She Was Born to Shree

Perhaps someday, the flaw in the male genome that
made relationships so difficult to discuss, to
share, to strengthen, could be addressed. Perhaps.
Perchance when there was more time, Woman might get
around to fixing that problem. When She wasn't so
busy sharing, helping, relating, empathizing,
emoting.

But meanwhile, life was meant for those who savored
it to the fullest, ate its flesh, cracked its bones
and sucked the marrow dry, and She was born to
shree.

Susan contemplated the 90% of human mental capacity
that once went to waste, but no longer so in Woman.
She strode the corridor in her comfortable beige
suit, her low heels clicking on the parquet floor.
She reached the gathering spot, the university's
quiet room where women went often to get in touch.
She sat in the comfortable overstuffed winged chair
that was her favorite, brushed a stray wisp of hair
back into place, let her eyes close, her thoughts
walk the paths of meditation so familier by now. Her
breathing became slow and regular. She shifted her
attention, her relating, to the direction she
conceived as "up", and shreed. Then she left the
quiet room and continued to her office, where a busy
day with her friends, redesigning a part of
government that wasn't working as smoothly as
desired, awaited.

Adedaya rested in the woman's long house, naked but
for a modesty cloth, her tightly kinked black curls
cradled on a cloth of springbok hide wadded to be
her pillow, another hide spread on the dirt as her
bed. The sweat of the now cooling day, of her labors
in the fields, dried between her breasts. The buzz
of the insects around the long house door-hide
lulled her toward sleep. She went to the corner of
her mind that was her contemplative spot, reached
her emotions in the direction she imagined as "out",
and shreed. Then sleep took her, and she rested in
the arms of her companions.

Rachel lay on the thin-cotted obstetrics bed, the
lights a bit too bright, the smell of antiseptic
floor cleaning soaps pervasive, the waves of pushing
still far apart. Ed, a bit flustered and not knowing
what to do for all their Lamaze rehearsals, was in a
chair at her side, caressing her hand, talking
comfort to her. But it wasn't just Ed's comfort she
craved, she needed her friends. She needed someone
who'd done this before to advise her.  She reached
through the baby's mind, in the direction she
thought of as "in", felt the nearness, the concern
of her close ones, and she shreed.

Elizabeth was at the sink, a stack of dishes before
her, her tidy sundress protected by an apron, her
sensible shoes splayed on the tile floor. One by one
she soaped, scoured, rinsed and stacked the dishes
in a ritual grown mindless with repetition. The
yellow sun through the southward kitchen window
warmed her breast and belly, as she reached out in
the direction she conceived as "there", and as
naturally as breathing, grasped her friends to her,
and she shreed.

Ellen lay dying, at home with her family by her
choice, she had no love of tubes and backless
shifts. Her daughter and sons took turns in her
room, knowing the wait would soon be over, that the
comfort they could lend was not Ellen's only
resource. They watched her labored breathing, tucked
the blankets and bedspread more closely around her,
fluffed the pillows as needed, brought her water and
pills and the snacks she could still enjoy.
Knowingly, they gave her some moments alone to be
with her friends. Ellen, with no more trouble after
so many years than it took to blink an eye,
stretched one last time in the direction that in her
mind was "us", and she shreed.

SusanAdedayaRachelLizEllen worried at the
psychogovernmental equations, pushing a factor this
way, fudging a parameter that way, relinking an
input another, and considered the computer's
simulation at the six month, six year, six decade,
and six century marks, looking for a better, more
sustainable balance for humans as an integrated part
of their planet. Passers-by found her busy and
walked on. Her beige suit slowly wrinkled with the
constant passages from chair to whiteboard to
terminal to chair, the walks to the coffee machine,
the visits to the restroom. The hours passed in warm
companionship as five viewpoints merged into one
changed the course of human history-to-be, each
lending her strength and experience to the whole --
as She dreamed on the long house hide-blanket in the
tropical warmth, as She pushed the baby slowly to
the neck of her womb, sweat spurting from her pores,
the muscles in her neck like iron ropes, as She made
the beds and vacuumed the floor, as She considered a
life well lived from its ending point, and found it
Good, as She shreed.

DedaRachelBethEllenSusan woke to a familiar sound,
caught the urgent, repeated, whispered call of her
lover, rose from her hide in the woman's long house,
wrapped a bit of cloth around her shoulders and
breasts, went to the hut they shared. With the
giggled advice of her shreeing sisterhood, she
teased him, rubbed him, licked him, straddled him,
rode him, tongued him, pressed his lips, milked him
in her bucking rise, wrung from him his hot
outpouring, and left him defeated and wilting on the
floor as she strode, conqueror as ever, back to the
long house. She wondered if this time she had
started a daughter in her depths. She returned to
her rest, and her shreeing.  She helped herself suck
on an icecube between pushes, and comforted herself
that the baby's head was now crowning and the effort
would soon be repaid with a greedy new mouth at her
nipple, and that yes, it really did always hurt this
much, this wasn't death yet. She washed and cut
vegetables for a potroast for dinner, drove the van
to school and took the kids to soccer and dance
rehearsal. She relived her highschool prom and that
first sex in the back of his Chevy (neither of them
were at all good at what they did, and both remained
half dressed "just in case" and in the days before
shreeing, she hadn't much guidance as to what went
where and what happened next, and besides, it
*hurt*, and she got blood on her petticoats). She
noticed a factor for intraurban linguistic issues
that had become a sticking point in healing strife
among the disadvantaged, and put a bit more resource
into the bilingual education budget, and crowed a
bit with her inner circle as the simulation showed
substantial improvement in productivity and "quality
of life", and thought ahead to the next staff
meeting and her rights to a minor gloat there, as
she shreed.

RachelBettyEllenSusanAdedaya squeezed Ed's hand
until the bones ground together, followed his silly
advice on breathing, as if she had any other option
but to pant in ragged gasps. Part of her body
running entirely outside her control washed wave
after wave of incredible force from her ears to her
ankles, as she did everything in more power than she
knew she had to get that baby *out*! She was sure
things were tearing, and she raved at herself that
natural childbirth was a stupid, stupid, stupid
idea, and yes watermelon was a severe underestimate
and if Ed ever so much as looked at her she'd stick
a breadknife between his lying ribs and ow, Ow, OW,
*OW*! She heard vague assurance from the
nurse-midwife that the baby's head was out and just
a few more pushes should do it and why wasn't Ed
*helping* and *OUCH* damnit! she shared her misery
with her friends, which instantly divided it by
five, and pushed again.  She got the house ready for
Jeb's return from the office and put the newspaper
back together and by his favorite chair and then he
was home and she hugged him and gave him a big kiss
as the kids poured in from his car around them
saying "what's for dinner, Mom". She thought back to
the many dinners and the husband long gone and the
grandchildren and great-grandchild that had visited
her lap and now mostly were being shushed in other
rooms of the big old house. She tidied up her work
and sent it to the printer, which assembled it all
in a glossy hardcopy packet with graphs and
references and a cover letter, and routed it to the
participants of the evening meeting. She dreamed of
sons and daughters born and unborn and lent herself
support on her birthing bed and her deathbed and at
the dining room table as the dinner food was blessed
with a prayer and the potroast carved and served
around. She shreed in her sleep, in her waking, in
her panting, in her working, in her dying.

LizzyEllSusieDedaRache cuddled with Jeb on the couch
and vegged in front of the TV as the kids quarrelled
quietly over some computer games in another room.
She loosened his tie and stroked his chest and the
inside of his thigh, and got him thinking the right
kind of thoughts for what to do when the kids were
asleep in a couple more hours.  She chatted during
the commercials about her day and his day, and
worked in a few parts of her shreeing for the poor
handicapped male, that yes, it looked like Ellen was
graduating today and Adedaya might be pregnant and
Rachel's baby was a red-head but not yet quite done
being born and that Susie's work had gone well and
they could look forward to a little better life
again next year and that in general Her day had been
as good as her day had been. She tried to ignore the
pain eating at her chest where the cancer had come
to live and die. The drugs helped, but too many of
them would have meant she couldn't shree, so quite a
bit of pain remained; Woman was working on the issue
elsewhere. She walked to the university staff
cafeteria, she needed fuel, it was going to be a
long night still, and her companion back home could
just keep her bra on a bit longer, they'd be
swapping body fluids and moaning in each other's
ears in sweaty ecstacy soon enough. With a final
push the baby was out, a little girl, red as a beet
and loudly complaining about the cold air in the
birthing room and all this _breathing_ she suddenly
had to do and she joined She in shreeing and
contemplated a universe suddenly grown much much
bigger and the fuzzy images just opened eyes
provided as she responded to a nagging midwife and
with a last huge *push* expelled the bloody mass of
placenta and fell back suddenly _not_ pushing, and
_flat_, and _empty_, and considered letting Ed live,
just as an instantly dismissable alternative to her
recent firm intentions to the contrary. And her
daughter was put to her breast, and the suckling of
the mindless little beast sharing five other minds
made her womb contract in response, and the thick
colostrum began to flow from her breast to fill her
hungry mouth and throat. In the loving arms of her
companions, she rested, and felt the sweat of her
valiant labor begin to dry, and she shreed.

EllenKatieJohnsonSusanDedaRachelElizabeth decided
her life had been good, but like all good things,
was getting a bit wearying with repetition, and
sighed one last breath, and shreed all that was
_her_ into her companions for safekeeping, and just
casually and completely died. She took herself into
her mind and tucked herself to sleep, while planning
the evening meeting's conduct for maximum likelihood
of success and enhanced reputation. She put that
newly freed part of herself in the deepest, safest
part of her mind she knew, still asleep, rolled on
her skin mat, and unconsciously traced the memory of
her dying face in the dirt of the long house floor.
She pressed her newborn daughter to her breast, and
agreed with her that being Ellen Katie would be just
a splendid name, whatever a name might be from the
viewpoint of an urgently suckling nipple attachment,
and she and she put Ellen into herselves to share
forever. She hugged her husband to her in the big
bed, dabbed away her involuntary tears at her death,
whispered, "goodbye Ellen, hello Ellen", and began
the slow shared ritual with Jeb that led, now and
again, to the starting of a new life, while she
radiated warmth and comfort to herself for her
endings and her beginnings.

She *was* Woman, and she shreed.