The Divine Mr. M

from January 13, 2013

~I've been watching this stupid clusterfuck unfold on Twitter the past half day and I'm...I don't know, torn between despair and disgust. I commented, “The White Male POV: 'slaves fighting to the death over scraps that fell off of *our* table'. /sigh”

So, time for a little bit of Mansplaining...

First off, I'm Fixed Gendered, so don't call me 'Cis'. It's fucking ugly and I suspect was chosen exactly for that reason, a passive/aggressive dig at those of us who are fine with our genitals.

Second, this is still A White Man's World. It possibly may not be for that much longer, but I warn y'all not to underestimate my Brothers. We're some mean and evil mother fuckers and will not let go of what is “Ours” without a very nasty fight. And our defeat is not yet assured, trust me.

Third, even though I am now a fat old fuck on Disability living in a double-wide outside of East Bumfuck, as an Educated White Male, I still have buckets more Privilege than 95% of you fucking bitches, whatever your color. All I have to do is show up, be charming in a forthright fashion and the waters part. I've done this many many times...which brings us to

Fourth, as 'slaves' [read NOT White Males of a Certain Class] most of you have no real understanding of Power. You know how to be Oppressed – I can always see the notch on the backs of your necks where my boot fits - but seem to be clueless as to how to be Powerful. I'm not talking 'empowered', that sorry-assed New Age buzzword.

No, I mean Power. Even when I was homeless on LA's Skid Row I carried myself as Master, more so in fact because of where I was. And folks down there Got It and deferred. I could pull that off because I knew in my fucking balls that I am a Patriarch, that I am fucking Mr. Charlie, and no amount of self-esteem seminars in the world can give you that.

As a White Male of a Certain Class I was raised KNOWING that this World belongs to Me and Mine. And those who have not experienced that “cannot” understand it. And that part of me sneers at the shenanigans taking place around the above events: 'slaves fighting to the death over scraps that fell off of *our* table'.

Those with the real Power laugh at these ridiculous doctrinal squabbles, these stupid internecine bloodlettings, these catfights filled with Victim Rhetoric. They are clear proof of how weak and powerless you really are.

This brings me back to something I said a few days ago: “In the US a women is raped apx every minute and a half, but when I talk about banning penises, people call me insane.” For all the noise about Feminism and LGBT 'empowerment', when it comes right down to it, you stupid cunts are still fighting over The Cock.

And while you're doing that, my Brothers are pissing on your heads and laughing....

~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 a long 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.

~Europe is finished. That's a pretty harsh statement. And, in this context [eg Her Prophet Speaks] it generates two questions. First, how do I justify that statement? And second, what does it have to do with The Sisterhood?

Germano-Roman civilization has stood for over twenty five centuries. It has dominated the European continent even in its 'dark ages' and has gone on to conquer and reshape the rest of the world in its own image. In fact, the entire modern world is really an Anglo-European invention, the British Empire having had the most significant influence.

Some will read that and start bleating that this is an apologia of European Colonial brutality and racism, to which I reply 'twaddle'. European Colonialism was indeed quite brutal and racist. That's how Empire rolls. If instead the Chinese had kept going in the late Fifteenth Century, their empire would have been at least as brutal and racist. European success as merely generated the popular illusion that they have a corner on that market, which is, ironically, just another example of the Mythos of White Superiority, except inverted.

No, the peoples of Europe are not 'racial superior'. ['Race' is just a social construct used to justify bad behavior.] But the European 'cultural mindset' was superior that is what allowed them to conquer most of the world. It was the social, economic and political environment of Europe that created the aggressive and relentless nature that gained Europeans the world, not any inherent racial traits.

So, back to Europe being finished. It is that very aggressive and relentless nature that led Europe into a pair of global wars that wrecked them and their empires. And Nazi Germany's 'crimes' were merely the application of European Imperial methodologies to Europeans, their own 'racial mythology' having labeled their victims as 'non-White'.

Now Europe is being submerged in refugees from The West's Neo-Colonial Resource Wars. Soon more shall follow as the effects of Catastrophic Climate Change really kick in. And there is really no way to stop that.

Well, there are ways, but Europe no longer has the social or political will to engage in them. It would require an 'ethnic cleansing' that even Nazi Germany would find hard to implement. Tens of millions would need to be expelled and by now the 'target populations' have second, third, fourth generation citizens of Europe, quite a few in government, business, the military and security services, and many of them would be radicalized in the face of such an undertaking. Millions among the 'target populations' would die in the process as would a few hundred thousand Europeans.

So, what does this have to do with The Sisterhood?

The answer is very simple; Modern Feminism is very much an Anglo-European concept and, yes, America is very much an Anglo-European nation. [more on that soon] Therefore the philosophical and Spiritual foundations of The Sisterhood are very much grounded in Anglo-European culture.

The Sisterhood [SH], as a Goddess driven Transhumanist Female Supremacy movement, is also a dedicated enemy of all the Father/God Cults; Judaism, Christianity and Islam, which are Masculinist and Primitivist. Judaism is not much of a threat beyond being the 'foundation faith' of the Father/God Cults. Christian is an active threat, especially Dominionist Christianity in the US and Orthodox Christianity in Russia. They are both misogynist and homophobic. But they are both 'last gasps' of White Male Supremacy, though such makes them desperate.

However, the brand of Islam flowing into Europe is vibrant and growing, the Salafist Wahhabism funded by the Saudis and it is Tribal, Rigid, and deeply misogynist. And many those refugees are young men with no real future, what SH calls Useless Beta Males.

They are not really ‘Islamists’, though they use Islam as an excuse. This is a type of street gang, made up of young males from a highly misogynist tribal culture for whom Western society has zero social or economic use. They have been driven from their own countries by the West’s Neo-Colonial Resource Wars. They’d still be of near zero social or economic use in those places, but now they are in The West.

They take their revenge for that by brutalizing and violating young Western women because they know that will create the most outrage, because that gives them a sense of power and because they hate women anyway. Have no doubt that they do the same to the immigrant women and girls in the camps wherever they can get away with it.

The Imams and Mullahs take advantage of this, urging them on with rhetoric about 'conquering Europe for the Caliphate', thereby giving them a 'purpose' they have lacked in their lives and in effect making them an army, one that feeds and motivates itself.

As pointed out above, there is no workable solution for this because of 'politics’ and 'social morality’.

What SH is going to do is get as many of our European Sisters out as possible. We will focus on recruiting Sisters who are Right Wing etc. They tend to have a more harsh and ruthless mindset, which is what SH needs. Our challenge is to shift them from Nationalism to Gynofascism.

Most Left Wing Sisters are simply too soft hearted and wracked with White Guilt to do what is necessary at this point, though as the rape victims keep added up, I suspect many of them will come around to our view.

There will also be some Sisters who will come out of the refugee population itself. They are not immune to the brutality of this vicious form of Islam. In many cases, they are its first victims.

We of course will be accused of racism and xenophobia. But 'race' is a social construct with no real foundation in science and SH rejects it. That SH will also welcome Sisters from the refugee population as well shows the latter canard to be false as well.

This struggle is not about Race. It is about Gender. SH maintains that “Men will never willingly give their power to women, so Sisters must take it, by whatever means necessary,” and that “Patriarchy is destroying the world and therefore must itself be destroyed.”

This struggle is also about Culture. As stated above, “ Modern Feminism is very much an Anglo-European concept”. And America is an Anglo-European nation, though one of a unique character. America has always absorbed other cultures, digested them and shit out what didn't fit, all while maintaining its basic cultural nature.

American popular music is the perfect example. Created by the exchange of folk music between West African slaves and their Anglo-Irish masters, it has gone back and forth between those groups and all the others that have immigrated to America over the centuries and now in many ways dominates the world's music. [note that it has always been some Father/God Cultist that has condemned this music in all its forms]

SH will do the same, absorbing other cultures, digested them and excreting was does not fit, while maintaining our basic cultural nature. That is how a culture and its social order remains dynamic. This is also consistent with The Third Valance of The Pentavalent; "Women Must Reclaim All That Is Theirs". As women give birth to The World, everything is theirs.

But this is not 'multiculturalism'. That is a Neo-Stalinist methodology meant to destroy European culture as part of the old Soviet plan to undermine The West, which now that USSR is gone makes it something of a 'zombie ideology'. While all cultures have value, those values are not all equal. Some cultures are superior. If you doubt that, remember what language you have been reading the last ten minutes and what civilization created the platform upon which you have been reading it.

To recap, Europe is being drown in highly misogynist radical Islam with little hope of surviving. The Sisterhood believes that European culture is worth saving and that America is the best refuge for that. And obviously the best place for The Sisterhood to thrive and grow. As ever, more shall be revealed in the Goddess' good time.

Blessed Be

~The modern world is the result of nearly six hundred years of European Economic, Political and Cultural domination. As such Patriarchy has become synonymous with White Males. But that is really just a cultural conceit that grew out of the Imperialist propaganda of White Superiority used to justify said domination.

Therefore, lot of you, my Sisters, are understandably operating under the delusion that the end of White Supremacy will mean the End of Patriarchy.

But think about this: non-White males have had the White Man's boot on their neck a long time, those nearly six centuries. When it comes their 'turn at the wheel', do you really think they'll be willing to share that with women, even women of their own color, ethnicity, etc?

No, after so many life times of powerlessness and abuse, non-White males will react very badly to giving up any power at all, violently I expect, and will slip comfortably into all the old Patriarchal prerogatives as easy as you please. You see, all men ARE created equal and the Cock is The Cock no matter its color.

You'll hear a lot of 'aggrieved manhood' noise and be told “It's not your time yet”, which are the exact words Frederick Douglas used to Susan B. Anthony when he resisted her attempt to include the word 'Sex' [as in gender] in the 15th Amendment, which would have given women [of all colors] the Right to Vote. 'Your turn' had to wait another fifty five years.

If you allow that happen, my Sisters, you will find yourselves longing for the 'good old days' of White Male condescension, because my non-white Brothers will clamp your asses down at lot harder than many of my White Brothers would dare to at this point and they will call you 'racist' or 'race traitor' when you question them. So will many of your Sisters, trapped in a toxic mix of the Patriarchal Slave Thinking 'stand by your man' paradigm, deep seated racial resentment and festering White Guilt.

The harsh truth, which so many of you, my Sisters, are loath to hear, is that the only way the End of Patriarchy will come is with The End of Men.

...and so it is.

~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, Forced Feminization.

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.

..comment to a Sister who is presently volunteering at a rape crisis center..

"This has also reignited my thinking on how Rape Culture is a feature, not a bug, of Patriarchy. I know in my guts, in my fucking balls, how true that is. And how a lot of what I call Victim Feminism is a both an acknowledgment of that and yet also a denial of what that really means because it advocates 'half measures' in dealing with the logical harsh solutions. In the end, laws and social custom will not restrain my Brother's deep embedded desire you hunt you as sexual prey."

~Janel was nervous to the point of nauseousness. At least, she called it 'nervousness'. Truth was, her tumble of emotions – fear, excitement, rage, guilt – was too much of a cascading mess for her to sort out any single one for more than a moment.

So she started cleaning the house again.

Mara watched the skinny raw boned brunette as she vacuumed the living room. At half past one in the morning. For maybe the tenth time in the last twenty four hours. She laughed a bit. “Coping,” she thought.

Mara was doing the same thing in her own way, a drop cloth spread over the kitchen table, her Ithaca 37 12 gauge military model pump action disassembled neatly, each dulled gunmetal piece getting loving attention. Again. At half past one in the morning. She grinned to herself.

Cassie was asleep in the back bedroom. Mara knew she didn't mind the sound of Janel's relentless cleaning. “Maintenance noise,” she called it, said it reminded her of Camp Anaconda back in Iraq and she found that comforting.

But no matter what Janel was doing, or not doing, either Cassie or Mara was awake. This operation was in its final phase. Randy, Janel's ex, was on the road.

He'd tracked her down before, three times in the past five years since she'd taken their two daughters and left. Left the yelling and threats and beatings and drunken rapes.

There'd been cops and restraining orders and battered women's shelters. And he never gave up. Janel knew that one day Randy would kill her.

When she'd wound up in one of The Sisterhood's battered women's shelters and told them her story, they agreed with her conclusion. And offered a final solution to her problem

So now, two months later, Randy was on the road.

He'd gotten a call at his job three states over. “Your cunt ex-wife is fucking some nigger,” the 'black sounding' woman's voice said in a growl. And gave him an address.

The Resolution Team tracked his truck's GPS, giving regular up-dates to Mara and Cassie. Mara was Inside on this one, Cassie was Outside.

Janel vacuumed. Her girls were hundreds of miles away in the desert learning how to ride horses. Hundreds of miles away from this two bedroom ranch style in a cul-de-sac, the place where they would soon be released from their past. They still woke up screaming these days, though less than before.

Cassie trotted into the kitchen in a t-shirt and boxers, poured herself some coffee. She looked at Janel pushing the vacuum back and forth, smiled.

“My old master sergeant would fucking love her,” she said. Mara laughed, slipped another well cleaned piece into place.

“I was thinking of getting her some whitewash.” They both laughed loud enough for Janel to notice. She blushed, turned off the vacuum, wandered into kitchen.

“I wonder where he is?” she asked no one in particular.

“An hour or so away with a Glock and a bottle of Jim Beam,” Mara said dispassionately. Janel jumped as Mara worked the shotgun's slide a few times.

Cassie pulled out the chair next to her, patted its seat. “Sit down and breath, Janel. Don't want you crashing before show time.”

Janel smiled wanly, sat down. Cassie rubbed her shoulders. “This will all be over soon, honey. And then you and your girls will be free. Now take some deep breaths.” Janel did so and began to relax just a bit.

Forty minutes later Cassie sat in the van parked in the driveway, once again wishing she still smoked and grateful that she didn't. She patted her own pump action, a near twin of Mara's, a short barreled, folding stock, pistol grip baby.

A voice whispered in her ear piece, ” This is Sky Box. The subject's vehicle just turned onto Dorado Drive, going north bound.”

“This is Top. Copy that,” she said.

“This is Bottle. Copy that,” came Mara's voice on the push.

After a few minutes, a pick up truck drove into the cul-de-sac, then stopped a couple of houses down, turned off its lights.

Cassie checked its plates with a night scope. “This is Top. Confirmed subject's vehicle has arrived. Repeat, subject's vehicle has arrived. Over.”

“This is Bottle. Copy that,” said Mara.

“This is Sky Box. Copy that,” said the 'whispered voice'.

Randy sat in his truck looking at the house where 'his cunt ex wife was fucking some nigger'. He took a slug from the Jim Beam, a big one this time. His Glock .45 lay upon the passenger seat.

He knew he was going to kill Janel tonight, if he found her, then himself. Maybe some nigger, too. He didn't think about 'his girls', but he'd probably kill them too if they were there.

He took another big slug, picked up the Glock, and got out.

“This is Top. The subject has exited his vehicle. ID is confirmed. Wait one.” Cassie peered intently into the night scope. “The subject is armed. The weapon is in his front waistband. Repeat, the weapon is in his front waistband. Over”

“This is Bottle. Copy the weapon is in his front waistband. Standing by. Over.”

“This is Sky Box. Copy that.”

Randy walked up to the door, knocked hard. “Janel! Janel!” he shouted, “Are you in there?”

A moment passed...

“Randy, you fucking piece of shit loser! Get the fuck outta here and go fuck yourself!” Janel screamed from behind the door.

Randy vaguely thought she seemed like she was purposely trying to piss him off, but he was too drunk and too angry to give a shit.

“You fucking cunt! Open this fucking door!” he screamed as he pounded on the door.

“Take your tiny pinky dick and go fuck some dog!” she screamed with real rage.

“You're fucking some nigger, ain't ya!?” he screamed through a red haze.

“Yes I am! He's got a big black cock and I suck it every night!” She was laughing hysterically now.

The red haze consumed him. He pulled out the Glock and kicked the door. It flew open and half off of its hinges with surprising ease. He rushed through the doorway, but then stopped dead in his tracks.

Not six feet away was a large blond in black BDU's pointing a shotgun straight at him.

Cassie heard the single shot, tensed.

After a beat, “This is Bottle. Code Black. Repeat, Code Black. Bottle out.”

Cassie took a deep breath. “This is Top. Acknowledge Code Black. Over.”

“This is Sky Box. Roger Code Black. Over.”

Cassie jumped out of the van and went up to the front door, watching out for blood spatter. Randy's corpse was crumpled in the doorway itself, nothing left north of his lower jaw.

Janel was about ten feet back, looking it the thing in the doorway with an indescribable expression. Mara carefully handed Cassie her radio. “Scoot,” she said, blowing a kiss.

“Ten four,” said Cassie with a smile.

Driving out of the cul-de-suc, she radioed, “This is Top. Code Blue. Repeat, Code Blue. Top out.”

“This is Sky Box. Roger Code Blue.”

Deputy Sheriff Bonita Garza sat in her black and white sipping green tea from a bottle. A large black van drove down the other side of the street, flashed its brights twice.

Garza turned over the engine, turned on the lights, stepped on the brake pedal, put the cruiser in gear, waited.

Her radio squawked a few seconds later, “All units in the vicinity of sixteen hundred North Dorado court. Shots fired. Possible one eight seven.”

Garza responded instantly. “This is Adam one seven. Proceeding north on the thirty five thousand block of Dorado Drive. Responding Code Two.”

She roared up the block, sirens wailing and light bar flashing. She knew exactly where she was going.

II

Two months later the case file landed on the desk of ADA Jim Dubchek. And then sat there for another ten days.

When he finally reviewed it, he was unimpressed. Randell Pinkston shot dead breaking into the house of Janel Raed, his ex wife. He had a gun and a high blood alcohol level. She had a TRO and a bodyguard, one Mara Jensen, who was the actual shooter.

Now Ms Jensen looked impressive. Bonded and Licensed security agent. Veteran of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Ex-US Army Military Police NCO. LA County Reserve Deputy Sheriff.

The Robbery/Homicide investigation had signed off on this a 'clean self defense shooting'.

“Public service homicide,” Dubchek muttered, and dropped the file in his Decline box.

There was a small nagging part of his subconscious that wondered how Pinkston had found his wife and that it all seemed a bit 'too neat'. Dubchek was a pretty good ADA. But he stashed that nagging feeling away.

He could work that out tonight while groveling before Mistress Carmella, licking her boots, and taking her lashings. He did need to be guilty of 'something'.

~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.

~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.

"I work my White Male Privilege like a mother fucker. Hell man, I worked it the hardest when I was fucking homeless. And I'll tell y'all, *that* shit works in ways that surprised even me.

That said, the 'White' part is merely a product of our place and time. It has not always been so and will likely shift again. However, the 'Male' part is etched into our genetic memory. The *only* way to shift that is via a Major Gender Readjustment.

See, ladies, the thing is..Cock IS Cock no matter its color and so it shall ever be."

My comment upon this: http://www.salon.com/.../to_my_white_male_facebook_friends/