FORWARD

 

"I know not with what weapons WW3 will be fought, but WW4 will be fought with sticks and stones."

Albert Einstein, in an interview with Alfred Werner, Liberal Judaism 16 (April-May 1949)

 

The 'nuclear deterrent' had proven ineffective: not only did they not stop the war, but a majority of them also failed to be deployed, which was good as it avoided total annihilation. Enough did, however, such that coastal towns and harbors were rendered uninhabitable.

A century of war has left the country in shambles. Technology has failed, leaving behind relics of a past-gone era that can't be maintained. Once mighty nations have been shattered, breaking into local regions that could sustain a semblance of civilization without the need for extensive travel. Dwindling resources have pitted one region against its neighbors and the battles to maintain their borders are endless. It is called the "War without end."

Most significant impact was the loss of technology. The 21st century depended on computers and the Internet, which turned out to be very fragile. When high tech failed, the economy was devastated. Only those geographic areas that could supply their own food, water and essential resources continued to flourish, although they were required to constantly defend their borders to protect their resources. Peace remains elusive. While overpopulation was a concern of the 21st century, now the concern is maintaining the population.

The constant war has resulted in a drastic imbalance in the ratio of females to males. Women now outnumber the men by a ratio of four to one as the eligible men are shipped off to war, most of them never returning. The result is a dramatic change in the role that women play in society. While the men are needed to fight, the women are needed to produce. Produce both materials for the war effort, and babies to maintain the population. The traditional one-man / one-woman monogamous relationships of the past has been replaced a more practical multi-wife system.

While technology from a century ago may never be reproduced, the goal is to at least get back to a technological level from a century before that. School is a high priority, and the smartest were groomed to be scientists and engineers. Everyone is required to attend school until they are 18. At that point, the brightest boys, the elite, will go on to college. The others were sent for military training. Girls who had maintained at least a 3.5 GPA would go on to another two years of college, and those that continued their GPA would continue on to even higher education. Those who fell short were found suitable employment. There was no such thing as 'unemployment' as all were needed to feed the insatiable war machine.

Workers were at a premium. Even the lowest ranked were in constant demand. The prison system changed dramatically, as it made no sense to keep potential workers locked up.

 

 

 

Prologue

 

Five-year-old Chloe whined as her mother dragged her through the marketplace. The harried mother had one child in each hand and wasn't pausing to listen to complaints from either one. Chloe's sister Tanya, being two years older, had the benefit of slightly longer legs and was faring somewhat better. All three were suffering from the heat of the midday sun. The large, enclosed shopping malls, once (a century earlier) the favored shopping and gathering spot, were now only popular during the winter months. The lack of sufficient electricity to run the air conditioning made the windowless malls an unbearable oven. Instead, merchants took to what used to be the parking lots to set up flimsy open-air stalls. Such accommodation was no longer needed for their original purpose as there were very few automobiles in existence that still functioned, and even less fuel for them to run on.

"Nee hee heee!" a shrill human voice called out in an imitation of a whinny. The wary mother instinctively stepped to the right, dragging her children with her, to allow the carriage to pass. Chloe watched in envy as the ornate contraption passed, a lightweight four wheeled cart carrying a single fashionably dressed female passenger and pulled by a pair of women who were essentially naked.

"Why can't we ride?" Chloe whined. Her legs were tired, and she was getting cranky.

"Only the rich or important people can own a pony and cart!" Tanya answered smugly. She took great delight in showing off her superior knowledge to anyone who would listen and especially enjoyed using it to dominate her little sister.

"No, that's not accurate," Dorothy, their mother, countered. She considered it her duty to properly educate her children and didn't mind taking a few minutes to correct a misconception. She squatted to get down on the same level as her daughters and continued; "These smaller carts are mostly all for hire, all it takes is a little coin. See this one coming? See the little sign on the side that says, 'for hire'? That tells you that it is for general use. If it's empty, you simply wave it down."

The rickshaw in question was very drab compared to the previous cart and was pulled by a single woman wearing a jogging outfit. The weariness showed on her face as she struggled to deliver the passenger to their destination. Such conveyances were popular within the marketplace, at least for those who could afford it.

The city buses still ran, except there were only two routes that served the entire city. The difficulty of keeping hundred-year-old machinery running had reduced the number of buses to such a low point that running additional routes simply wasn't feasible. Even if more vehicles were available, the petroleum to operate them was not. Wherever possible, human powered transport was used. Bicycle rickshaws were commonly used for distances over a mile that could stick to the few roads that were still maintained. Bicycles, however, had become an expensive commodity.

For jaunts under a mile, or when there was a need to traverse unpaved roads, hand drawn rickshaws were the norm.

"There is an empty one!" Chloe said eagerly, pointing to a third rickshaw approaching from the distance. "Wave it down!"

"It costs good coin to ride!" Dorothy countered. The woman pulling the rickshaw had looked their way hopefully but recognized a dead end when she saw one and diverted her attention to those more likely to be paying customers. "There is nothing wrong with you, we can walk!"

"My teacher said that, before the war, people rode in big vehicles that were powered by engines!" Tanya said, proud to show her knowledge. "And before that, the carriages were pulled by horses. Why don't they do that anymore?"

"Horses are expensive, and need a lot of room, they eat a lot, and someone has to take care of them. They are needed by the farmers and the military. Engines run on fuel made from petroleum, which has become very scarce around these parts."

"Ah, now, see this one coming?" Dorothy pointed towards a large four-wheeled covered carriage that was being pulled by eight young, naked ladies. "This one is a private, probably owned by the governor."

"He owns the women?" Chloe asked innocently.

"Yeah, they were all naughty girls and got into trouble! See how their hands are all tied behind their backs?" Tanya said. "So, you better be good, or you will end up like them!"

"Who told you that?" Dorothy asked in exasperation.

"Martha told me."

"Well, you pay no mind to Martha!" The proper explanation would take too long to have right now so that is all she said on the subject.

The carriage was now about to pass them, and Chloe watched with interest. While the 'for hire' rickshaws were drab, small, lightweight, and utilitarian, this carriage was ornate and elaborate. The rickshaws were pulled with the hands, while the ladies pulling this carriage had their arms strapped behind them and their torsos harnessed to the drawbar. They were essentially naked, save for their shoes, a feathered headdress and the elaborate harness that crisscrossed their body.

The carriage moved slowly, limited by its ability to pick its way through the crowd, the ladies pulling it high-stepping in sync with each other. The carriage was enclosed and had the blinds drawn so Chloe couldn't see who was inside. While there was a spot up top where a driver could sit, the spot was vacant, the human ponies left to find their own way. One of the women, in the front right position, had different head gear on and was clearly the leader. She gave Dorothy a nod as they passed. All the other ladies kept their heads and eyes pointed forward. Where the lady pulling the rickshaw appeared weary and downtrodden, these ladies appeared proud and determined.

"Pretty!" Chloe said.

"Yes, they are," Dorothy replied with a nod. Chloe had been referring to the carriage, but her mom was referring to the women pulling it.

 

 

 

Chapter 1

13 years later . . .

 

18-year-old Chloe left her home heading straight to Clair's house, her best friend. Unlike her own family situation, Clair lived with her father, mother and two other stepmoms, as well as 12 other siblings. Well, only 9 now that the oldest boys had been sent off to war a year earlier, and soon to be 7 when two more graduated high school in just a matter of days.

The house, which once had been a modest three-bedroom single family home, had been remodeled and expanded to the point that it crowded its lot. Garages and driveways were no longer needed as very few people had cars anymore. Large lawns were not popular as there was no gasoline for powered mowers.

It was a cool morning for late in May, and Chloe wished that she could jog just to warm up, but her friend was definitely not into jogging. Or even walking fast, for that matter. She lingered outside until Clair came out, running late as usual, and the two of them walked to school at a brisk pace. Or at least what Clair always complained was a brisk pace, to Chloe it was a crawl.

"Have you completed your post-graduation plan yet?" Clair asked. "We got to turn in a first draft the end of next week."

"Not yet," Chloe replied. "Need to get something figured out pretty soon though. My grades are good enough to qualify for college, but not good enough for a scholarship. Mom hasn't got any money so I would be supporting myself. How about you?"

"Been talking with my aunt," Clair said. "She has set me up with an interview at McMellion Enterprises. She figures I can get a paid internship in the accounting department. Minimum wage to start, but in a few years, it will be worth something. If nothing else, it will get recruitment off my back for a while."

"Watch it!" Chloe called out, extending an arm to block her friend's path just before she stepped off a curb. A small four-wheeled carriage, pulled by four human ponies, skimmed quietly past on pneumatic tires.

"Dang, they should make them wear bells or something!" Clair protested. "Or steel shoes like the real horses have. And I would think they would be cold, all naked like that. I'm cold, and I'm got like three layers on!"

"You're always cold! It's mid-May, for crying out loud!"

"I know! Think of those poor women in January! They're always naked, regardless of the weather!"

"Incentive to run hard! At least we don't get snow here. Imagine if we were in one of the Northern provinces!"

"Did you notice the one on the right, in back? She was pregnant! Had to be at least 5 months! You would think they would cut 'em a break when they were with child. Anyway, as I was saying, I got this interview, and its right after school so I won't be walking home with you."

"All right, catch you tomorrow then," Chloe said as their paths diverged.

 

The school day dragged on, longer than usual, or so it seemed. Final exams were approaching, and the classroom emphasis had shifted from new instruction to review. Many students had already surrendered, realizing that they had no chance at getting a grade good enough to allow them into college, and only attended class because it was required. A few were confident in their grades. Some, like Chloe, were still in the grey area and fighting for their future. She wanted to do better and was putting in extra effort to study and take in all she could, but it was a case of being too little too late.

She waited at the foot of the steps for her friend as she always did, until she remembered that her friend wouldn't be there this afternoon. Sighing, Chloe set off alone, the loneliness adding to her depression. With the war going on, everyone needed to work, to produce the products that kept the war machine going. There would be no problem finding a job. The question was how good a job it would be and if that would become a career. She certainly had grades good enough to land a fairly respectable position, but without a college degree, a job she qualified for would not allow her to support herself living alone, like her mom had done.

Chloe had no aspirations of being a first wife. Unless you were very pretty, wealthy, or both, landing the first wife position (with a reasonable husband) just wasn't going to happen. It wasn't that being a second, or third or even fourth wife was bad, it just wasn't what she had known all her life. The vast majority of her schoolmates had grown up in households that had multiple wives. Indeed, many of her friends found it odd that she had grown up in such a small family, having only 1 sister and two brothers. Now that it was just her and her mom, her friends couldn't understand how she could tolerate the loneliness.

Chloe changed into her running outfit as soon as she got home. Old habits die hard. Intramural sports were one tradition that had been kept from the previous century, the leaders figuring that they helped identify those who possessed strength, stamina, and the desire to excel. There were, after all, jobs that required brains, and others that favored brawn, and others that only required a warm body. You didn't want to fall into that third category.

For four years she had been on the school track team where running was expected, often required. Now, just weeks from graduating, she was no longer considered to be part of the team so there was no requirement, yet it was something to do, and she enjoyed the state of mind it could lead to.

It was her turn to cook, a chore she traded with her mom every other day. Before her sister had left for college, the cooking chore was on a three-person rotation, and there had been a time when her brothers had been included. 'No! Don't think about your brothers!' she thought bitterly. Dropping into that pit of depression could leave her distraught for days.

It would be three more hours before the restriction on household power ended for the day, and she could start cooking dinner. The limited electrical resources were dedicated to manufacturing during the workday. Residences were limited to just enough power to operate a refrigerator, if they had one. Cooking couldn't happen until after 6:00 PM. Her mom wouldn't be home for four more hours, so she had plenty of time. She should study, she told herself. Later. She would study later.

She had extended her run a bit further than usual, partly because it was such a nice day but also because she relished the relief from her concerns for her future. Running cleared her mind, allowed her to escape her troubles and worries for a bit. For the first half an hour she pushed herself hard, maintaining a pace that few could match. The next 30 minutes she reduced her pace, allowing her heartbeat to drop to something more reasonable.

Three blocks from home she slowed her pace to a gentle jog as she headed down an ancient bicycle path, a remnant of the time when bicycles needed a separate path. Now bicycles dominated the roadway, and it was the joggers that needed separation. Even at the slower pace she was still passing the occasional 'for hire' rickshaw, numerous pedestrians and even a bicycle or two.

An urgent 'neigh' sound came from behind and she instinctively stepped to the right, allowing an elaborate carriage pulled by two ponygirls to pass by. The leader made another neigh sound, softer this time, accompanied by a nod of her head in thanks. They seemed to be in a hurry as they used an efficient running stride rather than the showy high-step normally associated with the fancy carriages.

Challenged, or perhaps just intrigued, Chloe kept pace with them, following them onto the city street once the bike pathed had ended, continuing until their paths diverged. She was now only a block from her home and needed to cool down, so she stopped for a moment and watched the ponygirl team disappear down the street. She was impressed with their pace; while she had easily kept pace with them, she wasn't pulling a load.

"That's one from the Governor's stables," a voice announced from behind her. Dangle the bait, the woman thought. Let her come to it.

Chloe turned to see a middle-aged woman, who was also watching the ponygirls disappear. The woman's gaze remained on the carriage until it was blocked from view, and then her focus shifted to Chloe. She had seen the lady many times over the years but had never had occasion to speak to her, until today.

"How can you tell?"

"Well, the surest way is from the Governor's seal that was on the front of the carriage. But I recognize it. Been hitched up to it enough times that I'm not likely to forget it!" Shake it around a bit, give it a little action to make the bait appealing.

"You were a ponygirl?"

"Technically, I still am! My name's Ginger!" Ginger stuck her hand out for a handshake, which Chloe obliged.

"I'm Chloe. Ginger, is that short for something?"

"Nickname. Real name is Virginia, but once everyone at the stables started calling me Ginger way back in the beginning it just stuck, and now it's the only name I go by."

"I've never known anyone who was a ponygirl," Chloe admitted.

"Oh, sure you have," Ginger scoffed. "A lot more of us than you might think."

"None that I am aware of."

"You would be surprised. Could be a relative, or even a close friend, you might never know. With all the headgear and makeup, it would be hard to identify your best friend! Most people aren't looking at the faces when all the naughty bits are exposed!"

"I suppose you're right," Chloe admitted. "But I don't think that any of my friends have been in any sort of trouble. I expect I would know."

"Trouble?" Ginger asked. "What does trouble have to do with it?"

"I thought that's how you became a ponygirl. Getting into trouble. A form of punishment."

"Oh, heaven's no! Whatever gave you that idea? No, being a ponygirl is a position of pride and respect! You can do far worse, let me assure you!"

"I'll have to take your word for it," Chloe replied. "I intend to go to college."

"The two aren't mutually exclusive. In fact, many of the ponies do go to college. I did." Come on, bite! Ginger thought.

"Really?" Chloe asked, now interested. She had every intention of going to college, she just hadn't figured out yet how to pay for it. As it wouldn't be long before she would have to make serious commitments, she was interested in hearing everyone's tales of how they managed college.

"My day job is being a schoolteacher. I teach second grade. Probably just missed being your teacher! In my younger days I would work full shifts at both: ponygirl and teacher. Now I just take an occasional shift as a ponygirl." Wait until the hook is in the mouth.

"I didn't realize you had a choice."

"You always have choices; it's just that some choices are less desirable than others. It helps if you at least know what your choices are. Would you like to know more?" Set the hook . . .

"Sure," Chloe said hesitantly. Her grandmother had frequently said 'knowledge is power' and had been a driving force in the family, the impetus for her and her sister to do well in school and go on to college. It can't hurt to learn more, and there just might be something she could use from it.

"Come with me, my home is just a ways down the road. I can show you a thing or two."

"Uh," Chloe stammered as she thought it over. She still had over an hour before she could start the dinner preparations. She should really spend the time studying, but this was an opportunity that might not present itself again. "Okay."

And gotcha! Ginger thought triumphantly.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

"Here we go," Ginger said as she led Chloe into a modest but nice home. It reminded Chloe of her own home, set up for a single mom raising a family alone rather than a multiple wife arrangement. "Make yourself at home while I make us a pot of tea!"

Chloe immediately sat on the couch but then got interested in the many pictures that were displayed on the walls and got up to inspect them closer. She recognized Ginger in many of them, at various stages of her life. Ginger holding a baby. Ginger posing with two toddlers. Ginger with three young children. Ginger with four children, two boys and two girls. Ginger with a young soldier, apparently about to head off to war. Ginger holding a grandchild.

"That was my first grandchild!" Ginger explained as she came back into the room. "I've got 7 now!"

"You were able to raise a family as a ponygirl?"

"Oh yes! That doesn't excuse you from your obligation! Both my sons are still alive, thank the Lord, so I am expecting to have a bunch more grandchildren before long!"

"You're lucky. I had two brothers," Chloe said sadly. "One survived the war, but he was badly wounded. He won't be having any children."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Ginger said softly. She didn't need to ask about the other brother; it was a far too common story. "You have a sister, don't you?"

"One," Chloe answered with a frown, wondering how this woman knew so much about her family. "She is two years older. Her grades were good enough to earn a scholarship, and mom has been helping her out with the rest."

"How about you? Will she be able to help you out?"

"No, mom is maxed out as it is," Chloe said, shaking her head. "I qualify for university, but I will have to pay my own way. I've got to figure something out."

"You should consider being a ponygirl," Ginger suggested. "You can live with your mom or board in the stables. The state university is nearby. The best part is that you can schedule your cart duties around your school schedule."

"Cart duties?"

"When you are under contract, you are expected to put in 16 two-hour shifts each week," Ginger explained. "There needs to be at least an hour between shifts for rest, otherwise you can pack them in or spread them out to fit your schedule."

"It's not a standard 8-hour work shift?"

"They can't run you for 8 hours straight! That would kill you!"

Chloe considered that for a moment. Up until now she had thought that killing them was the point, but now she was getting a different perspective.

"How are shifts assigned? Is it by seniority? I would think that it would be difficult for a newbie to work around a school schedule, all the desirable shifts will be taken."

"Not at all!" Ginger laughed. "Most of the senior ponies have children of their own. They want to be home to see their kids off to school, then be home to cook dinner. They want the daytime shifts, when you want to be in class. You can easily get an early morning shift and an evening shift during the week, then work three shifts each on Saturday and Sunday. Or work six shifts one day and have the other day off. Or you could get some late-night shifts during the week. It's all flexible."

"Well, I had considered pulling a rickshaw," Chloe admitted.

"A for hire? No, you don't want that!" Ginger insisted.

"Why not?"

"Private sector, big trap! Looks good on the surface, but there are hidden costs. You can run yourself into the ground and end up not only broke but in debt."

"What costs?"

"You have to rent the rig, and you are responsible for damage. You share your fares with the company that supplies the rig. They can establish your territory and your hours. You only get paid based on the fares, so when they send you out to cover some event that fizzles out, you don't make any money. If you get sick or injured, they will still charge you rent on the rig even though you aren't making any money. Bottom line is that they run you ragged then toss you out."

"And being a ponygirl is different?"

"Much! Guaranteed income, to start. A ponygirl is more for show than anything, so you could spend an entire shift just standing still, and still be paid the same," Ginger explained. "Here, let me show you."

Ginger stepped to the bookcase and removed a photo album, which she placed on the table. She opened it to the first page, which prominently showed a fit, young ponygirl in full regalia.

"There," Ginger said proudly. "That's me in my glory days!"

Chloe looked at the picture, then at Ginger. There were certainly features, such as the roundness of the eyes, the slope of the nose and the set of the mouth that were the same, otherwise it was impossible to tell who that ponygirl might be. White patent leather straps crisscrossed her body. A hood of white material, possibly latex, covered most of her scalp. Her hair was in a long French braid, emerging from a hole in the back. An excessive amount of mascara and ridiculously long false eyelashes obscured her natural features.

"Like I said, my own mother wouldn't recognize me!"

"Did she know about it?"

"Oh, she got me into it! She had been a ponygirl too! And both of my daughters had short careers as ponygirls! I hope my granddaughters will qualify; we will be a four generation ponygirl family!"

"You have to qualify?"

"They don't take just anyone. You obviously have to have a thing for running! Don't worry, you would qualify, no problem!"

"You sure? I mean, my breasts aren't very big. . ."

"Haven't you looked at any of those girls? They're running around naked! The last thing you want when running naked are big boobs!"

"I suppose. I just thought that looks were one of the requirements."

"Hell, my tits were tiny when I started! They're bigger now, the result of nursing four kids! Fortunately, they provide a special harness that provides a bit of support when you need it."

"I never had any idea that it was this way," Chloe admitted. "I will have to give it some consideration."

"Now is the best time to act," Ginger advised.

"Why now?"

"You graduate high school in three weeks. After that, you have two months to finalize your plans. You do realize that by the end of summer, if you're not employed or registered for college, the government will decide for you? Believe me, you don't want a government assigned job!"

"Yeah, I have been warned about that."

There was no such thing as unemployment anymore. The war had put huge demands on all industries, so there were always jobs available. If you were a male, and hadn't qualified for a college scholarship, and were reasonably fit, you would become a soldier. Males that weren't going on to college and were deemed unfit for military service would be assigned to the most undesired jobs.

Females between the age of 18 and 60, not in school and with less than 4 children would be expected to work. It wasn't technically a requirement, but one needed to obtain a waiver and there would be no welfare handouts. There were plenty of jobs that were dirty, exhausting, or exposed the worker to unhealthy conditions that could be 'assigned'.

"There is a 'bootcamp' that is two months long. I'll warn you; it is a bitch! You aren't paid for that time, but they do provide room and board. After bootcamp they will either reject you or offer you a year contract. If you fail or decide you really don't want to be a ponygirl, you will still have time to work something else out. Most of the people who quit do so in the first few weeks, leaving plenty of time to find something else. If you make it to the end, you are pretty much assured a job."

"I see. It's all so sudden, I just don't know."

"Being a ponygirl isn't for everyone, I'll grant you that. A runner like yourself is often a natural fit. If you think that you would have any interest at all, I can give you an introduction. No strings attached! It will give you a taste of what it's all about and then you can make an informed decision. Knowledge is power, after all!"

"Okay," Chloe said hesitantly, reacting to the phrase her grandmother liked to throw about: Knowledge is power. It had been a mantra around her home, the impetus to do well in school.

"Stop by here tomorrow. And wear your jogging outfit."