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Bitten by the Queen – Prologue

Written by lowerbase :: [Sunday, 07 May 2017 18:07] Last updated by :: [Monday, 15 May 2017 08:35]

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 “It is clear to any trained observer,” he says, “and even to the sociologically untrained, that a new attitude toward sex discrimination has come over the world through the centuries, receiving an abrupt stimulus just before and after the World War.

“This struggle of the human female toward sex equality will end in a new sex order, with the female as superior. The modern woman, who anticipates in merely superficial phenomena the advancement of her sex, is but a surface symptom of something deeper and more potent fermenting in the bosom of the race.

“It is not in the shallow physical imitation of men that women will assert first their equality and later their superiority, but in the awakening of the intellect of women.

“Through countless generations, from the very beginning, the social subservience of women resulted naturally in the partial atrophy or at least the hereditary suspension of mental qualities which we now know the female sex to be endowed with no less than men.

“BUT the female mind has demonstrated a capacity for all the mental acquirements and achievements of men, and as generations ensue that capacity will be expanded; the average woman will be as well educated as the average man, and then better educated, for the dormant faculties of her brain will be stimulated to an activity that will be all the more intense and powerful because of centuries of repose. Woman will ignore precedent and startle civilization with their progress.

“The acquisition of new fields of endeavor by women, their gradual usurpation of leadership, will dull and finally dissipate feminine sensibilities, will choke the maternal instinct, so that marriage and motherhood may become abhorrent and human civilization draw closer and closer to the perfect civilization of the bee.”

The significance of this lies in the principle dominating the economy of the bee--the most highly organized and intelligently coordinated system of any form of nonrational animal life--the all-governing supremacy of the instinct for immortality which makes divinity out of motherhood.

The center of all bee life is the queen. She dominates the hive, not through hereditary right, for any egg may be hatched into a reigning queen, but because she is the womb of this insect race.

THERE are the vast, desexualized armies of workers whose sole aim and happiness in life is hard work. It is the perfection of communism, of socialized, cooperative life wherein all things, including the young, are the property and concern of all.

Then there are the virgin bees, the princess bees, the females which are selected from the eggs of the queen when they are hatched and preserved in case an unfruitful queen should bring disappointment to the hive. And there are the male bees, few in number, unclean of habit, tolerated only because they are necessary to mate with the queen.

When the time is ripe for the queen to take her nuptial flight the male bees are drilled and regimented. The queen passes the drones which guard the gate of the hive, and the male bees follow her in rustling array. Strongest of all the inhabitants of the hive, more powerful than any of her subjects, the queen launches into the air, spiraling upward and upward, the male bees following. Some of the pursuers weaken and fail, drop out of the nuptial chase, but the queen wings higher and higher until a point is reached in the far ether where but one of the male bees remains. By the inflexible law of natural selection he is the strongest, and he mates with the queen. At the moment of marriage his body splits asunder and he perishes.

The queen returns to the hive, impregnated, carrying with her tens of thousands of eggs--a future city of bees, and then begins the cycle of reproduction, the concentration of the teeming life of the hive in unceasing work for the birth of a new generation.

Imagination falters at the prospect of human analogy to this mysterious and superbly dedicated civilization of the bee; but when we consider how the human instinct for race perpetuation dominates life in its normal and exaggerated and perverse manifestations, there is ironic justice in the possibility that this instinct, with the continuing intellectual advance of women, may be finally expressed after the manner of the bee, though it will take centuries to break down the habits and customs of peoples that bar the way to such a simiply and scientifically ordered civilization.

Old men have dreamed dreams and young men have seen visions from the beginning of time. We of today can only sit and wonder when a scientist has his say.

.

An interview with Nikola Tesla by John B. Kennedy
Colliers, January 30, 1926

 

 


 

A Small Prologue

“Hey, Moth.”

We knew that voice.

It was the first time I had fought a girl. She was larger than me. For a kid, she was an ugly giant. I nicknamed her of ‘Burt.’ Burt and her demon friends would go after my sister every day after school.

All the mean bullies at school are boys, you say? You’d be so wrong to think that.

I’d had to escort Cindy home then. For a time, it worked. Those bullies left her alone for a while. Cindy never understood why they hated her, but I could see why.

Although she was born a year after me, we were mostly the same age. She was pretty. Teachers loved her sweetness. Dad’s favorite kid. But all that somehow changed when we were around eight years old.

Mom and Dad started to fight, almost breaking into a divorce. Cindy took it personally, while I tried my best to convince her that they were just crazy. When they fought, she would stay in my bedroom, scared.

Thomas parents were divorced. He was my best friend. I’ve learned by watching him that even therapy wouldn’t fix some things. Cindy lost all her childlike sparkle, with nothing taking its place. Her grades dropped into an abyss. Cindy was the smart one, but at times it felt no one else could see it.

All of a sudden, she was sitting at the back at her classes, not caring for her clothes, her appearance, not caring to participate, to socialize, earning her the nickname of ‘Moth.’

For bullies like Burt, Cindy was the perfect target.

And for a few weeks, she left my sister alone. Until one day Burt and her demons started to harass and follow the ‘Moth family.’ Unlike Cindy, who never hurt anyone, I would fight my bullies.

Yes, Burt was bigger than me and wasn’t alone. I took a small rock from the grass. “One more step, Burt,” I warned her. Of course, I knew that calling her a boy’s name would bring anger to her eyes.

I had thought that it would be enough to scare her away, but she dropped her stuff and took a step forward, daring me to hit her with that rock.

She had called my bluff. I would never hit anyone with a stone.

She kicked me between my legs and I fell to the ground as the other two devils assaulted my stomach. Cindy was hidden behind a tree, not knowing whether to help me or run for help.

It was then I heard Thomas’s voice as he started to beat the hell of them with his skateboard. He was taller than Burt and not afraid of hitting girls, and the three demons ran away.

Cindy had already harbored a crush on him, but saving my ass made Thomas her hero.

Life would still be perverse to her: ten years later, Thomas dated and had sex with all three of them. They developed from trolls into hot girls ruling the school corridors, proud champions of the genetic lottery. Meanwhile, Cindy, well, she became lonely, finding comfort only in books, with her doors closed to the world.

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