Scented: The Status Quo

By Richard E. Bonostro

Scented: The Status Quo is set in a dystopian society where males of the Rune Party depend on female genes to become fully mature intelligent beings. The Mantle, an all-female watchdog group, seeks to usurp political power to even the plain field. The Mantle had long rumored that the Ma’at, an all-powerful woman would emerge to redeem women as rulers once again, but powerful forces amongst the males are determined to maintain the status quo—at all cost.
Scented: The Status Quo establishes the struggle between the sexes in a world where it does matter who you sleep with. Males are born mentally neutered until they are scented by a woman. Parents carefully choose educated women whose DNA will complete the man they have cultivated. Evan Abram is one such man. He soon learns after inheriting his father’s job as Commissioner of Surveyors that his wife, Marla, is an agent for the Mantle. Evan’s career is on the fringes, and an ambitious senator consistently nips at Evan’s heels for the capture of the legendary Ma’at who has been reversing key scentings. Despite these setbacks, Evan rebounds in the arms of his secretary who helps him to regain his confidence. Meanwhile, the ambitious senator launches his secret plan to usurp the two opposing political parties: The Mantle and the Rune.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: Aug 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781735034805

Book preview

Prologue

Agreat deal of new had filled the Abrams’ house: a new sofa, a new dining room table, and a new daughter-in-law, who proved to be a shrewd choice for their son, Evan. Normally, it is the female’s mother who leads them to the room where they will consummate the union. In Marla’s case, her mother had not been part of her life. The only other person she has known that long was Rashika Brentwood, who quietly escorted them to Evan’s bedroom on the second floor under the watchful eyes of their guests. There, Marla was expected to infuse her scent into him on their first coital interaction. The process, which has been necessary for the completion of man, would alter everything in Evan’s brain within minutes.

New acquaintances sought to forge a pari-mutuel alliance that would help them capitalize on all future gains from this union. The moderate house was lavishly decorated to celebrate the occasion. Giddy laughter and congenial conversations echoed loudly in the large foyer that took up most of the first floor of the house.

She’s too fiery to properly adorn his house with tranquility and prosperity, Mr. Abrams protested to his wife and a guest with whom they had been conversing. Besides, we know very little of her sketchy background.

You’ve done a thorough investigation, his wife had replied, and had there been a plot, I’m certain you would have foiled it by now.

Though this may not allay your apprehension, the guest proposed. But, young girls these days are trending this progressive ideology, which, like all fads, die as the reality of adulthood settles in.

Mrs. Abrams, who is always in diplomatic mode, placed a hand on the guest’s arm. Since the heavens have given women intelligent souls, why should they be forbidden to improve them?

Mr. Abrams, who had been steeped in Rune philosophy, felt a moral duty to enlighten his wife on the danger that such thinking foreboded. Because custom and repetition has a greater effect both to increase and diminish our passions, to convert pleasure into pain, and following the will of women would only make us become accustomed to that painful existence again.

In verbalizing this consensual belief, Mr. Abrams had indeed struck a chord in his guest who felt the need to reassure him that such customs would never take root.

If you’ve noticed lately, measures have been proposed to legalize certain botanicals for recreational use, he said while pointing to a group of secretarial trainees. They often get a glimpse, but numbed senses will keep them focused on the clouds, the heavens, and stones however frequently repeated, without ever feeling any aversion.

The bedroom door opened, and the couple emerged as if they had been on some far away excursion. They stood like two statues in the hallway looking down at their admirers. The room resounded loudly with applause. Mr. Abrams received countless pats on the back and other wives surrendered half-hearted hugs to Mrs. Abrams, who smiled to the point of tearing up. Her boy, now a man—a fully functional man of society, enabled to employ the faculties of his mind to its fullest, would be free from the bondage of ignorance. Marla made the same sacrifice she had, as all women do, with little consequence to love.

CHAPTER ONE

The Status Quo

In the year of his Lord, 4891, James prayed for a miracle. He had often heard how generous the new office secretary had been with her love. There was no reason to think she would hold out on him.

So, so what she belonged to another? He would be scented by his own choosing and not by some old maid his parents had bargained.

I can’t! I’m on my cycle. The news made him feel like he had just been in an accident—it mangled his insides.

Why—I mean why can’t we still? Tragedy had beset his face as he moved closer to make his appeal. He smelled like he had been dipped in a tub of pine oil.

Because we’re in the office cafeteria!

Can’t you do something else? he pleaded.

Ok, but not here! She quickly added, Come, we’ll go to the stairwell.

He followed her willingly to her lair. He crashed onto the stair and saw his pants nearly evaporate off him. A sudden rush of cold air then the warmness of all that was good in the universe brought his head flush against a step. His eyes opened and closed uncontrollably. He was certain that the essence of who he was had been inhaled out of him.

His lips had gone dry from all the gasping. He licked them profusely. That only motivated her, and she pushed her head even closer towards his stomach. He had to succumb; her thrusting head insisted it. The agony of defeat had never felt so sweet. This, he reasoned, was worth the risk of becoming an invalid again; the price scented men pay for such indulgences.

She looked down on him as she brought a palm to her face, wiping away the evidence. Then, she straddled him in a kneeling position, tilting his head back, and caressing his cheeks. She leaned in to kiss him but hesitated. He opened his mouth to convey his willingness because deep down he wanted to devour her. She put her lips close to his and drew air from within him. By the time he realized something was very wrong with this encounter, she had already placed a firm hold on his head with her hands. His eyes reddened and the veins on the side of his neck bulged. A hazy mist left him and was pulled into her mouth. He began to gag, but she held him in place to ensure the completion of the redeeming.

James became limp like pasta left too long in water. He was barely able to hold his head straight. His eyes were vacant of any life and his mouth was still open as if mortified by bad news.

Alright, kid. I’ll see you in the heavens. Her exit finale left him speechless.

Marla Abrams had a secret she could not share with anyone. No, not this secret; not even a pretty little liar could be trusted to pretend like they are not aware of it—that her DNA gave her abilities far superior than that of other women. She possessed all the knowledge and skills of Queen Zenobia, Cleopatra, and Nefertiti. She was legend, myth, and yet real. For now, she enjoyed the anonymity of being an unmarked member of the Mantle, but once her training was complete, she would be revealed to the world as the Ma’at.

Everyone in the Metrorail had their faces hidden behind their portable devices, illuminated in intermittent glow from free Wi-Fi sponsors pushing their products. What would it take to fix these broken lives who were unable to prescind from their cellular world? Anything to dull the pain. Sometimes, they inhaled botanicals to soothe the ache of broken promises to a prosperous future that never came.

When there would be nothing really pressing on her mind, she would pretend all the male passengers in the car were surveyors coming for her head. Who would be the first to have their throat cut open? The tall guy on her right, maybe? And the one behind him, she would plunge her blade right through his neck before Stretch could hit the floor. She would plunge her fingers right into the chest of the guy leaning against the door and pry apart his rib cage. She would have to drop most of them with knives to the face. Perhaps she would lob their heads off with her sword that slid in and out of her right arm at will. Evolution afforded her kind the ability to convert organic matter into metal.

It was a chore for her to mask her social apathy when she was close to men. The Rune floated the idea that women were most likely a secondary creation. Since Nature is set on keeping herself balanced, the concept was too logical to ignore. The idea seemed absurd to Marla. Yet, the millions who had resigned to housewife duties, like Evan’s mother, accepted this as the evolutionary gospel.

The Jadda said she was made to heal the world, bring back the balance it so desperately needed. She would be the next Ma’at; an incarnation of cosmic order and truth. The great Alexandria Council decided to keep her existence secret for the time being. If people did know about her special abilities, there would be a great deal of bloodshed. The Rune would unleash a harsh campaign of genocide on populations that were deemed sympathetic to the Ma’at. Surveyors would hunt for her head night and day. Living in obscurity is not something she is best suited for, something which she could not allow. If that did happen, she would just fade and die alive.

Evan Abrams sat at the dining room table watching his wife Marla enter their Manhattan luxury apartment on the hundredth floor with her habitual motion. His right fingers gingerly caressed a manila folder resting on the table. The sanitized stench that public places tended to give off had pervaded her hair. He could tell she had been riding the metro-rails.

Marla came into the living room and touched a corner of the wall that lit a screen. She proceeded to delete various coupons and advertisements of department store sales. Evan, on the other hand, knew she was buying time to study his demeanor. Marla rarely showed any interest on the due dates of bills. But all the while, Evan grew more flustered in his seat.

Where the hell have you been? he eventually let out.

Why don’t you ask the spook tailing me? She kicked off her shoes and they landed carelessly with a thud. It angered Evan when her things were left strewn about the place.

Are you implying I’m spying on you? Although Evan had already played out this confrontation in his mind, he had not prepared himself for the effect of these words.

I’d put it in neon, but they’re illegal. Marla whirled passed his chair to attack the refrigerator. She grabbed hold of a half empty bottle of orange juice and poured it down her throat. Anything to push his mind to the edge. The sanitized air of his office oozed off him like cold air off a corpse.

Maybe if you kept your butt home more often, I wouldn’t have to, Evan responded as he twisted his body to face her in time to witness her barbarity. A real Rune woman would never have chugged the contents of a bottle down her throat, he thought.

Unlike your mother, I can’t be bought, Marla quipped.

She never missed an opportunity to remind him that his mother only married his father for his gains as Chief Surveyor, the very office Evan now occupied. Traditionally, their parents would have negotiated the terms of their union. However, theirs was far from that. She pursued him at the New York Library where he habitually studied facts in the evening. He struggled those days with even the basic of curricula. The allure of her striking beauty made it impossible to turn down her offer to tutor him. It was not in his capacity to wonder why such a beautiful woman would find interest in him. So, he followed her everywhere she deemed as their friendship blossomed. It became so that he felt he would cease breathing if she were not a permanent fixture in his life.

His father, Mr. Abrams, had reservations about the affair, but eventually succumbed to the pressures he faced. Politicians and the public looked to pin the rising crime rate on his back; and then there was his wife who cried incessantly about her son’s ability to marry into prestige being on the cusp of its senescence. He could not pass on the opportunity Marla afforded him at solving one of his many problems.

But look at what I’ve given you. Prestige and power. Isn’t it enough?

What! Marla shouted in disbelief. You mean, look at what I’ve given you? Let’s not forget who scented who here! She leaned her back against the countertop digging in for the fight—a routine, in the last year and a half, she had become accustomed to.

That was your duty as my wife, Evan quickly reminded her. Sharing your scent with another man was not one of them, if I’m correct.

I have expectations that you don’t meet, she said dryly as she folded her arms across her chest. He worked late and called away often, even when he did manage to come home. This was a conundrum he had no way of solving without sacrificing one for the other. The perimeters of his argument was beginning to crumble.

If you hate this so much, why don’t you and your terrorist sisters go back where you came from, he shouted as he wrestled with his anger. The day a Mantle agent had decapitated his grandmother, along with sixteen others commuting to the city, was the day he began seething with vengeance.

And where is that love? Marla inquired. Back in time. Take a time machine back to when I wouldn’t have been a minority anywhere on this planet? I’d love to, but I can’t. I’m stuck here along with all the other women on this planet waiting for a handout from our loving benefactors. You might think you own me—and maybe you do on paper—but I’ll never submit to you. You got what you wanted from me!

Embarrassment made him turn from her. Instead, he stared blankly at the manila folder that was still on the table. His father had ingrained in him that man had dominion over every living thing that moved upon the earth. She was his birthright as one who inherits the contents of a bank vault. But, he wondered, what type of upbringing creates such a rebellious rancor towards normal?

I have to be heading back, he announced as he abruptly moved from the table.

The door is that way, she said, pointing to the opposite direction that he faced.

Evan moved closer to her and reached out to grab her by her belt buckle, but she slapped his hand away.

This isn’t your scenting party, she reminded him.

He was not coping well with the changes in his wife. A year ago, on Christmas, she had given him the best kiss he ever had.

On that night, the most sacred and holiest, Evan had lost his mind. It was on that day, Marla announced to Evan she was on her way to be with friends. The clicking of her heels on the mosaic floor alluded to things his mind dreaded. Despite the affront to his masculinity, he could not deny she looked divine in her opal chiffon dress.

How long are you going to be out? he had inquired.

Not long love. She caressed his chin like one would to a father in dotage. "The girls and I are just going