The Lysistrata Uprising

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“By the year 2080, our women were not marriageable,” I say, take a sip of the water placed for me on the podium, and continue. “There was a wave of misandry all over the world propagated by feminists, women leaders who instigated a revolution against the man, and government systems that sided with the woman no matter what. Women were the mouths that restored order and justice of the land, prosecutors, and executioners. In their court, men stood accused, guilty, never proven innocent. When one woman managed to create a synthetic sperm in a Petri dish, men were no longer needed. Lysistrata Uprising, they called it.”

I glance round the hall. Thousands of black eyes, like holes on their white or grey beautiful faces, stare at me, mouths wide open.

“At that time when men felt that they had nothing left to live for, they all joined the army. Being a soldier, no matter what rank, was noble—at least you died a patriot, hero. The war on terrorism had never been won, and the world was a battlefield. It didn’t matter how many men died in the hands of the dastard terrorists; it was much better than to live with women who hated and disrespected them. Fighting against the Lysistrata Uprising saw men dragged to court for rape and violence against women where punishment was castration or death. Once able men were returned home in body bags, and female soldiers, commanded by their female commanders, buried them. The ‘widows’ of the dead soldiers were compensated immensely by the army, the heroes who paid the ultimate price for their countries were soon forgotten. Those whom the terrorists took as prisoners of war were never found …

“That is how I met her,” I say and the whole auditorium whooaaaaa’s. “She was like a fresh of breath air. Ever since she has an unforgettable, special place in my mind.”

There are squeals, claps, and whistles. I look at the front row and spot her, thirteen months pregnant with our first child. She smiles.

What I do not tell them is that I was an intelligence officer from the Directorate of Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence (DETI) of the Kenya Defence Forces (KDF). We collected intelligence on aliens masquerading as terrorists to attack the Earth. They would attack a military base, overrun it, killing hundreds of soldiers, save for a few whom they took as prisoners of war, loot the camp, and burn what they couldn’t take. I was among the POWs taken when terrorists from al-Shabaab, Islamic State in Iraq (ISIS), al-Qaeda, Boko Haram, Hamas, and Taliban attacked jointly African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM) headquarters in Kismayo, Somalia, on 15th January, 2081.

That night, we were ready to be slaughtered like chicken by the terrorists because we knew we would never be rescued. A group of terrorists came to the hall we were being held and removed their kaffiyehs and let us see them, a confirmation that the hour of our death had come.

Hail Mary full of grace, I prayed. Pray for us sinners and the hour of our death. Amen.
I expected a terse command, but then a sweet voice said, “We are sorry about your brothers, there’s nothing we could do. But we’re going to save you.”

My eyes widened. The terrorists transformed to tall, slender, beautiful female humanoids. They had snow-white, and others grey, skin, and night-black eyes and hair. I fixed my eyes on her, and when she looked at me, my heart melted.

“And no, you don’t have a choice,” she continued. “After all, you’re dead …”

They turned back to terrorists and hauled us to waiting Technicals and rode into the night. We were taken past Jilib, al-Shabaab stronghold that AMISOM troops had never been able to capture, into a forest where a saucer-like object glowed in the night. Whatever happened next I cannot remember, it’s like the memory has been erased from my mind.
“Professor Linzell,” a voice says from the rear, her mellifluous voice amplified by the speakers. “Are all human males like you?”

The onscreen keyboard on the podium blinks green with her name. “No, Tembi. They are not like me, but if you mean to say are they all build like me, yes, they are.”

“No, Professor. I mean, look at you, all of you who live with us. You’ve love, imagination, empathy, what is considered true intelligence in the intergalactic laws …”

“Oh, yes, they are. Only that our women didn’t see it that way. They believed for years we had been subjugating them. They believed that we were their number one enemy, and they fought back …”

When my lecture is over, Lashaya comes to the podium and hugs me.  Her stomach is still flat, but that’s how women in Heubos carry pregnancy. The foetus will appear as a clot for most of the pregnancy, barely recognizable, until the final days when the foetus is connected to the mother via a strand of superconductive nanocells through which she transfers energy and any knowledge she needs to into the infant’s brain, and then releases an electric surge to start its heart beating. The baby is born seven to fourteen days later.

No matter how I try, I don’t recall how we left Earth. I remember waking up in a heavily cushioned bunk in the spaceship. She was there, looking at me as though I was a rare artefact, and the rest is history.

The heubonites, inhabitants of planet Heubos of the galaxy Taeria, are synthetic female humanoids—cellular-level cyborgs, artificial beings that carry out most of the essential life processes and can transform to any form. According to their historical records, their males were all killed when their spaceships passed through a cloud of dust in the Earth’s atmosphere. The males had been tasked by the Intergalactic High Council to invade Earth because humans were destroying the planet through pumping toxins in the atmosphere, waging wars and killing each other, and wanted to colonize the other planets.

Since all their males were wiped out, by humans, the heubobites decided to take human males to mate with lest they became instinct. The Intergalactic High Council didn’t approve for fear that the humans would corrupt their galaxy, but the heubonites defied the IHC. They have infiltrated world armies and terrorist groups. Wars are not ending any time soon on Earth, and in the end they will destroy the Earth.

Their motto is: Open hearts, open doors. These women are well-versed in the art of love, and they know that they need their males. They believe that males are providers and protectors, and females are nurturers.

From the Earth year 1992, soldiers missing in action in Iran, Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Somalia, Libya, and other war-torn countries were taken by the heubonites. They have mated with them and produced hybrid humanoids, heumans, and the first generation is coming of age in three seasons’ time, on their 200thbirthdays. We humans have been engineered, we can now live up to 1,500 years, and given heubonite names. Hueboniteslive up to 3,800 years, but heumanswill be able to live up to 6,000 years.

I couldn’t be any happier with life, at peace. I love Lashaya to all galaxies and back to Taeria. It’s amazing having someone who doesn’t need anything from you, they just love you, such a shame Earth women can’t know that unknown, beyond the stars in many galaxies away, in other planets true love lives. 

The Human Shrine

I did not remember getting to the woods no matter how I racked my brain to think, which, what it managed to do, was pump adrenalin into my body. I


She didn’t feel concerned at first, not until she glanced over her right shoulder and saw the men running, catching up on her, closing in. Within no time, they were onto her. One of the men slammed her to a wall, and before she could scream, an adhesive tape was stuck to her lips, sealing them as though to keep a secret. Plastic cables lashed her wrists and legs together.

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