The Time War
By Gary LM Martin
Chapter 9: The Quaker Sex Slaves of Nigeria
Commander Strayker strode into the control room, passing by a long haired Indian woman with very firm looking buttocks. He went over to Sarah. "You called me?"
"Yes sir," said Sarah. "It's Lagos. And other cities in Africa." She started intently at her holoscreens.
"What about them?"
"There... it's gone now."
"What's gone?" said Strayker.
"For a few moments, Africa seemed to be... changed." Sarah seemed startled, a rare expression, for her.
"Changed? Changed how?" Strayker asked.
Sarah shook her head. "I'm not sure... the Africans, they seemed lighter skinned. And the cities, they were much more developed, with skyscrapers and shopping malls. Lagos looked more like... like New York," said Sarah. "But it was only for a few minutes. Everything seems back to normal, now."
Strayker nodded. "Keep me informed."
********
The Temporal Social Justice Warriors:
His name was Winton Smith, and drunk driving changed his life forever.
Winton Smith was a high school dropout. He found classes in Virtue and American Racism and Emotional Intelligence to be very boring. He liked to play hologames. Actually, he liked to play hologames, get drunk, and get high on Weed. Unfortunately, he had a tendency to combine some of these activities while driving an air car, with unpredictable results.
After his second crash, his father, who was a wealthy refinancier of emotional guilt, ran out of patience with him. And so Winton's luck ran out when he crashed into a tree while drunk driving. He had the misfortune to be picked up by the police; and the greater misfortune to be high on alcohol, and not Weed. Both impaired the ability to drive, but since Weed was considered virtuous, there were lower penalties for driving under the influence of Weed. Winton was facing real prison time.
Winton pleaded with his father to hire the elite law firm of Rabinowitz, Rabinowitz, and Rabinowitz, but Winton Senior was not moved. Nor would he even engage one of Rabinowitz's famous Robolawyers. It was said that the fourth generation Robolawyer, code-named "Moishe", could generate acquittals in criminal cases an astonishing 97% of the time.
Winton's father only smiled and said he had hired a lawyer who was more "cost effective". And so Winton's jaw dropped open when he finally met his lawyer.
She shimmered into being in front of him and his father. "Greetings," she said. "I am Jamilla Pramilla, your virtual attorney." She spoke in a clipped Bombay accent.
Winton turned to his father. "What the fuck is this?"
"It's a computer generated attorney, the sharpest AI available, son," said his father.
Winton was sure that this was not the
sharpest
AI available; more likely than not, it was the
cheapest
.
"I have studied your case at great length," said Jamilla Pramilla. "I am confident that if we plead guilty, we could get you a sentence under two years in a minimum security rehabilitation colony-"
"Fuck that!" said Winton. "And fuck you!"
"I am not programmed to respond in that area," said Jamilla Pramilla.
"Son, if you want a better lawyer, by all means, hire one," said his father generously.
But Winton had no money. His father knew that.
********
Winton brooded in front of his mirror in his bedroom. It was all so unfair. Life was so unfair. And as he stared into the mirror, he realized why.
It was all because he was black.
Suddenly, it all made sense. On the outside, he was a white man. He had a white face, white arms, a white chest, white legs, and a fairly white penis. But
inside
, he was a black man. He could feel it!
That's why life was always so unfair to him. And that's why the police arrested him. It all made sense now.
When the day for his trial arrived, Winton represented himself, much to his parents' misgiving. He looked the judge squarely in the eye, and told him that he had been arrested not for crashing his car while he was drunk, but because he was a black man.
The judge looked at Winton, who was clearly white, and asked him, "You are black?"
Winton frowned at the judge, and held up a white hand. "With all due respect, Your Honor, can't you tell?"
And so the case was immediately dismissed.
But Winton Smith was not content to leave it there. He sued the Amherst police department for racism. The case settled out of court for some fifty million credits.
Winton realized he had something good going here. He started an organization to cash in on all the white people who felt guilty about their unconscious racism. He wrote a book, "What's Wrong With White People?" which became an instant bestseller. Winton started his own "Cult of Forgiveness", where White People could seek forgiveness for their unconscious racism by making a donation to the Cult. The more money they gave, the greater the forgiveness they received. Winton pioneered the original "I'm so sorry" movement, where white people could meet and write self-criticisms about themselves... and make a generous donation to the Cult of Forgiveness. Winton sponsored high-priced conferences and retreats to liberate every last credit he could from wealthy and very guilty feeling white folk. He became an instant celebrity and was invited on every major talk show. Winton became extremely wealthy.
During this time, Winton realized that his transformation, from a white man to a black man, was incomplete. That was
not entirely
who he was. He spent days in prayer and meditation, staring at himself in the mirror, before he fully realized his true identity.
Winton Smith wasn't merely a black man. No, Winton Smith was
a black woman
. Not just any black woman, but
a Latina black trisexual woman
.