Silenced
All women who defied the Rules wore the Silencer. They were supposedly simple Rules, too. Celia Burke didn't think so. “Always agree with your man, no matter what you think.” That's the Rule that had gotten Celia fitted with a Silencer. It wasn't her fault the authorities had heard her argument with her husband Nathaniel.
Proudly, he had declared, “Women should be available for sex whenever their husbands want it.”
Celia had burst into laughter. “Nathaniel, you cannot possibly be serious.”
So assured of himself, Nathaniel had declared, “What is a woman's function outside the kitchen, then? Companionship? No, it is sex. And what use is a mate who won't have sex?”
Outraged had bubbled in Celia's chest. “Dear, we aren't monkeys!”
Chest puffing out, Celia's husband had insisted. “Women are close enough in thought to the lower primates.”
All thoughts of who might hear had left her mind. “I am a human being. Same as you.”
The Social Police had heard that much. And taken Celia away so she wouldn't “cause any more trouble.”
Celia had every intention of causing trouble. If the authorities Silenced her, she would simply find another another way to be heard. True, she could no longer get into the best social events. She didn't want to interact with the people who regularly attended the “best social events.” Celia wanted to find other Silenced women. She wanted to start a fight that would take down the whole damn system.
Problem was, she had very little time left. Celia had “acceptable genes” and thus had been selected for the Mandatory Breeding Program. She would have wanted children, if circumstances were more favorable. These were not.
As she went about her business, she endured the disdainful looks she got from the various women out shopping because she wore the Silencer. It was a relatively small device, shaped like a greenish metal tiara, but everyone noticed when you wore one. It made Celia's head itch.
A woman shouted “Princess” at her as she passed.
Celia paid careful attention to her surroundings as she walked, for she knew she needed to be careful not to look too suspicious. While Silencers were designed to keep women from causing trouble, anybody who wore one was suspect. Infertile Servants Celia could easily pick out; they all had the “IS” symbol branded onto their foreheads, so no man would think to try and marry one. Their “sin” of “unacceptable genes” was plain for everyone to see. Celia envied them.
Finally, she made it to her destination, a small, out-of-the-way cafe known to the underground as a rebel-friendly establishment. Celia felt somewhat out of place here, as she had married well. Most rebels hadn't. At least, she had married well according to what her society said was a good marriage. Celia wasn't inclined to agree. The walls of the cafe were covered in the various scribbles left by patrons. Most of the messages were in code, in case the Social Police decided to pay a visit.
Celia sat at one of the small, rickety round tables and waited for someone to come take her order. Before that happened, the woman she wanted to meet arrived. Brianna Hamilton was well connected. Of course she would be, Celia thought. The other woman was gorgeous, with the kind of lush curvy body that made men, and some women, want to tell her everything. Celia, “acceptable genes” aside, was scrawny and mousy and unlikely to be noticed. Sometimes she wondered how her genes could be acceptable if she were so tiny.
Brianna sat down across from Celia, a big friendly grin on her face. “Hello, Celia dear, how are you today?”
Celia glumly pointed to her Silencer.
Brianna said, “And how did you end up with one of those? Look at the Social Police the wrong way? Fucking assholes.”
In response, Celia dug a notebook and pen out of her bag and scribbled an answer for Brianna: The short version is I got into an argument with my husband and said I was as much a human as he was.
Brianna laughed. “Bet he didn't like that, did he?”
Celia shook her head.
The other woman replied, “Of course he wouldn't, but good for you for speaking the truth, even if you got Silenced. More women need to speak up. More men, too, though it's hard to see why they would want to change things. My husband certainly doesn't.”
Celia scribbled something else in her notebook. It's not so good for the Infertile Laborers. They can't marry.
Brianna paused to think for a moment. “Hmm, I suppose it isn't so good for them, status wise. But they can have as much sex as they want. Or at least they do it, even if it's technically illegal.”
Another scribble from Celia, this one saying Infertile Servants have it the worst. They get the brunt of it if their sterilization fails and they fall pregnant.
The server, an Infertile Servant herself, finally showed up at the their table. Her name was Mari, and she was a great friend of Brianna's. The two hugged tightly as Celia watched with a pang of jealousy.
Mari asked, “So what do you want to order?”
Celia didn't look Mari directly in the eye as she scribbled a note for her. Just a coffee with milk, please.
Brianna smiled at her friend. “You know my usual, Mari. A cappuccino, as foamy as you can make it.”
Mari smiled back at Brianna. “Of course, Bri.” She looked at Celia,without any of that smile. “And I'll get you your coffee.”
She disappeared. Celia breathed a sigh of relief. She felt Mari had been almost icy towards her, especially compared to how she treated Brianna.
Brianna herself seemed to notice. “I'm sorry about Mari. She doesn't trust easily, and she doesn't really like most fertile women.”
Another note. She likes you.
“It took me a while to get on her good side, you know.”
Celia just nodded.
Brianna said, “So, what brings a high-status woman like you all the way out here?”
Celia sighed. Did people have to mention her “high status” all the time?
She wrote yet another note. There should be no “high status.” I want to take down the system.
Brianna gasped, for Celia was being awfully direct. “You really want to? Do you mind if I ask why?”
She couldn't help pointing to her Silencer and scribbling. Shouldn't it be obvious?
Her companion shook her head. “Not quite. You're so high-status; you have everything a woman in this world could want.”
Celia glared at Brianna and wrote. I'm going to be trapped in my house for the rest of my life once my Mandatory Breeding Period starts. I may be “high status” but I can't even speak right now. Her handwriting was spiky and angry, reflecting her mood.
Brianna looked a bit shamed. “Yeah, I suppose you're right. Still, rebellion is no joke. You could get yourself thrown in a Reconditioning Center, and you know those are nothing more than glorified torture chambers.”
Her next note read I'm willing to risk it. Are you?
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written for the 500themes prompt "Screaming Silence"
Proudly, he had declared, “Women should be available for sex whenever their husbands want it.”
Celia had burst into laughter. “Nathaniel, you cannot possibly be serious.”
So assured of himself, Nathaniel had declared, “What is a woman's function outside the kitchen, then? Companionship? No, it is sex. And what use is a mate who won't have sex?”
Outraged had bubbled in Celia's chest. “Dear, we aren't monkeys!”
Chest puffing out, Celia's husband had insisted. “Women are close enough in thought to the lower primates.”
All thoughts of who might hear had left her mind. “I am a human being. Same as you.”
The Social Police had heard that much. And taken Celia away so she wouldn't “cause any more trouble.”
Celia had every intention of causing trouble. If the authorities Silenced her, she would simply find another another way to be heard. True, she could no longer get into the best social events. She didn't want to interact with the people who regularly attended the “best social events.” Celia wanted to find other Silenced women. She wanted to start a fight that would take down the whole damn system.
Problem was, she had very little time left. Celia had “acceptable genes” and thus had been selected for the Mandatory Breeding Program. She would have wanted children, if circumstances were more favorable. These were not.
As she went about her business, she endured the disdainful looks she got from the various women out shopping because she wore the Silencer. It was a relatively small device, shaped like a greenish metal tiara, but everyone noticed when you wore one. It made Celia's head itch.
A woman shouted “Princess” at her as she passed.
Celia paid careful attention to her surroundings as she walked, for she knew she needed to be careful not to look too suspicious. While Silencers were designed to keep women from causing trouble, anybody who wore one was suspect. Infertile Servants Celia could easily pick out; they all had the “IS” symbol branded onto their foreheads, so no man would think to try and marry one. Their “sin” of “unacceptable genes” was plain for everyone to see. Celia envied them.
Finally, she made it to her destination, a small, out-of-the-way cafe known to the underground as a rebel-friendly establishment. Celia felt somewhat out of place here, as she had married well. Most rebels hadn't. At least, she had married well according to what her society said was a good marriage. Celia wasn't inclined to agree. The walls of the cafe were covered in the various scribbles left by patrons. Most of the messages were in code, in case the Social Police decided to pay a visit.
Celia sat at one of the small, rickety round tables and waited for someone to come take her order. Before that happened, the woman she wanted to meet arrived. Brianna Hamilton was well connected. Of course she would be, Celia thought. The other woman was gorgeous, with the kind of lush curvy body that made men, and some women, want to tell her everything. Celia, “acceptable genes” aside, was scrawny and mousy and unlikely to be noticed. Sometimes she wondered how her genes could be acceptable if she were so tiny.
Brianna sat down across from Celia, a big friendly grin on her face. “Hello, Celia dear, how are you today?”
Celia glumly pointed to her Silencer.
Brianna said, “And how did you end up with one of those? Look at the Social Police the wrong way? Fucking assholes.”
In response, Celia dug a notebook and pen out of her bag and scribbled an answer for Brianna: The short version is I got into an argument with my husband and said I was as much a human as he was.
Brianna laughed. “Bet he didn't like that, did he?”
Celia shook her head.
The other woman replied, “Of course he wouldn't, but good for you for speaking the truth, even if you got Silenced. More women need to speak up. More men, too, though it's hard to see why they would want to change things. My husband certainly doesn't.”
Celia scribbled something else in her notebook. It's not so good for the Infertile Laborers. They can't marry.
Brianna paused to think for a moment. “Hmm, I suppose it isn't so good for them, status wise. But they can have as much sex as they want. Or at least they do it, even if it's technically illegal.”
Another scribble from Celia, this one saying Infertile Servants have it the worst. They get the brunt of it if their sterilization fails and they fall pregnant.
The server, an Infertile Servant herself, finally showed up at the their table. Her name was Mari, and she was a great friend of Brianna's. The two hugged tightly as Celia watched with a pang of jealousy.
Mari asked, “So what do you want to order?”
Celia didn't look Mari directly in the eye as she scribbled a note for her. Just a coffee with milk, please.
Brianna smiled at her friend. “You know my usual, Mari. A cappuccino, as foamy as you can make it.”
Mari smiled back at Brianna. “Of course, Bri.” She looked at Celia,without any of that smile. “And I'll get you your coffee.”
She disappeared. Celia breathed a sigh of relief. She felt Mari had been almost icy towards her, especially compared to how she treated Brianna.
Brianna herself seemed to notice. “I'm sorry about Mari. She doesn't trust easily, and she doesn't really like most fertile women.”
Another note. She likes you.
“It took me a while to get on her good side, you know.”
Celia just nodded.
Brianna said, “So, what brings a high-status woman like you all the way out here?”
Celia sighed. Did people have to mention her “high status” all the time?
She wrote yet another note. There should be no “high status.” I want to take down the system.
Brianna gasped, for Celia was being awfully direct. “You really want to? Do you mind if I ask why?”
She couldn't help pointing to her Silencer and scribbling. Shouldn't it be obvious?
Her companion shook her head. “Not quite. You're so high-status; you have everything a woman in this world could want.”
Celia glared at Brianna and wrote. I'm going to be trapped in my house for the rest of my life once my Mandatory Breeding Period starts. I may be “high status” but I can't even speak right now. Her handwriting was spiky and angry, reflecting her mood.
Brianna looked a bit shamed. “Yeah, I suppose you're right. Still, rebellion is no joke. You could get yourself thrown in a Reconditioning Center, and you know those are nothing more than glorified torture chambers.”
Her next note read I'm willing to risk it. Are you?
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written for the 500themes prompt "Screaming Silence"