CHAPTER 3
Teaching the Teacher
After my meeting with the councilwoman, Pearl, my next stop was the senior center. My yellow bike stood in brilliant contrast to the wall of red tulips that formed a red cross, signaling that this was a place of healing and care.
I liked teaching my history classes at the senior center because unlike my young students, my old students were very knowledgeable.
Today seven showed up, and they greeted me with love and appreciation when I entered.
“Is it today?” My favorite senior, Marie, asked with a hopeful smile that made the edges of her eyes soften with wrinkles.
“Maybe,” I said teasingly. “But I won’t tell you before you’re all sitting down.”
Marie quickly got her friends to sit down and pay attention, and a pregnant silence filled the room. The seven seniors were giving me their full attention and when I lowered my voice and said, “Today is the day,” excited murmurs broke out among them.
My seniors were no different from my young students. Everyone wanted to hear about the forbidden subject of the Nmen; the men from the Northlands that we weren’t allowed to talk about in public.
“What you’re about to hear today is for educational purposes only. You cannot repeat what is being said in this class, nor can you record it and play it to others. I trust you will treat this information with great care and secrecy,” I said solemnly.
Seven heads nodded back at me.
“As you know, we have about one point five billion people left in this world. We all live in harmony and peace, and our only adversaries are the descendants of the original men who opposed the protective laws of banning men from positions of power. Many of them had strong opinions of women being inferior, and they didn’t agree with the monetary system being replaced by the fairness system or with the council being women only. Ultimately, they gathered up north in what was formerly known as Alaska and Canada, and after thirteen years of their violating every new law and causing trouble, the council finally decided to let them live the way they pleased and built a border to protect us from their violence and hatred.
“Some women who already lived in that region got caught with them, but because there were so few females the men were desperate enough to kidnap women from the Motherlands. The council stopped that with the first peace treaty.
“We refer to them as Nmen, which is short for Men of the Northlands, but we do not speak of them in public. We do not write about them. We do not allow them access to our lands. They are blocked from accessing our Wise-Share network and we only allow men to trade with them. The Northlands are rich in natural resources, and we supply them with fruits, vegetables, medical technology, and specialized knowledge among other things.
“That’s not true,” a lady in the back called Martha who was normally quiet during my classes called out in a raspy voice. “It’s not only men who trade with them. My friend is a trader and she’s a woman.”
“Yes,” I cleared my throat. “I know there are a few women who trade with them, but a permit is only granted to old women who volunteer for the job,” I elaborated.
“That’s right. My friend says it’s only old crones that can trade with the Nmen,” Martha said.
I nodded and looked around and smiled at the sight of the seven old people looking intensely at me.
“Nmen see women as less than men, and if they could have it their way men would still be ruling the world,” I clarified.
A few of the seniors shuddered at the thought.
I brushed my hair back. “I could talk about them for hours but I know what you’re all anxious to see. Pictures, right?”
With a conspiratorial smile, I used my wristband and heard gasps when a picture of two savage-looking men with long beards and bulging muscles appeared above my hand.
Marie leaned closer to see better with her eyes wide open. “Do they all look like that?”
I changed the picture to a close-up of a grave-looking man with a gray beard and a leather tunic.
“It’s hard to say, Marie, since the most recent picture we have is this one and it’s twenty years old. This is the previous ruler – Marcus, who came into power thirty years ago in a bloody coup.”
“How many rulers or kings are there now?” Marie asked.
“Currently only one. His name is Khan Aurelius and he’s the son of this guy, Marcus Aurelius.”
“What happened to him?” Marie pointed at the image of Marcus.
“He died three years ago and then his son took over.”
“Only one man to decide everything?” Maria asked. “Why don’t they have a council like we do?”
