About me.

As this is my first post, the narrative that shall soon describe my life shall have to wait. As such, I shall relate first my physical appearance and other such information, to put aside any confusion on the matter.

My name is Fred. I look different depending on who you ask. Among my political supporters and friends (Of which I have few), I am a well-maintained gentleman with a refined posture and an impressive head of silver hair. To my opponents (And they take great glee in spreading this version of my appearance), I am a doddering white-haired fool with one foot in the grave. In reality, I'd say I'm a bit between those two extremes.

My favorite hobby used to be singing, before the only singing allowed by law was in church, and even then, most of the songs were outlawed. I used to do a lot of Beatles music. I'm pretty sure I could still remember the words to "Across the Universe", if I thought I could get away with it. Now, pretty much the only thing I enjoy that I am still allowed to do is play scrabble. Unfortunately, my wife is not nearly intelligent enough to provide me with a decent challenge. She kept me waiting ten minutes yesterday as she tried to remember how to spell "Punctured". Perhaps allowing women to read is a better idea than I had thought.

Last night, I had an unsettling dream. I drempt that a woman who looked rather familiar stood over me. She had black hair and freckles and she looked fierce. She was wearing a normal handmaid's outfit, but she had discarded her white wings so I could see the anger in her sparkling green eyes. She was holding a sharp metallic object, not a knife, but something just as dangerous.

"It's over," she hissed between clenched teeth. They looked like bullets.

I shook my head. "They'll come for you," I said. "You won't get away with this."

She laughed. "Nobody's left to come for you," she said, satisfaction dripping from her tongue. "Maybe a rogue squad of angels will be found once in a while, but you don't have to worry about that. Right now, I'm the only one you need to worry about."

She took her outfit by the bodice and pulled, ripping it in half. Underneath, she wore undergarments (Lingerie, it was called, back when it still existed) that pulled at the eyes. I realized that I wanted this woman, in a way I had never felt since I was young. I began to unbutton my shirt, but she jabbed at my arm with the weapon.

"Nuh-uh," she clucked, as if I was a naughty child. "That's not how it works."

I said nothing, but this only incensed her more. "You want love? You want sex? You want romance, eroticism, odd fetishes? All those forbidden things that you fought so hard to outlaw? We've triumphed, commander. All those things you've wanted are back. Only you aren't going to ever see them."

She leaned down and I could smell her perfume, rich and sensual, not like the sickly violet smell Serena used. She put her face very close to mine and whispered one word as the dream faded.

"Mayday."