The coming of the Amazons : $b A satiristic speculation on the scientific future of civilization — John Shaqi
The coming of the Amazons : $b A satiristic speculation on the scientific future of civilizationJohnson, Owen
Science
The coming of the Amazons : $b A satiristic speculation on the scientific future of civilization
Johnson, Owen
Cryonics -- Fiction; Satire; Science fiction; Sex role -- Fiction
“The wrong way to approach the problem,” said Acquilla, shaking her
head. “Our civilization is based on a hundred acres to each woman.”
“Then the world is run by women?”
“Oh, absolutely, for the last one hundred and fifty years, from 2030
when the collapse of male civilization became evident to all, and men
were finally disenfranchised.”
“But--” I stopped, confused by the flood of questions which rose to my
lips.
Acquilla who had been watching me carefully and had noticed my
heightened color and startled eyes, here interposed.
“I think, Bogardus, we have talked seriously enough for the first day.
In fact, I’m afraid in my eagerness that I have gone too far ahead.”
I passed my hand over my forehead and noticed how the veins in my
temples quivered.
“I feel as though I had been transplanted to a strange planet.
Everything is gone that I knew or could reason by. It leaves me with
the feeling of terrible depression, a terrible loneliness.”
Acquilla sprang up and held out her hand.
“Come. We will relax. I have a surprise for you. Dianne, the famous
soprano, and Schiappa are singing in ‘Tristan’ tonight. A familiar
sensation is just the mental relaxation that you need. Though I must
say to your credit, you extraordinary man, that you have stood the
shock remarkably well. In some cases of early Frigidrome treatment, we
have had serious lapses into brain disorders.”
CHAPTER V
I rose and followed Acquilla to the circular theatre which I learned
formed the principal axis of every house.
“There are a number of interesting things going on,” said Acquilla,
“particularly in Arcturus III, where there is a war on with Stella IV.
Then you will be interested in the historical records of the wars of
1984 and 1994, but not tonight. Nine o’clock. The opera is beginning.”
She went to a switchboard at one side and made certain adjustments. A
heavy screen immediately shut out the glass dome above us through which
the stars had been shining down.
“How near do you want to be, Bogardus?”
“What! Can you regulate that, too?”
“Easiest thing in the world. It will probably be more interesting to
you to have a front seat. Afterwards, if the orchestra is too loud, we
can move back.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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