"The Colony" by Fiona Wilde is completed. It is eleven chapters long, and can be read in its entirety in our members' area.
Chapter One
They were forty couples there that first day, all seated at lab tables in the classroom of an old school building turned administrative offices of Solutions, Inc. Light came through high, narrow windows.
Carmen looked down at the computer-generated label on the manila envelope in front of her. “Albright, Roger and Carmen” it read. They’d been instructed not to open the folder containing the contract and instructions until the supervisor, Mr. Hope, arrived. She looked at her watch. He was ten minutes late.
Carmen looked back at the folder and then glanced at the other couples who were sitting and quietly chatting either amongst themselves or with one another. To her left, Roger was checking messages on his phone.
She scowled, wishing she’d never married a workaholic. Not that it mattered. Since the government moratorium on divorces under the Family Preservation Act, there was no way out for anyone unless they could prove grave abuse.
The legislation had been prompted by the 93 percent divorce rate that followed stress of an economic collapse. National leaders, fearful that the collapse of the family would be the end of the nation decided to take radical measure of forcing couples to stay together.
An outcry resulted, with civil rights leaders crying foul. But still, even public opinion indicated that something had to be done, so the new law was implemented. Divorce was no longer allowed, but the measure came with funding to study and promote a new and workable model of marriage that would make the unions stronger.
Couples on the brink of divorce were given financial incentives to enter experimental “colonies,” each devoted to promoting a different model of marriage ranging from ultra-traditional to “experimental” models rumored to include polyandry and polygamy. Couples were given psychological screenings to best match them to the small colonies being set up in various communities across the nation. The idea was to redefine marriage under broader terms and provide pre-screening to young adults to steer them towards the kind of unions that would last a lifetime.
“You aren’t supposed to open that.” Roger glanced over at her as he texted. “We’re supposed to wait, remember?”
She frowned and picked up the envelope. “That Hope guy is late,” she said. “Besides, aren’t you the least bit curious?”
Carmen undid the seal and inverted the envelope, shaking it until the contents fell out on the desk. Around her, she could hear the whispers of the other couples who were watching and no doubt wondering if they should follow suit. There was a sense of restlessness in the room was almost palpable by this point. Carmen was the only one who had given in to it and all eyes were on her to see what she’d discovered.
But they didn’t get the chance. The door opened just as Carmen was starting to leaf through the papers and a tall, broad-shouldered man with close-cropped black hair walked into the room. He wore a dark blue suit and moved with an air of confidence and purpose.
Carmen didn’t know why, but knew in an instant that she did not like him. Something about him – perhaps his officious g-man look - made her nervous. Gathering the papers, she put them under the envelope and rested her hands on top.
“Good afternoon.” He had a speakers voice, naturally deep and clear. He walked the chalkboard and wrote his name – Mr. Derek Hope – on the chalkboard before turning back to face the couples.
“I apologize for being late but I was in a meeting that ran later than I expected.” He tossed the chalk in the tray and turned back the group, smiling for the first time. “It’s good to see you all here. I trust each couple has their unopened information packet in front of them.”
He began to walk around from table to table, nodding in approval as he made note of the envelopes. But when he got to the Albright’s table Derek Hope stopped, his eyes fixed on the envelope resting atop the contents.
He glanced down at the label. “You’re the Albrights, correct?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“This envelope,” he said, nodding toward her desk. “Which one of you opened it?”
“I didn’t. It was her.” Roger pointed at Carmen, who looked at him with undisguised disgust as the other couples tittered in laughter. But their laughter fell silent when Mr. Hope shot them all a harsh look.
“The instructions were specific,” he said softly, turning back to the couple. “The envelopes were to remained closed until you were told to open them.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Carmen said. “I didn’t look at them, so why are you making such a big deal out of it?”
Hope didn’t immediately answer. Instead he stood there as if assessing her defiant gaze and the stubborn set of her jaw.
“I’m making a big deal out of it because it is a big deal, Mrs. Albright. Disobedience should always be a big deal.” He turned. “Both of you, come with me.”
Carmen and Roger stood and walked to the front of the room. As they passed Suzy, one of the women Carmen had briefly conversed with in the hallway, she shook her finger in mock disapproval and Carmen bit her lip to keep from laughing.
At the front of the room, Mr. Hope turned to face them.
“I suppose you think this is a big joke, Mrs. Albright, but it’s not. Had you gotten a chance to look in the packet you’d have discovered that after signing a contract agreeing to participate in the colony of the government’s choosing you were selected for a very unusual one based on a strong patriarchal model.”
“Patriarchal?” Carmen asked over murmurs coming from the other participants.
“Yes, patriarchal.” Derek Hope turned and wrote the word on the board. “As in male-led. Traditional.” He wrote those things on the board, too, underlining them as he went.
“And strictly enforced.” He wrote the last three words in capital letters before putting the chalk back in the tray.
Everyone was quiet now.
“What?” he asked. “You think the time for that kind of model has passed? Hmm?”
Mr. Hope looked around the classroom. “The divorce rate is what? Above 90 percent? Isn’t that why you’re all here, because the happy marriage you envisioned has degenerated into some sort of power play?”
He wheeled around now to face the Albrights. “Let me guess, Mrs. Albright. In the case of your marriage you see your husband as no longer worthy of your respect, am I right?”
Carmen didn’t know how to answer. It irritated her to be accused of something that – while essentially true – she didn’t want to admit to other people.
She crossed her arms defensively. “This isn’t the 1800’s,” she said. “Today men and women are equal.”
Mr. Hope shook his head. “Not in this colony,” he said. “You’re right. It’s not the 1800’s. It’s 2020. But that doesn’t mean the old-fashioned concepts that work aren’t worth another try.”
Carmen opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “You signed a contract, remember? And under the terms of that contract you will not only be required to respect your husband, but to obey him as the ultimate authority.”
She flushed, angry. “Well I’ve got news for you, Mr. Hope. Roger isn’t an authoritative man.”
“And I’ve got new for you, Mrs. Albright. He’ll learn to be, and until he is you’ll learn to respect another authority – mine.”
He grabbed her so fast that Carmen had not time to process what was happening until he had bent her over the desk. She tried to rise, but the hand pressing down on her back prevented her from doing so. From the corner of her eye she could see Mr. Hope reach for a heavy yardstick leaning against the desk.
Carmen gasped as he raised it, and turned her head to look at her husband. “Roger, help me! Don’t just stand there, goddamnit! Make this asshole let me go!”
Mr. Hope had the yardstick raised and was now, too, looking at Roger who stood watching as if in shock.
“Is that how she always talks to you?” He asked. “I’d be willing to bet it is.” He looked at the other men in the room. “I’ll bet it’s how all your wives talk to you. And I bet each time they do, it makes you feel a little more powerless, a little less like a man.”
He looked back at Roger. “It doesn’t have to be that way for you or any of the men here. You don’t have to put up with it. No one is suggesting that you truly hurt your wife, but down deep don’t tell me you haven’t thought of doing this to her yourself.”
He held out the yardstick to Roger. “Would you like to finally take control of your wife, your marriage, your life?”
“Don’t you dare, Roger!” Carmen was kicking now, trying to hit Mr. Hope with her foot. But he was to far away and just ignored her.
“Roger, do you hear me?” Carmen cried. “You stop this son-of-a-bitch now. Contract or no, we are out of here! This was a stupid fucking idea in the first place. If you had just listened to me you would have known that!!”
But Roger didn’t move. Instead he stood there, uncertain of what to do, his eyes conveying what he was afraid to say within Carmens’ earshot.
Mr. Hope looked at him and gave a small grin. “You’re not ready,” he said. “Not yet. But in the meantime, this has to be done.”
He raised the yardstick and brought it down with a loud “Thwack!” on the seat of Carmen’s jeans, causing her to cry out in pain and involuntarily attempt to buck herself off the desk. But his grip was too firm. From around the room, the sound of the other women gasping and protesting could be heard. Two of them even rose to leave, but their husband’s stayed their arms and reminded them that they were contractually bound to abide by whatever methods the organizers deemed necessary to carry out the experiment.
“Help me, Roger!” Carmen cried again as the yardstick descended a second time, leaving a second burning line in its wake. But when she looked at him, her husband’s face was a mixture of sympathy, confusion and uncertainty of what he should do.
“Will you follow orders from now on, young lady?”
It took Carmen a moment to realize that Mr. Hope was addressing her and when she did the indignity of her situation eclipsed the pain she felt.
“Fuck you, asshole!” she said, and was rewarded for the outburst with five rapid-fire blows laid directly across the lowest part of her buttocks. What started as angry cries now became involuntary wails as the pain blossomed across her sit-spot. Carmen began to kick her legs and struggle to escape, but she was no match for the big man whose determination to punish her eclipsed her strength to escape.
He put the question to her again, his tone deceptively calm.
Carmen refused to answer, and instead cleared the desk of the books and papers with one violent sweep of her arm.
Mr. Hope responded by pushing her forward, catching her legs with his own and peppering her bottom unceasingly with whacks from the heavy yardstick until Carmen became blinded by pain that flashed white-hot before her eyes. Her sobs were coming in heavy, heaving gasps now and between them she could hear some of the other women crying, too, and asking their husbands to take them out, that coming here had been a terrible mistake.
She heard him ask the question a third time: “Will you follow orders from now on, young lady?” And she knew the only way to stop the assault was to tell this man what she wanted to hear.
“Yes!” she screamed. “Yes!”
“Yes, what?” he asked, bringing the yard stick across her thighs.
Carmen looked back at him, helplessly, wondering what he wanted and when she saw his eyes knew instantly what he wanted.
“Yes sir!” she cried. “Yes sir, I promise I’ll listen.”
Mr. Hope stopped spanking her and let her go. Carmen slid to the floor and into Roger’s arms. She looked up at him, surprised that he’d been there to catch her. The feeling of betrayal she felt was palpable, and she wondered in the back of her pain-wracked mind what they had gotten themselves into, and how she was supposed to ever learn to respect a man who could stand by and watch a total stranger beat his wife.
Carmen limped back to her seat with her husband’s help. On the way, the other wives looked at her, their eyes terrified while their husbands’ glances indicated a sort of curious fascination.
“So this was our first lesson,” Mr. Hope was saying. “What you just saw was a typical couple, behaving in a typical fashion. Both Mr. and Mrs. Albright are shining examples of just what is wrong with today’s couples.”
Carmen looked up to see her husband red-faced with embarrassment as Mr. Hope continued his explanation.
“In Carmen Albright we have a woman who has effectively emasculated her husband, a woman who reminds him at every turn that she doesn’t recognize – let alone respect – his authority. So when she needs him to be her champion - to save her from some threat – even one she’s brought on herself - the doubt she’s instilled in him is so strong that he cannot rise to the occasion. Why? Because he doubts his own masculinity, his own judgement, his own ability to protect her. After all, hasn’t she told him over and over she doesn’t need his help. Maybe she’s even belittled him on those occasions when he did try to help. The result: She can no longer respect him, because he no longer respects himself. Once a wife gives up on a man, he gives up on himself. And that, my friends, is the beginning of the end of a marriage.”
The room was quiet now, with some of the men now daring to nod and the women looking down at the table in front of them.
“So what you’re saying is that we are supposed to just let our husbands beat us and everything will be wonderful again?”
Mr. Hope looked at a seating chart he’d picked up off the floor. “Suzy Whitaker, right?”
She nodded.
“No. It’s not that simple. If it were then relationships where men were abusive would be solid and stable. We all know that’s not true because what we’re talking about here isn’t abuse of wives but a system that employs controlled, warranted correction of misbehavior. The proper term is Domestic Discipline.”
He turned around and wrote the words on the board.
“There are no beatings,” he said. “But the application of a husband’s hand, paddle or ruler on the deserving wife’s bottom is highly encouraged. And in the case of this colony, required. Unless, of course you men would like me or one of my associates to do what you cannot.”
Several men, also in blue suits, walked into the room now to flank Mr. Hope. Each one looked humorless and stern, like secret service agents. The women gasped and the men began to murmur among themselves.
Mr. Hope looked out at the couples. “You may now open your packets.”
The sound of seals tearing filled the room and Roger Albright reached over and took the papers from under the already-opened envelope. As he did, Carmen shot him a hurt look and was further hurt when he appeared to ignore her.
Her mind raced back to all the times when she did just what Mr. Hope had accused her and the other women of doing. Like the time they’d heard a strange noise outside and Roger had gotten up and was preparing to go outside with a baseball bat.
“Don’t be a fool,” she’d said, reaching for the phone. “I’ll call the police. If you go out there you’re liable to get yourself killed.” Even simple things like car repairs she no longer trusted to him.
“It’s just easier to drop it off at the shop,” she’d say. “They’ll do a better job of it, anyway.”
Carmen remembered earlier in their marriage, when he had tried to take control. When he did, she’d lecture him on feminism. Or she’d accuse him of ignorance, reminding him that she was the one with the Masters Degree.
Ironically, it had been Roger’s toughness that had attracted her. He’d been a rugby player at the college they’d both attended, and while she’d never been a rugby fan that had not stopped her for showing up to watch him play. Their first kiss had been initiated by him, and that had thrilled her. He was often dominant in bed, and she loved that. But outside the bedroom she insisted on her own way and made his life hell if he didn’t give it to her.
But still…did anyone really think this was the solution?
Around her most of the couples were engaged in heated discussions amongst themselves, with only a few seeming to be pondering what they’d been told in a rational manner. But she couldn’t even bring herself to look at Roger.
“Aren’t you going to at least apologize?” she finally whispered.
“For what?” he asked. “You opened the envelope. I told you not to.”
Carmen looked at him, stunned.
“You really think what he did to me was all right?”
Roger raised his eyes to her. “To tell you the truth, Carmen, I don’t know what to think. Let me remind you that signing the contract to participate in this little experiment was also your idea. In fact, you badgered me until I agreed.”
Carmen grew quiet. It was an accurate statement. When she’d seen the ad, she’d been immediately attracted by the amount of money. Twenty-five grand would pay off the credit card debt she’d run up despite Roger’s warning that the economy was growing worse by the day.
“It’s just a few months,” she said. “You can continue your job, I can continue to freelance. All we have to do is participate in some stupid colony in the burbs. What can it hurt?”
She’d kept on until she relented and what had it gotten her: punished like a schoolgirl by some government brute while 78 other strangers watched her husband stand to the side and let it happen.
Carmen wiped a tear away from her face. “You didn’t have to sign it,” she said.
“I did it to shut you up,” Roger said. “I do a lot of things to shut you up, which is why I’m thinking this man may actually have a point.”
Carmen was about to ask him how he could say that, but he’d looked away and was studying the other papers in the packet. The contract lay in front of her and for a moment she considered standing and ripping it apart in front of Mr. Hope’s face, but realized it was just a copy. The original was locked away somewhere in a government vault, she was sure, and the terms of violating it would be dire. Instead of gaining $25,000 they’d be required to pay fines and penalties triple that amount.
Mr. Hope was speaking again and Carmen quickly wiped her eyes again with the handkerchief Roger slipped her before reluctantly turning her gaze back to the front of the room.
“Until the end of this experiment, half of you will be living half the time where you are in your own communities and the other half will be living in a planned community here in Phoenix – a community known as Woodsdale. Halfway through, that will be reversed, with the couples who stayed in their own homes moving to Woodsdale and vice versa. The intention is to track whether supportive communities enable success of this type of dynamic, and whether it can be maintained among the influence of couples who don’t live that way.”
A hand went up.
“Yes?”
A portly man towards the back of the room stood. “From what I read of the literature we are required to keep our wives in line, and we’ll be monitored to that end. But if we’re in regular communities, aren’t we at risk of being turned into he police for abuse?”
“No,” Mr. Hope said. “Police are being educated about our experiment and others and are aware of which households will be employing domestic discipline.”
“But won’t that open the door for real abuse to be ignored?” a woman asked.
“In a genuine domestic discipline relationship, there is not abuse,” Mr. Hope said. “Nothing beyond a red or sore bottom or a soaped mouth will be tolerated.”
Carmen, who had finally stopped sniffling, debated speaking up but forced herself to do so now.
“So what will the criteria for success be,” she asked, her voice dripping with resentment. “Obedient Stepford Wives too afraid of being spanked like children to disobey?”
“Carmen…,” Roger began, but she ignored him.
Mr. Hope smiled. “No, Mrs. Albright,” he said. “Respect will be defined as healthy households where the wives submit to their husbands not more from respect than fear. You and the other women here seem to be under the mistaken impression that this lifestyle will only require sacrifice from the women. But be advised that your husbands will be under far greater scrutiny. Your actions will be seen as a direct reflection of their strength and character as men.”
“No one will blame a woman for defying a man who goes carousing with other females, spends all his time at the bar or regularly ignores her needs. The role of a husband in a relationship like this is not just to lead, but to inspire.”
He looked at the men. “So if you guys think this means you can sit back and be king of the castle, you’re mistaken. This lifestyle will test you as much as it tests your wives, and as I noted earlier, if you are unwilling or unable to control your females then you’ll be forced to watch another, more capable man to do what you cannot.”
A quiet murmur rose from the crowd, and Carmen and Roger could feel the eyes of the other couples on them. Roger’s face was red with shame, and Carmen couldn’t decide whether to pity him or not. Mr. Hope had clearly used him as an example of a man who couldn’t control his wife, and everyone in the room had seen the results of that – had watched him standing there in quiet confusion as a man he’d never met spanked his wife of ten years to tears.
“So now what?” another man asked.
“Now you will either go back to your own homes or look in your packets and find a map to your new, temporary lodgings in Woodsdale.”
There was a rustling of papers as the couples began to check to see whether or not they’d be assigned to another home. Carmen saw Roger pull a map from the stack with a house – presumably- their house, outlined in red.
She looked away. She did not want to go. She did not want to leave her home. She did not want to participate in this stupid experiment. She wanted to stand up and tell Mr. Hope to go to hell, that he and the government were full of shit and that she’d made a huge mistake that she had no intention of continuing. But she knew she could not and blinked back the new tears that pricked the back of her eyelids.
Like it or not, she’d been the one who’d insisted they sign on the dotted line, just as Roger had said. She’d thought she’d known everything, but she’d been wrong. And now she was paying the price.
