Cool Zone Media book Club book Club, book Club book Club.

Hello and welcome Nicols on Media book Club, the only book club that you don't have to do the reading for because I do it for you.

And we are on week five of her Metica by Alan Lee.

And if you're just tuning in now, why why would you do that?

Why would you do that to yourself?

Why would you do that to the text?

Why would you do that to Alan Lee?

And why would you do that to the world?

Why would you start at part five?

Have you been so ruined on narrative and linear storytelling by shows that are where you just pop in wherever you want?

Is that what happened to you?

Are you sad?

Anyway?

You can listen wherever you want.

I just my brain doesn't let me do that.

But this is week five of her Medica by Alan Lee.

Alan Lee is the specfac pen name for Peter Gelderlos and where we last left our hero days Days followed a hunch through the rain and onto the rooftops, finally understanding the big reveal you all been waiting for.

The sky is real sort of a reverse Truman show.

As it were running along the rooftops, they see endless neighborhood blocks, stretching towards a horizon that curves down, not up.

They're not on a spaceship.

They've just realized they must still be on earth.

In this great moment of revelation, the safety drones catch up to Days, knocking them out as they fall off the barricade.

Just as a heads up.

This episode contains an extended digression of our protagonist arguing as someone about biological gender, and you know, so that's where we're at.

Days came too in pieces.

As the sedatives wore off, Their hands started working, first, probing an amusement at body parts that were alienated, unfeeling not yet plugged back into the neurological network.

What's this, the hand seemed to say?

A leg, a pelvis, a torso, placed right within arm's reach.

To whom does it belong?

Days laughed along with their hands, who had left a leg there?

What were their hands doing?

They could not say.

They were not yet present enough to feed them a purpose.

The hands seemed to have a purpose of their own.

Why should Days be telling the hands what to do?

There was a sudden tingling, not entirely pleasant.

Was that leg?

Day's leg?

Oh, why were fingers poking at their leg Days was back at the office.

No, No, that wasn't true.

There was a plexi on one side, There was a plexi on the other side.

There were plexies on every side.

Where were their instruments?

This wasn't the office.

Days tried to sit up.

Days came to in pieces as the sedatives wore off.

First, their eyes opened.

Their head didn't feel great.

Their stomach didn't either.

Their legs were tingling uncomfortably.

Their hands seemed to be asleep.

There was a memory the sky.

A tear formed in their left eye.

Where were they?

They sat up slowly.

It was some kind of holding cell.

A metallic column in one corner pinged.

A small door flush with the column's curve, slid open.

A cup of water was revealed.

Within days drank it down.

They replaced the cup.

The door closed.

A moment later it opened again.

The cup was full.

Days drank.

There was a toilet in the far corner.

Days sat down.

The plexies phased opaque.

It took a while, but they were finally able to piss.

They staggered back to the bed.

The plexies went transparent again.

The column pinged, the door opened, There was a tray of food this time and mre in principle, but but different from any emory they'd eaten.

They felt weak.

They wanted the food, but their stomach roiled as they ate.

They lay back down on the cot.

When Days awoke, there was a person on the other side of the plexi.

They wore strange clothes of a thick material, plaid red on top, blue bottoms, and their skin was as pasty as John Wayne's.

The person was eyeing Days suspiciously.

You up.

In response, Days pulled themselves into a sitting position high.

Their voice creaked, and their heads spun a little.

They rubbed their temples until the feeling passed.

Just get in, I guess, so they sedate.

Newcomers me, I've been here a while, but they transferred me from another block.

Days looked around to see walls on all six sides.

The floor lateral sides were transparent.

Plexi two had breathing holes and looked out on the narrow corridors that flanked the cell.

The other two looked into cells just like the one they occupied.

The person with the funny clothes was in a cell.

I'm Days, that's your name.

Days, nodded, What a strange person, Robert, Nice to meet you.

Robert let out a quiet snort, but they smiled amiably.

Days peered around between the lighting and the way the block was built.

They couldn't see if anyone was in the cells across the corridor, nor how far down the corridors extended.

You're not from around here, are you?

Days remembered what they had discovered running atop the wall fleeing from their block.

None of it seemed real anymore?

Could it be possible?

Such a big lie?

I guess not?

Where are we?

Got me there?

Days hesitated?

Is this her medica?

Where's that East Coast?

Robert did not know what her Medica was.

To be honest, I'm not exactly sure.

Robert scrunched up their face.

What about you?

Where are you from?

Oregon?

Oregon?

East coast?

Those sounded like Terran references.

It was too much evidence to deny the articles from twenty twenty three from Terra mentioning the pandemic and nothing about extra system travel the block on their communication when they were about to measure the corialis force.

The realness of the sky, the view from atop the wall not consistent with a concave curving platform.

Her Medica had never left.

He had been on Terra the whole time.

Could it be possible?

The magnitude of the lie was dizzying.

Days craved confirmation, but how to ask without sounding completely bizarre?

They needed more information.

What's Oregon like?

They asked, innocently.

Our community is nice, peaceful, no crime, all god fearing men and women.

We've got fifty thousand acres timber corn potatoes.

We bring in a good crop.

Robert had a strange way of speaking.

Nonetheless, they understood most of it, and none of it sounded like life on a spaceship, not any ship that Days could imagine.

But they wanted to make sure.

Do you have mountains?

Mountains?

You bet we do.

Have you been to the sea the Pacific?

I've been there, but I don't travel much mountains and ocean.

It would be quite a feat to get those on a ship that settled it unless Robert were lying.

And they could not guess what the motive the other prisoner might have for such a bas lie.

They were on Tara, they had always been on Tara.

None of them were going to colonize a new home world.

None of them would ever get there.

Tell me Days.

You're not from the secession?

Are you?

The secession?

Oh boy?

The secession?

The Second Civil War?

Do they not teach you people about any of that?

Sorry?

Days shrugged, The fake virus, the totalitarian coup, none of that ring a bell.

We had a virus.

You think you did.

I'm sorry to break it to you, but where you grow up, that's a totalitarian society.

They made a fake virus to try and keep everyone locked up, but patriots fought back and we won our independence, took half the country with us.

Honestly, I'm not surprised they don't teach you about us.

Yeah, I guess there's a lot of things they didn't teach us.

The line about a fake virus reminded Days of something in one of the articles.

You seem all right, even if you are from the other side.

How'd you end up in here?

What you do across the border?

I was running, I went over the wall.

Yeah, we don't take too kindly to people going over that wall.

But don't you worry.

I'm sure they'll send you back in no time.

And when they do, you make sure you tell your people about what really happened.

There never was any virus.

So we're in the secession.

Now.

Days's head was reeling.

Their grasp on what was fact and what was fiction had already been seriously loosened, and their interlocutor in the next cell didn't exactly inspire confidence.

It was not the oily feeling of a well designed lie that Emil had omitted, but rather the blind self assurance that whatever happened to be the most convenient was an unquestionable truth.

That was the impression Days got, and now they knew better than to discount their intuition.

Don't know where else we'd be, Robert shrugged.

Matter of factly.

They looked around at the PLEXI walls.

Though this is definitely not our local jail.

Tell you the truth.

I don't like it one bit.

No lawyer, no phone call.

This is how I imagine jail looks like outside this secession.

Didn't think we were supposed to have facilities like this for illegal sure, but for citizens maximum security I suppose, They chuckled, showing an ironic pride.

Days failed to understand.

So how'd you get in here?

A shot a man?

Robert said, plainly.

Oh, Days struggled to fathom exactly what that would mean neuromuscular incapacitation, infection, prone puncture wounds, uncontrollable nausea, a radiation, dismemberment, fatal blood loss.

They decided against inquiring after the technology level of ranged weapons in the secession.

Besides, Robert's vocabulary was thoroughly quaint, and Days wasn't sure they'd understand anyway.

And you don't know when you'll get out.

Nope, I've barely seen any guards.

Definitely haven't spoken any officials, not since the sheriff turned me over to those marshals.

This place is high tech.

I tell you that practically runs itself.

First I was in a block with other people from the secession.

Then they moved me.

Honestly, you're the first person I've seen from the outside.

I mean, not counting when I'm on border patrol.

But we don't talk much with the illegals when we see them, he choked back a laugh.

Don't you worry, though, We only shoot the bad ones.

The good ones.

They're looking for freedom Christians who are being persecuted.

We give them a chance if they work hard.

Asylum.

You know, there are plenty of communities that would take in someone like you, but our community is a bit special, a lot of veterans from the war, so we get final say on who moves in.

Well, you wouldn't exactly fit in, Robert chuckled, pointing at Days as though it was self evident.

Days nodded like they understood.

But do you know what else is self evident?

Do you know what else you cannot?

As though you understand the products services that support this podcast.

That's right, every single one of them you already know.

In fact, you might already know them so much.

They might be so self evident that you reach down to your phone and you press that forward fifteen seconds button a couple times.

Do you hear the music come back in?

Or you can listen to the ads.

It's really up to you.

That's freedom for you, the right to choose that particular tiny thing.

Here's the ads, and we're back.

The day wore on.

They ate when the next food tray arrived, Days decided not to confide in Robert about her medica.

Robert was condescending enough already, and Days did not want to give them any ammunition.

He's got those friends.

How many of them knew the truth?

It was possible that none of them did.

They trusted Zip absolutely.

They wouldn't lie to Days.

They had grown up together.

In fact, Zip had been helping them get a better sense for their place on her Medica.

Someone from Safety had probably paid them a visit before they could carry out the experiment.

Days wondered how Zip would have reacted and somehow they knew the Safety team member.

They would have said Days had suffered a mental breakdown, that they were becoming obsessed, denying the reality of the situation.

After that, even though Zimp's intensions were good, catering to that paranoia, they would call it a paranoia was only encouraging the behavior.

Then Zip would receive a reminder to uphold the new safety and not spread need to know information.

Whatever setup they'd put together to carry out the experiment would be confiscated.

The next day at work, they'd get a challenging new assignment that would keep them busy.

When they checked, Days would be classified as permanent reconciation.

Would that be enough?

Would Zimp make their peace and say goodbye without ever knowing what had really happened to their old friend.

It seemed so absurd.

They were so smart, how could they not know?

But Days remembered how They'd been educated plenty of formula and equations, but all the experiments were done on simulations.

They were asked to complete mathematical proofs to test the technical knowledge they'd been given, but never to test the story of who they were, where they were, how they'd gotten there.

It was masterful misdirection.

They'd been given the tools to take apart their world, all of them, but they'd also been given a more interesting project to put those tools to use on.

So they put their shoulders to the wheel, and the world stood unquestioned.

What about EMMYL, the putative inter block rep.

Did they know?

Days assumed they did.

Surely EMMYL had actually been a safety investigator.

But the more they thought about how ZIP had been fooled, how they themselves had been fooled, the more doubts appeared.

If EMML was willing to accept that their job consisted of protecting compartmentalization, of making sure no one tried obtaining knowledge outside their professional assignment, of checking up on anyone flagged for abnormal behavior and making a simple recommendation whether that person could be trusted to follow the rules, whether they needed a temporary reconciliation process, or whether they presented a permanent danger.

They really didn't need to know anything.

All they had to tell themselves was that sabotage was a threat to her Medica, and anyone violating compartmentalization was enabling sabotage.

The articles that for Days had triggered so many questions for EMIL probably just tripped an alarm unauthorized sensitive information that had to be controlled.

Days thought about how no one they knew worked in a field that gave them proof her Medica existed.

Sure there was someone who worked in propulsion, but they were pretty sure that person just ran models on improving the efficiency of fusion reactions.

They never would have seen the engines and didn't know how their results were actually put to use.

Everyone had such a small part of the picture, and it was the system itself that fed the bigger picture back to them.

They all trusted that the information they produced was being put together in a sensible way.

As for the millions of passengers, who knew how many of them were real people from what Days had seen on their run, there were thousands, for sure, all living and working in identical blocks covering at least twenty five square kilometers somewhere with a naturally flat terrain, but no one knew more than a couple hundred people for real.

The majority of those millions who were active visible on socials could have been artificials, there to confirm the alibi everyone was so intent on believing.

Days felt sick most of all because on some level it wasn't a surprise the world had always felt empty.

Something moved just to the edge of their field of vision.

Days turned nothing for a moment.

They thought, hoped it was snookums, but snookums couldn't find them there, which is a tragedy because they could use a good cuddle.

They curled up on the cot you got the blues, Robert called, Days sat up and shrugged.

They had been napping lightly, an onearic distortion of the last day's revelations rolling through their head.

They felt lethargic, like there wasn't any need to grab on to one of the coherent versions of reality that suggested itself, Like it didn't even matter that happens.

You gotta be patient in here.

They gave a compliant nod.

Robert mistook their silence for a request to force them into a state of cheerfulness.

This won't last forever.

Soon you'll get to go back and be with your people.

Days nodded again.

I'll tell you what I sure miss my wife, wife wife.

Days remembered encountering the term in old literature.

It was something along the lines of either a friend or servant.

Should they ask, they might as well indulge in their curiosity a little.

If Robert was going to make avoiding a conversation impossible, what do you miss about them?

Days?

Hope the question was neutral enough that the answer would reveal the words meaning who what miss about who?

Your wife?

You just said you missed them?

I only got the one.

We're not polygamists now.

Days was thoroughly confused, Right, your one wife?

What do they do you mean?

She?

Robert looked at Days like some insult had been proffered.

She Days vaguely remembered the earth from some old novels that hadn't been translated into modern English, one of a class of obsolete pronouns spurred on by Days's blank look.

Robert Turtle, She he you know?

Okay?

Are you telling me?

You don't say?

He?

And she In an unguarded moment, Days snapped back at Robert's scorn, Well, they are archaic.

Oh for crying out loud.

I heard stories about this, but it had to be a tall tale.

Don't tell me you people pretend men and women don't exist.

This had taken an interesting turn.

Days figured they could either lay back down and put an end to the conversation, or make it a little less one sided, giving the likelihood that they would be stuck in it, willing or not, for the next several days, and finding out more about Robert's world might answer some questions they had about their own.

Well, it's certainly a classification system that once existed, a classifer.

How are you going to deny what's in front of your very nose?

Since crashing out on the aptitudes, Days had not felt confident talking about scientific matters with their peers.

Prior to that, though, they had been a voracious student, and in the short time they had known Robert, they had already shaped under their condescension.

Days was certainly a capable mind when compared to Robert.

Maybe they were even intelligent when compared to her America's brightest.

They realized a blossom of warm confidence spreading through their chest.

Of all the cohort mates they had been deferring to these last years of their life, who had been sent on to prestigious work assignments.

None of them had been smart enough to figure out it was all a lie.

It was time for Days to start trusting in their hunches.

And do you know who else is smart enough to figure out that it's all a lie?

I don't know either, But here's ads and we're back.

Robert presented an interesting challenge, like running into a modern day Aristotle and trying to explain how atomic theory was more practical than the notion of five elements.

The objection Robert seemed to be raising was not terribly complex.

The challenge consisted of fitting in about two years of primary school rudimentaries into a single conversation.

But it seemed like they had time.

Days clasped their hands and shifted into a posture that was neither confrontational nor dismissive.

Facing Robert, but not quite head on.

Have you thought about your approach?

I don't know why you need to divide the human species according to a classification system that goes beyond current functionality, I mean, job descriptions.

It seems like a dodgy enterprise.

But if you're going to insist.

Maybe we can agree that the fundamental feature of the system should be clarity, no room for ambiguity.

Robert was taken aback by this sudden change in register, but they not at all the same, that's right.

Clarity Days continued well on those grounds.

It seems the notion of men and women would have to be rejected Robert's sputtered.

Pullah, it's me sputtering.

It's not in the text.

It wasn't written out like Pooluh, but I was trying to do my example of a sputtering.

Chromosomatic different is not binary.

You were aware of that, right, Hormones, genital development, none of it is strictly binary.

And it's dangerous to establish a biological generalization and shed the rest as a rounding error, because well, those rounding errors are people.

And as for the ones who supposedly fit in the boxes, there's an additional danger as some will fit better than others.

So now you have a non utilitarian value hierarchy.

Instead of just being human, everyone is now either more or less.

Plus the fact that the distinction serves no purpose, so ambiguous, problematic and useless.

Honestly, I don't think there's a system's analysis and existence that would class this metric as operational.

It is self evident, Robert said, lividly, standing up for themselves.

Days had started feeling manic, and from there it was a short hop to cocky time for a tidy coup de gras.

Oh yeah, which one am I woman?

Robert said, without blinking.

Days had to hand it to them.

They were unflinchingly bold to make a claim.

They knew, they both knew they cannot possibly back up.

How do you know, Days stuttered, it's obvious, Robert drawled, as though it were in fact obvious.

Well, you haven't given me a chromosome test.

We just met, but it's plain as day.

Anyone can see it.

I don't see it because your brain washed.

Robert rolled their eyes.

Now, that certainly took the cake.

And what are you then, man?

Robert shrugged, misunderstanding the question.

Days rolled with it.

Have you ever taken a chromosome test?

Don't need to?

Don't you think that's a self confirming theory.

If you never test it, you never have to find out if it's wrong.

Robert sighed, like their patients was wearing thin Look at me, now, look at you, Yeah, we look quite different, Uh huh, Well we're not close genetic relations, why should we look similar?

Okay, try not to be indelicate for starters.

I have a beard, Yeah, so do I look a mustache anyway?

See right there, you don't shave.

I get that it's gross, No need to flaunt it.

But if people have to adapt their behavior and even modify their bodies to confirm the theory, then those are false metrics.

Oh, for the love of God, I can't have babies.

You can have babies, Well, you could have babies with the right surgical procedures.

Here Robert's eyes widened alarmingly, and neither of us know if I could in fact reproduce in my current state.

I've never applied, never gotten tested.

And even if I could, or even if I got the procedure to make sure I could, there would undoubtedly come a time in my life when it would no longer be an option.

Would I then cease to be a woman?

Look, women can have babies, and barring some perverse voodoo science, men cannot.

What was feeling a bit offended, they rose to their feet.

It's a flimsy assumption to think that someone with no hair on their face has productive ovaries and a viable birth canal, and then on top of it, to get disgusted with someone who doesn't shave their face because you insist on believing that they can bear children.

But beyond all that, child bearing is a bad metric for a social division because it's not a physiological constant, it's a voluntary activity.

Oh wait, Days just remembered some things that they had read about the primitives.

Frantically they steered towards another topic before the conversation took an ugly turn.

Blood type.

What about blood type?

What are you?

I'm oh positive.

If you're really tied to the word, you can call people who are type oh women, and you can call people who are Type A or whichever one you are, men, and we can make up words for the other two.

Of course, blood type is a little more complex than that, But it's all about simplifying anyway, isn't it now?

I recognize that, same as chromosomes, you can't tell what blood gender someone belongs to by looking at them.

But in this case it's not actually a drawback because you have to do the test anyway before a blood transfusion, which is the only situation in which it's important.

It's not.

Robert sputtered some more.

Blood type is blood type, sex is sex.

The reflective property, Okay, you're on your way to algebra.

It equals A.

But if A is invalid, it's not going to help you out much.

You can say that anyone who doesn't shave their chin has man blood, and that's all fine, But a lot of people are going to die if you organize blood transfusions that way.

Your system just doesn't hold up in the real world, the real world, in the real world outside of your university campus.

I didn't go to university.

He and she have always existed, Well, you know that can't be true.

Days dug in English has not always existed.

So clearly, any words that belong to English are used to are just a blip in history.

And don't try to say that all languages have he or she equiped valance.

Robert set their jaw.

The concepts have always existed, concepts that always exist.

Days giggled.

That would require oh right, Days remembered another thing.

The primitives were said to believe in a real argument stopper.

They could see that Robert was getting irate, bordering on violence, so they decided to change track.

Look, I'll call you whatever you want.

You call me what I want.

We can both be happy.

Good, Robert nodded, though their eyes still smoldered.

Great.

So what is it for you?

Your wife?

He?

I'm he, she's a she great?

And they for me though, of course when you're talking to me, you works just fine.

Days managed a friendly smile.

So, now that we've had it out, what's a wife?

Dent du dun?

That was a fun one.

I find this sort of shit entertaining.

I hope you do too.

And that is where we are leaving part five of her Medica by Alan Lee, where now Days is in a prison whatever, you know where we're at.

We just read it, or I read it and you listen to it.

Whatever.

Why would it be pedantic about the story that this particular piece is mostly about sort of weird pedantry, but in an entertaining way.

Anyway, her Medica by Alan Lee you can go check it out.

It came out from Detritus Books a couple of years ago, and if you want to hear more from the author.

Alan Lee is the pen name of Peter Gelderlos, who has written a bunch of books, including The Solutions Are Already here and some other ones, and you can follow his substack which is called Surviving Levife and on substack, I believe in you.

You can figure it out.

All right.

Good luck with the next week and we'll be back with part six, getting towards the end.

Because it's a novella, Hi, It could Happen here as a production of cool Zone Media.

For more podcasts from cool Zone Media, visit our website Coolzonemedia dot com, or check us out on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts.

You can find sources where it Could Happen Here updated monthly at coolzonmedia dot com slash sources.

Thanks for listening.