ANARCHY IS AFOOT ~ Chinks in the Armor of Gor
Olni River – Saleria
ANARCHY IS AFOOT ~ Chinks in the Armor of Gor
By Teal Razor, slave of Captain Siri Emerald Jr., Olni
I am almost finished telling you the story of my landing on Gor and the Masters that have populated my life. But, I have to stop a moment with that narrative because I was much disturbed this week by the activities I was witness to. These happenings were clearly the avant garde of creeping anarchy.
One of the treasured feelings I have since arriving on Gor is the pecking order of caste’s and the place of slaves in all this. The world I came from permitted migrations across class structure. Sometimes this was for the good as when an uneducated person crosses into the dominion of the educated. But these migrations can have a negative side as when a person lies their way into a situation that is over their heads. These arrivistes lay waste the class that they are pushing themselves into. They cause small anarchies which are observed and mostly followed by those who lack morals, scruples, and logic. I am saddened that these anarchists are becoming rampant on Gor and no one is there to stop them.
I witnessed this week a so-called free woman arrive at the gates, ask for entrance and then run around the commons like a vulo with its head cut off. It was strange since this so-called free woman had been slave just a short time ago. Her collar was removed for no good reason and she left the city that freed her and travelled to parts west and north. This woman arrived unescorted. She was closely questioned by two warriors who informed her that she was begging to be collared. They demanded her manumission papers, the whereabouts of her escort, and the reason why she was darkening the door of the city once more. Her answers were none too convincing. The Warriors threatened her with a lockup in the kennels. They were within their total right. All this was as it should be according to the great historian of Gor, Master Norman. The anarchy appeared in the form of a couple of free men who outright told the warriors that they were incorrect. It was a face palming moment for me but thankfully the warriors stood their ground.
Anarchy of course means disorder due to the absence or the non recognition of authority. In its simple form it means, do what you want, do what you feel and to hell with the consequences because, guess what, there are none.
Well, the lady in question had to produce her manumission papers which appeared forged but were accepted by the magistrate.
There were other moments when I saw the planet’s free espousing party lines that had no basis in fact. There was an incident where a free man was questioning a slave about her mischief. She traded jibes with the free male as if he was a street vendor. If that wasn’t bad enough, a newly minted slave freshly arrived from Earth, told the free man off. She said that he had no right to whip the mischievous slave and proclaimed this loudly. In the Gor that I have previously known, both those slaves would have been whipped publically. If they chose to commit a second offense like that to a free, they would have been impaled.
The free man reluctantly whipped one slave and used strong speech on the other. I expected him to say to them, “Go and sin no more,” and give them passes to a dinner out and a show.
This little travesty was also witnessed by a thrall who definitely looked strange. Looking at him you would have thought that he should have been quarantined for he looked like the Bazi Plague had taken over his body. This poor unfortunate had blue hair and the spots of a Earth leopard painted on his body. We know from the Master Historian that Goreans did not have blue hair nor did they have tattoo’s scattered all over their body. He definitely had crawled out from a rock and snuck by the powers that be to sleaze around the city.
Awhile back I recounted this nightmare I had whilst I slept. It bears repeating here. In this nightmare, I “saw” the commons area peopled with slave and free. The free women were without veils and their beautiful robes of concealment turned into wispy skirts that revealed their naked pudenda’s as they sat with their thighs spread open on cushions. Their bodices had disappeared and in their place was transparent cloth straining to cover breasts that clearly were exposed. The nightmare grew darker still as slaves, all carrying weapons, sullenly went about their tasks standing over and looking down on the free insulting them as they offered their service. I suspected that the male slaves were actually admiring the breasts of the free women, unrestrained and bouncing free.
Also in that dream, over at the gates, warriors were standing. I felt comforted at their sight until I got closer and the sight made my jaw drop. It was hard to discern the sex of the warriors at first but it became evident that they were all women! Their legs were hairy, their underarms doubly so, and they stood around talking about gate admittance procedures scratching their privates and passing gas. One of these freaks was being referred to as COMMANDER. For all their posturing they were poor imitations of men. I had the feeling though that I might be able to “take” them down in battle.
In the dream I walked back to the commons hoping to find a change in the atmosphere. It had become worse. The free women were ordering the free men around. I heard one yell at her male companion, “What a poor excuse for a companion you are. You can’t satisfy your slave and you certainly have problems maintaining an erect member with me. Worthless mul.” I looked on as the man hung his head and my heart went out to him. Oh, and it did get worse from here…
As I “looked” upon the commons in my nightmare who should appear but myself! I was horrible to behold. I stood clothed in black leather with my feet encased in stilettos. They were the kind of foot coverings that the men of earth referred to as “knock-me-down-and-fornicate-with-me” shoes. It was a beastly sight, even for THIS beast. The dream-state me was brandishing a rather long sword, a bow with a quiver full of arrows and daggers inserted throughout my hair. I looked like a cross between a medusa and an “über” panther. And talk about rude! I was shouting from the kitchen to a Mistress. “What the blazes do you want now Mistress Tam? More fookin’ chocolate? Get off your fat ass and get it yourself. Can’t you see I have my mouth full of your companions baby maker?”
The strident sounds emitting from my cruelly twisted lips thankfully woke me up with a start.
Anarchy is hard to arrest. It grows, watered by self deception and ignorance. I was thinking that if Gor were to have another caste created it would be the “Watcher” caste. These cast members would have the vast knowledge of the Master Historian’s Scrolls. Their knowledge would be different from scribes and magistrates as their sole purpose would be to take care of the harebrained comments by those who have never studied the scrolls. This “Watcher” caste would have their own meetings in their own cities and Gor wide conventions where the asinine mouthing’s of Goreans who invent their own truth are aired in public and analyzed.
This, of course, will never take place as most would say, who would “watch” the “watchers”? I leave you with that for the moment and retire to the commons area to find everything in its place for now. I will go back to a Gor where gracious and obedient slaves pleasantly perform their tasks of serving the free. Where concealed and thankful free ladies sip tea in the afternoon. Where handsome and protective Masters oversee the beauty around them and swear silently to protect this way of life. All is right with the world for at least another ahn.
From the NEW VOICE OF GOR v.4 Issue 179