"Your Honor, the 'man' is staring at my legs."
The lawyer, one Ashley Herrera Gunderson, said the word "man" as if it were a dread disease.
Hugh Thompson was, in fact, staring but not in the way that the women in the courtroom thought.
Ever since his mind had been jolted back to normal, he was recalling years of information he had not previously understood, and now he was trying to process it all.
At the moment, he was thinking about positive and negative numbers and how a horizontal x-axis and a vertical y-axis were like streets and avenues on a typical city map. In school, they used a map of Gloria City.
Unfortunately, as Hugh engaged in deep thought on this matter, he had his mouth wide open so it looked like he was not only in love but drooling.
Of course, the fact that he was muttering things about positive and negative numbers meant that the women were well aware that he was not preoccupied with anyone's legs.
"You don't subtract a positive number from a negative number," he mumbled. "It's like going from 3rd Avenue North to 7th Avenue South. Ten blocks."
The judge banged her gavel. She had the face of Octavia Spencer but the voice of Fran Drescher.
"Mr. Thompson, are you showing the proper respect for this court?"
"Of course," he said, though he looked like he was in a daze. Stunned, in fact. It was from years of being in a child-like state. Sometimes he was still like a child. There was that time he found a robin standing in a busy street. For some reason, it would not fly away. But when Hugh gently picked the bird up, it flapped its wings and flew to safety.
As he recalled this, Hugh smiled. But when he saw the judge glaring at him, he quickly dropped his smile.
"Can I get a new lawyer?" he asked.
Hugh's lawyer sat next to him. Although she was busy filing her nails, she briefly looked up and scowled.
TALK ABOUT SHOWING DISRESPECT FOR THE COURT.
Hugh's Though Monitor typed out these words in bold purple letters against a light green background.
The judge banged her gavel again.
"Any requests must be made by your lawyer."
"Nuh-uh," the lawyer said then blew a big pink bubble out of her mouth.
SO, THAT ISN'T DISRESPECTFUL THEN?
As the judge banged her gavel once again, loudly and more often, Hugh looked away. Maybe if he looked away, the women would stop thinking he was interested in any of them.
Hugh shook his head and sighed. The women had to be aware at some level that he had no interest in legs, except as appendages for his superhero creations. Any interest he had in women was only as potential friends. The kind of interest a boy might have.
It didn't matter. The women were going to assume whatever they wanted to.
What a world.
Ever since Gloria Rubinstein Vanderbilt became head of the International Consortium and named herself Queen, the legal system had taken a turn for the worse. Heck, the world had taken a turn for the worse. Not that it wasn't already bad enough.
Under the new regime, it wasn't illegal for a man to defend himself in court but it certainly was frowned upon.
Ashley the Great One verbalized this sentiment with great earnestness.
"Your Honor, this will go a lot quicker if the 'man' stops interrupting."
"Hear, hear!" shouted the women on the Jury.
That sort of thing got repeated a lot.
How could the judge not recognize that his lawyer was of no help whatsoever? Not that women cared about such a thing.
Hugh spoke up in a very nervous shaky voice.
"I request another Counselor Drone, please. A replacement."
For a short time, Hugh had such a drone but it broke down. Much like his mind had once.
The judge banged the gavel once again then aimed it at Hugh as she gave him The Big Stinky Evil Eye.
"You can have your Counselor Drone back, Mr. Thompson, when you learn to ask with respect!" The last word came out so shrill dogs heard it for blocks.
For a moment, Hugh looked flustered but he quickly recovered; if he showed reaction, they'd get him on that, too. Funny how when he had the mind of a child, he never noticed such things.
Hugh retreated back into the world of positive and negative numbers; really, was there anywhere to escape to in this woman's world?
Any world was a good place to go to escape the trial.
"The Trial Of The Century."
Hugh Thompson was on trial for the very serious charge of being a suspected heterosexual.
This was one of many flashbacks Hugh had as he roamed the streets and alleys of Fargo City.
He had spotted the women tailing him some blocks ago, and he decided this bright shiny alley would be the perfect place to let The Power do its thing.
Shortly thereafter one of the women stepped into the alley, making a light crunching noise as she did so. The shout followed, the traditional admonition.
"Halt! In the name of our glorious leader Queen Gloria!"
As Hugh turned to face the woman-warrior, he realized he must look a sight. There were streaked letters on his chest monitor; the drippy dried red paint looked like blood. He had paint chips in his hair while he wore the garish yellow and purple of the Shunned. His face was red and swollen under dark long hair.
Some of the other Shunned said he looked like Hugh Jackman as Wolverine; this was mainly because of the two pointy tips in his dark hair.
As Hugh addressed his pursuer, he imitated Matthew McConaughey talking casually in a Southern accent.
"Well, as I live and breathe, if it isn't Ashley Herrera Gunderson Smith-Jones-Wesson."
The dark-skinned dark-haired woman stood with hands on bare brown hips. She had modified her appearance so her face was dark while her torso was brown. The costume she wore was almost as garish as the garb of the Shunned.
"You've been keeping track of me," she said. There was a hint of mocking and malice in her voice as she tilted her head. "That could get you a stalking charge. And what's with the fake Southern accent?"
"Have to keep myself entertained. Being Shunned gets boring, darling."
A cop-drone emitted a buzzing alarm.
"Nice outfit. Worse than anything I imagined in court." Hugh quickly averted his eyes. It was something he'd become practiced at. "What's your online name now? Duo-Lipo-Gata?"
"Not a good name for a bounty-zapper." She grinned with gleaming red lips as she bounced an instructive index finger.
"Quite a resume. Failed actress. Reality star. Social-media influencer-person." He recalled in court camera-drones buzzing near him. The ones she had tailing her now must be keeping their distance.
"Don't forget. I was a lawyer once."
"Who wasn't?"
"SARCASM-ALERT!"
Hugh glared at the cop-drone.
Gunderson's brown eyes flashed. The costume she wore was like something Halle Berry would wear in "Catwoman."
"THOUGHT-VIOLATION!"
"Yes, you ladies would nail me for an inadvertent glance or thought."
"SENSITIVITY-ALERT!"
Gunderson offered another sly grin. "I suppose you heard. Women get paid more now, men less."
She was trying to goad him, provoke him. He responded calmly.
"I suppose it's only a matter of time before you throw us all out of work."
His wandering mind kicked in. At the trial, there had been few specifics about his case, just Gunderson going on and on about the Long History Of Men Oppressing Women, or LOWMOW. Hugh recalled that as Gunderson orated dramatically in a shrill voice, she nodded her approval to the women on the Jury as they wept openly and sobbed loudly.
"Heard your crossover with the Kardashian Klan got big ratings," Hugh said.
In that wandering mind of his, Hugh noted briefly that the word "Klan" was okay to use in regard to women since, the State insisted, women could not be racist.
Still with that smug grin, Gunderson shrugged those dark brown shoulders.
"Every generation of Kardashians gets big ratings. Why not latch on to them?"
Remaining calm and steady, Hugh quietly addressed his opponent even as he slowly closed in on her.
"Whatever you're planning, you may find it won't work as well as you think."
"VIOLENCE-ALERT! THREAT-ALERT!" The cop-drone shrieked so loud Hugh briefly held his ears as he winced.
"Shut up," he murmured in an exasperated tone.
"HOSTILITY-ALERT!"
"Give it a rest, will you?" he groaned. "Both of you."
"VIOLENCE-ALERT!"
"Oh, that's right," he mumbled. "Mere words are violence now."
Gunderson held up a black device shaped like a miniature cannon. As the device crackled loudly, Gunderson flashed all her teeth in a wicked smile.
Hugh's eyes focused on the device as his mind raced. Mace-Taser, new model. Nickname: the "Man-Zapper." (It was given a nastier name in some quarters.) It was supposed to make a man more docile more quickly but Hugh was skeptical of the commercials with the cheery jingle. He was pretty sure the Man-Zapper was meant to just torture men and cause them more pain. This society had all kinds of ways to do that.
Hugh's child-mind kicked in. Why can't you just be nice to a guy? Why you got to zap him?
Adult-mind returned. You somehow deem it necessary to alter a man's biochemistry. With pain and lots of it.
As the Man-Zapper crackled even more loudly, Gunderson's tone of voice and smile got even more sinister.
"I'd zap you for free. But getting paid a lot will make it even better."
Hugh surprised her by reaching toward her, apparently unconcerned with pain. Then he quickly backed away, almost like he was taunting her.
For a moment, Gunderson looked surprised. But only for a moment.
With that smug grin intact once again, Gunderson marched forward. (An odd thing that, a young woman marching forward in a shiny black leather Catwoman outfit.) Even more odd, Hugh looked unperturbed as he folded his arms over his chest.
The smug grin vanished when Gunderson abruptly stopped. It was like she slipped while she was pulled back. Still, she stood but she trembled.
She watched in horror as her hand, of its own accord, opened up. The trigger on the Man-Zapper folded into the barrel so it looked like a shiny black can.
The black object, a silent cylinder now, fell to the ground. It slowly and gently rolled across the alley toward Hugh's heavy boot. As one of the Shunned, he was forced to wear heavy boots with hard soles. It made it challenging to traipse from one State Center to another; his feet hurt, a lot. It was one form of harm The Power was not able to prevent or protect him from.
When Hugh stopped the rolling cylinder by slowly stepping on it, it made a loud clank which echoed off the alley's steel walls.
Gunderson, her mouth agape, stood there like a statue with one gloved hand still up. For a second, she stared in wide-eyed terror. As her gleaming lips curled up in a slight frown and her tiny brown nostrils flared up, some invisible force slammed her into a shiny steel wall. There was the crashing sound of a body violently slamming into a heating vent duct.
Grunting softly but viciously, Gunderson (or "Gunny," as Hugh sometimes teasingly called her), remained pinned to the wall, bare brown shoulders hunched up. Her dark eyes darted back and forth while her dark head moved only slightly side to side.
She tried to lift this hand then that, but she succeeded only in making her gloved arms tremble while she gritted her perfect white teeth.
Like some costumed superhero, Hugh put his hands on his hips.
"Congratulations, girly-girl. You've just experienced The Power."
As a cop-drone went into overdrive with loud shrieking, a nearby monitor displayed the image of Rod Serling, smiling amiably while wearing a gray tie with a dark suit coat. The image was accompanied by Mr. Serling's distinctive voice, characterized by a most cordial and agreeable manner.
"How do you do? I am not actually Rod Serling but a virtual reality designed to look and talk like him. Appropriate for a tale about women who rule over others with technology. At the center of our story is a man who is given a non-technological response to a cruel and unjust society. He is given a power that works against all those who seek to harm him. This unusual power could only be found in 'The Twilight Zone.'"
"You could be stuck there for a while, girly-girl," Hugh said, reverting back to the Southern accent.
"LANGUAGE-VIOLATION!" a cop-drone shrieked. "LANGUAGE-VIOLATION!"
As an alarm blared, Hugh sighed deeply. He never understood why cop-drones had to scream everything twice. Probably just to further annoy men.
In any case, while the cop-drone screeched, the actual police were probably off somewhere hassling some poor guy on a minor violation.
Despite all this, Hugh smiled, smirked really.
Here she was: Ashley Herrera Gunderson Smith-Jones-Wesson, the great Bounty Zapper herself, pinned to a wall. As her stomach muscles bounced up and down, she actually looked perplexed.
If he were a different kind of man, Hugh might imagine her in chains. Of course, she was in chains, just not the literal physical kind.
And he was a different kind of man, just not in that way.
"What is this?" Gunderson (or "Gunny") asked in a choking voice as she twisted her dark neck. "Some kind of illegal invisible techno?"
"It's The Power, sweetie-babe-toots." Hugh waited for the cop-drone to finish its inevitable squawking. "It activates whenever someone tries to do me harm."
Gunderson's face showed struggle and incomprehension as Hugh went on.
"The Power first manifested when that mob rose up right after my trial. You were off holding a press conference, Gunny. Probably showing off your legs while you complained of being sexually harassed."
Gunderson glared but only for a moment. She then gave a decisive smack of her lips as she looked away.
"Warriors! Activate! Forward!"
"Seriously?" Hugh said in a low voice.
What looked like three young women stepped forward. The shortest was at the forefront but she had the most determined look so she was obviously the leader. Or Leader Model. A W-1000, Hugh guessed.
"I guess someone who teams up with the Kardashians can afford the highest-quality Warriors. Too bad you couldn't afford a better brain."
"SENSITIVITY-AND-SARCASM ALERT!"
"But really, you should tell your Warriors to back off." When Gunderson did not respond, Hugh held out an open palm to them. "Back off, Warriors!"
"Threat alert," the short one whispered.
"Back...off," Hugh grunted.
Shorty tilted her head. "You don't get to tell us what to do."
Hugh tried to size up the situation but his wandering child-mind kicked in.
She's beautiful.
Whoa! Just an android.
"THOUGHT-ALERT!" the cop-drone cried.
After a brief scowl, Hugh addressed the Warriors in a voice that was both bored and annoyed.
"Don't take out your Man-Zapper. Oh, no. You're taking out your Man-Zapper. Put it back, please." Sighing loudly, Hugh put out his hand to gesture toward Gunderson. "Didn't you see what happened to her?"
This robot or android apparently didn't have adaptable AI. But she was able to adopt an angry look. As she did, she dropped her weapon. For a moment, she looked confused.
In the next moment, she made a sound like "ugh" as she was violently slammed into the wall. She stayed pinned there as her two friends, in much quicker fashion, experienced the same.
When the three canisters rolled toward him, Hugh didn't bother to stop them. In fact, he was already walking away, holding up a dismissive hand as he did so.
"You know that scene in 'Willy Wonka' where the kid rushes off to get in trouble?"
"No," Gunderson sneered. "I had a quality education. Not like a 'man.'"
"Let me educate you some more. As this kid runs off to get in trouble, Willy Wonka very insincerely says, 'No, don't, stop.'" Here, Hugh waved his hand some more. "I've reached that point."
While the Warriors all stood with their heads facing toward the wall, Gunderson continued to strain. On his monitor, Hugh noted how her stomach muscles popped in and out while she also gritted her teeth.
Gunderson's voice, though a little strangled and even a little shaky, was full of annoyance and anger.
"How long are we going to be like this?"
Hugh shrugged his great massive shoulders. "A few minutes, an hour. Maybe the rest of your lives." As he neared the end of the alley, his voice echoed off the walls, "To be honest, I've never hung around long enough to find out."
Hugh saw on his monitor how those dark eyes became wide and wild.
"I'll get you somehow," she shrieked.
"No, Wicked Witch of the West, I don't think you will."
"I'll find a way!" she hissed.
Hugh practically rolled his eyes, not that Gunderson could see it. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Why not just live your nice life? Leave mine alone. As Billy Joel might say."
"Billy who?" she retorted.
"You kids. Just don't know the classics."
Hugh departed the alley for a bustling street with kids jump-roping and hop-scotching and running through water-streaks and water-blasts.
Hugh felt a pang of pain. There was a carefree life he could never have again. Worse, people couldn't leave him alone. He had to be despised and hunted.
He quickly put aside such thoughts. He had to carry on somehow.
Besides, he had a plan now. He opened his hand and examined the silver key.
He had snatched a comm-key from Gunderson. And there were two funny-looking guys tailing him.
Maybe those guys could lead him to a transmitter.
Once he had both, he could get his message out to the world.
Behind him, Gunderson screamed then swore loudly. Hugh heard the sound of three androids talking in slow-motion voices. After that was the sound of a quiet explosion. Then another. And another.
Hugh shrugged. Since the Warriors were made of plastic, Gunderson wouldn't be seriously injured. But smoke still lingered in the air as Hugh arrived at the State Center.
After Hugh got his State-provided lunch at the State-appointed counter, he asked what filing-cabinet-sized bed he would be staying in that night. After getting a mumbling response from a young woman who made no eye contact, Hugh left without a word. One of the worst parts about dealing with the State was dealing with zombie-like State employees.
He noted that the two men resumed their tail of him. Naturally, they wouldn't seize him at a State facility. If seizing him was their plan. He suspected some type of offer was in the works.
With his usual carefree look (at least as carefree as a red-faced Shunned person could look), Hugh resumed wandering the streets. Life as one of the Shunned meant incredible boredom. But at least there were looks of contempt from passers-by while being hunted and tracked.
As the sun grew higher and the air hotter, Hugh decided to put on a show by yelling at the sky.
"You think this is living? You keep a man alive but you keep him from having dignity, from having a purpose! Do you really think that's compassion?" he roared. "Do you really think that's living?"
He got a few stares from children but the adults avoided eye contact.
Hugh didn't note the reaction of the two guys following him; he doubted he had scared them off. Earlier, he had glimpsed them, and they both looked like rejects from a "Mad Max" movie. Both were clad in sleeveless black leather that exposed their hairy beer bellies; one had green hair, spiked, the other purple hair, even more spiked.
Hugh didn't like to judge by appearances but he doubted the two were decent respectable temple-going business leaders.
"This is so boring!" he shouted. "Didn't I get enough of this in school? Old movies, old songs, old TV shows and commercials. It wasn't just because I was mentally damaged. It was because I was a guy!"
Hugh had a flashback to a taunting comment:
"Aren't all guys mentally damaged?"
He focused again on his stalkers. Were they going to try to jump him or did they know better? Maybe they saw what happened to Gunderson and the Warriors.
Sometimes people just couldn't accept or believe something no matter what they saw or what they were told.
Hugh walked a little quicker and ducked into another alley.
That was when he ran into The Man.
Hugh had heard the legends about crimelord Kurwazi, sometimes called King Kurwazi. But here was the actual giant man.
Kurwazi looked like the Kingpin, the bald crimelord featured in Marvel Comics. Spider-Man and the Punisher had both gone up against the giant bald criminal mastermind. Daredevil had, too.
The "Kingpin" who stood before Hugh wore a white suit, one that would be far too big for David Byrne in a Talking Heads video; the white suit was more like a tent, though the suit was neatly tailored.
The simplest way to explain his bald head with the gold earring was that he looked like Mr. Clean. The smiling bald man who appeared on cleaning products was featured with other commercial icons in the Commercial Museum. That was a place where Hugh had often been deposited by School officials; they apparently regarded the Commercial Museum as a kind of improvised day care center. Hugh's caretakers included Toucan Sam, Speedy, Tony The Tiger and the "Where's the beef?" lady. The latter Hugh thought of fondly as a nanny or a grandma.
A more complicated way to explain Kurwazi's head was that it resembled Arnold Schwarzenegger's robot lady head from "Total Recall." That was the robot head that shouted, "Get ready for a surprise!"
Ah, "Total Recall," Hugh thought. Some great moments. Some of my best times in school.
Besides very thick mascara, Kurwazi wore maroon lipstick so dark it was practically black. There was sky-blue eye shadow on and around the eyelids, and lots of it. He was like a circus clown or that Marvel superhero Dazzler with the mask around her eyes. Unlike Dazzler, Kurwazi looked far more sinister and scary.
The giant one spoke.
"How do you do, Mr. Thompson?"
The high-pitched voice made Hugh think K. was a woman. Nowadays, who could tell? Besides, with women ruling the world, who wouldn't want to be one? Of course the penalties could be severe for pretending to be one.
Yes, the punishment could be harsh, Hugh thought. Especially if it's that time of the month.
Though the humor was cliched, Hugh quietly snickered.
"THOUGHT-ALERT!" a cop-drone cried. K. slapped it away with a giant scarred hand.
The "King" showed off bright red cheeks as he/she smiled, and there were lots of lines and wrinkles.
"I am Kurwazi," he announced in a cool casual voice. As he smiled, he showed off a gold tooth. "And I understand you have a very unusual ability."
"Yeah, I do," Hugh said, adopting the voice of Southern hick movie star Ernest. "But I can't control it."
The guys with spiked hair closed in but Hugh held up a warning hand. "Hold on, fellas. Let me show you something." He pulled out a cigar then a lighter. Several times he tried to light the lighter but there was only the sound of metal brushing metal: no spark, no flame.
"See that? The Power won't even let me hurt myself. Imagine what it's going to do to you guys."
Green-Hair swiftly approached with a fist raised but then his head flew back sharply. A red welt abruptly formed on his left cheek. When he swung his fist twice, both eyes became black and swollen. It was like he did a little dance as he stumbled backwards then he was pinned to a brick wall.
Shortly thereafter, Purple-Hair and the Kingpin joined him.
Holding an unlit cigar in one hand, Hugh got up very close to the green-haired guy.
"Since you fellas are going to be here for a while, how about if I tell you my story?"
When Hugh was ten years old, he told his parents a bunch of girls had pelted his head with rocks. They soon discovered, to their horror, that their son could no longer retain or process large amounts of information or even do simple math.
Hugh spent his school years reading comic books and drooling with his mouth open. He did this even when being exposed to old movies and TV shows. Naturally, the other students, and some teachers, made fun of him. He hardly noticed.
The father, as in most households, did not have much say in parenting decisions, not under then-President Gloria. The two wives had much more say; the father was a mere redundancy, like an appendix or a vestigial tail. Nevertheless, Hugh's father, with head bowed and voice low (as was customary in female-dominated households), offered his simple lowly input.
"Our son is very simple-minded," he said. Gloria-One and Gloria-Two simply glared at him. Still, Hugh's father persisted. "There is only one occupation he is good for."
Nodding their agreement, the two wives declared that Hugh would be a lawyer. They acted like it was entirely their own idea.
When Hugh was informed of this, he was, if not upset, then at least very sad.
"But I don't want to be a lawyer," he said with wide earnest eyes. "I want to make comic books."
"Of course you do," said Gloria-One. (Or was it Gloria-Two?) That particular Gloria smirked at Hugh. (Gloria-One then.) "But those jobs are only available to women."
"We must make sure women are not objectified," Gloria-Two said quite sternly, waving a long sharp finger.
Hugh made a face as he tilted his head. "Why do all the superheroes look like Chippendale's dancers?"
"Ah! See?" Hugh's father said. "That's why you should be a lawyer. You are the only one to think of such things! Plus, you are very entertaining! That's important."
For a moment, the two women scowled at him. When the man did not wither, Gloria-One put a hand on Hugh's back.
"On your way then."
Passing the LSAT was easy, All Hugh had to do was agree to subscribe to certain ideas of the Sensitives, the dominant social movement of the time.
The three years of law school consisted of jobs for children of the poor and goofing off for children of the rich. In some cases, goofing off meant copious amounts of cyzene or other synth-drugs. (Most law students preferred caffeine.) Since Hugh's two moms were upper middle class, he got to spend three years playing video games and dreaming up superheroes. He even produced a couple of colorful comic books.
Occasional classes at law school consisted of classes in acting. There was little emphasis on the law.
Hugh was told by his two mothers that even if he was slow-witted he could learn to do things if he just kept trying. Yes, it would take time but he would get better. So he might as well get to it.
After the perfunctory but lavish graduation ceremony, in which all were expected to participate financially, the freshly minted lawyers were all enrolled in the Law Network.
When Hugh was assigned to a law firm, he was never assigned lead. Instead, he was trotted out as an amusing sideshow attraction. It didn't help when he suggested the idea of helping everyone and being nice to everyone. The other lawyers simply stared at him, similar to the way Hugh's mothers stared at Hugh's father. The lawyers look at Hugh as if he was an alien. Or worse. A guy. A "man."
Here, Hugh paused to comment and editorialize with Green-Hair.
"The other lawyers never said it out loud but I think they were only interested in helping certain people. If some poor 'man' needed help, they weren't interested. They only wanted to help powerful women. And why not?" Hugh held out flat palms as he shrugged his giant shoulders. "Who cares about helping those with little or no power?"
After a brief pause, he adopted a mild squint. "To the lawyers, that kind of prejudice was normal and good. Even though they ignored some people, and even acted against them, these 'champions of justice' thought they were good people doing good things. They didn't see that what they were doing was incomplete, wrong, evil. They thought it was perfectly okay and perfectly natural to just ignore some people and stomp on them."
Here, he held out his hands as he shrugged. "But isn't that the very nature of prejudice?"
"I suppose," Green-Hair grunted.
"Out of the mouths of babes," Kurwazi said. The King's voice was so mild it was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or not.
Hugh put a fist to his chin as he adopted his Very Serious Look. "Anyway, it was a time when Gloria and the women were consolidating their power, and the legal system was based on whoever could put on the best show. Which explains my trial later."
Green-Hair and Purple-Hair just blinked their angry eyes. Kurwazi kept his face to the wall as Hugh went on.
"I spent most of my time at the law office writing and drawing comic books. I got quite good at it. I cranked out quite a few. But then I got my first big case. Ironically, it involved helping a 'man.'"
As a joke, Hugh was assigned to help a guy who had been fired because he was unable to understand the vague wording in an employee handbook. None of the other lawyers wanted the case, but President Gloria insisted he have legal counsel. She wanted to show she cared for all the weak and helpless, which included men. Especially men.
"Aren't all men weak and helpless?" one lawyer joked. That lawyer was Ashley Herrera Gunderson.
The case was given to Hugh, and all the lawyers snickered about it, right to his face, right there in the office. They figured he'd lose the case but at least they could say the dumb unemployed guy got due process.
In court, Hugh earnestly argued his case to the Jury. As he employed his wide child-like eyes, he said an employee handbook should actually explain to employees what they needed to do, and the employer should actually take a few seconds to explain things. You shouldn't just hand out employee handbooks to get people in trouble. Why would you want to just win a legal case when you could help a good employee get even better? And you could avoid problems in the first place instead of just criticizing someone after they unintentionally did something wrong.
All the lawyers attending the trial snickered at this but Hugh went on.
Furthermore, Hugh said, the employee handbook should have pretty pictures, and he himself would be willing to draw them. He even showed off some of his artwork, and the members of the Jury "oohed" and "aahed."
This resulted in a shocking surprise win. Afterwards, various female employers gathered for a press conference, and they looked quite shaken. The spokeswoman argued it might be more difficult to win in court if they couldn't just hand out employee handbooks as a means to win their legal cases. Weren't they too busy, and too important, to explain things to employees?
"Too stupid maybe," Hugh chortled at the time.
As the reporters laughed nervously, one dark-haired dark-skinned reporter asked this question.
"But couldn't you just do what Counselor Hugh talked about? Couldn't you take a few seconds to explain a matter to an employee in clear specific terms? For example, instead of saying to an employee not to make 'threats,' you explain to them not to make jokes or casual comments about harming or killing someone. Wouldn't that prevent problems from happening in the first place?"
Gunderson made a loud "tsk" noise just before she scowled deeply. Shortly thereafter, the reporter was banned from the Reporter Network.
Likewise, Hugh was removed from the Law Network; the form of misconduct was never specified. It was enough that Hugh was a guy, a "man."
Gunderson promptly launched a sexual harassment lawsuit against Hugh in which she claimed Hugh had looked at her and made groaning noises. The beastly man had even talked to her.
In short, Hugh was put on trial for being a suspected heterosexual.
The trial was a big farce, of course. Like the charges. Hugh was assigned a Thought Monitor by the Court. Unfortunately, the women were only interested in thoughts that condemned him.
Gunderson claimed that Hugh had imagined her in a bikini. When his thoughts were played back, it was found to be so.
But it only lasted a second. Then various superhero costumes appeared on her, most modest with long skirts. In one case, her tall dark form was draped in a long white gown.
Nevertheless, Gunderson squawked that the "man" shouldn't have thought of her that way for even one second.
Gunderson's assistant joined in the hysteria.
"Look!" a horrified Tiffany cried, pointing at the frozen image. "He's actually imagining the outline of her chest."
Hugh's Thought Monitor printed out one word.
SORRY.
The women on the Jury cried out, "Goddess have mercy!" Some shouted, "Gloria have mercy!"
In response, the judge banged her gavel. But politely.
The Thought Monitor printed out another apologetic message.
I WAS JUST IMAGINING HER AS A SUPERHERO. I DIDN'T CARE WHAT SHE WORE.
More outcry and uproar from the Jury. That was when a woman lunged forward and zapped Hugh.
A couple of amazing things happened. Citing sympathy for a poor helpless creature, the judge agreed to let Hugh have a Counselor Drone.
That was probably a good way to avoid a mistrial.
The other thing that happened was that Hugh's mind returned to normal.
That was a good thing and a bad thing.
It was good in that Hugh understood things once again.
He realized, for example, that his mental state wasn't from being hit with rocks. It was from mind-numbing years in school. He had been exposed to all that useless old stuff while uncaring teachers promoted the message that men were hopeless and awful.
It was bad in that while he had the capacity for rational adult thought he still had the sarcasm of a child. And in a society that has outlawed sarcasm, that was not a good thing.
Later a Public Defender drone flew into the courtroom and announced himself. Itself.
"I am here to defend Mr. Thompson. I am an artificial intelligence."
Seated next to her assistant Tiffany, Gunderson turned to the drone-cameras and smirked. "We don't need an artificial intelligence. We already have men for that."
She had her sound bite for the news feeds.
If the drone had eyes, it would have blinked in confusion.
"My client has mental damage."
"Isn't that true of all men?" Now Tiffany had hers, too.
Okay. Enough with the joking, Hugh thought. Time for serious business.
Gunderson marched around as she orated.
"Our court system works better if a man doesn't contest the charges and simply rolls over and accepts his punishment."
"HOW CONSTITUTIONAL, Hugh's Thought Monitor revealed
Gunderson's hand shot up. "Objection, Your Honor! The 'man' doesn't need to have a say in a way that is offensive."
"Sustained!" The judge banged her gavel loudly and violently then shook it at Hugh. "Mr. Thompson, you have your Public Defender drone. It can speak for you."
IF THE BATTERIES DON'T RUN OUT. IF IT'S BEEN PROGRAMMED THE RIGHT WAY.
"Mr. Thompson, cease!"
I'LL TRY NOT TO THINK.
Gunderson went on with even greater earnestness, so much so so she even pointed a long sharp fingernail.
"To preserve the integrity of our court system, it is important we hear only the evidence which makes the man look guilty."
When the P.D. drone hovered too close, Gunderson swatted in its direction but the drone quickly dodged her hand.
"We must hear both sides," the drone said as it hovered over her head. "It is to protect the weak and helpless."
"Isn't that all men?" Tiffany chortled.
Gunderson scowled. "Tiffany, enough."
When Hugh described how Ashley Herrera Gunderson gave him sneering looks while ridiculing him (especially in the case where he was lead), she just waved her hand dismissively as she gave him a scornful look.
"That's just a matter of perception," she said in a snotty "tsk"-ing voice as she placed her hand on her hip. She posed in a sparkling pink-red sequin dress with a large slit up past the hip. Lots of images were taken for the news outlets.
Hugh made a spider with his hands.
SO...DISMISS A WOMAN'S CLAIMS, YOU COULD BE IN LEGAL TROUBLE. DISREGARD A MAN, NO PROBLEM.
The judge banged her gavel while Gunderson began her theatrical crying. More great video for the news feeds.
Gunderson thrust a finger at Hugh. "Look at what he's doing with his hands! He's being sinister and crafty. He's plotting something!" Hand on hip again as she huffed, "Typical 'man.'"
This prompted eye-rolling and heavy sighing from Hugh which prompted more gavel-banging and theatrics.
Green-Hair interrupted with loud throat-clearing.
"If what you're saying is true and sarcasm is outlawed, how could the women say some of those things in court?"
Hugh raised his thin eyebrows. "Mr. Green-Hair, that is a surprisingly thoughtful question."
"Why, thank you, Mr…..Power."
"It sounds like you were unaware sarcasm was illegal. But I suppose as a criminal you don't keep up on matters of the law."
"Was that sarcasm?"
"Not at all, sir. Just a statement of rationality."
"Wasn't rationality outlawed some time ago?" Purple-Hair asked.
"In a way, yes. I was just saying that obviously as a criminal it's best you don't know the law."
"It does make for feeling less guilty, yes."
Now Hugh cleared his throat, though quietly.
"To answer your question about the women being sarcastic, the powerful often ignore the rules they make for others."
"How did the trial turn out?"
"The verdict was no surprise."
"Hugh Thompson!"
The accused shook at the loudness of his name being called, much like Marvel Comics' alien-parasite Venom being exposed to loud sound.
"You are hereby found guilty of the charge of having heterosexual feelings, and you are hereby sentenced to be Shunned!"
Hugh did not make eye contact as his monitor printed out his reaction.
WHAT DOES "HEREBY" MEAN, ANYWAY?
Quickly, Hugh glanced up. He saw that the judge had very large eyelashes that made her look like …
A DRAG QUEEN. WHAT A DRAG.
The judge was busy posing for pictures. By the time she turned back, the words were gone. Still, she narrowed her eyes as she leaned forward.
"May the Goddess and our Great Gloria have mercy on your soul." She spread out both arms in the customary act of State-worship. "Or for those who do not believe in a soul, 'life-energy.'"
The Jury foreman nodded her approval. She had short white hair and big dark glasses, and she bowed her head in another act of State-worship. Her bald scarred head was light brown in color, and the giant veins sticking out on top indicated a cerebral upgrade. Courtesy of the State, of course.
Once again, the judge posed for pictures and even danced around a little.
OH, BROTHER, the Thought Monitor dutifully printed out. THE JUDGE HAS MAKEUP LIKE DEVINE AND A BODY LIKE LIZZO. THAT ROBE IS THE SIZE OF A CIRCUS TENT.
The judge stopped posing and dancing long enough to stop, squint and read. Once she did, her eyes shot wide open.
"Mr. Thompson, you had better watch your thoughts!"
Instead, Hugh popped off with this.
I WOULD THINK THAT YOU, BEING BLACK AND A WOMAN, WOULD GET PREJUDICE. OF WHATEVER KIND.
"Oh, no, you didn't!" someone shouted in a high-pitched voice.
The judge's head moved back and forth like she was a bobblehead. (Actually, those were on sale in the gift shop). The judge's name was Matilda; at least that's what her name plate said: "Hi! I'm Judge Matilda." You could also tell because her name was spelled out in big white lights above her ten-foot high bench.
"Oh! I 'get' prejudice, Mr. Thompson! Believe me, I get it!"
The women on the Jury, and some reporters, roared with anger. With clenched fists and red angry faces, they closed in on him. The only thing holding them back was Judge Matilda standing with arms extended as she delivered a long loud lecture.
Hugh continued to resist.
IF I WERE TRANSGENDER, YOU'D ACCEPT EVERYTHING I HAVE TO SAY.
One Jury member offered to make him transgender right then and there.
Instead, Hugh was fitted with his Shunned-Monitor, with the judge squawking and shrieking all the while.
Somebody then spray painted his monitor, getting some of the permanent paint in his hair and on his face.
At the same time, the mob closed in on him.
"That was when the Power first manifested itself."
Hugh spread his hands as he narrated to Green-Hair..
"It was like something out of 'Carrie,' only without the blood. It was like a great hurricane pushed all the people up against the walls and then pinned them there. I was at first too stunned to react."
Green-Hair actually looked quite interested.
"But you got out of there, right?"
"Sure. I ran. At least as much as a guy can run with a monitor on his chest. But I was doomed to wander. One of the Shunned. A man." Hugh leaned over to speak directly into his portable recording device.
"That is quite a story, Mr. Thompson," Kurwazi said in a quiet voice.
Green-Hair wriggled his pierced green eyebrows.
"But where does this Power come from? Is it from Satan or God?"
Once again, Hugh shrugged. At the same time, he realized Green-Hair must come from a household where they eschewed goddess-worship.
"Since the Power protects me, I'll assume it's not from the other fellow. When he's not busy actually hurting people, he's more interested in exploiting them and tricking them."
"Kind of like this society is doing to some people."
Hugh adopted his most serious studious earnest face, almost as if he were back in drama class in Law School.
"You are correct in that, Mr. Green-Hair."
"Percy," he said. At Hugh's puzzled look, Green-Hair clarified. "My name's Percy."
"Oh, Please to meet you. I'm Hugh." When Percy awkwardly reached back with his hand, they were able to shake hands.
"I'm Troy," Purple-Hair said. With the side of his mouth pressed up against the wall, he slurred his words. But this handshake was less awkward. "So where does this power come from?"
Hugh's eyes narrowed slightly. "Well, Troy, I can tell you it doesn't come from gamma rays or cosmic rays or a radioactive spider or being from another planet. It's not something I made or created myself, not something I invented, not a way I built myself up."
"So you're not Batman or Iron Man," Troy said.
"Oh! You know comic books?"
"We all do. They were taught to us in school, remember?"
"Of course! We didn't get a quality education because we were guys." Now he rubbed his chin. "No, you're right. I'm not Batman or Iron Man. Just a guy who gets pushed around a lot. A guy who doesn't control much. Never has." More chin-rubbing. "And so the Power was given to me as a gift."
The "King" turned his head as much as he was able. "What do you think happened, Mr. Thompson, for you to get this power?"
Hugh tightened his enormous chin, "I think what happens is when a man gets stifled and crushed and oppressed enough, something rises up inside him. Something, or someone, fights for him when he can't fight for himself or even just defend himself a little. "
Hugh folded his giant Popeye-type arms over his enormous chest. "Yes, when a man gets put down enough, something rises up," he whispered solemnly.
"Amen," Green-Hair said with equal solemnity. Or was it solemness? With his fractured mind, Hugh was still working on stuff like that.
It was then that Hugh spied the metal object dangling from Kurwazi's neck. The crimelord probably just assumed no one could snatch it from him, but Hugh did just that.
"'I'll be back,'" he said in his best Terminator voice. Surprisingly, his three new friends offered no resistance.
Hugh headed for the nearest communications outlet. He had the key he had taken from Gunny earlier; now he had a transmitter from the "King." And he had recorded his story while talking to the three guys. With the press of a few buttons, he sent his story all over the world.
Not everyone would respond to his story, of course, but maybe just enough would rise up to put a little bit of a dent in the State machinery.
Hugh then returned the transmitter by throwing it at the King's feet. Once he did, he quickly walked away. Returning the transmitter was best; he didn't need Kurwazi's organization hunting him for that bit of technology.
Hugh wasn't sure how long he wandered around; enough time for some house husbands to hear the broadcast, he was sure.
What a sad little world it was when women, the nurturers, oppressed others.
Hugh thought about his broadcast. The comments from Green-Hair, Purple-Hair and Kurwazi would make the broadcast more amusing and entertaining. It might even take a while for State officials to realize the message was subversive.
With his mission completed, Hugh stayed on the move, or tried to.
He almost bumped into a man.
Since The Power did not chop people's heads off or cause them to explode, Hugh usually didn't bother with a disclaimer or warning of any kind. But sometimes he offered one just for fun.
"This is to duly warn you that any harm you try to do to me will boomerang on you," Hugh said in true lifeless Willy Wonka fashion. "'Boomerang.' That's a technical legal term."
The man behaved in a typical authority figure way, like he had not heard a thing.
"How do you do, Mr. Thompson?"
"I'm warning you: don't try to hurt me." While speaking in a bored voice, Hugh held out one hand and looked away.
"Hurt you? I wouldn't dream of it." The man's double chin folded in a little. "You see, I have a power as well. As long as I wish you well, your power will not activate. And eventually you will pass out."
Hugh drooped a little as he blinked his eyes. "What is this? Some kind of Vulcan mind-meld? A Jedi mind-trick?"
"If that helps you," the man said in a sinister voice while sporting an evil smile.
"This is my kryptonite," Hugh said just before he collapsed into the man's arms.
After lowering Hugh to the ground, the man stood over him.
"He is in a coma now," he said to no one in particular. "I told those bureaucrats in Gloria City that all they had to do was wish him well. We even have technology that alters mindsets, even the mindsets of bureaucrats and their zombie-soldiers. But none of them would listen. Too stuck in conventional thinking."
The man suddenly turned at the sound of a loud mocking voice.
"Look at the 'man' who thinks he knows something." Gunderson stood with her hands on her hips. A group of women behind her laughed with scorn, though a few only laughed nervously.
The man glared. "Queen Gloria herself authorized me."
With her lips curled in a condescending pouting look, Gunderson tilted her head to one side.
"And I'm sure later she'll find a nice shelf to put you on."
The man was stone-faced, "The State cannot tolerate even the least resistance in the smallest form."
Gunderson's smile suddenly dropped, and there was that ugly scowl again.
"What kind of resistance could there be from a 'man?'"
"What kind of resistance could there be?" someone said in a great booming voice. "You might be surprised."
A man stepped forward. He looked a lot like Earth's greatest movie director and screenwriter Taika Waititi. There were other men with him: bearded, somber-faced, dressed in ragged clothes.
"This is an unlawful assembly," Gunderson snapped.
Some women stepped forward as well.
"Seems like Queen Gloria's society is only there to help powerful women."
"I've been sexually harassed for real. But the Law Network doesn't help me because I'm just a merch-store clerk."
Gunderson looked startled, even shocked.
One short overweight woman scrunched up her red freckled face. "Power or no Power, we will resist you."
"Taika" narrowed his eyes. "This shouldn't surprise you. You can only put people down so long, and they rise up."
"I think Princess Leia said that in 'Star Wars.'"
"Oh, you've seen 'Star Wars?'" one guy said.
"We all have," another guy said in a dry bored voice. "It was taught in school, remember?""
"Ri-i-i-ight." Fake Taika said this just before he turned back to Gunderson. As he paused, he blinked his small dark eyes. "Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah. We're going to resist you and take you down, blah blah blah." To show he meant business, he narrowed his eyes, pointed a finger and jutted out his stubbled chin.
Scowling more deeply than before, Gunny pointed to a building that looked like a shiny silver vertical arrow.
"See that? We have about a hundred agents of the State who can put all of you down and take you out, take you down." Gunderson nodded emphatically as she gave them all a stern look.
One woman sneered in response. "Put us down. Like we're dogs, I suppose."
Gunny clutched her hips and adjusted her stance. "You should be grateful to the State for all the glories it provides you." She held up both toned arms. "Hail, Queen Gloria!"
"Don't you mean 'Heil, Hitler?'" "Taika" asked this in a very dry almost sneering voice.
"I am no longer sure the State holds the true power, if it ever did." Kurwazi stepped forward. Green-Hair and Purple-Hair—Percy and Troy—were with him.
Gunderson looked ready to retort when there came a noise from the silver arrow building. There were screams, not of terror but of shock and surprise. Then there was the sound of many bodies slamming into walls followed by a lot of grunting and groaning.
Gunderson made a face, one that expressed more annoyance than grave concern.
"What was that?"
Her eyes widened as Hugh opened his eyes and quickly sat up.
"I believe that's the sound of your society collapsing."
On the side of a nearby building was a screen several stories tall. The Rod Serling virtual reality appeared on that screen.
"You can oppress some of the people some of the time. But eventually they will rise up with one kind of power or another. A lesson learned in 'The Twilight Zone.'"
(Theme music for the show plays as the end credits run.)