The Floor of Governance had no walls; only a marbled floor and four pillars held a roof suspended in the air. At the sound of the fifth bell. The hundreds of citizens of Restitude entered the building. They walked in with their baggy white cloaks and traditional wooden masks. Each mask was designed the same–down to the smallest detail. Even the sharpest eye could not tell them apart. When the fifteenth bell rang, they all stopped walking.

“On this day, we grant our voice to one.” They chanted in unison. “Now she speaks.”

In the silence. A woman walked out of the crowd and stood side by side with the other women in the front row.

“I, Adverity, acknowledge my privilege to speak our will,” she said loudly.

“We thank you for your acknowledgment and endow you with nothing above all else,” the crowd said.

“Praise to the Androcidian, worry free for the oppressors,” she said. The Androcidian was a holy day for the women. It was the day the reign of oppression had ended.

“Andro…cidian!” the crowd chanted back, raising an open left hand into the air.

“Be in comfort.”

The crowd lowered themselves to the floor and sat criss-cross applesauce.

Adverity knelt, bunching up her robe beneath her knee-caps to avoid the pain of the hard floor. She lowered herself until her stomach lay comfortably on her thighs.

“Next week marks five years of a society living in true equity.”

The crowd clapped exactly five times in perfect unison.

“Illveria suggested we have a tournament of passball to celebrate the anniversary—''

The crowd slapped their hands on the ground five times.

“She has of course thanked us for submitting her to reeducation. May she never stray again.”

“We shall not stray,” the crowd chanted.

“Indeed. We will honor our past. With approval from every citizen in town, I have prepared a lecture about the atrocities we faced for the months leading up to the Androcidian. Detailing their masculine defeat in the Great War. We will have regular breaks during the lecture for rage screaming and mental head healing.”

The crowd clapped five times.

A sixth clap echoed. Gasps filled the room as heads turned toward the source of the noise. A woman stood and bowed her head.

“We thank you for standing sinner,” Adverity said. “You hope to be reeducated, we presume?”

“Apologies, council,” the woman said. “I have strayed. With your approval I seek atonement through reeducation.”

“What say we?” Adverity asked the room.

The crowd snapped their fingers five times and spoke in unison. “Atonement granted.”

The woman turned and walked out of the room, toward the learning center. As she walked past the other women, they hissed at her. They couldn’t see her tears beneath her mask, and she held in any sound she wished to make until she could make it to a quiet room.

Adverity waited for the sinner to leave before proceeding.

“Remember everyone: when we stray and fall off the path, we end up lost. Don’t forget what led us to our downfall. Always remember the Androcidian. Stay in your hearts the dreams of our mothers. For all below us”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“We raise!”

“For all above us.”

“We topple!”

“Let us retreat. The mood has left us.”

The women all stood and left the building. When they passed the flower arches on the property’s edges, they disrobed and removed their masks. The Floor of Governance was a far more formal affair than their day-to-day lives. One would only have to wear their formal attire outside of it as a punishment. Or if they didn’t feel like getting dressed up for the day and doing their make-up.

As the women left, they formed circles of six to ten and chatted. The hair dye of the month was a new blue dye that had been invented in the Hall of Fashion. Most women had a streak or two of blue in their hair, while others had dyed their entire head.

Adverity removed her mask and hood at the property’s edge, revealing her own two streaks of dyed blue hair. Her left eye had a deep scar across the socket, a small blue eye patch covered the opening. She then approached her own group,which was informally known as the Matriarchal Order. The women hushed and withdrew their grins as she approached.

“How fair you all this day?” she asked.

The women nodded and smiled.

“I’m sorry you had to bear witness to that outburst. I pray it never gets so wild again.”

“It’s quite all right, Adverity,” Ospera said. “We were just discussing the incident. With luck and grace nobody within this circle found themselves personally offended by it. Our mood toward it is rather, empathetic, one could say.”

The women all nodded.

Adverity raised her brow.

“Empathetic? The desire to stand out is a masculine trait. You can witness it across all of nature,” Adverity said. “Disciplining an extra clap today could prevent war tomorrow. We all know how things can escalate in an idealistic patriarchal world.”

“Yes. Indeed, that is true. However, as the more evolved sex of our species bestowed to us by the One Goddess." The women performed the Mother’s prayer by drawing a circle on their right breast with their fingers. “Perhaps we could also bear witness to the idea that such small mistakes may not indeed lead to…violent actions?”

Anger brewed inside her. She had to restrain herself greatly. In these past two months, the group had become much more willing to speak out against their rules and her interpretations of them. She quietly drew long breaths through her nose to not draw attention to her internal struggle and smiled.

“Do you recall the great jar incident, sister?” The women all nodded.

“Yes. Of course, sister.”

“To this day, we store all one hundred thousand of those jars in the Hall of Remembrance. I’m sure you remember why we do this?”

“Perhaps I could use a refresher indeed,” Ospera said.

“We nearly starved to death after the Androcidian, having no access to our main supply of food. It was a man’s desire to close those jars so tightly, that only a man could open them. That is how oppressors perform their violence. They don’t have to flog you in the streets, no, they use careful actions, words, and upstaging.”

The other women in the group looked to Ospera for a retort, but she had nothing to say.

“Those jars are a reminder of how subtle violence can be.” Adverity tried to hold back her smirk, but its glow was apparent on her face.

“Forgive my outburst, sister,” Ospera said. “Well, I believe we should all leave and get ready for the feast tonight. It’s only seven hours away, after all.”

All the women nodded.

“Very good, I look forward to seeing you there sisters,” Adverity said. She performed the Mother’s prayer and left the group.

Walking around the yard, she eavesdropped on other conversations being held. Other women were doing the same thing as well. The Gossipari–an order of women who walked around with funnels mounted to their ears–were fundamental in quelling all violence when it was still in verbal form.

After circling the building and greeting several sisters, she left to head toward her home. Yet as she walked along the grass road, laughter echoed in the distance. She crept in its direction, careful to not make any noise. As she peered through a bush she saw the women from her own circle, gathered without her.

She couldn’t hear what they were saying. Her mind raced with masculine thoughts–jealousy, envy, and anger. As much as she tried to push them down, her lips quivered, and her fist clenched.

Without a word, she placed her mask and hood back over her and walked to her home. Her home was the standard ten by ten wood, hay and mud combination that all women had. Yet hers had a rug that she now removed. A stone tablet covered the hole underneath. She made her way down and into her tunnel. There, she had dug out an opening just large enough to stand tall in.

After illuminating a lantern she kept down there. She removed cloth wrappings she used for a corset, and wrapped her hands. She then punched the dirt wall–over and over with all her might, grunting and screaming as she did so. She alternated fists and increased in speed with each blow– until she was sweating so hard that the loosened dirt turned into mud on her skin.

Back upstairs, she found all the tension had been released from her body. As she cleansed herself, she thought about what had transpired this day with great care. She of course would think of a great plan. She always did. This betrayal would have to be persecuted with more haste than she was used to.

Tonight at the dinner, she would make those masc empathizers learn the cost of their incorrect ideals.