Chapter 1: Chapter 1

One of the advantages to leaving the office late is that you don't have to fight for space on the elevators going down to the parking garage. You also don't have to worry about your car being clipped by one of your coworkers' vehicles in the crush to all reach the exit ramp to the street first. You place your neatly-folded but rumpled suit on the back seat next to the others and slip in behind the wheel. It felt nice to change out of work clothes and into a comfortable t-shirt and pair of jeans before heading down. You've been lax about getting your suits dry-cleaned lately, and spilling coffee on your slacks yesterday meant you were in dire straits until you got at least a couple of them cleaned.

You check the time on the dashboard of your Audi. As long as LA traffic is typical... meaning agonizingly slow, you should just make it to your dry-cleaner before they close at 6. Oh wait, the book store! You remember you also have to pick up a special order for Nina, at Book Nook a couple blocks away. Via your car's hands-free commands, you call them to find out how late they're open. 7pm... nice. You should have nothing to worry about then. You slowly inch down Sepulveda Blvd listening to CNN on SiriusXM. For some reason the female anchor is talking about a track meet in Spain.

"Kimberly Chartrain for CNN on SiriusXM. While we wait to speak to Ukraine's Helena Kulikovskaya, I'll try to quickly recap the day's notable events here in Barcelona. This international tournament is held only once every 3 years, and sports commentators have been expecting some astonishing performances, considering the events of the last year or more." She was referring to the fact that female athletes have been breaking records all over the place lately, very frequently breaking men's records.

She continued, "This morning, a new women's high jump record was set at 9 feet, 2 and one half inches. If you don't follow athletic events, that beats the longstanding men's record by 14 inches! When world records are broken in track and field, it is usually by only fractions of an inch, so this is unheard of, and certainly because it is a woman breaking a men's record, it is even more remarkable. Oh... oh, I'm just being informed that Ms. Kulikovskaya can speak to us now."

"For our SiriusXM listeners, I'll just say that Helena Kulikovskaya, standing before me is a mountain of a woman. She dwarfs everyone around her, including the male officials standing nearby. Despite being from Ukraine, I'm told she speaks excellent English. Ms. Kulikovskaya, you are a shot-putter, correct?"

A deep woman's voice replied with a strong Slavic accent "That is correct. For the Ukrainian women's team."

"Excellent. And you competed today? How did you do?" The reporter asked.

"I put the shot almost 40 meters."

"And is that a new woman's record?"

"Well no. The women's shotput record, set anew today, is at 51.6 meters."

"Then why is what you did remarkable?"

"I used a men's shot, not the women's. Women's shot is 4 kilos, 8.8 pounds. Men's shot 16 pounds. My distance beat men's record."

"I see, impressive. And what was the men's record, and when was it set?"

"Men's record set 30 years ago, at 23 meters."

"Astonishing. Have you then officially broken the men's record?"

"No. Officials claim women's shot is 4 kilos, and a woman can only set women's record. I wish to make statement to athletic community, and the world. The era of male athletic superiority is over. I did this to make this point. This is new world, and women are now superior gender."

Her voice increased in volume, booming and distorting the mic pickup. "We are physically stronger, faster, and exhibit greater skills than the men. I demand either to be allowed to compete against men, or for rules revisions to acknowledge our physical superiority. Compare me to any man... any... and you cannot honestly say I should use tiny 4 kilo, 8.8 pound shot, while men use 16 pound shot. This is ludicrous. I believe I speak for all female athletes. We are sisters, we will fight this, and win."

The reporter spoke. "Thank you, Helena Kulikovskaya. Powerful words, well spoken by a powerful woman. Records and precedents being set here in Barcelona, Spain. This is Kimberly Chartrain for CNN."

You switch off the car radio. This is just the latest in a global story, unfolding now for almost 2 years. Women are outperforming men in almost every way. Not just in athletics, but in intelligence, academics, economic indices, politics, virtually every area. Political elections are very frequently won by women. Women's IQ scores are at least 15 points above men's now on average. And not just adults either. Many schools have begun separating classes by gender because girls are outpacing boys. News has been regularly reporting on the developments and the science behind them, at least to the extent they've been able to. Scientists have some leads, but unraveling the mystery is proving to be a great challenge.

Female behavior is also becoming more aggressive. Social and biological scientists are not certain why all this is occurring, but an epigenetic trigger seems the most likely cause. Researchers are working to find indicators in gene expression of contemporary females as compared with that of women from recent decades. This is apparently possible using new analysis techniques, but will take months or even years to re-sequence the human female genome, then catalog, compare and analyze the data.

You've noticed changes in your girlfriend too. Nina has been tearing it up at work, managing a big promotion and raise, placing her salary 20% above your own. Just a year ago, yours was higher by almost a third. You are up for a promotion at the bank too, but are nervous it might fall through, placing you behind your girl in income for the foreseeable future. It seems silly to be bothered by that kind of thing these days, but it does eat away at your self-confidence. Your boss Ms. Matson has recently been very tough on you, so your prospects of promotion are in doubt.

Nina has begun reading at a prodigious pace, abandoning the TV sitcoms she used to watch with you in favor of classical fiction, and books on academic topics ranging from macroeconomics to ancient history, from psychology to quantum physics. You have browsed through some of them, but many were way beyond your comprehension. She surprised you a few weeks ago by demonstrating near-fluent use of Spanish in an exchange with the Guatemalan maid. Previously, she could only converse haltingly with her, using the same meager Spanish vocabulary you had both struggled with, since hiring her. Nina explained she had been speed-learning Spanish using an app on her phone during her commutes and is now learning Mandarin Chinese!

Though she's never been much for exercise, she's recently visited a few local fitness gyms, looking for one to join. But even without any exercise, her body has changed, becoming leaner and harder. Muscular detail now stands out on her neck, arms, legs and torso that was not there before. And veins on her hands and forearms are visible, though it's not unattractive. If anything, she's more beautiful. Her hair is fuller and sleeker, and she's just radiant these days. But she looks like she's been working out, when you know she hasn't been. It used to be that she needed you to open stuck jar lids for her occasionally in the kitchen. Now she can open the ones even you have difficulty with, with little apparent effort. Her appetite has increased; she eats more than you do, though she hasn't been gaining weight: still about 140 pounds compared to your 175.

You pull into the 7-11 parking lot next to your dry-cleaner, almost 10 minutes before they close. Gathering up your suits, you bring it all in to the lady at the counter. She gives you a receipt and you thank her, returning to your car. Turning down Ventura Blvd, you head toward Book Nook.

Since Nina's new job position requires longer hours, you now have more leisure time than she does. Being the major breadwinner, she is in a position to demand that you sometimes run errands for her during the week, since her early evenings need to be spent on productive work rather than menial tasks. One of these errands is to have you pick up a new book she's ordered from this bookstore. She didn't explain why, but for some reason it's not available on Kindle, or from online stores. All she tells you is that it's... "the new book by Amélie de Forte".

Walking through the door, you're greeted by the old-timey ring of a chrome bell. You can't remember the last time you were in a brick-and-mortar book store, but the sweet smell of wood pulp and ink is familiar. You tell the girl behind the counter, "Um, you have a special order, I think for Brian Bannister. She checks under the counter, and finds it. "Oh yes, this one. We've sold quite a few now."

She takes your Visa card and hands you the hardcover volume, called "Femme Supérieur". What the hell. No wonder Nina didn't tell you the book title. The girl takes an interest in you. She gets the idea that the book is for you. You don't bother to correct her. In her light Southern accent, she tries to start a conversation about corollaries between South American avian mating behavior and the new European postmodernism or something, but your blank expression reveals that you have no idea what she is talking about, and don't even understand many of the sophisticated intellectual terms she uses, so she just lets it drop. Nina had also asked you to browse for other similar books while you are there, and the girl shows you to the new "Feminism Science" section.

After you have been looking through the stacks for a few minutes, she returns to the end of the aisle, making small talk while playing with her hair. You know no one else is in the store, and you get the odd impression that she might have... predatory... intentions. You try to walk past her, but she shifts her position, blocking you. She's pretty, with copper-hued hair done in a ponytail, and has unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse, revealing some cleavage. Though you're aroused, you are committed to Nina, and this is making you uncomfortable.

"Look, I'm not sure what's going on here, but I've got to go."

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She laughs and says, "What's the hurry honeybun? We're all alone, and I can tell you're a little horny." She steps forward and touches your hair while tracing the index finger of her other hand down your stomach to your swelling crotch.

She leans into you and pouts. "I don't see many men in this store anymore and I'm feeling neglected.

She cups your package with her hand. "I think you've got the solution to my loneliness right here."

Your heart is pounding hard. As enticing as she is, this doesn't feel right to you, and you try to force your way past her. She catches your shoulders and pushes you back in the corner, her eyes sparkling as she says, "Tsk, Tsk, Tsk!"

Now you're struggling with her. Her strength is astonishing, and she seems to thwart your next move before you can even execute it. You end up on your back in one of the aisles, with her on top, pinning you down. She rips your jeans open at the crotch. "Come on sugah, give it up or I'll have to take it!" You finally free yourself, but not before she gives you a shiner on your way out. You stumble out of the store holding your torn pants up with one hand, and Nina's book in the other, running toward your car. Luckily, she doesn't chase you.

When you get home, you have to sit behind the steering wheel for a while and calm your nerves. Your hands are shaking, and you realize you're tasting your own salty blood. Checking your face in the rear-view mirror, you see that she bloodied your lip too, which you clean up with some tissues and bottled water. The inside of your lip stings, where a blow from her caused a cut against your lower incisors.

It's just before 7pm when you drag yourself upstairs from the garage. Nina is rifling through a spreadsheet on her MacBook while listening to classical music on a Bluetooth speaker. Her fingers fly across the keyboard, and she calls to you without looking up from her screen, "Was it in babe?"

You grab an ice pack from the freezer and let the door close. "Yeah, I got the book. Why are you reading about female supremacy?" You collapse onto the sofa as she swivels toward you in her office chair. Your face throbs, and the ice pack is so cold you look around for some cloth or paper towels to wrap around it.

"Babe? What happened to you?" She's up from her desk to check out your swollen, bloody face.

"That girl at Book Nook is a psycho or something. She groped me, threw me down on the floor and tore my Levi's open like they were made of paper... it sounds crazy, but I barely escaped being raped! My god, that girl was strong as hell! It was terrifying."

She looks concerned and sympathetic as she presses the ice pack gingerly over the discolored bruise but doesn't seem terribly surprised. As she leans in you notice her nipples stiffen under her shirt. She stopped wearing bras about 6 months ago. Many women have been doing the same. "I believe you. Shit, I was afraid things like this might start happening. Sooner than I expected though."

"What things? What are you talking about?" You try to sit up, but she firmly holds you down.

"Sweetie, you've heard the news reports of course, and have some idea of the changes coming over women and girls. But there are some details that are unsaid, that I, and I'm sure most women know, but haven't... clarified." She lifts the ice pack and turns your head to get a better look at the facial bruise. "Boy, she really clocked you. Cheek abrasion, torn skin and everything. I'm surprised you weren't knocked out cold."

You hastily grab the ice pack and press it back over your eye. "What details? What don't we men know about this? Why aren't we being told?"

A stern look crosses her face, then softens. She bites her lip, then adopts a patronizing tone. "Frankly, most men aren't mature enough to handle it. Or smart enough to understand it."

"Oh come on! Don't give me that horse shit! What are you hiding?" Your face reddens in anger.

She shakes her head slightly, as if a sad prediction just came true. "I'll try to put this simply and clearly. The essence of the female gender, all around the world, is shifting from beta to alpha, for lack of more precise terms. I know you've noticed the change between us when we have sex?"

You're annoyed at being treated like an idiot, but nod. "Yeah... there's a hunger, a look in your eyes. Sometimes the way you handle, or... grab me, it... it um, hurts a little." You look down embarrassed, and fidget with your hands, not knowing what else to say.

Nina puts her hand on yours in empathy and lifts your chin with the other, to meet her eyes. "I can tell you that my own sex drive has doubled or tripled in the last year and a half, and I'm experiencing changes in my body and mental abilities the news reports only barely hint at. A big component of this is aggression. If I see something I want, my first impulse is to just TAKE it, no matter what it is. I have mostly been able to resist this, but these drives are new to me, and I'm not perfect. I'm still learning."

She kisses you, then continues. "The human female is evolving, and the nature of the relationship between men and women will undergo a sea-change, likely permanently. Some biologists predict that males will regress in ability." You look at her in surprise.

She shakes her head and continues. "But it's only a hypothesis. There's no indication anything like that is happening, at least not yet. Honestly though, whether that happens or not, the outcome will be the same. The fact that you were attacked so savagely by such a powerful woman proves the severe danger men already face, which can only get worse. With increased intelligence, physical strength, speed, reflexes, and other... perceptual abilities, females should end up subjugating men without significant challenge."

You stand up, letting the ice pack fall to the floor. "Subjugating men? Is that what you want to do?!"

Nina stands up next to you, grabbing your hands in hers. She is 5' 10" tall, and in bare feet, her eyes are even with yours, despite the slight lift of your dress shoes. Staring into your eyes she says "Baby, it's not about what you or I want, it's about what is happening. Reality. As much as we like to think we are in control... humans like all other animals are at the mercy of our biology. And if this is where human evolution is leading, it's where we are going, regardless of what we want. You have always protected me. I love you for that. But now things are changing. With females as the alpha gender, it's going to be up to good women to protect their men from those who give in to their baser natures.

The book I had you pick up was written to explain the relevant science behind the changes we are all experiencing and witnessing, and to offer advice for women... and men too, on how best to navigate those changes so we can manage the inevitable... tectonic... social shift that will result. I'm hoping we can both get value from this book. I've read it in the original French, emailed to me in advance by the author, and have had long discussions with her in encrypted chat rooms and group video conference for weeks now. The copy you picked up is translated into English, also by the author. I'm hoping it will help us both figure out how to move forward. There is a section written expressly for men, using language... geared for them."

Turning away from her, you snatch up the ice pack and head to the fridge for a beer. "Fucking French? Geared for me? Geared? I know what that means Nina! Despite what you think, I'm not stupid. I do have a goddamn Bachelor of Science degree from Columbia you know. Cum laudé!"

You sit down hard at the kitchen table, opening a bottle of Corona with a hiss. Shortly after, you hear the fridge open behind you and then close. The vacuum hiss of a second twist-top is heard. She reaches across you and clinks your now half-empty bottle with her full one. Bending down at the waist so you are nose to nose and you can peer right down her shirt, she licks her lips, and says with a grin, "You know... cum laudé... IS... pretty impressive. And I'm prepared to 'come loudly' while we wait for the pizza to arrive. And then fuck off the whole night doing whatever the hell we want. Like we did BEFORE we both got adult jobs... capiche? She licks your nose, turns your chair, straddles your lap, and then looks down at your crotch... and your destroyed blue jeans zipper.

"Holy shit." You both erupt into laughter while she tears them off the rest of the way, tighty-whiteys and all, spilling beer and knocking over your chair, with you in it. The rest of the night is spent in beer... and pizza... and sexual... excess, and all is okay again... for a while.

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