The man was out at a business establishment with his peers and associates, imbibing liquid refreshment and debating which comestibles were best to ingest.
Then he saw the female. Even from across the room, he could see that it looked fertile. It had hair protruding on top of its scalp, the appropriate location, and was binocular and ambulatory. It looked as though it contained many fertilizable eggs. Seeing it, he had one immediate thought: He had better tell it about the Great Replacement Theory so that it would understand how imperative it was to combine their genetic material. He also would be sure to state that it reminded him of a beauty pageant contestant (it would understand that this was not demeaning, but the only meaningful compliment it was possible to bestow on a woman).
Its eyes were difficult to read, unlike Project 2025, which unwisely had been made available online, but he thought he saw sexual receptivity there.
“Now that one looks as though it contains many high-quality eggs,” he observed to one of his associates, who said “Yes!” enthusiastically, as though someone had just proposed a national abortion ban to him. “Like a carton of Eggland’s Best,” the man added, to show that he was one of the people.
“With that female’s assistance, in a just system, you could acquire many more votes,” another of his associates observed.
“After you reproduce together,” a further associate chimed in, “it will be appropriate for it to enter the teaching profession.”
They all nodded. “Not before,” they agreed.
The man had recently visited a purveyor of sweet comestibles where he had made lifelike conversation for several full minutes. Now he produced one of the nourishing spheroids that he had purchased there and contemplated it lovingly, as though it were a book arguing that progressives were Unhumans that he had been asked to blurb.
“Those are popular in Boston,” one of his associates observed, “almost a secular religion there.”
“Secular religion? An appalling contradiction in terms!” the man rebuked him. “If you think religion should be secular, you can go to hell!” (This was the best response to things that other people had not said.)
“They dunk them,” the associate muttered into his beverage.
“Great, great,” the man said, cutting him off. “I will partially ingest this glazed torus,” he said, ”and then I will go and address the female.”
He strode over, taking steps with the bony protrusions that extended from his ankle joints and were encompassed by the tanned carcasses of two deceased mammals.
“It is best for society if I reproduce with you,” he informed the female. “But in your case, in addition to being a duty, it will be a pleasure.”
“Thank you,” said the female of childbearing age. Its epidermis glistened faintly, like the exterior of a fresh can of Diet Mountain Dew. “That’s a very normal compliment, and receiving it has made me feel happy, not threatened.” It is possible that the female looked at him with its face but he was not looking there, because he was carefully evaluating its physical form to develop a keener sense of its level of fertility, a behavior that he knew it would understand if it were a rational being — often more than could be expected of such creatures.
“I excel at compliments,” he said. “My online friends and associates say so to me often.”
“You must have a very high IQ,” the female said, with its mouth. Its teeth looked healthy!
“Almost as high as Peter Thiel’s net worth,” he said. “Before I proceed further with my courtship behaviors, I must inquire: Is a feline a member of your household?” He lowered his voice. “That is, do you now possess, or have you ever possessed, a cat?”
“A witch’s familiar?” said the female, aghast. “No!”
The man exhaled some extra air to demonstrate relief. “That is excellent,” he said, “and I am relieved to hear it. Are there postmenopausal females in your life who can assist in the supervision of offspring, should you produce any?”
The female nodded.
“Splendid!” the man said. “Splendid. Would you care to engage in holy matrimony and then, perhaps, retire to my abode to copulate and increase our household’s number of votes two- or three- or fivefold?”
“Who could say no to such an appealing offer?” the female said.
“Would you care to celebrate this informal commitment by ingesting some of my glazed carbohydrate torus?” the man said, bisecting it, breaking off a segment and holding it out so that the female could seize it.
“Thank you,” said the female. “Chivalry is not dead.”
The man nodded enthusiastically.
“I look forward to copulating with you,” he said to the female. “Family is everything.”
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