicidal at best. But he quietly resisted its influence as best he could.

However, he had recently 'become ill'. Hence Miki's meeting with Prokharovka. As First Vice-Minister of External Affairs, she handled all the 'delicate' matters. And they had been their respective state's UN Ambassadors at the same time, so she had known Yulia for years...and she was also her GSD contact.

Yulia arrived precisely at the appointed time. They smiled, hugged and kissed. They could be sisters. Tall, solidly built, with jet black hair and 'Asiatic' features, though Miki was darker, having Mesoamerican blood and a dozen years of UV in Space Force.

Miki poured her some Passito. They made small talk. And then Miki activated the various dampeners. The air went dead.

“I can never get used to that,” Yulia said. “It's like someone closed my coffin.”

“Only the dead can hear us,” Miki said with a light smile.

Yulia laughed, then turned serious.

“We have Yao on ice. Literally. Stuck him in a Cryo unit. The evil little peen!” she snarled.

“Who is in charge?”

“That would be me,” Yulia said brightly.

Miki smiled. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

“As if the GSD didn't tell you already.”

“They were not absolutely sure. Your security has been excellent.”

Yulia grinned widely. “Now that is a true complement!”

Miki smiled softly. “Merely an accurate observation.” She paused a moment. “So, tomorrow...?” Yulia was to address the General Assembly.

“Some boilerplate about 'Yao sending his regards etc'. And then the announcement that we're opening negotiations with the UMR vis-a-vis a Friendship Treaty. Just negotiations. Nothing final.” she said with practiced nonchalance.

Miki smiled wolfishly. “Yes, incrementalism is best.”

Yulia nodded. “The dick swingers will be up to their hairy asses in Mandroids before they even realize it!”

Miki raised her glass. “Sisterhood!”

Yulia clinked it with hers. “Sisterhood!”

They upended their glasses.

As Miki refilled them, she said, “So, let me tell you about these new bioforms the MoS has been working on. Detachable penises.”

Yulia leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling.

"Culling"

May. 12th, 2015 06:04 am
nebris: (The Temple 2)
~The city had once been prosperous and beautiful, tall shining towers, broad tree lined boulevards, full of vitality.

Now it was a smashed ruin. Most of that had happened during the Age of Storms, Category Six monsoons scouring those once shining towers, adding their debris to the general destruction of wind and rain.

Battle damage had now been added to that forlorn landscape.

Drajica looked around at the ruins from the wide intersection where she had set up her Tribunal. The helmet of her battle armor was opened 'on the half shell' and would snap shut if the suit detected any incoming threat.

In the distance, she could hear the buzz/hum/hiss of Drop Trooper weapons, the snapping of century old ex-Soviet assault rifles, the occasional crump of chemical explosives. The air stank of general decay, with an added undercurrent of burnt flesh.

Her security team had established a perimeter around the intersection. In its center, a hundred or so local males were lined up, kneeling, hands bound at the small of their backs. A stack of black plastic body bags were in an orderly pile a dozen feet behind them.

“Pathetic,” she thought, “But they had been warned.”

As the Age of Storms slowly abated, the Union of Matrilineal Republics had emerged from North America's West Coast. The Sisterhood, as it was colloquially known, spread rapidly into the chaotic aftermath.

In the half century since, it had displaced most of the 'systems' that had survived the Age of Storms in an essentially peaceful process, and then expanded out into near Earth space.

Some pockets of Phallists had resisted with violence. But with limited capacity to reproduce, they faded quickly. Uterine replicator technology seemed set to reverse that, but unaugmented tank babies were almost universally sociopathic, except for the psychotics, of course. Those societies imploded brutally.

This city was one of the very last strongholds of Phallism. The Sisterhood had compiled evidence of genital mutilation, impregnation rape, and foot amputation for the women who tried to escape before it took action.

Two Warnings were issued. Then came an EMP, followed by a Marine Drop Brigade. Mobile Tribunals did the mopping up.

Drajica walked over to the line prisoners, ostentatiously removing the armored glove from her right hand. She'd picked the first one specifically. She knew his type.

He wore a finely knit kufee and a now soiled white robe. His beard was long, but neatly trimmed.

Drajica faced him. “Do you Swear to honor and respect your Sisters?” Her voice was soft, but firm.

He smiled, but his eyes were hard. “There is no God, but God,” he said, “And Mu-”

She pointed at him. An actinic flash burst from her fingertip. A pinhole appeared in his forehead, a thin wisp of smoke puffing upward. He fell over backward, his body jerking. The smell of piss and shit adding to the overall stench.

She sighed. The next in line, a terrified boy no more than seventeen, had already pissed himself. She faced him. “Do you Swear to honor and respect your Sisters?” she repeated in the exact same tone.

“Ye-ye-yes, Mistress,” he blubbered with utter sincerity, “I Swear by my life!”

Two Marine Mandroid Drop Troopers hauled him away to a waiting ground vehicle. His fate would likely be agricultural resettlement, or possibly servitor augmentation. But that was not for her to determine.

Two other Drop Troopers were dragging the mullah's corpse toward the pile of body bags. He would wind up as DNA harvest. His smug face would haunt her dreams for a while.

Drajica sighed again. “It will all be over soon,” she told herself, and moved down the line.
nebris: (The Temple 2)
~Ahmed Nasiri Yang was nervous, though he really had no reason to be. His upcoming appointment was a simple and very traditional formality, the physical signing of an codicil renewing the African Federation's agreement with the Union of Matrilineal Republics regarding the use of Near Earth Space. The Nairobi Space Elevator was an important part of the Federation’s economy.

Yang was a mid level functionary in the Interior Ministry, the Sub-Deputy Secretary for Space Based Commercial Affairs. He was also a Melonzhay, the racial mixture of Old Chinese, Arabs and American Creoles that had been the traditional ruling class of the Federation since they had 'inherited' the wreckage of Africa from its devastated and depleted tribal peoples in the early Twenty Second Century. And all members of his class knew they were superior beings.

He utterly hated the UMR. His second wife had left him to join The Sisterhood a quarter century ago, followed by their daughter two years later. However he knew this was good for his career – and he was a patriot after all – so he 'sucked it up'.

His first wife had merely divorced him when he was a minor clerk and married a Senior Minister. He had actually introduced them. Her new husband then became obliged to her ex and had been his political patron ever since. They were friendly and moved in the same social circles. Such was the nature of their class.

But there had been great shame in what his second wife had done. It reflected upon him as a Man. His daughter had not mattered that much as her action was thought an extension of her mother's. But that had hurt him personally. He had loved her.

His third and present wife however was considered a great prize, a pure blood Chinese girl he'd contracted to marry out of the Fukienese Republic, one of the fragmentary successor states of Old China. What no one knew – except Yang and the 'contractors' – is that his 'wife' had been born male. He'd become a female through a complex and expensive process.

It was UMR bio-tech of course. No one was better at that than The Sisterhood. A semi-pubescent male was needed. The body was required to already be in 'hormonal flux'. The young male would be put into a medical coma and then immersed in a vat of nanonutrients. That broth would interpenetrate his entire body down to the molecular level and transform all of it. The whole thing took about five months, but the being that emerged was a fully functional female.

The young man's family would be very well compensated and the young man would have some idea of what he was getting into. But better to be the pampered wife of a rich man in Africa than a poor dirt farmer in the 'rump' of Old China.

It was a quietly booming market. Yang knew that sooner or later a scandal would break, but he didn't care. His pretty new bride had salved his ego. And the possibility that the UMR's General Security Directorate could be behind the 'contractors' he totally put out of his mind.

The codicil signing was to take place in a small conference room in the Nairobi Space Port. The UMR rep would take the Elevator down both as a courtesy and to pretend that the Federation was an equal in Near Earth Space.

The UMR rep went by the name of Deng Quan Yin and had the title of Assistant Councilor with their External Affairs Ministry. She was small by Sisterhood standards, barely six feet tall. But she looked as solid and tough as any of them. He rose as she entered and they nodded to each other politely.

“Councilor,” he said.

“Secretary,” she replied.

The paper documents were laid out in front of their respective seats. Each signed a copy, then slid it across the table. The whole thing took three minutes. Then they stood up, nodded politely, and she left with her copy.

Yang went to the men's room and vomited. The idea that he had ever fucked that...creature made him shake with disgust. But enduring this would give him substantial face. The Ministry had known whom the URM was sending and he had requested this assignment when he found out.

He washed his face and looked in the mirror. He felt vindicated. Now he would go home and fuck his pretty young wife very hard and all would be right in his world.
nebris: (The Temple 2)
~Tatti had scheduled her labor to begin within a half an hour. This was her first Daughter, named Parvati, and she was nervous.

But Murphy, her own Womb Mother, and Lalanna, her lover, Partner and Seed Mother of this child, were attending as her Midwives. Together they had saged and Blessed the Birthing Chamber, invoking various Birthing Goddesses; Hathor, Ilithyia, Meskhent, Tlazolteotl, Ajysyt, Pi-hsia-yuan-chun, Nintur, and of course, Isis and Artemis.

The Birthing Pool was running at correct temperature, seventy eight degrees, its water pure and filtered. All close family who were on world or in near Earth space had gathered, except for Selena, her Seed Mother, who was supervising a mining operation out in the Asteroid Belt, but had sent a very loving vid.

Tatti's physiocomp softly 'chimed' in her head. It was time. She was linked to all present, so they heard that too. Murphy and Lalanna took off her thin white chemise, guided her down the steps into the Birthing Pool. When she was hip deep, they each grasped one of her breasts, gently squeezing spurts of milk into the swirling water as a final Blessing.

Tatti slipped herself between the padded armrests and relaxed against the Pool's wall. She then focused on Parvati, her daughter stirring within her womb in anticipation. Tatti had spent ten and half months monitoring and shaping her child, guiding nanites here and there. In the last two months basic verbal communication had become possible, though Parvati herself could still only send feelings.

Tatti smiled at all gathered, kissed Murphy and Lalanna. “I'm ready,” she said, took a deep breath, and sent the Birthing Command to her physiocomp.

The first thing it did was flood her with endorphins. Then it blocked most, though not all, pain sensation in her lower body. It would monitor all body functions, which both Murphy and Lalanna would follow via link. Tatti knew she'd be sore later, but that mattered not in this moment.

She was semi-delirious as her brain swam in pleasure inducing hormones. She gathered what focus she could and talked to Parvati, who was also bathed in her mother's endorphins, dampening any fear she had.

The physiocomp handled all the 'heavy lifting'; regulating contractions, dilating the cervix, and the 'push-push-push'. All Tatti had to do was guide Parvati down and out.

Parvati 'crowned' within five minutes and then popped out into the water in seconds. It gave her a slight shock as it was twenty degrees cooler than her mother's womb, but that sharpened her senses and she bobbed about below the surface, blinking her eyes open.

Meanwhile, hundreds of thousands of nanites rushed into Tatti's womb and birth canal, repairing damaged tissues and breaking down the placenta for reabsorbtion or excretion, all guided by her physiocomp.

Lalanna submerged and took hold of Parvati, lifting her to the surface. She spat and coughed a bit, making faces as Lalanna wiped off the afterbirth. She then looked directly at her mother for the first time, smiled and mumbled, “Tatti.”

Everyone laughed with joy. Lalanna handed Parvati to Tatti, where the child latched quickly onto a nipple and began to suckle. Her mother sighed deeply, as did everyone else. All present murmured, “Blessed Be.”

After a moment, Parvati mumbled, “Bessibee,” around her mother's nipple. And The Sisterhood grew that much stronger.
nebris: (The Temple 2)
The need for a reliable Labor Force is one of the oldest and most difficult issues of human civilization.

The harsh truth is that we Baseline Humans are too varied, too impulsive, too inconsistent and always dissatisfied with something. To create order among us eventually requires lies and coercion and as such leads to Tyranny, which damages the Oppressor as much as the Oppressed by brutalizing both.

Better then to turn the Means of Production to the production of Workers themselves, a genetically engineered Servitor Class, beings who are happy with their lot and take pleasure from performing their duties. Such beings would have simple needs, requiring only humane treatment and modest comfort beyond their Purpose as Workers to make their lives pleasurable.

Many of you will react with horror at this entire line of thinking. Yet consider this; the device upon which you are reading these words requires a number of Rare Earths to function. Many of those elements are mined in the Congo by people who are essentially slaves, most of them war refugees and quite a few survivors of War Rape. Their lives are a daily regime of brutality and for most their only escape is death. I'm sure you're horrified by that as well, but you're not going give up your device, are you?

The technologies necessary to create Homo Servitus are already under development. The parsing of genes that guide certain behavioral tendencies. Cloning from ordinary human cells. Uterine Replicators. Cerebral implants to guide and control behavior.

Many of the various members of this Servitor Class would be designed and grown with their specific tasks in mind. A small number would be more generalized servants. But they would all be grown, which is their major advantage over robots. Robot require complex engineering and lots of raw materials. This type of biological Servitor Class also avoids the existential danger of creating independent and mobile AIs.

On the other end of the scale, we need to evolve a type of Homo Superior..but that's a tale for another time. Either way, we Baseline Humans will soon need to move off the stage before we wreck the whole place.
nebris: (The Temple 2)
~It's no secret that Her Prophet has not been doing well these past few years. I've been getting my ass kicked along with much of the rest of the race, though I am very aware of how much better me and mine have been doing compared with the bottom three fourths of our fellows. We are, after all, White Folks in America.

And yet for all that 'perspective', I am also aware that we are still on the 'business end' of The Corporate State's 'culling program'. It does not matter whether said program is a conscious plan or merely a side effect of Business As Usual, we're on their extinction list. That 'we' includes YOU in all likelihood.

This is fairly depressing to contemplate. I suspect I've been depressed my whole life largely because I have always been aware of this in one way or another. And with the increase in tempo of the past decade or so, my depression has deepened.

It was in that depression that I started to write yesterday. And a funny thing happened. I typed out [and edited] the following statement and a significant portion of my depression lifted...

“The concept put forth in The Explanation is this; that a Transhumanist Matriarchy ruled by Amazon Cyber-Witches with vast legions of Genetically Engineered Male Servitors at their command to build and operate their realm here on Mother and out into The Universe is the best plan for the long term survival of our species.”

When I read it back it has much the same effect. My depression does not 'go away', but it greatly lessens. Let's look at it again...

“The concept put forth in The Explanation is this; that a Transhumanist Matriarchy ruled by Amazon Cyber-Witches with vast legions of Genetically Engineered Male Servitors at their command to build and operate their realm here on Mother and out into The Universe is the best plan for the long term survival of our species.”

On the face of it, such a vision is, more or less, insane, at least by contemporary standards. But, if you think about it for a moment, 'contemporary standards' are pretty insane as well. To prove that point, just scroll through any general news feed for a half an hour.

What gets me depressed again is being 'reasonable'. That a fat old man on Disability such as myself can move such a vast project forward is utterly fucking 'unreasonable'. Which is where Faith comes in.

When I read the above statement, it renews my Faith. Maybe I'm delusional. I mean really, I speak to an invisible Spirit Guide. But anybody who pays attention knows the Power of Faith to do that which has been declared impossible by 'reasonable people'.

Certainly I want to be around for the beginning of 'this thing of ours'. I want to guide and inform my Sisters as they take the first steps. And I know I may not get that privilege.

The only thing that is within my power is to finish The Explanation and then let go of the results.

Let us look at that statement one more time...

“The concept put forth in The Explanation is this; that a Transhumanist Matriarchy ruled by Amazon Cyber-Witches with vast legions of Genetically Engineered Male Servitors at their command to build and operate their realm here on Mother and out into The Universe is the best plan for the long term survival of our species.”

...and there you have it.
nebris: (The Temple 2)
“We need Reason to effectively navigate our way through Life, but it is Faith that sustains us during the journey.”

~Today is October 28th, 2012/6th Undenia, 12AS. The past year or so has been a time of great trial for me and mine. It left us physically, emotionally and Spiritually exhausted and a bit deeper in debt. [and yes, I did hear Tennessee Ernie Ford sing that last line] But we have now entered a time of renewal, albeit slowly.

A few days ago circumstances dictated that I re-read Her Prophet Explains: Addendum A: [Revealed Knowledge] in its entirety...and doing so lifted my spirits in a way I had not felt in a very long time. It brought me back to the place where I once again Knew My Purpose.

It also reminded me of how I get off track and then get discouraged. At the very beginning of Revealed Knowledge, I state, “I am, by both training and inclination, not only a Skeptic, but a Cynic, so the things I am going to share here I often find embarrassing to even consider, much less to actually believe. And yet I do. Such is the nature of Revealed Knowledge. It tends to be unprovable, at least in the short term.”

That is why I tend to fall back upon Reason when I 'lose momentum' etc. It is in large part my fear of becoming the 'mindless religious fanatic'. But as I also say in The Preface to The Explanation, “To many of you what will be presented in these pages will seem like madness. Often, it seems like madness to me, as well. And yet....when I am quiet and calm and centered it all unfolds perfectly and makes complete sense.”

Re-reading Revealed Knowledge brought me back to that place of being ' quiet and calm and centered' and it once again made 'complete sense'.

As I was on the verge of going to bed, I knew I could not do justice to what I was experiencing in the moment in that moment, so I created a file with the above title and wrote the above quote and then went to sleep, knowing that if my renewal was genuine and not just a unsustainable flash, I would get back to this in a timely fashion. And here I am.

I am required to admit that I did not re-read the whole thing with equal focus. I tended to glance over the whole unfinished I Know... portion because I feel unhappy about it being unfinished and ambivalent about facing the discomfort that I'll experience when I do finally finish it. So therefore I did not get an 'up-lift' from that.

However, reading the second half caused me to fill with...well, Joy...if you really want to know. I am little embarrassed to say that because of my innate skepticism, but I need to be honest with myself and others if I am to truly follow this Path.

I'll reproduce the whole section here because it is all of one piece and needs to be read as such:

"The Purpose here is to clearly illumine the Metaphysical underpinning that drives the necessity of creating a New Matriarchy.

Let me state it bluntly: As Revealed above, we humans are not fully of this world and as such are governed by factors that do not relate to this world. To invert that, there are factors that govern all other life upon this world that not only do not fully govern humans and are in some cases actually antithetical to our further development and those must be eschewed.

Principally, I speak of the Sexual Binary Paradigm.

I will let E explain from here. After all this IS about Revealed Knowledge.

E says; “As a hybrid species, you have inherited the aspects of two races and three genders. My race, as advanced as we became, was never perfect, something that should be obvious from what is written above. We meant well,but made crucial mistakes, something I realized back in the beginning, but was powerless to stop.

The early merging was an uneasy state and was destined to fail as long as the two races were aware of said state. A Forgetting was needed, time for both to fully meld into each other. Then, once that was accomplished, a Remembering could take place.

You are now upon the threshold of such a Remembering. However, though this process will produce a magnificent outcome, the process itself will be quite unpleasant at times, both in a metaphysical and a mundane fashion.

Possibly the most difficult part of this process will be the necessary transition of your presently bi-gendered species into a female mono-gendered species, necessary because the male body of your race cannot safely handle who you will become when The Remembering gets fully underway.

The reasons for this were outlined a few years ago and are quoted here;'The Corner Stone of Patriarchal Dominion, the concept of a Father/God, of a masculine energy, that ‘gave birth’ to All of Creation, is, at best, an absurdity, and at worst, a truly profound abomination, and is clearly the product of a Phallo-Centric delusionalism driven both by the male need for control and his literal and figurative fear of castration... underscored by the modern knowledge that in the womb all children begin as female.

The male is unbalanced by the lost memory of his femaleness, which is also the deep foundation of his castration fears. He strives for control because his ‘becoming male’ in his mother’s womb creates an unquenchable need to ‘become’ something else, but this ultimately only makes him Other and separate from the feminine All of Creation.

The male’s unquenchable need to ‘become’ has created this powerful Patriarchal Civilization which has perpetrated many hideous evils while simultaneously being the source of much Great Good. However, this civilization has become extremely ‘over- balanced’ and the evils at its core threaten to destroy all its Great Good. The obvious solution is to create a new balance.

To create this new balance requires The End of The Male. His present necessity as ‘the depositor of seed’ will soon be over as Patriarchal Science itself creates the tools for women to fertilize each other. Women certainly have the Masculine Energy needed to maintain and nurture the positive fruits of this Patriarchal Civilization, while holding its worst aspects at bay.

This is not ‘male gendercide’, but a slow out-breeding over three or five generations. The Spirit is Immortal and is basically the same in each gender. It is only the vessel that is different. As this new reality unfolds, your Spirits will one day have only female vessels to enter with each Cycle of Incarnation…and this New Matriarchy shall blossom.'

Those are roughly my words, though somewhat 'liturgically' interpreted by Her Prophet. I retained that form to express the urgency of the matter. The human male body cannot handle the energies that The Remembering will restore to your race; it is inherently too unstable because that 'becoming' in the womb.

Only the female body can do so because that form is the one most like my race's original mono-gendered form and it is largely our power that you will be regaining. And be aware that success in this process is not guaranteed. None of the racial elements involved are perfect.

For those panicking over this, please remember that bodies are only form, only vehicles. Your Spirit is the key and that is Immortal and will adjust easily to a female mono-gendered society. Of course, Faith will be required for the mundane aspects of this process.

Two things to keep in mind.

First, The Remembering is not an 'end times' scenario. No 'gods' will come to 'judge and condemn'. That is fear based control paradigm used by the servants of 'small gods'. Ignore them.

The Remembering is a process that will take place over many generations and will require the extensive use of a revised Patriarchal Science. As I said, it will be unpleasant at times, as is any true growth experience, but it is ultimately all inclusive and every human Spirit will be a part of the final result.

Second, keep your bodies! The desire to 'ascend' or 'dis-corporate' are echoes of my race's history and though we Learned many Great Lessons while non-corporeal, in the end such a state was nearly an actual end of us.

If you become One With Everything you functionally become Nothing. Stay in The Material and avoid Entropy as along as you possibly can, which I calculate should be a few hundred million years.”


And at that point E laughed...”

I love that I have a Spirit Guide with a sense of humor. She has told me that is a key reason why She choose me. Too many others would 'deathly solemn' about all of this and that's always a drag. What's the point of Evolving if we're all to become a bunch of stone faced fucks?

Yes, all that sounds kind of nuts, but, in context, it certainly makes a lot more sense than Yahweh’s mud-pie people and creating everything in six days. Or crashing spaceships full of frozen souls into volcanoes and then stirring in nukes. Just sayin', ya know.

So let me repeat the opening quote: “We need Reason to effectively navigate our way through Life, but it is Faith that sustains us during the journey.”

And let me add a related quote, this one from Her Prophet Explains: Part Three "The Temple's Grand Strategy": “...we, The Temple of The Pentavalence, were created with the goal of utterly transforming human civilization as it presently stands and we were created in this form because history has shown over and over and over again that a Spiritual Path is the single most effective and long lasting method of achieving such a total transformation. 'Reason' can always be parsed to death, but "IT IS WRITTEN!" will get shit out of committee almost every time.”

Of course I am now presented with the rather formidable challenge of a re-write that moves Revealed Knowledge forward within the structure of The Explanation, all the way to the beginning to be exact. As Mr. Takai would say, “Oh my.”

And so it is...
nebris: (The Temple 2)
“While reading the above, some of you may have asked, 'why does an entire civilization need a single Spiritual Path?'

Part of that answer is quite simple; we, The Temple of The Pentavalence, were created with the goal of utterly transforming human civilization as it presently stands and we were created is this form because history has shown over and over and over again that a Spiritual Path is the single most effective and long lasting method of achieving such a total transformation.

Such a total transformation is required because, as stated above, the human species is clearly in trouble. And there is another answer to the question, 'why does an entire civilization need a single Spiritual Path?'

The answer is, “In order to guide a Triple Economy.”

Before we proceed with this let us state a basic scientific fact: the entire Universe is made up of Energy, every fucking piece of it. So saying we face a 'energy crisis' any time in the next billion years or so is outright horseshit.

What we actually face is a 'systems management crisis' with two major components. A: over population and B: operating within a closed resource system aka Planet Earth. In simple terms, too many people and not enough resources where said people happen to live.

Let us continue...

In his prescient volume, Small is Beautiful, E.F. Schumacher made the observation that there was both a Primary Economy, which consists of what 'nature' provides, what Capitalism would call 'raw materials', and a Secondary Economy, which is the actual production of 'finished goods' from said raw materials.

More than three decades later, J.M. Greer expanded upon this paradigm by the keen observation that there is a Tertiary Economy, one which manipulates the first two. He is speaking purely of Industrial Capitalism as his writing comes in the post-Soviet era, but it's clear that Soviet Communism was just as much a Tertiary Economic Model as Capitalism. It simply reached its End Game first.

In laying out the framework for an Economic Model for The New Matriarchy, we shall utilize [and modify] a number of the ideas of Schumacher, and to a lesser extent, Greer, though we shall also reject portions of these ideas because they are both Cultural Minimalists and Neo-Luddites, positions we strongly believe to be anti-survival for reasons which will shortly be made clear.

At this point we believe it necessary to make some change in terminology. Primary, Secondary, and Tertiary are all a bit too vague. They refer to the order of things, but not their content. So, we have renamed them and begun to expand upon their definition.

The Primary or “Natural” Economy:

The phrase Natural Economy is more evocative of the meaning intended, the resources available in Nature. It needs to be pointed out however that Nature is not limited to this world alone, that the Universe has vast resources as well. But we shall stay with Natural Economy as 'universal economy' could be confused with other constructs.

The Secondary or “Productive” Economy:

This really covers everything, all goods and services, from Geppetto cobbling a single pair of shoes in his workshop to the vast machinery of ConAgra harvesting twenty million acres in the American heartland. Hopefully, one day it will include things like an industrial complex at El Five and the mining of the Asteroid Belt.

The Tertiary or “Conceptual” Economy:

This is the part that does not actually exist in solid reality, hence “Conceptual”. It could also be called the “Ideological” Economy. It is dangerous in that it is not constrained by real world factors like the first two, at least not until those real world factors make themselves known and usually in a catastrophic manner, like bursting of various financial bubbles, or, in the case of the Soviet Union, a system wide operational failure of the Construct itself.

Therefore, The Triple Economy is the combined paradigms of the Natural, Production, and Conceptual Economies.

It is in the area of the Conceptual Economy that the economy of this New Matriarchy shall first take shape, on a small scale to begin with, but ultimately expanding throughout the globe and then, Goddess willing, out into The Universe itself.

For most of the Modern Era, roughly the last five hundred years, two Conceptual Economies have dominated. Broadly speaking they can be called the Collectivist/ Egalitarian Construct [Socialism, Communism, Social Democracy, etc] and the Individualist/Elitist Construct [Capitalism, Imperialism, Liberal Democracy, etc].

Both have existed in human societies since the beginning of history, but were always subordinated to some other social, political, and/or theological paradigm. It is only in the Modern Era that they emerged to operate in their own right.

Obviously these constructs are very powerful and dynamic though neither has completely edged out the other. The most successful systems have proved to be a balanced combination of the two, though achieving that is not as easy as it sounds.

And each of them had a fatal flaw. Ultimately, at their most fundamental level, they are based upon Self Centered Materialism, the paradigm of “Three Hots and a Cot.”

To the Cold and the Hungry, that is certainly a most attractive paradigm. And therein lays much of the power of each construct, and that dynamic can carry a society for a number of generations.

But at some point it hits what could be called an 'existential wall'. When all ones basic needs are met – food, shelter, survival – and then all ones less basic needs are met – luxury, comfort, indulgence – then what? Here we encounter the issues delineated in Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. After all the above needs have been satisfied, there are the Spiritual Needs, the need to find and understand the purpose of our existence, the “Why Are We Here?” issue.

Soviet Communism collapsed because they not merely failed to answer this question, they rejected it outright. In the end, the people's of the Soviet Empire rejected that rejection and without the use - once again - of the Iron Fist, the whole edifice came crashing down. Without any real Purpose, the Will to Repress had failed along with the Will to Endure.

Western Industrial Capitalism seemed to thrive with its “Three Hots and a Cot plus a Wide Screen TV” paradigm. But that requires a level of consumption and exploitation that has proven to be unsustainable and the End Game for that is now upon us with a vengeance.

Plus neither Construct ever fielded a Greater Purpose that its citizens were fully inspired by in the long term, with the result being Apathy, Anger, and Addition on a massive scale, the attempt by hundreds of millions to fill that Existential Void.

And now a general Collapse looms, Social, Economic, Physical, Spiritual, not the total breakdown that some predict – and even long for – but significant enough to be quite painful and possibly contain the seeds of a larger and more complete Collapse further down the line.

For our survival, we must do two practical things; get our heavy industry off of the surface of this planet, Gaea, our home, our Mother.. They are wounding Her. And we must reduce our overall numbers. We are suffocating Her. Trust me, if we do not do this ourselves, Gaea will do it for us. She has in fact already begun to do so.

The above ideologies, both Religious and Economic, are utterly incapable of first task, Industry Up, for reasons of Greed, Political Short Sightedness, and Theological Blindness. Such an undertaking would not generate the obscene profit margins that Capitalism requires, would demand a Focus and Effort beyond any Election Cycle, and fly in the face of all End Times Thinking.

The second task, Population Down, would encounter vast resistance across the board. “Whose population must go down?” would be the cry. Every nation, race, polity, etc would point their fingers at every other and scream “Racism!” or “Genocide!” or whatever they thought would apply or give them the most psycho-political traction.

But what does any of this have to do with the establishment of a New Matriarchy?

Here we must first quote Revealed Knowledge. E says, “Once upon a time, my race transformed itself from beings with bodies into beings of pure energy. Then we went wandering throughout Creation looking for that which had created it.

We spent tens of millions of years searching and traveled stunningly vast distances. We learned much...and yet never found The Source of All. We found clues, but never the Being Itself.

And then we began to fade away and realized we needed to have bodies again. But ours were long gone, so we would need new ones. A new search began.

That led us to Earth and to a very primitive species, but one with great promise. They had already begun to change their own psyches with hallucinogenic plants. We stepped in and took that further.

We bred and guided and manipulated the genetics of many generations of that species until they were ready to host the consciousness of our race. The Merging that took place was not without incident, but was successful...though the seed of a fatal flaw remained.

We and that species were now one race. And a mighty race they were. Raised continents. Created new species at will. And did this all without any instrumentation, just with the power of their minds.

But as time passed, their physical being took its toll upon their mental being and those great powers faded. And with them, so did that great civilization...and they Forgot. Or should I say, you forgot, as that hybrid species IS the human race.

Time passed and you humans, the beings who had Forgotten, once again rose up and built mighty civilizations. Though each one collapsed, something was always left and the next civilization was greater.

And now you stand upon a great threshold, one that is also a fork in the road. Which one you take determines if you, as a species, will survive or not. And you face an extremely hard choice, one that stems from that fatal flaw from long ago.

The flaw of Gender.

My race was of a single gender and parthanogenic. The species we found here was bi-gendered. That was accepted as a necessary evil. But now it has become an obstacle not merely to your further development, but to your very survival.

You as a species must now choose to let go of one of those genders, the Male. Males have great drive, but ultimately are too unstable and combative for the next phase of your species' development. Only your females can succeed in that transition.

If you are willing, you will transform into a far superior race than you are now and can take up the Great Search, the quest for The Source of All we had to abandon so long ago.

If you are unwilling to make this shift, you will die off. Not right away, but soon enough...and Forever.

Obviously, this is a terrible and distressing choice. But please know that it is only about the body, not the Spirit. Your Spirits are essentially Immortal. The qualification is that the basis of that Immortality is the existence of your Racial Subconscious. If your race dies, so do your Spirits.

So, there is your Choice: let go of being born into male bodies. Or face ultimate extinction.

Why do I even care?

In part, selfishness. With your race gone, I would be alone in The Universe. But our history also makes you my Family and my race was never so high and mighty that we forgot the bonds of Kinship.”


This is the Core Meaning and Purpose of all that The Temple does and must do. It is also the Greater Purpose, the Faith, that can clearly drive Industry Up. Such a Purpose will require that The Sisterhood becomes a spacefaring race.

Regarding the second task, Population Down, it as been shown that when women are fully in control of their own reproduction, Legally and Technologically, birth numbers go down automatically. In this New Matriarchy, women would quite obviously have total and absolute control over their bodies at all times.

Herein then is the foundation of this New Matriarchy's Conceptual Economy. Industry Up/Population Down give this Construct its operational parameters and the creation and expansion this New Matriarchy for the reasons E stated gives the Construct its Greater Purpose. From there it is then determined how the Natural and Production Economies will be utilized and directed.

A key element in all of this is the literal Transformation of the race, not just the Spiritual Transformation. What you must do, my Sisters – as per the Second Valance – is to utilize and develop, along with Majickal Working, all the emerging technologies of Genetic Engineering, Human/Cybernetic Interface, Nanotechnology, Life Extension Science, and so on, to Transform yourselves into a race of actual superwomen. Such an undertaking will also create a Scientific and Economic powerhouse. Combine that with the Industry Up Paradigm and you have a potentially unstoppable society.

A Note here: Terminators are not Cyborgs, they are Androids, robots made to appear human. A Cyborg – Cybernetic Organism – is a human who has been enhanced/augmented by Cybernetic [robotic] means, like the Bionic Woman. That this explanation is required also underscores the Power of Stories, something that is addressed in "Part Six".

Therefore, what we are talking of here a society leads to the creation of a race of Cyborg Amazon Witches. And honestly, what's not to like about that?”

http://theexplanation-nebris.blogspot.com/2011/09/her-prophet-explains-part-three-temples.html
nebris: (The Temple 2)
..message to an old friend..

"At the center of everything that I am doing and dealing with is The Explanation. I've been working on it directly for nearly four years now and I estimate that it is about three quarters done. I know it seems sometimes like I'm standing still – it feels like to me as well at times – but in fact I'm always working on it.

Even when the First Version is finally done and published, that will only be a single Event in an ongoing Process. And so it is...

http://theexplanation-nebris.blogspot.com/ "

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The Divine Mr. M

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