Darkness cradled Andrew in its warm, shapeless embrace. No light penetrated this void, no sound disturbed its silence. Time stretched meaninglessly as he floated, suspended in nothingness.
Knowledge filled his mind like scattered puzzle pieces with no picture to form. He understood complex concepts—mathematics, language, history—yet couldn't recall learning them. His identity remained a blank canvas save for a single word: Andrew. That was his name. The only certainty in this sensory deprivation.
Sometimes the darkness shifted. Gentle pressure surrounded him, a rhythmic swooshing sound occasionally breaking through his isolation. The movements followed no pattern he recognized. Physics equations drifted through his thoughts, but they offered no explanation for his circumstances.
His world contracted suddenly. Pressure squeezed from all sides. The comfortable void became a crushing tunnel.
Panic flooded Andrew's consciousness. The darkness no longer felt safe but suffocating. His body—he realized he had a body—twisted beyond his control. The pressure intensified, pushing him toward something unknown.
A voice penetrated his isolation. The words were muffled, incomprehensible, but definitely human. Female. The realization sparked confusion. How did he know what female sounded like when he couldn't remember experiencing sound before?
Light burned against his eyelids—eyelids he hadn't known existed until that moment. Cold air rushed against his skin. The pressure released, and gravity took hold. Hands—large, foreign hands—gripped him.
Andrew's lungs expanded for what felt like the first time. Air rushed in, and a cry erupted from his throat. The sound surprised him. Had he made that noise?
Voices surrounded him now. Multiple people speaking a language his mind identified as modified English. He understood it perfectly despite having no memory of learning it.
"It's a boy! Such a rarity! Congratulations!" someone announced.
A woman's exhausted voice responded, "Let me see him."
Andrew felt himself transferred to another set of arms. Warmth pressed against his cheek. A heartbeat thumped steadily beneath his ear. The rhythm familiar somehow.
His eyes opened slightly, the harsh light painful after such prolonged darkness. Blurry shapes and colors swirled above him. A face gradually came into focus—dark skin glistening with perspiration, eyes filled with tears and wonder.
"Andrew," she whispered. "My son."
Son? The word triggered a cascade of realizations. The darkness had been a womb. This woman was his mother. He had been... born?
That made no sense. He possessed knowledge of quantum physics, world geography, and chemical compounds. He understood economic principles and could name the elements of the periodic table. These weren't the thoughts of a newborn.
Yet his body was unmistakably infant-sized. His limbs responded with uncoordinated jerks when he attempted movement. His vision remained unfocused despite his efforts to see clearly.
"He looks so alert," another voice commented. "Look at those eyes—so aware for a newborn."
Andrew wanted to speak, to ask questions, to understand what had happened to him. But his mouth and throat wouldn't cooperate. Only infantile sounds emerged.
The woman—his mother—pressed her lips against his forehead. "Welcome to the world, little one."
Andrew tried again to speak, managing only a soft coo. His mother smiled, interpreting it as contentment rather than frustration.
Trapped in an infant's body with an adult's mind, Andrew could only observe as his new life began.
Andrew's infant eyes struggled to focus on the world around him. Every face that leaned over him belonged to a woman. Doctors, nurses, attendants—all female. Their expressions when they announced "It's a boy!" carried a reverence that bewildered him.
"Eva, you're blessed," a white-coated doctor said, placing a hand on his mother's shoulder. "A male child. The Matriarchy will want to be informed immediately."
Eva cradled Andrew against her bare skin. She wore only a simple band of fabric across her chest, her dark skin glistening with sweat from labor. "Let me have these first hours with him before the officials come."
The doctor nodded sympathetically. "Of course. The birth registration can wait until morning."
As the medical staff filtered out of the birthing room, Andrew's confused mind raced. Matriarchy? Officials? Registration? The terms carried implications he understood conceptually but couldn't reconcile with his scattered knowledge of social structures.
Through the large open windows, warm breeze carried unfamiliar scents—earthy, floral, and rich. Outside, lush greenery swayed against a brilliant blue sky. Birds with vibrant plumage swooped past. Andrew's adult knowledge identified the setting as tropical, likely African based on the vegetation patterns and the phenotypical features of his mother and the medical staff.
A young woman entered, wearing nothing but a wrap around her hips. She carried a tray of fruits and approached Eva's bedside.
"Sister, you've done it," she whispered, setting down the tray and touching Eva's face with tenderness. "A boy. They're saying it's a boy."
Eva nodded, tears streaming. "Amara, I didn't dare hope."
Amara glanced around nervously before leaning closer. "The Council will want him for Central Training. You know this."
"Not yet," Eva said firmly, her arms tightening around Andrew. "He's mine for now."
Andrew listened, cataloging every word. Central Training. Council. These women spoke as though males were precious commodities, resources to be allocated rather than equal members of society.
Another woman entered—older, her hair wrapped in colorful fabric, her body adorned with intricate beaded jewelry that hung from her neck and waist. Unlike the others who wore minimal practical clothing in the heat, her attire suggested authority or ceremonial significance.
"The stars favored you, Eva," the elder said, approaching slowly. "I felt it when you conceived. Something special in your womb."
Eva lowered her eyes respectfully. "Elder Nuru, I didn't expect you so soon."
"Word travels fast when a boy is born," Elder Nuru replied, her eyes fixed on Andrew. "Especially to a woman of your lineage."
Andrew felt the elder's fingers—surprisingly cool—touch his forehead. He wanted to recoil but had no control over his infant body.
"Unusual," Elder Nuru murmured. "His eyes hold wisdom."
Eva tensed. "What do you mean?"
"Perhaps nothing." The elder straightened. "Prepare yourself, Eva. By law, all male children must be registered with the Matriarchy within three days. They'll send representatives."
After the elder departed, Eva carried Andrew to the window. Outside, a settlement sprawled beneath them—structures built into massive trees, connected by swinging bridges, all nestled within a verdant landscape that stretched toward distant mountains.
"My son," Eva whispered, "you've come at a difficult time. Men have become so rare since the Collapse."
Andrew stared up at his mother, trapped in his helpless body, trying to comprehend this world where his gender made him a rarity, a commodity, something to be controlled by a system he didn't understand.
Elder Nuru settled herself on a woven chair beside Eva's bed, her beaded jewelry clinking softly with each movement. Andrew remained alert in his mother's arms, his infant eyes masking the adult mind behind them.
"The Matriarchy will send collectors," Elder Nuru said, her voice low. "They always do when a male child is born."
Amara paced near the window, her bare feet silent on the polished wooden floor. "Can't we hide him? Just for a while?"
"And risk the penalties?" Elder Nuru shook her head. "No community has successfully hidden a male child in three generations."
Eva stroked Andrew's cheek with her thumb. "How long will I have with him?"
"If we're fortunate, perhaps until his fifth year. Men born rate worsens with each passing season."
Andrew absorbed every word, piecing together this strange reality. The women spoke as if discussing a precious natural resource rather than a person.
"The ancient texts speak of a time when men were as common as women," Amara said, pausing to pluck a fruit from the tray. "Is that true, Elder?"
Elder Nuru nodded, her eyes distant. "Before the Collapse, yes. The old world—had equal numbers."
"Nearly five million years have passed since then," Elder Nuru continued. "The weapons they unleashed damaged more than cities and land. They broke something fundamental in human genetics."
Eva clutched Andrew tighter. "One male born for every hundred thousand females, and that ratio worsens each generation."
"The last male born in Vavilon was a year ago," Amara added. "He was taken to the Central Authority when he turned four."
Andrew struggled to comprehend the implications. Five millions years had passed since what he recognized as "now." Some catastrophic event—this "Collapse" they referenced—had fundamentally altered human reproduction. Men had become evolutionary dead ends, their genetic material corrupted beyond natural repair.
"What puzzles me," Elder Nuru said, leaning closer to examine Andrew, "is how we've regressed so far technologically while advancing in other ways."
"The Knowledge Purge," Eva replied. "The Matriarchy teaches that technology brought the Collapse, so they restricted what could be preserved."
Andrew's gaze darted between the women. The world outside the window showed a blend of primitive and advanced design—structures that worked with nature rather than imposing upon it, but no evidence of electronics or machines.
"Our mothers' mothers believed they could repair the genetic damage," Elder Nuru sighed. "But each generation of scientists had fewer resources, less preserved knowledge."
Amara placed a protective hand on Eva's shoulder. "And fewer men to continue the species."
"The irony doesn't escape me," Eva said bitterly. "Men created the weapons that corrupted their own genetic legacy, and now women guard what few remain like treasures."
Elder Nuru rose slowly. "The male children are more than treasures, Eva. They're the future of humanity itself. Without them, we face extinction within the next century."
The weight of history—both past and future—pressed upon Andrew. He understood now why his birth had caused such commotion. He wasn't just a rarity; he represented hope against a looming extinction event.
"Rest now," Elder Nuru told Eva. "I'll return tomorrow to help prepare for the registration. The Matriarchy officials will want to verify his health and genetic viability."
As the elder departed, Eva cradled Andrew against her chest, her heartbeat strong against his tiny form.
"My son," she whispered, "what strange world have you been born into, right?"
Strange indeed, Andrew thought, unable to express the chaos in his mind. A world five million years in the future, regressed technologically yet advanced in other ways, facing extinction because of what his own era had apparently unleashed.