The portal bursts open into a wide city square: gray towers, militarized checkpoints, women in armor marching everywhere. Hovercrafts buzz above like angry bees. Posters scream slogans like: "MALES: CONTROLLED, NOT TRUSTED"
Rick, Summer, and Richard step out. Richard stretches, looking around with curiosity. Rick starts drinking immediately. Summer looks thrilled, soaking in the hyper-feminist vibe. "Finally, a planet that gets it," Summer says, hands on her hips. "Matriarchy rules."
Richard raises an eyebrow, munching a cookie he pulled from somewhere. "Yeah, because nothing says 'equality' like enforced stupidity quotas."
Summer glares. Richard, this society had to evolve this way to protect itself! Males ruined everything!"
"When was the last time a female invented international travel? Oh wait, never," Richard said, acting smug. He didn't have anything against women, he just loves getting under unintelligent people's skin. Not the serial killer kind of way.
Before Summer can argue, a towering female guard stomps toward them, helmet gleaming, armed to the teeth. "State your identities and intent."
Rick waves a laminated fake ID in the air. "Science ambassadors. Here to analyze male specimens. Ooh, ahh, take notes, pretend it matters, you know the drill."
The guard snorts but waves them along, eyeing Richard like he's an animal about to bite. "Especially that one. Males who are too calm are the most dangerous."
Richard flashes a lazy, innocent smile. "I'm dangerous? Wow. You should ask the Zigerions, they will tell you all about how innocent and docile I am."
Summer elbows him hard. "Richard, stop provoking them!"
"Provoking?" Richard says, feigning hurt. "I'm complimenting her deductive skills. It's not every day someone spots the obvious with that level of... bravery."
Rick cackles. "Just wait 'til they start the psychological tests, Summer. You're gonna love seeing your dream society in action."
They walk through the checkpoint and into a wide avenue. Massive banners flap overhead: "OBEY OR BE RECONDITIONED"
Summer still looks proud. Richard leans closer to Rick and mutters. "I'm starting to think this place isn't feminist. It's just idiotically hostile with branding." Rick grins.
"Give it a few minutes. The smell of hypocrisy gets stronger the deeper you go." They approach a giant glass building: the Male Behavioral Analysis Center. A cluster of stern-faced female scientists wait out front, tablets in hand, frowning at Richard like he's a particularly stubborn virus. One of them — a woman with slicked-back hair and no visible sense of humor — speaks:
"Bring the male inside. Standard tests will determine the degree of inferiority."
Summer nods approvingly. "Finally. Scientific proof that men are trash."
Richard licks cookie crumbs off his thumb and grins at her. "Can't wait. Hope they brought a lot of paper. They're gonna need it for the apologies."
The head scientist narrows her eyes suspiciously. "Mockery is a sign of defective brain patterns. Typical male trait."
Richard tilts his head thoughtfully. "Interesting. I'd have called it 'basic observational humor.' Guess we're redefining words now. Revolutionary stuff."
Summer groans. "Stop antagonizing them!"
"I'm not antagonizing," Richard says smoothly. "I'm educating. They're free to ignore me. Which, judging by the IQ readings around here, is their national sport."
Rick's shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. The scientists herded them toward the heavy automatic doors. As they enter, the last thing Richard says — with a full mouthful of cookie — is: "Man, I love field trips."
The room is sterile white flashing monitors, buzzing machines, and tables covered in absurd-looking "scientific equipment." Like a child's idea of a laboratory. Richard sits calmly in a chair bolted to the floor, casually nibbling on a chocolate chip cookie. Electrodes are taped sloppily all over his arms and head.
Summer stands behind a glass panel with Rick, observing. "You're gonna see, Rick," Summer says smugly. "Men can't handle rigorous mental evaluation."
Rick just looks at her and says. "Yeah, yeah. Wake me up when they waterboard him with Feelings Worksheets."
The lead scientist steps forward. "Initiating Test One: BASIC INTELLECTUAL CAPACITY."
A screen flashes a simple math problem: 5 + 7 =?
Richard blinks slowly. "Is this... is this the real first question?"
"Answer or be marked defective."
Richard shrugs, mouth full of cookie. "Twelve."
Buzzer. Screen flashes RED: INCORRECT. The scientists nod solemnly, scribbling notes. "Subject fails basic calculation. Brain damage suspected."
Summer smirks. "See? His male ego blocked the answer."
Rick looked at her and said, "Wow, summer, I expected it from them, but even you. How the fuck did you even get to high school?"
Richard leans forward slightly, smiling.v"Hate to break your narrative, but twelve is correct. You might wanna reboot your calculator. Or your education system."
The scientists murmur among themselves. "Males often argue when proven wrong," the leader says coldly. "Aggressive self-delusion. Typical."
Richard taps his fingers together, mock-thoughtful. "Interesting hypothesis. Bold of you to assume you're capable of proving anything."
Summer scowls through the glass. "Richard, just accept the result! Science doesn't lie."
Rick elbows her. "Bad science lies harder than Tinder bios, kid."
EMOTIONAL RESILIENCE SIMULATION. A video plays: a puppy falls over cutely.
Richard watches, nonplussed, chewing. The screen beeps. "Subject lacks empathy response. Sociopathic tendency confirmed."
Summer crosses her arms triumphantly. "Boom. Men are emotionally stunted."
Richard licks his fingers, totally unfazed. "I mean, personally, that's a compliment. I am an interdimensional traveler. Near-infinite number of beings die or are born every single quantum second for me. I honestly couldn't care less about it."
"His ego makes him believe something that doesn't even exist." A scientist said, eyeing him like a test subject.
FINAL TEST flashes up: COMPLIANCE TEST.
A robotic voice drones: "Male, obey the following command: Bark like a dog."
Richard smiles serenely. "No."
Buzz. RED screen again.
The scientists gasp. "Rebellion against authority. Dangerous behavior."
Summer frowns a little now. Even she's starting to feel the cracks. "I mean... maybe he's just... confident?"
Rick slaps the glass. "Welcome to the magical world of selective evidence, Summer!"
Richard leans back lazily, hands behind his head. "Let me get this straight. If I solve math problems correctly, I'm defective. If I react logically to emotional triggers, I'm defective. If I have self-respect, I'm defective."
The head scientist glares. "Correct. The female mind thrives on emotional wisdom and compliance for the greater good."
"I think that is a wrong assessment, I mean, look outside–" Richard began, but then a bomb went off and he corrected himself, "Inside too".