Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: FIZZLE (06/09/16)
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TITLE: Grand Design | Previous Challenge Entry
By Gary Ritter
06/13/16 -
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We worked at the United Nations in the Interior Department of Indices from Online Tabulation. In other words, we did research and correlated data to present valuable information in statistical format. Our results published to the world provided a harbinger of things to come. One of the important works we’d done in the past was to predict global warming temperatures would rise 0.00001 degree Celsius within two hundred years. That led to the UN’s humanitarian decree to counter that drastic rise by outlawing all mechanical farm equipment throughout the world. Our labor singlehandedly eliminated mechanized crop production, reduced unnecessary population in the majority of poorer regions globally, and stopped needless food shipments sent as relief to populous areas that claimed to be starving. The monies we saved through this initiative allowed us to build a wonderful new world headquarters complex in Babylon.
My breathing calm, I burst through Mark Shelton’s door clutching a sheaf of papers. “You remember the survey we began last year? I have the outcome. Mark, this could be the beginning of the end.”
Mark still had a feminine roundness to his cheeks, but his voice had deepened over time. “The end of what, Danielle?”
Now self-conscious for having been abrupt, I smoothed my skirt and noticed my legs. I had forgotten to shave them this morning, and dark hair was growing again. I hoped I wasn’t sprouting any whiskers on my face. Gathering myself, I said, “Birth rates have plunged to almost zero.”
Stifling a yawn, Mark glanced toward the wall holding the world clock. “So, what do you want to do about it?”
“We need another study to find out why.”
“Fine. Go for it.”
That night as I swallowed my hormone pills, I considered what to do. With the global reach of the UN as the only world governing body, we could accomplish much. I went to sleep dreaming of correlative statistical models.
To verify the premise of my study I called a meeting of our team. “We need to validate our thesis with some subjective responses. Who in this room self-identifies with a gender other than assigned at birth?” Every hand went up. “Does anybody here know of someone—family—friends—who hasn’t had gender reassignment surgery?” Not a person moved.
We assembled the necessary people in our organization and began querying government officials and the proletariat throughout the earth, that is, hard working, valuable citizens, and those who constantly begged for a handout. I felt sorry for those pollsters who had to mingle with the masses. These ingrates always wanted more, even beyond the free life-altering operations their betters had given them.
Because we had dispatched tens of thousands of researchers, their findings poured in. Living in a world with no national boundaries, the absence of patriotic squabbles, and a lack of armed conflict made our job much easier than in times past. We had complete cooperation in a world that would soon approach our utopian ideal.
We worked day and night massaging the numbers, trying to make sense of a myriad of conflicting facts. The reports we generated sorted every different demographic we could imagine. With each passing week the original premise I’d postulated kept rising to the top.
I imagined that once we announced our conclusions someone at the highest levels of government, perhaps even the Secretary-General of the world, would rush to action. We gave him advance notice, but he only shrugged. No one in authority seemed to care. The cry raised was only our own.
At the end of it all, I recapped to Mark Shelton what I’d learned. “The push to normalize gender self-identification was so imperative, that we taught all kindergartners to desire something they weren’t. By the time they reached adulthood, an entire generation transitioned from male to female, female to male.
Mark gave me a blank look. “What’s wrong with that?”
“We may have pushed the envelope a little too far. I think our grand design has fizzled out. The population will self-exterminate in thirty years because there’s nobody left to procreate.”
My boss popped a testosterone pill and yawned.
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I admit at the end, I personally (I could be alone in this) felt slightly uncomfortable because I have a dear, dear friend who agonized for decades over transgender reassignment. I get that you were trying to be funny, but I know her struggle was anything but funny; however, I also see her maybe chuckling at this as well because she has learned to laugh at herself. I know no matter what gender she identifies with, nothing will change my or Jesus' love for her.
You did a great job of developing your characters. They were definitely memorable. I also loved your beginning. The conflict was presented right in those first few lines and drew me in, making me eager to keep reading.
God Bless~
God bless
Since the headquarters were in Babylon, was this story speaking about the end times?