Chapter 1

The third St. Patrick’s Day after the President’s Speech...

“Ira, can you take your sisters out for a movie tonight? They’ve been begging me, but I’m a bit busy, what with dating Jim and all,” Mom urged me to basically babysit my two sisters, Kara and Mara.

She had a date with her new sponsor, Jim Mitchell, after all. Ever since Dad got picked up and couldn’t take any of us with him (my sisters and I all being over fourteen), Mom had been rather desperate to find another ticket to ride to the stars. Well, it didn’t take her long. Her boss, Jim, had his eye on her already and had been low-key harassing her at work with her own tacit acceptance. The moment that Dad took his other concubines and left, Jim gladly pounced.

So, in a blow to my own plans of flirting online with some real prospects, I was stuck with being a good big brother to sixteen-year old Kara and fifteen-year old Mara. Great, I thought! Just what a big brother needs, right? True, I aced my CAP with a score of seven point five, thus foregoing any need to retest, but I still needed to set up my prepack and that wasn’t easy as it sounded. Earth First’s growing aggressiveness didn’t help and had even cost me some friends of late.

I was particularly worried with it being St. Patrick’s Day. An Irish-themed Earth First riot happened in Dublin just this morning, another one in Belfast just last night. While this wasn’t Ireland, or even Ulster, there was no telling if the Provos or UVF had fully attached themselves to Earth First out of similar sympathies. If they had, they could have a very long reach in such a partnership between terrorist groups.

As a young man of Irish descent, I typically wore green on St. Paddy’s, but well ... what if the Earth First types, and worse, the Confederacy mistook me for an Earth First operative? Then again, if I didn’t wear green, I’d really stand out ... and my sisters would be sure to pinch me, of course. It was a lose-lose scenario, a real Catch-22. Or, for those of us Trekkies, a Kobayashi Maru. While talented and smart myself, I was no James T. Kirk. I wouldn’t be able to rig this test at all.

“Come on, Ira! Megan said that the girls were gonna meet us at Harkin’s. You don’t want to cause us to miss out on our favorite new release, do you? I’m due for a new T-shirt and I know that you LOVE their popcorn, anyway! And their raspberry iced tea!” Kara teased me as she intruded upon my thoughts.

“Or miss out on sneaking peeks at Nina Pharos! Is it true that she’s Egyptian? Very exotic. No wonder you want to tap that!” Mara reminded me of my favorite movie usher, as if she could ever be too far from my mind.

Yes, for those of you wondering, Nina WAS Egyptian. A Coptic Christian by background, of course, her parents had moved to the States in haste to avoid being stuck in the Confederacy’s Middle Eastern quarantine. Her ancestors had lived in Alexandria, Egypt, for millennia prior to that, and she even joked (at least, I think that it was a joke) that she descended from Manetho himself. Or was that Athanasius the Great or Arius? Or Hypatia? I’d have to ask her again, especially since she was the sort who might invent a different famous ancestor each time around.

Yes, it was true. I definitely wanted to hit that ... who wouldn’t? Hair just the right shade of shiny black curls, eyes a bright and sharp azure, henna perfectly applied in a way reminiscent of her ancient forebears, and skin so exquisitely olive in complexion that it easily betrayed her Middle Eastern origins. Her breasts were just large enough to have cleavage, but too small to sag at this point of her life, and her ass ... well, it would make any man want to emulate the Bangles and Walk Like An Egyptian! Right behind her, of course, for the best view.

Okay, my sisters had my number there, didn’t they? Talk about your incentives to babysit one’s adolescent siblings, right? Of course, I wasn’t stupid. I knew what was up and it wasn’t just about their favorite film. Even if it did have Sophia what’s her face in it. Kara and Mara hoped to meet up with Megan Daniels and her boyfriend, Cliff Maxwell. They were convinced that Cliff was a sponsor and would take them on as concubines if there was a pickup at the cinema.

I was a bit skeptical myself. Nothing about Cliff read “volunteer material” or anything above a five, tops, in CAP score if I was right. If, and that was a big IF, he had a high CAP score, I’d bet on it being a fake. Which would mean a lot of trouble for Mr. Clifford D. Maxwell if caught with it. They should all hope for an uneventful evening of watching the latest blockbuster film and paying through the nose at the concession stand. At least with the T-shirts, Harkins gave us a discount.

At any rate, I sighed, signed out of my computer, shut it down properly, and freshened up as much as I could for Nina’s sake before leading the girls out of the house in my fixer-up of a Ford Ranger. The ladies might not like that choice of vehicle, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, could they? They probably just wished that their dork of a brother wasn’t such a dweeb. I was never the smooth or glib type, after all, and I didn’t throw my money away on a “pretty” ride.

“So, how much longer ‘til we’re there, bro? What if Megan and Cliff think that we stood them up and he doesn’t pick us for conks?” Kara whined while I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, not all of us care to retest constantly in the vain hopes of going as a sponsor like you!” Mara added.

Neither of my sisters knew that I was a sponsor. I had told them nothing and let them guess that I had failed and wasn’t talking due to embarrassment. The truth was that I wasn’t sure that I really wanted my own sisters as concubines, anyway. They were pains in the ass and they had been for years. Why would I want to condemn myself to decades more of that? Ugh. Just the thought of it turned my stomach.

Besides, I told myself, my luck wasn’t good enough that there would be a Confederacy pickup at a Harkin’s that I frequented, right? I mean, seriously, that particular Harkin’s was a typical mall location, anyway. Nothing was distinct about it. It was a great theater, sure, run by a local chain, but as was typical of smaller, regional firms, didn’t have the clout of a Fortune 500 company.

With my luck, Cliff might have defied the odds and become a sponsor, anyway. Gods help us if we had to depend on the likes of HIM to fight off the Swarm! We’d really be screwed with that douchebag watching our backs. In terms of character, he was a motherfucking weasel. I knew it. Most guys knew it. Most ladies, however, seemed to be suckered in by his Chad persona. Yuck.

Megan Daniels was a case in point. She otherwise seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, other than the usual silliness of someone who thought that Titanic was a great film and sobbed every time it played. I rolled my eyes every time I saw it myself. Now, Gettysburg, that movie made me cry ... because it was a lot more real than some bitch really caring about a guy that she left to drown in the icy waters of the North Atlantic. Nothing against Kate Winslet, but spare me the melodrama, Rose. He cared about you and you let him drown to save your own admittedly fine, plump English ass. End of story.

Anyway, back off the tangent, Megan seemed to be an overall sane, reasonable person, for a girl, that is. So, I’m kinda jaded about ladies, to the point of being somewhat misogynistic at times. Can you blame me? They have a remarkable ability to delude themselves and be the heroines of their own story or empathize with someone else who isn’t admirable at all, just because of feelings.

It’s frankly quite nauseating, between melodramas and dumbass rom-coms. I mean, seriously, Teri Hatcher, but kidnapping and false imprisonment are crimes, no matter how pretty you are or what he did to break your heart! Nothing romantic about being tied up against your will and threatened with castration. Don’t get me started on all of the Buffy viewers who like Cordelia Chase and hate Xander Harris. Ugh! She’s just a spoiled, pampered rich girl with no real growth or development until she leaves Sunnydale and joins Angel. Or the ones who sympathize with a vengeance demon like Anya. No fucking thanks!

Excuse me, but as a seventeen-year old male geek or nerd, I have no illusions left about women. Period. I leave that kind of pedestal idolatry to lucky Chads who’ve never had their hearts ripped out and stomped on by a girl. They have the luxury of a Hallmark love story mindset or perspective. I do not. I’ve grown up with girls. I’ve lived with them. I’ve seen what they can do to a dude. I rest my case. They might be sentimental at times, but not in any way that benefits the likes of me.

In any case, Megan was sentimental enough to believe the crap from Cliff Maxwell, but if most guys tried that bullshit on her, she’d kick them in the balls. He’s somehow supposed to be an exception, but for the life of me, I can’t see why. What exactly makes Cliff Maxwell so fucking dreamy, anyway? Men like him should be sterilized the moment that a doctor can get him sedated and then never told that they cannot reproduce until it’s far too late. No gelding needed. Just a simple vasectomy while under general anesthesia should do the trick.

Wham, bam, no Cliff Juniors, ma’am! It would save the world a lot of dead weight.

Anyway, while thinking up of my own modest proposal, we reached the goddamned cinema, and there we were, deposited at last at Harkin’s and the ticket booth.

“Here we are, whiners!” I chuckled as I got out and waited for the two brats that I called little sisters to follow me.

“I really wish that you’d stop calling us that! I’m sixteen, not six!” Kara complained as she huffed and puffed to catch up with me.

“Then act like it, okay? Quit whining!” I snapped impatiently as we hustled to the window to buy the tickets.

“Keep up that attitude, and I might not ask Cliff to hook you up with a sponsor!” Mara warned me, making me laugh in a way that clearly confused her.

“Wait, what did Mara say that was so damn funny? You want to be picked up, don’t ya, bro? Or are you still holding out for a retest?” Kara backed up her sister.

“Who knows, maybe Nina’s a sponsor? Ever think about that?” I retorted, not ready to spill my beans just yet.

Well, at least it shut them up, even if it drew attention to me from Nina as I bought the tickets from her. She giggled when she heard me and even winked at me, the most of a reaction that I ever got from her, in fact. So, yeah, I do have use for some ladies, of course. At least four of them, if lucky enough to get picked up and select them. Four would be all I needed, anyway.

Just then, guess who had to show up and ruin my mood? You betcha. It was Cliff Maxwell, the heinous anus himself. Megan was on his arm, as always, looking at him like he hung the g-d moon. As if! He’s more likely to try to steal the damn thing. He reminded me of Quark from Deep Space Nine, but without Quark’s few redeeming virtues, whatever those might be. So, basically, Liquidator Brunt, FCA. Or that asshat cousin Gaila. I half-expected him to ask Megan to chew his popcorn for him.