The Movement is greater than the some of it's parts!

It was ten o clock in the morning, and I was heading towards CP, to get an early breakfast from Mc D’s the one on Janpath, with the pancakes, (just so you know, I don’t think they’re worth it). I had with me, a remnant of last night’s party, a girl from DU, where until recently I was studying as well, who was rather militant about feminism, and as a result had made it her night’s goal to convince me of something or the other.

The only problem, she seemed to face, was that I already agreed with the concept of sex-equality, even if my understanding of it differed slightly from her. However, I am a man, and so, naturally, I was a male chauvinistic pig, and needed to be converted... very new age church shit! Well, our evangelist, was busy trying to talk me into conceding something or the other, that women were better at, and given that I am entirely unfamiliar with whatever she was talking about, she was naturally having a tough time, and that only served to convince her of my MCPness. However owing to certain things that happened at the party, we did also manage to have a good time and enjoy each other’s company. So she was accompanying me to breakfast, with a deal to not mention anything about the women’s movement, provided I didn’t say anything derogatory about women.

This was going to be hard, but I persevered.

Henry Thomas a case study in the Moses Syndrome

Ever wonder what makes a multimillionaire? Thomas knew, he was one. It hadn’t been easy, he’d seen the worst times, and the best. As a young graduate in law from one of the not so well renounce colleges in the capital, he’d struggled for years.

It was an economic down turn in 2062, the robots prophesied by science fiction for years and decades had finally appeared, and were doing what they were supposed to do. Essentially, replacing the human work force. Of course, they weren’t quite as humanoid as Asimov had predicted nor quite as dangerous, or fast, or intelligent. But they were stronger, of course, and well, impeccable and doing the kind of things that labour did, pressing buttons, operating presses, working in disgusting conditions for low pay.

And He, Henry, as he was called, was looking for work as a legal consultant in these kind of times. Of course, his job wasn’t exactly threatened by the third wave of mechanisation as it was called. Still, the economy is pretty much a whole, and when one thing is out of balance, many others follow, and for some reason the legal practice too was suffering a downturn.

To cut a long story short, at the end of a year’s search, Henry, (his full name was Henry Thomas, in case you’re confused) found himself one of the many humans, who were arguing that it was there prerogative to work for low wages, in disgusting conditions, pressing buttons. This was because he was one of them. To keep himself of the streets, and his stomach full, Henry had compromised with fate, and an empty stomach.