Black humor; Utopian fiction; Utopias -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
It was no use to fight. These women evidently relied on numbers, not so
much as a drilled force but as a multitude actuated by a common impulse.
They showed no sign of fear, and since we had no weapons whatever and
there were at least a hundred of them, standing ten deep about us, we
gave in as gracefully as we might.
Of course we looked for punishment--a closer imprisonment, solitary
confinement maybe--but nothing of the kind happened. They treated us as
truants only, and as if they quite understood our truancy.
Back we went, not under an anesthetic this time but skimming along in
electric motors enough like ours to be quite recognizable, each of us
in a separate vehicle with one able-bodied lady on either side and three
facing him.
They were all pleasant enough, and talked to us as much as was possible
with our limited powers. And though Terry was keenly mortified, and at
first we all rather dreaded harsh treatment, I for one soon began to
feel a sort of pleasant confidence and to enjoy the trip.
Here were my five familiar companions, all good-natured as could be,
seeming to have no worse feeling than a mild triumph as of winning some
simple game; and even that they politely suppressed.
This was a good opportunity to see the country, too, and the more I saw
of it, the better I liked it. We went too swiftly for close observation,
but I could appreciate perfect roads, as dustless as a swept floor; the
shade of endless lines of trees; the ribbon of flowers that unrolled
beneath them; and the rich comfortable country that stretched off and
away, full of varied charm.
We rolled through many villages and towns, and I soon saw that the
parklike beauty of our first-seen city was no exception. Our swift
high-sweeping view from the ‘plane had been most attractive, but lacked
detail; and in that first day of struggle and capture, we noticed
little. But now we were swept along at an easy rate of some thirty miles
an hour and covered quite a good deal of ground.
We stopped for lunch in quite a sizable town, and here, rolling slowly
through the streets, we saw more of the population. They had come out
to look at us everywhere we had passed, but here were more; and when we
went in to eat, in a big garden place with little shaded tables among
the trees and flowers, many eyes were upon us. And everywhere, open
country, village, or city--only women. Old women and young women and a
great majority who seemed neither young nor old, but just women; young
girls, also, though these, and the children, seeming to be in groups by
themselves generally, were less in evidence. We caught many glimpses of
girls and children in what seemed to be schools or in playgrounds, and
so far as we could judge there were no boys. We all looked, carefully.
Everyone gazed at us politely, kindly, and with eager interest. No one
was impertinent. We could catch quite a bit of the talk now, and all
they said seemed pleasant enough.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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