Author's note: Once again, given the peculiar nature of the subject matter, this story warrants a special disclaimer. This is a fantasy, not a manifesto. As famous erotica author All These Roadworks usually puts it, "my kinks are not my politics". Do not use this story to promote a political worldview. Practice your relational life consensually, or not at all.
This story is set in the Fall Of Women narrative universe. In this world, a diabolical conspiracy has unleashed a mind control virus that compels women to submit to men. These stories are anthological, so you can read this one even if you haven't read the original, or any other story in the setting. Having said that, reading them will naturally net you the best reading experience.
As always, all characters are over the age of 18.
Now, without further ado... enjoy the read!
I -- Antarctic Lullaby
I am surrounded by a desolate expanse of snow and ice.
I'd ask you to imagine it. It's difficult, however. We are so used to an environment that conforms to our will, but there is no such thing here. As far as our experience goes, it might as well be an alien planet. The simplest, most mundane things can kill you, here.
It's incompatible with long-term, easy human residence. It's swept by cold, unforgiving, howling winds. It even looks eerie, illuminated by a perma-day for half the year, and then plunged into darkness for the other half.
I'd ask you to imagine how spectral it looks now, in the last few days before the final sunset of the season.
Close your eyes and picture it: the sun sits low on the horizon for most of the day, radiating a deep, dim light that barely illuminates the icy landscape. Even when the sun is up, the light is pale and diffuse, casting long shadows and creating a hauntingly beautiful twilight.
The sky is dusty pink and orange. Sometimes, it looks to be bleeding. But every day, slowly and inexorably, it darkens: the cold, black winter begins to seep into its palette.
It's haunting. And beautiful. And hostile.
You know how that's significant? Because, right now, this otherworldly landscape feels far less hostile, to me, than my own world. The cities and houses and parks that are supposed to be my cocoon... how can I think of them as safe, when you consider the horror currently unfolding out there?
At least, here, in the icy desolation, nothing actively hates me. Sure, there are a thousand ways to die. But none of them are malignantly, single-mindedly directed at me because of my gender. There is no malicious app, or virus, or whatever it is, trying to worm its way into the most private inner sanctum of any human--into my mind.
Wow, look at the words I'm writing...
Well, you likely want to know how I'm doing, so there it is. That's my state of mind right now. Or, well, at time of writing. By the time you read this letter (and the ones to come, to be sure), hopefully this nightmare will be behind us for good.
We'll be able to meet in person, have a few drinks, and laugh at the men--because they must be men, come on--who designed this thing, who sought to enslave us.
Yes, laugh. Because there's no way this insane plan can succeed. "Rachel," you'll tell me, "how silly you've been! There was nothing to fear, all along." Just picturing it lightens my gloomy mood, a little bit.
I suppose the fact you'll only get to read these words by the time they no longer apply, makes me writing them a little futile... like I'm talking to myself. But, listen. It keeps me sane, busy, distracted. It's better than staring at the wall, and letting fear suck me in.
Here I am, going on about how dark my mood is... when you're probably having to contend with the payload right now. I mean, I don't know for sure. Christ, I hope not. But I mean, probabilistically... I don't know. As you can imagine, the news we get here comes in bits and pieces, but I seem to understand this is very widespread, and...
Just, be careful, okay? If that thing is inside you.
Here, at least, none of us have been exposed. Can you believe that a year ago, I wanted to delay my stint here to the next field season? Now I'd be out there, with all of you... What a way to dodge a bullet, huh?
The living quarters of the ice lab are cramped and sterile at the best of times. Now, with our moods somber and dark, they feel... depressing. Tasha in particular has been pretty hard, but I know Maria's hurting too, even though she keeps the stoic face up.
Hell, so am I.
We're not getting much done, to be honest. We mostly huddle together and talk in small whispers, seeking safety and reassurance in the warmth of each other's presence.
Staying close and preserving warmth is never a bad idea in general, here. Our lives here have always been defined by the harsh, isolated environment and the rigorous demands of the job. This is even truer here at the ice lab.
I realise I haven't really updated you in a while, so I might as well tell you about my own unexpected doomsday bunker... the ice lab is really just a tiny detached outpost, far from the main hub and its facilities. It's meant to study the impact of climate change on the ice sheets.
Unlike back at base, there's no support staff here, nothing of the normal, already small comforts of the main hub. Just a kitchen stove, cramped sleeping quarters, a lab area, and other bare necessities. Just barely enough for the three of us.
I never thought I'd be grateful for that. I... can't imagine being around men right now, even colleagues, even if my mind is unaffected. I shouldn't blame them all, I know. But... ah, I don't need to explain this to you. You probably feel much the same.
The slight. The horror. The sheer disbelief.
Not sure if I've told you... truly, we couldn't believe the news when it first reached us here.
I don't mean that as hyperbole, I'm being literal.
We thought it was someone's idea of a sick joke--in poor taste, of course, but it does get boring here, and a bored mind will cook up all sorts of shenanigans to pass the time...
But no. I mean, I'm used to the world seemingly getting weirder and weirder with every passing year, and reading the news over the last few years has been pretty much just doomscrolling through the improbable and the absurd. But I've got to admit, a misogynistic mind control virus challenged even my expectations, no matter how low.
Communication is never a given in Antarctica, but the ice lab is even more limited. As the hours turned into days, we've stayed gathered around our satellite phone and radio equipment, our disbelief turning into shock, then horror, and then downright dissociation.
Look at us, my friend. Maria, the climatologist. Tasha, the marine biologist. And me, the glaciolocist. Three women with enough academic qualifications between us that we'd get bored listing them all, the symbol of everything the developers of the payload--whoever they are--must hate. Free. Independent. Equal.
And yet, here we are. Besieged, forced to feel unsafe and afraid, just because some woman-hating bastard out there...
I am... I don't know. I feel even more a woman now than I ever did before. I am suddenly a lot more consciously cognisant of just how chafing and unjust the systemic oppression against us has been.
How much has our gender had to endure, to suffer, to overcome? And now this? This... global dreamscape of enthrallment, of exploitation? This attempt at stepping on our necks again, and forcing us down to our knees?
What have we done to deserve it? When will justice be served? When will we be allowed to finally just exist, at last?
If I feel this violated, I can only imagine how you must be feeling, if you have indeed been exposed... So much of who you are, of what you've achieved, your visions, your ambitions, your hopes... someone is trying to snuff them out like a candle. To restrict and restrain you.
I hate it with every fibre of my being.
I must confess that I spend a lot of time thinking about how this is even possible, to be honest. I have to reconcile my knowledge of the world with the fact that, apparently, it's actually possible to develop a... mind control app? And that someone out there has enough resources to do it in pursuit of a radical patriarchal agenda. Or a teenager's sexual fantasy. I don't know which interpretation is worse, to be honest.
God... this reminds me of the pandemic all over again. Glued to the news, trying to figure out every possible detail of the unfolding disaster, struggling with the complete lack of clarity and seemingly contradicting details. Except, it's hard to be truly glued to the news when you're in Antarctica.
No phone signal of any kind, really our smartphones here are just glorified cameras and alarm clocks. No internet. The ice lab is in a relatively remote location, so even the one satellite phone that is kept here, only gets coverage for very brief windows of overflight. And that, with a very narrow bandwidth, so no roaming data.
The main hub has more satellite phones, and enough bandwidth that you even get data sometimes. It also has somewhat rudimentary WiFi, even if the allocation is usually restricted.
In the isolation of the ice lab, we've had difficulties accessing information. That's been our salvation. No signal, no connectivity, no payload.
It does mean you'll receive my communication late, and in the outdated forms of physical letters... but I'll count my blessings. Especially timing. See, I'm not sure if you remember, but this is the end of the field season here. Normally, we'd be just about to rotate out, hand over everything to an incoming team.
If the payload had been deployed a little later...
I suppose that brings me to my plans. Well, dear friend, you have probably concluded already, just by reading this message, what course of action we've settled on. Maria and Tasha (especially Tasha) were very uncertain, at first. But the more we talked about it, the more they came round to see my reasoning.
We know what we must do.
We've called, or will soon be calling, everyone. The research vessel, Chile, the university department. We're not going to get rotated out. We've told them to cancel everything, except the supply deliveries. Who knows, maybe when we get the next resupply visit, I can ask them to deliver my letters to you! That would be very nice.
So, yes. We're going to stay holed up in here, safe and sound, until...
