After a night of little sleep but much pleasure, Hylas tiptoed downstairs, poached four eggs, fried half a dozen cloves of garlic, sliced two tomatoes, made tea and toast, set one end of the table, then stood at the bottom of the stairs and called, ‘Come and get it or I’ll throw it out.’
Seconds later, Hercules was beside him grinning in delight. ‘A real breakfast! Can’t remember the last one. I usually grab a hunk of bread, a few nuts and a glass of water. You’ll make me soft.’
‘You must be soft in the head if you think you're going to get this every day. I'm just making sure I don’t get kicked out too soon—it'd be so embarrassing.’
‘I’d say you’ve a couple of months at least before I’ll be ready for a change.’ He grabbed Hylas and somehow the inevitable cliché occurred; they did it on the unoccupied end of the kitchen table.
They’d barely finished clearing away breakfast when a knock on the door heralded Fidel and Arnold. They came in and sat at the table while Hercules poured them cups of tea.
‘Nice tea cups, Hercules.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Did Hylas snore?’
‘Not while I was awake. But then we didn’t get much sleep. What about you two? Is Arch’s bed big enough?’
‘Too big. We couldn’t find each other so ended up wanking.’
‘Last night Hercules asked me to move in with him,’ Hylas said calmly. ‘And I thought it was such a good idea, that I did.’
‘And what are your thoughts now, in the cold light of day?’
‘I think it was an excellent decision. I didn’t explain all this last night because it was late and we really needed to fuck after all the excitement and I didn’t want to have to convince you I was doing the right thing and all that crap before bed. So…are you Ok with it? Were you worried? Are you angry with me? Have I …?
‘Shut up, Hylas. If you think we hadn't seen the cow eyes you were making at each other, you disappoint me. Mort told us Hercules is well overdue for a proper relationship, being practically a virgin—if you discount the years of his youth spent as a rent boy and escort, fucking up to five females and the occasional male per day until Arch talked him into coming here. So it makes sense that as he still feels like a twenty-year-old, he should fall for the first young slut who massages his ego. And as you’ve always been a bit childish, it’s obvious you’d prefer an old man…’
Hercules leaped to his feet, flipped Fidel over and held him upside down by his ankles, threatening to tear him in half if he didn’t take that back.’
‘Take what back oh ancient god?’
‘That I feel like a twenty year-old!’
‘I take it back! You look, feel and act like a teenager.’
Hercules dropped him and returned to his seat. ‘That's more like it.’
‘Arnold,’ Hylas pleaded. ‘Fidel's obviously nervous about tonight and can’t think straight, so can you please tell me what you and my brother think of Hercules and me shacking up together.’
‘We were so delighted to be rid of you we brought you a shacking up present.’ He passed over a soft package wrapped in toilet paper.
Hylas unwrapped it excitedly. ‘How did you guess? It’s exactly what I need. Thank you so much. He wrapped his arms around brother and lover and kissed each on the brow. Look, Hercules, aren't they the best friends anyone could have? My old toothbrush, safety razor and nail clippers. Everything a man in my position could want.’
‘We put your clothes in the closet with ours. I don’t envisage leaving this place for a while, so it seemed pointless lugging them down here.’
‘That's very thoughtful, Fidel and Arnold,’ Hercules said politely. ‘Do I take it, then, that we have your blessing?’
‘You have indeed, with the caveat that if you hurt him we will kill you, of course.’
‘Of course.’
They spent the morning in the office with Mort, discussing activities they could offer apart from fitness. Fidel offered to take care of the ordering, storage and maintenance of equipment, start drawing and painting classes, and attend to all non-major repairs and maintenance in public buildings. Bart wondered if some residents would benefit from group therapy workshops to assist with coping after losing their jobs or family or anything else, as so many people seemed on edge despite their polite front. He also wanted to offer wrestling classes, and assist with the bridge club. Arnold was keen to coach all individual sports, assist Mort with self defence classes, take part in theatricals both back stage and on, and assist Zadig with forest maintenance and dragging people around in the cart. Robert wanted to start a philosophy and reading group, start a fitness circuit, and participate in Tea Dances and theatrical productions. Hylas was keen to act, dance, and work with kids—especially those who seemed withdrawn, on anything they liked from extreme sports to simply talking, dreaming and thinking.
Having compiled the list they made a new activities schedule ready to present that night, then returned to Hercules’ cottage for lunch.
The afternoon was spent on an orientation walk, getting to know their way around and assessing the suitability of public spaces for their activities, on the way making themselves agreeable to all and sundry. They'd walked barely ten metres before they stopped in astonishment.
‘Oasis looks so different in daylight. Last night it was a fairytale stage set, all ruins and mystery. In sunlight it’s real. Still looking old, but also useful, useable, practical and absolutely stunning.’
‘And the trees and gardens are so right.’
‘Last night I had no idea these places would be used just like ordinary places in ordinary towns. To look through those arches and see kids playing in the Coliseum as if it’s perfectly normal, is unreal.’
‘Who uses the grass in the arena?’
‘Softball, cricket, soccer…but just for fun. Nothing serious. Competitions are banned,’ Mort explained. ‘Activity is for pleasure and keeping fit, not for scoring points and making losers feel rotten.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. Is that your idea?’
‘It is a condition Hercules laid down when he first started here.’
‘I knew you were a wise man the instant I set eyes on you,’ Hylas laughed. ‘I love the place, but why does everything look like a semi ruin?’
‘Because all empires are built on the ruins of other cultures; our civilization as well. We’re in the process of destroying our current civilization along with most of the natural world.’
‘Is that also your idea Hercules?’
‘No, like everything else, it’s Archibald’s brilliance.’
‘I’d really like to meet him.
‘You might be lucky one day.’
‘Is there a swimming pool?’
‘Every mansion has one, and there's also a large public one. Follow me.’
A tree-shaded alley led to a stone wall with a sign over the entrance saying, Afternoons: Ladies Only.
‘Why segregation?’
‘Now that females remain in Oasis most of the time, they decided to commandeer the Pool while most of the men and all the boys were away at work or school, to experience the joys of wearing very little without men comparing their less than perfect bodies unfavourably with airbrushed glossy magazine covers.’
‘Shame we can’t go in. It looks beautiful from out here.’
‘The restriction doesn't apply to us, only to male Residents. We wild men are like eunuchs in the courts of Eastern potentates, kept in the harem to fuck the wives to stop them slaughtering each other from frustration and jealousy.’
‘Do we have to fuck them?’
‘That’s up to you. Mort and I have fucked them on stage, but I wouldn’t suggest doing it in private. Flirt, make compliments, dance and play with them, but always in public and always treating everyone equally. That's the way we’ve found works best, isn't that so, Mort?’
‘Indeed it is.’
‘You said you'd been fucking on stage… is that for porn nights?’
‘Absolutely not!’ Mort was adamant. ‘Porn, as in gratuitous sex for no reason other than to titillate, is heavily frowned on. Just about everyone here writes plays, poems, songs and stories, and as you can imagine, considering the architecture, ancient Greek and Roman myths are very popular with actors as well as audience. There’s always plenty of action, romance, sex, and some sort of a moral.’ He laughed. ‘And the next myth to grace the boards and excite the audience in our theatre, will be the tragic tale of Hercules and Hylas. Guess which handsome men are going to act the eponymous heroes?’
‘Mort! You can’t. I’d never dare. Hercules—tell him we can’t.’
‘My mother always said there's no such word as can’t,’ Hercules shrugged. ‘Wait till you’ve seen a few plays, then you’ll change your mind. But,’ he said seriously, ‘I get to choose the Nymphs. I'm not having Hylas raped by some of those man-eating females.’
‘Fair enough. Actually, I think I’ll make it a musical with dancing. There are lots of good musicians and dancers.’
‘Can I paint the scenery?’ Fidel asked. ‘Hylas loves to dance, so the rape ballet should be a cinch.’
‘Fidel! Stop it.’
‘Seriously,’ Arnold broke in, ‘it sounds brilliant, but will someone please tell me the myth about Hercules and Hylas, and who acts in these productions?’
Mort told the sad story of Hercules and his lover, then explained that the originator of each theatrical production selects residents he or she wants to act the parts, then they rehearse for a week, and then perform.’
‘How come there's so much creative talent?’
‘No TV for a start. So we’ve a captive population with nothing better to do. That’s the ideal environment to foster inventiveness and imagination.’
‘But why is theatre so popular?’
‘We have no cinema, and no one likes watching plays on the small screen. We all prefer reality. Films are so second hand and they have too much distracting scenery, which means actors don’t have to act and there's nothing left to imagine, so it’s forgettable. But no one forgets a play that’s moved them, acted by people they know. The evening entertainment is always preceded by a short talk bringing us up to date with political goings on.’
‘It certainly sounds better than TV.’
‘It is—by a long chalk!’
‘How real is reality?’
‘Totally real as long as no one gets hurt. We don’t cut hands off, behead, or emasculate, for example, and your rape will be painless, so you’ll have to act annoyed.’
‘Can you refuse to perform?’
‘Of course, but no one rejects such an honour. They're all as hooked on performing as they are on creating and watching and criticising.’
‘Sounds daunting.’
‘It isn't, it’s some of the best fun you’ll have. But it’s so hot standing out here, let’s join the ladies.’
A short path between rhododendrons in full flower led through a colonnade to a large pool with a fountain at one end. The sides were partially tiled, partially bordered by huge boulders between which grew slender palms.
‘That’s some pool! It looks like a lake in a Roman ruin in the forest.’
Women and girls aged from nine to seventy-nine were disporting themselves in and around the pool. Those under late middle age were naked, the older ones wore a variety of swimsuits. Everyone looked up when the seven men entered.
‘Where have you been?’ asked a heavy woman in a bathing cap and swimsuit decorated with colourful beetles. ‘We've been waiting for you to put a net across the pool so we can play volleyball. And fix the swing rope while you're at it. It’s come adrift.’ The tone was neither impatient nor arrogant. It was the straightforward way people speak to others whom they know will not take offence.
‘We’ve been showing the new assistants around. We’ll get onto it now.’
‘Good.’
Five minutes later Fidel had swum across the pool dragging the net, then Arnold and Bart fixed it to the poles. Meanwhile, Mort climbed a strong wooden pole that leaned out over the deep end of the pool. Hylas threw the rope up and Mort secured it, sliding down to test it’s fastness. Then all seven men swung on it shouting and laughing and dropping off to splash nearby swimmers and sunbathers. Before long dozens of excited girls and women also began swinging on the rope, leaping into the water, chasing the men round the edges of the pool, pushing them in, ducking them and, as one said when her arms were forcibly unwrapped from Fidel's torso, ‘Having more fun than I've had in the pool for years.’
Others agreed.
Hercules clambered out, shook himself like a dog then stretched out beside an elderly lady in a wide sunhat.
‘Why is it,’ she asked, ‘that we women can’t seem to have pointless, crazy boisterous fun like you men do. With us, activities are always either competitive or serious.’
‘No idea, Anne,’ Hercules replied, unwilling to spoil the mood with his opinions.
‘The new assistants look sexy, are they as nice as you three?’
‘Nicer, probably.’
‘Especially that slim bronzed boy eh?’ She cackled at Hercules embarrassment. ‘Women may not know how to have fun, but we see everything and never miss anything worth gossiping about. He’s got very dark genitals. That's supposed to indicate a high libido. Is he good in bed?’
‘Excellent, thanks for asking.’
‘I’m glad. It’s time you got yourself a lover, it’ll stop all those randy tarts from annoying you.’
‘They don’t annoy me. It’s nice to be appreciated.’
‘There’s a meeting tonight to approve of your five new men. Do you want them to be accepted?’
‘Yes! We need them, with so many residents remaining in Oasis all the time now.’
‘Penelope showed me the results, you're all as healthy as it is proper to be, so there’s no problem on that score.’ She stood and clapped her hands and a few minutes later everyone was seated or standing around her, wondering what it was about. ‘Come here!’ she ordered the five newcomers. When they were standing beside her, hands behind their backs, clearly wondering what they'd done wrong, she asked their names. Then turning to her audience said clearly. ‘Hercules needs these young men to assist him. He says they're as good as him and Mort and Zadig. Now’s your chance to ask them questions and make up your minds without the men telling you what to think.’
‘What do you think of women?’ A mousy creature asked, pointing at Bart.
‘The same thing I think of men,’ he answered quietly. ‘They're all individuals. Some I like, some I don’t, most I don’t think about.’
‘You're avoiding the question.’
‘No he isn't,’ a dark girl who should have been in high school or university said thoughtfully. It was a very general question and he answered it correctly.’
‘What we want to know is, what do you think of the new laws restricting women from just about everything?’
‘They’re insane!’ Robert declared. ‘There’s no rational, logical, or scientific, justification for women to be treated differently from men.’
‘I was a police officer for a while, Arnold said quietly. ‘Female officers were as competent as males. The only difference I noticed is they’re generally shorter and less strong, so I used to think they shouldn’t be sent to situations where those qualities were important.’ Arnold frowned in thought. ‘They drive as well as men, but in my experience they sometimes made difficult situations involving angry men worse, because they don’t understand male behaviour. And male officers sometimes cause problems when interviewing females, for the same reason.
‘So… you're blaming women for male violence?’
‘Sally! He did no such thing. Get off your feminist horse and listen for a change.’
‘What’s your opinion on violence between the sexes,’ a bleached, tucked and plucked matron asked Fidel. ‘You've a sexy hairy body and positively ooze testosterone. We’re all dying to stroke your hairy bum. Poor Jennifer had to be pried off you earlier on. Tell us why men bash women if we’re all so wonderful.’
Fidel decided to answer the question, but not respond to the compliments. ‘Do you mean all men or some men?’
‘Some.’
‘Have you been bashed?’
‘Ah… I’d better define bash. I’m not used to talking with males about these things. Women understand what I mean. Ok… why are some men physically aggressive to women?’
‘Why are some women physically aggressive towards men? I’ve been a victim of female violence, so I have the right to ask.’
She thought for a few seconds. I suppose it’s because men annoy them.’
‘There’s you answer. People annoy each other.’
‘But surely, Sticks and stones will break your bones, but names will never hurt you?’
‘So you wouldn’t mind being called a scrawny slut that not even a dog would fuck?’
The woman smiled serenely, being smooth, nicely padded and very fuckable. ‘Of course I’d mind, I’d tell him a few home truths that'd shut him up.’
‘That’s your answer,’ Fidel said softly. ‘Women counter insults with insults—men with their fists. The reasons are evolutionary. Humans have only been living in villages and towns for about ten thousand years, before that men went out hunting while women stayed near their children and belongings, gathering berries, fruit and small animals. They maintained constant contact with each other by chatter, singing, calling and making sure all was well. If they annoyed each other they'd have a slanging match to sort it out. Meanwhile, out in the forest, men had to keep quiet so as not to scare off prey. They communicated silently, and if annoyed would slam a silent fist into the side of the irritating head. Problem sorted.’
‘But we no longer live like that.’
‘Humans have not evolved to any measurable extent in the last ten thousand years. We still behave exactly like savages. Stealing, killing, hoarding, living in constant fear, our lives filled with lies, foolish chattering and violence.’
‘Sounds brutal.’
‘It’s the way of all animals. Young women spend their days making themselves sexually appealing, with revealing clothes, makeup, rearranging hair and flirting to attract a man so they can breed. Young men spend their days learning skills to enable them to support and protect a woman and child. Then, and this is the important part, when they breed, in order to live in harmony she must give up her flirting and sexy clothes and spend her time taking care of the child, and he must give up his bachelor freedoms and spend most of his time taking care of the family. The problem today is, women refuse to give up dressing as if they're sexually available, and continue to flirt, making their spouse jealous and angry and embarrassed in front of his mates. And he refuses to stop going out with the boys and living like a bachelor, making his spouse frightened and angry and jealous and embarrassed in front of her girlfriends. She attacks with words, he responds with fists. The solution is obvious, there's no such thing as a free lunch. You can’t have your cake and eat it too. You can’t be both married and single at the same time… but both men and women refuse to accept that simple truth. They want the best of both worlds.’
‘You're saying women must sit at home and serve men.’
‘No! They must ensure their child’s welfare by making sure the family is stable and harmonious, and so must the men. Parenting must be a full time job for both.’
‘What if there are no children?’
‘Then why get married? Stay fancy free until there’s a point in sticking to one person.’
‘Mort and Zadig are a couple with no kids, so that proves you wrong.’
‘No it doesn’t. Their relationship is based on love, not sex and breeding. It's a totally different thing. Few heterosexual marriages are about love, they're only about sex. Children are often an unwelcome by-product. That's why when the sex gets boring more than half of all marriages end in divorce. Very few people both gay and sad, live together for love, with sex merely the icing on the cake. But those are the relationships that last until death.
‘Meanwhile men have now made laws rendering all women chattels for males, leaving men as the top dogs. Typical!’
‘I don’t think so,’ Bart interrupted. ‘From what I've seen men are getting a raw deal too. It’s a while since I saw any useful news, but…’
‘Thank you, Bart. Now, the only person we haven't heard from is …’
‘Hylas, ma’am.’
‘Well, Hylas, how do you see your role here in oasis?’
Hylas grinned. ‘I’m a naked savage that the residents of Oasis tolerate on condition that I’m useful and behave more or less like a tame wild animal.’
‘Give us an example.’
‘While we were fooling around in the pool, girls and older women kept groping me—not secretly as if they were being naughty, but openly, naturally, for fun.’
‘Groped?’
‘Stroking my bum and chest—playing with my scrotum and penis… that sort of thing.’
‘How did that make you feel?’
‘Great!’ Hylas laughed. ‘And being able to talk about it like this is brilliant. I hate being secretive as if some things are rude or bad when they're not. And a lady hugged Fidel and another wanted to stroke his hairy bum. And I’ve got a hard on thinking about it but I know none of you think I'm rude because I’m a natural man.’ Hylas laughed infectiously and suddenly everyone was laughing.
‘So, you like it here.’
‘I adore everything I've seen so far.’
‘You don’t think we’re crazy?’
‘No way! You know it’s a game, and so do I, but that makes it more fun.’
‘Hylas, go away before I fall in love and ravish you on the spot,’ Anne said with a cheeky grin. ‘We women need to talk. What have you got planned for tonight, Hercules?’
‘Just a brief presentation of new activities.’
‘Make it a performance. I'm sure you can all do something to amuse us.’ She pointed at Hylas. ‘I love Hercules like a son, Hylas, so make sure you don’t hurt him!’
Hylas’s eyes widened and he looked to the others but saw only blank faces. ‘Yes Ma-am.’
‘Good, well you’ve excited us females quite enough for one day, so off you go and practice.’