Tonight was supposed to be the night!

The Heist of The Decade!

I had been planning for weeks. Every night that I spent on my uncomfortable bunk bed, stomach yelling at me to feed it, I ruminated on the plan. It was a tall order! I couldn't do it all by myself, so I had to let a few people in the loop; only my trusted allies. Most of the guys in this prison (sorry, rehabilitation center) were spineless!

I couldn't exactly blame them. The outside world was the same. Having adopted a matriarchal system of operations, the government had no love for us XY chromosome abnormalities. 

All the years I spent under a dilapidated bridge, I heard stories: tales of a time when men were the ones with all the power, women were oppressed and their voice suppressed.

Until they weren't! They stood up against the patriarchy, and not only did they win, they took over completely!

"They had every right to demand equality," one of the homeless men told me. "But, their fight wasn't for a seat at the table. They wanted the whole damn table!"

That was the last time I spoke to him. The next night, I heard he was killed trying to get some food. I was luckier. I just got arrested and thrown into this hellhole!

The prison operated on a reward system. It was an extension of how The Matriarchy governed. They claim to want meritocracy across all boards, but in reality, they hoard every good thing available and leave us men to fight amongst ourselves for the scraps.

I've heard stories of extremely massive companies being run by women from top to bottom, and the only available roles for men: janitorial and security services. That's a kind way of saying cleaners and gatemen.

It was that way in every part of the country. When i was still slumming it in the streets, there was this man who came out and declared his intention to run for President. He did not know peace from that moment on. The press tried to bring him down every chance they got. His competency was questioned, they dug up his history, they "advised" him to "know his role." They even tried to tie him to the activities of the lethal, notorious terrorist organization: The Resistance.

Those ones are a bunch of "alpha males" who were tagged as terrorists by the government, all because they challenged gender norms and asked for men to not be treated less than. They only started blowing places up after their headquarters was attacked. But, the media won't tell you that. Biased bunch of liars.

Anyway, the prison put all the inmates to work. All of us were teenagers. The grown men that are arrested, no one knows what happens to them, but we can probably guess that they're at the bottom of the ocean, with bullets in their brains.

It was hard labor: crocheting, sewing extremely long dresses, hand-washing clothes, and sometimes, cooking a ridiculous amount of food, doing the dishes; and repeating the process over and over again, every day till the authority figures deem you fit enough to rejoin society. 

On some days, we'd even write tests!

We were being brainwashed! 

In the evening, they'd play us a message from The President. The same damn message I've been hearing all my life, "You're a man! You can't aspire to be more. Know your role, shut your mouth, and be thankful we let you exist." 

I'm obviously paraphrasing, but you get the idea.

I'd look around, and I'd see the slumped shoulders and defeated looks of my fellow inmates. The Matriarchy was winning every god-damned day! 

Most of these boys were destined to amount to nothing from the moment they were born. 

It was a common occurrence for boys to end up on the streets. Mothers were too busy pursuing careers and being breadwinners. How could they saddle themselves with the responsibly of raising a male child? 

When they could have daughters instead? And earn a living while doing so?

At night, we'd line up at Madam Veronica's station (the warden) to give an account for the work we did during the day. 

Well, not exactly. 

See, all inmates are issued this weird blue wristband that keeps track of the work done by them. All part of the reward meritocratic system. If you want to eat, you must work. The more work you do, the more food you get. No one talks about how little the food is, even though it's practically impossible to finish all the work in a day!

Last time I complained, Madam Veronica sent me to the timeout room, after giving me a stern talking to.

"These vocational skills will help you be a man of importance in the society. We're just trying to help you. Finish your work, and you'll be rewarded with proper food!" the stupid warden said, with a thin smile.

"Piss off abeg," I responded.

Let's just say I spent a long time observing that room. The floor has like 36 rubber tiles, and there's 280 dots on the ceiling.

Tonight, I'd had enough! 

Madam Veronica and her incompetent guards wolfed down mountain-sized meals for breakfast, lunch and dinner, but I was going to bed hungry every night? Because I couldn't sew a gown?!

I expected nothing less from women. Enough of me whining and complaining! It was time for me to take! No apologies!

The food is usually stored at the other side of the prison yard in a heavily guarded shed. I spent several weeks observing their routine: when the place was guarded the least, and that time was almost upon us.

I watched the floodlights in the courtyard outside turn off through the window. Immediately, I jumped off the top bunk and tapped the shoulder of my bunkmate. He sat up, grim faced and focused.

We picked up a few more like-minded inmates on the way, and snuck out of our cells (sorry, dormitory.) 

I led them round the back, hugging the cold wall as we moved. A couple of surveillance drones flew overhead, but we avoided them with no trouble. I knew all their patterns. Same with the cameras.

I sprinted across the courtyard and made it to the shed. It was the middle of shift rotation, so it was unguarded. I crouched by the sophisticated lock, and fished out my trusty screwdriver. (In case you haven't guessed it, I'm a petty thief at heart.)

The other guys were scattered all around, keeping a lookout while I got to work. I furrowed my eyebrows in concentration and stuck my tongue out.

I let out a surprised gasp when the locks were illuminated by a blinding light. I turned around quickly. Madam Veronica had a flashlight trained on me, and the creepiest smile ever. Behind her was her legion of prison guards, armed with tasers, guns and batons.

"Boy 767, what do you think you're doing?" the weird warden gritted her teeth. She never called us by our actual names. She didn't rate us like that.

"What does it look like, olodo?" I replied defiantly. If I was going to go down, I planned on doing so with my dignity.

I was dealt another surprise when my like-minded inmates started coming out from behind the armed women, one by one.

"W-What's going on, guys?" I found it hard to speak. They looked everywhere else, but at me. 

"What's going on is that these boys understand the order of things. The rehabilitation center is doing its work, and I couldn't be more proud," Madam Veronica grinned in delight. She was always smiling. "You'll all be rewarded accordingly. If you see something, say something, okay?"

The boys nodded like hypnotized sheep and returned back to the cell.

"And as for you 767, it's a shame we couldn't get along. But then again, there'll always be bad eggs. You're not a revolutionary! Plenty boys like you have come and gone! No one remembers them, and no one will remember you!" 

The warden reached into her gun holster and aimed straight at my head. I refused to close my eyes and wait for my inevitable end. If she wanted me dead, she had to stare into my soul and do it. Although, I had the feeling it wasn't her first time.

Good thing I didn't close my eyes. I'd have missed the satisfactory sight of Madam Veronica's brains being blown out.

All mayhem broke loose after that! The gates exploded and huge, muscular men stormed in, guns blazing. Someone rang the alarm, causing sirens to blare overhead. Bullets started flying around sporadically! 

I snuck around and hid behind the food shed. A man came up beside me. He was taking cover and reloading his assault rifle.

"You alright, kid?" he asked. His voice was gruff and manly.

"Who are you guys?" I asked in awe.

He smiled. "We're the freaking Resistance!"