Beware the rubber stamp

In an advanced civilisation in the distant past, a government council enacted laws to benefit everyone, promoting sharing and dividing labour.

Two miles beneath the surface, miners toiled in a dangerous environment where only the most formidable individuals dared to venture. Long shifts and hard work toughened these men.

They earned good wages and gained respect within the community. The entire civilisation relied on the black gold they extracted from the ground with shovels and picks.

A labour gang of muscular men had just finished their 15-hour shift deep in the mines, caked in coal dust from the mine walls. They drank copious amounts of alcohol at a rough bar known for frequent fights. During one extraordinary drunken session, they jokingly created a list of how they would change society.

A bear-sized man stood up, raised his arm, and belched. Laughter erupted; these men lacked social graces.

The shaft hand, Trapend, announced while still on his feet, "I'm tired of seeing only men in here. We should have a few women." He then sat back down and promptly passed out.

The others chuckled.

"I wish women would come down here and do some of our work," said Vergman, another large man with a beard that could easily hide a flock of seagulls. "My wife hands me a list of chores when I'm off work. She thinks all I do is play with a shovel while we're down here. She even takes my expense money to buy food."

One miner remarked, "I don't see why they get to make rules about what we produce with our blood, sweat, and tears."

After some time, they decided to write down new laws to remember them. None had paper, so the bar server retrieved a fancy government document from the recycling chute along with a black pen.

He gave all the remaining conscious drinkers a sobriety test.

“Just walk in a straight line over to the music machine,” said the bar server with a smile.

A fight broke out when one miner stumbled onto a table, spilling drinks everywhere. The barman offered free drinks to soothe ruffled feelings, and the two tables combined. This time, the server retrieved the alcohol meter from under the bar.

Testing each miner, he chose the one who tested four times over the limit for access to work in the mines as the note-taker because he was the most sober of the group—an hour passed. Out of twelve drinkers, only four remained conscious. The note-taker needed help reading the official proclamation of the Supreme Council of the Panilli.

He stood up swiftly, grasped the table to pick himself off the ground, and sat back down again. His eyes focused on the page in front of him.

"Continued from the previous page, mark exhibit 17. Eighteen subsection twenty-four D. The council declared that female hygiene products and toilet utensils must stay in private places to ensure everyone's privacy. Eighteen subsection twenty-four E. Toilet paper requisitions must occur weekly instead of monthly due to last month's diarrhoea outbreak. Special note: the new toilet paper must be soft and moist. The air conditioning units still do not function correctly; a requisition has been applied for and a budget set to install new motorised vents."

A drinker beside him poked his arm and said, "You're on the wrong side of the page. Turn it over."

The note-taker squinted and turned the page over.

He cleared his throat, “The Supreme Council of Paneili declares this list to be a valid new set of laws and ordinances for our future.” Cheers erupted from the crowd.

“Only people capable of lifting 150 lbs of ore will have rights and privileges,” met with miners flexing their arms to show off their muscles.

“No penis, no right to clothes,” followed by laughter as several miners dropped their pants and waved their organs.

“If you can't reach up to 8 feet in height, you can't be employed anywhere for financial gain.” Everyone stood up and reached for the roof.

“Females who reject a miner's advances can be kidnapped and used as he wishes." This comment came from a miner who had lusted after a married woman; after he made an advance at her, she loudly rejected him in front of his friends, leading to her husband delivering powerful punches despite being an office worker.

He later discovered that this “office worker” was actually a middleweight champion boxer. While his lumps and bruises healed, his embarrassment lingered.

Realising what he said, he muttered, “Without legal recourse.” This statement met with frowns and disapproval from others.

The note-taker cleared his throat again, “Carrying on, unmarried women will not be allowed to reject advances from any self-declared unattached miner unless he proves himself to be a man of poor character.” Cheers erupted from the table.

“Division of assets after divorce will depend on what funds each party contributed to the marriage.”

“After this date, all married men will give half their assets to their wives in future.”

One voice slurred, “Who’d want to get hitched then?”

“All marriages will annul upon passing this proclamation.” Cheers followed from the table once again.

The miners stood in unison and carried the note-taker around the bar while cheering loudly. After they fell back into their seats, the note-taker struggled to hold his pen and spilled his drink on the notes.

The group read aloud the list to those still conscious. They rejected suggestions about abusing women; however, the note-taker couldn't cross it out due to the drink he spilled on the parchment.

One miner with only one brain cell functioning said, “This is terrible stuff. Put it in the recycling bin.” The remaining participants nodded in agreement. He attempted to tear it up but found that it was government paper made from untearable plastic. Rolling it up, he went to put it into a refuse chute. Staggering over, he noticed that the chute needed emptying; office materials overflowed out of it. There was barely enough room to squeeze it in as it was full of mining debris and office paper. He then sat back down again and promptly passed out.

The following day, they shuffled through the bar, stepping over recycling papers spread across the floor before returning to the shafts, feeling under the weather.

One male office worker scolded by his boss needed to find a critical security report he mistakenly placed in the recycler. He reasoned it would have passed through several levels. After hours of searching, he spotted some pages in the mine bar amidst the nauseating smell of alcohol at such an early hour.

Looking around, he noticed government-coloured pages sticking out of the chute and scattered across the floor. Gathering them up, he placed them in his satchel and added them all to go before the High Clerk. When he handed over the reports and papers, his high clerk shot him a murderous look upon smelling alcohol: "I will deal with you later."

He couldn't submit the papers as they were; instead, he sent a minion out for blotting paper to absorb moisture from the pages.

The High Chair of the Supreme Council of Paneili cleared her throat: “Now, minutes from our last meeting.” She spent time sorting pages out to annoy other council members who had golf games scheduled that day while she began reading. Several members fell asleep during her droning speech as she called for votes periodically and stamped pages as she went along.

Forty-five minutes later, she continued reading: “Mark exhibit 17. Eighteen subsection twenty-four C. The lighting in toilets needs upgrading to more environmentally friendly appliances in future.”

“How does the council vote?” she asked, receiving a chorus of “Ayes.” She stamped it with a large embossed metal stamp as it became law before continuing her monotonous reading until she reached a smudged page where she struggled to read its contents before pulling out her magnifying glass.

"Continued from the previous page: mark exhibit 17. Eighteen subsection twenty-four D…” She read through some previously mentioned points regarding female hygiene products and toilet paper requisitions amidst laughter from her audience reminiscing about past experiences with terrible odours and shortages. The High Chair cleared her throat once more before asking for votes on each point she raised until she droned on without realising everything she said after stamping could not become law because she was a woman.

One thousand years later. Academic Petor leafed through piles of newspaper cuttings.

“So they destroyed their civilisation by mistake?” he asked his boss.

She turned to him and replied, “This is a diary from a reporter named Papian.” She picked up a faded printed piece of parchment and read aloud: "Females have zero rights to males. Why bother educating girls? Why would anyone bother? They sit around gossiping, putting on makeup, and combing their hair—so all female education is banned by law. Mothers who bear boys will receive celebration and praise; they will live in large government-supplied residences with pools and extensive gardens while mothers with no sons will reside in shantytowns and face scorn.”

She continued reading: “Mothers struggled to teach their sons about social norms—maths, geography, history, language, economics, architecture, arts—and so forth because boys ignored women; men regarded educating children as beneath them.”

“After someone realised that this generation was devolving, they thought they needed to oppress women even more…” She paused briefly before concluding, “Then came the invasion; no one wanted to fight because they didn't think women were worth fighting over.”