She grew up in the slums of a DeRegger colony. But her family wasn't like most of those here. What little funds they got, they used for books - though carefully hidden. She was forced to dress, and act, like a boy to fool the rulers. The small family, two sons, their father, and her, were all very well educated and well-read. And they believed it was time for a true change to this brutal regime. But to do that, more people needed to learn. Soon an interesting past time began to spring up amongst the slums. Using scraps of paper, whatever they could write with and imaginations... a new game formed. Called Storytime. With it, the one thing the rulers didn't want began to happen. More people began to think. -- Anon Guest
Day knew he was strange. It wasn't hard to miss. His body was more like the wumin seen on the screen than anything else. A body he had to hide. His father and brothers had taught him how to hide. How to act. How to not be a girl. It hurt him and they all knew it, but it was be a boy or die. They had all witnessed what happened to wumin in everyday life.
He could not even call himself 'she'. Not even in the privacy of his own head. It was safer that way. He and his family had been working for generations on creating ways to keep their planetary colony from becoming completely toxic. Their ancestors had seen it coming, and worked on ways to use their own cultural identity to sabotage the creeping agenda of hate.
They had been working for generations to be sure that every man had the right to one wumin, but those peculiar creatures still had nothing resembling rights of their own. Which was, according to grandfather, a monumental shame. It was a saying that the family, and the discrete club they were members of, had in common. You need both hands to create good things.
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