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March, 2315

Portland, OR

In truth women still had the use of manufactured sperm as they’d had apparently for the past two millennia. They’d done amazing things with it and built a world that hadn’t experienced as much open conflict as men had brought about apparently. But it hadn’t been perfect, at least not in the way that it would seem the ancients would have hoped.

During his stay in Long Beach he’d taken great pains to recreate the journals that he’d brought with him, utilizing the help of a couple of men that had been fascinated by the histories. A few that had learned of them had scoffed and said that women were in charge and always had been, it was just their lot in life. But according to the journals that wasn’t the case. Finding the paper to write things down had been tough enough, but getting the men to believe what they said had been almost impossible.

After all, no man alive had been born into a world where women didn’t rule, where it was wise to prepare your own food if you were a male, where you were looked down upon simply for being a man or a boy. The histories that he’d been given spoke of a time that none of them had known, but they still spoke to him in a way that suggested that things had been meant to be much different.

It had only been when he’d reached the last journal that he’d nearly dropped to his knees out of pure shock. What was written there was beyond anything he could have believed, and was in some cases considered deadly if anyone else found out.

(to be continued)

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