Chapter 4: WHEN THE COUNT IS GOOD (4)
A generation ago, feminist struggles were in full swing around the world. Today, it could be said that the world was in a post-feminist era. What it changed, in the end… not much...
This fight for gender equality finally concluded after a few years of naked demonstrations and slogans easy to remember. When the feminists decided, this particular winter, on that snowy evening, to go back home, many cries were heard.
Finally, the decision to stop and go back home was taken after a summit of the world's top leaders. In his conclusion speech, one of them announced, ladies, I understood you! What did he understand? Historians were still debating nowadays; the most likely reason was that he understood that the toilet seat should be folded down after use. However, he was now dead and it was no longer possible to have the final word of the story from his mouth, hence the incessant debates on the question.
Not much change, it did not mean that nothing had changed. The most significant change had taken place in the feminization of trade titles. Now, was it really a benefit related to feminist struggles? Again, the discussions were open. According to recent work by renowned historians, it seemed that this advance was the direct consequence of protests from brothel customers, where the use of a unisex term in some languages, even masculine in others risked undermining to their reputation. Protests were all the more likely to be heard when among the said customers, there was a significant part of the political class.
The big History with a big H was often made of little histories with a little h of that kind. All this was in the past; today, it was customary to add the term 'female' before the name of a profession when the one who exercised the said profession was a woman, and to add nothing when it was a man, because it was too long to write for the gentlemen.
Cunnie was so a doctor's assistant, a title that included a medical secretary, a nurse, a surgical instrument giver, a few simple things like taking temperature and blood pressure, checking the condition of the tonsils or load ear wax, and often sexual partner of doctors.
The post of assistant was generally vested by women but they were not designed as female-assistant, it was contrary to the military protocol which wanted to be unisex and whose functions were by default male. The reason invoked for this idiosyncrasy was that writing the word 'female' in front of all these professions in their reports deteriorated their literary style and that in addition, sometimes, they did not even know the sex of the person in question, because certain parents had ambiguous choices when it came to naming their offspring, so to avoid offending the sensitivity of the aforementioned person it was better to keep the neutrality or masculinity of the military function, especially since the war was serious, feminizing titles, was it really a necessary coquetry? In the face of these persistent gyrations, the titles of the army had remained neutral.
Neutrality-masculinity led to describe a woman charged to sweep the corridors not with the term cleaning-lady, nor even a surface technician, but a cleaning-man.
In any case, the title of surface technician in force for a time had been abandoned because it was considered too pompous. There was still a particular case, that of the female-ironers who were necessarily female-ironers and not simply ironer, for obscure reasons related to the physiological incapacity of the men to use correctly an iron, the tradition and the love of work well made, so that this job was de facto reserved to women and the feminization was kept.
Whatever, Moa had met this doctor's assistant, Cunnie, a little over three years ago.
It was a pretty hot summer day and he fell asleep on his moped, mouth ajar.
And under these conditions, an accident quickly happened, he swallowed a fly.
He was rushed to the infirmary, the normal procedure in such a circumstance. The operation was not very complicated but it had to be entrusted to a professional, especially since the fly had missed the esophagus around the pharynx and had ended up in the trachea, requiring rapid operation and general anesthesia, just that the patient did not disturb the surgeon.
He was taken care of by Doctor Lingus who performed a very good operation. When he woke up in the dedicated room, he found himself face to face with the doctor's assistant, incidentally his wife, Cunnie. It was at this precise moment he was, still vaporous by the effects of anesthesia, dazzled by her beauty.
Moa quickly approached Doctor Lingus, the one who had saved his life.
The Lingus couple had arrived in the region a short time before and they did not have a busy social life. So the doctor and Moa became good friends. After some time, he managed to convert him to the game to the point that the Mikado games had become a real drug for the doctor.
Moa had a foolproof method to retain his prey. At first, he adapted his level of play so that the doctor won the majority of games, willingly letting him win games without interest. When he saw that he was addicted enough, he decided to offer to bet small sums of money.
The first bets were small, more like a symbol and Moa always made sure to leave his opponent winning. From time to time, he would raise his level, just enough to win a match and avoid becoming an ATM. Then one day, without realizing it, the doctor ended up losing every game.
Moa let him hope by generally winning the game by a small margin, but the main thing was to win.
As he lost his games and his money, the doctor sank into alcohol.
When you were drinking at home, it didn't matter, when you were drinking at work, it was more problematic, especially if it led to professional mistakes.
Cunnie could have helped her husband, but she was unaware of anything, and the doctor hid his game well, the descent into hell had been carried out on a slope gentle enough to remain almost insensitive. Even if she had realized at that time, it was already too late.
One day, he was given the delicate operation of an ingrown nail. His behavior was a little strange for his colleagues, he had changed, they knew it, but no one noticed his drunkenness, well masked by the massive intake of menthol candy. He missed the operation and one of his colleagues had to catch up by amputating his patient's arm.
A report was written, which unfortunately for the doctor was not lost; his career was over. He went to martial court and was sentenced to death. He was overcome with shame and decided to accept his conviction. The execution took place the next day, in public, to set an example.
His long-term work had finally paid off; Moa got rid of his rival. However, he could not harvest what he had sown.
Cunnie sank into depression and left the regiment before Moa had the opportunity to comfort her. She was the assistant of a dead man and so she was no longer of use for anything in the third regiment.
Moa had finally forgotten about it, but seeing her again in this situation rekindled his flame, which ultimately required only a small draft to restart. He was both happy but ashamed that gastric problems brought them together again.
According to military protocol, it was fashionable to greet a superior, provided that the number of salutes was less than seven, because above it was too long. Cunnie was an assistant who was returning to the regiment, and obviously a direct hierarchic superior to Moa. As she was not very strict with the protocol marks, she asked him to stop, especially since his attention aimed to the protocol caused a movement of intestinal peristalsis leading to the expulsion of quite foul-smelling gases.
She introduced herself by saying that the doctors had not yet returned from the briefing and that it was therefore she, as a medical student and as part of an internship in emergency medicine, who was going to examine him. The diagnosis was fairly simple to establish, a small gastroenteritis associated with meteorism that was treated with simple antibiotics, and that she would also recommend taking active charcoal tablets for flatulence. However, if she had resumed studying medicine, she had yet to graduate and had no right to write a prescription, so he would have to wait for the arrival of a doctor, a real one.
To pass the time, Moa asked her if she remembered him.
Vaguely, yes, but she had crossed so many new heads since her return here two months earlier, so that she still had trouble putting names on the faces, but such a thick upper lip did not go unnoticed.
Moa was a little disappointed she did not remember him and reminded him that he had been a good friend of her husband.
It still didn't come back to her so he went on asking how this good doctor was; you know he owed him his life. The medical student's eyes blurred, she mumbled that she was unfortunately a widow, that her husband had died, that they unfortunately never had children because of a vasectomy her husband had undergone following an idiotic bet.
She obviously still had a little trouble coping with the reality of the situation. A tragic fate, commented Moa who, to lighten the mood, directed the conversation towards Cunnie, what had become of her, he remembered that she was an assistant in the past, not a future doctor.
Indeed, but after the death of her husband, she had lost balance a little, she had decided to return to their region of origin, to her parents, and then, she had to take care of her spirit. Then, as she was still quite young, she decided to enroll in university, and as she was to become doctor, this would bring her a little closer to her late husband.
She seemed serious in her desire to become a doctor, which did not really help Moa's business. For long months, he had finally forgotten about Cunnie but in fact, she remained etched in his mind. Thinking otherwise was just lying to himself. To see her again like that, it was like regaining memory after a long amnesia.
He still wanted her.
Yes but here it was, if she managed to become a doctor, she would rise in rank, at least lieutenant, and probably even captain because she had already served and a doctor was not hired at lower grades.
He so asked her and she briefly explained the situation to him.
For the time being she was still a sergeant when Moa was a corporal. The military could totally tolerate a relationship between two people of fairly close rank. Both were non-commission officers. A lieutenant and a corporal, legally, it was impossible. It was really necessary to find unstoppable arguments so that the army accepted, but it was not possible between a captain and a corporal, the army would force its own view about the definition of a couple.
If you don't understand this rule, tell yourself that no one really understood it. When the ancient Minister of Armies issued these regulations, it was like that. The national representation did not include many soldiers or former soldiers and since the vote had been submitted at lunchtime, there were not many members present at the time of the vote and the majority of those who were present were hungry, preferring to vote in agreement with the minister to have a bite to eat rather than to debate on a subject that did not really concern them.
Next, you should know that the soldiers had no right to strike, or to protest in the streets. Demonstrations were allowed, but only in ancient amphitheaters meeting ISO#112 security standards, rare places throughout the country. So, the protestation was not especially effective.
It is only because I am an omniscient narrator that I know what is hidden behind the story. This requires looking at a former Minister of the Armies, a certain Gar Davooh. He was a former soldier, a non-commissioned officer who fell in love with a much more senior hierarchical superior. But this young woman only had eyes for a squaddy of her regiment. It was an open-wound in Gar's heart and when he was offered the post of minister, on the pretext that his father was the veterinarian of the Prime Minister's dog, he passed this law. If I can't have it, my dear squaddy, you won't have it either, this was his reasoning. It was a mundane story, probably an unfair law from another time, a tradition in an army which did not want to reform itself, but a soldier could only marry in rank more or less one and no more.
As for the penalty, in addition to the fact that the marriage was unlikely to be validated by the authorities, the offenders risked a hundred push-ups and dick-in-shoe-polish.
He had to succeed in seducing Cunnie before she became a doctor, so that the army to find itself in a fait accompli for which it had more difficulty enforcing its vision of couple relationships. This was how Cunnie and her husband could exercised together despite an important difference in rank, married before entering the army at a time when the army could not refuse the arrival of medical staff.
At worst, even if a demission was administratively difficult, she would have exercise as a doctor in the civilian sector.
After this little story, the topics of conversation between Cunnie and Moa were exhausted.
A doctor finally arrived. He looked at Cunnie with envious eyes, then at Moa with disgusted eyes, and then at the notes she had scribbled on with professional eyes. The doctor threw an approval mark and then told Moa that there were no drugs right now, the next delivery should wait until the following week, this paper was the prescription and he could do nothing more, the day was going to be long even if the photoperiod decreased significantly with each passing day.
As he had nothing more to do in the infirmary, he thanked the two representatives of the medical team, emphasizing a little more for Cunnie whose work he was happy with.
He took over the direction of the corridor, two floors above. Although he asked the elevator to remain open to allow a secretary to take advantage of it, no one dared to go up with him, claiming a phobia of enclosed spaces.
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ludo2776 ... to be continued in the next chapter
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