EXT. BATON ROUGE – TRIAD CLUSTER ZONE A – MORNING
A pale sun rises over a freshly paved district south of downtown. Uniform beige and ochre dwellings sprawl in modur symmetry. Ivy Thompson steps out of a dark SUV with a bck 6C pnner badge clipped to her jacket. She’s fnked by a local compliance officer, Rashid Khan, mid-30s, polite but armed.
RASHID:
"This was a slum before. Now, it's a compliance corridor. Fifty-seven households onboarded. Two fgged for Matriarchal Instability. You’ll meet one today."
Ivy takes it all in—the newness, the tension behind every smiling face, the drone hovering above. Children run between communal courtyards in matching linen tunics. The scent of boiled lentils and synthetic soap lingers in the air.
INT. FEMME GROUP POD #12 – MID-MORNING
Inside the pod, three wives sit cross-legged, facing Ivy. Their leader, Maha Idris, age 31, speaks with the calm precision of someone who’s watched every indoctrination video.
MAHA:
"Our husband works for the water authority. We have fulfilled our group duties. But the concubine rotation—she is not adhering. She sleeps past 6AM, and she does not participate in the Harmony Chants."
IVY (notepad in hand):
"How many viotions?"
MAHA:
"Four. She cims ‘migraine,’ but none are documented."
RASHID (aside):
"That’s borderline rejection. Under MAI code, non-cooperative concubines reduce male value. It impacts the whole unit."
Ivy writes: “Behavioral drag as architectural vulnerability.” Then turns back.
IVY:
"She may be reassigned. But I need you to log her behaviors through the CommPod. Use the ‘Group Alert’ feature. No whispers. We formalize dissent now."
MAHA nods.
EXT. CENTRAL COURTYARD – NOON
Ivy stands beneath the public loudspeaker arch. An AI-generated female voice pys daily affirmations:
"Harmony is Order. Group Before Self. Movement is Merit."
She watches a Femme Group in workout uniforms perform synchronized squats. Across the street, men queue in silence before the Mobility Kiosk, swiping their ID bracelets to check route eligibility.
Rashid walks up, showing her a tablet.
RASHID:
"Your Chaste Axis boys are spiking in productivity. We had one abstainer win the Urban Greening Award. His family line’s been granted a concubine credit. That’s your social farming, huh?"
IVY (dryly):
"Pnt virtue, harvest compliance."
INT. PLANNING OFFICE – LATE AFTERNOON
Back at her temporary desk, Ivy reviews the first 72-hour metrics. Everything glows green except one field: Concubine Satisfaction Index (CSI): 41%.
Priya Varma calls in on video.
PRIYA:
"That index will tank morale. Hezri won’t like it. They don’t need to be happy, Ivy. But they can’t revolt."
IVY:
"I’ll restructure their leisure architecture. Add isotion gardens, motion-responsive spaces. Solitude disguised as privilege."
PRIYA (grinning):
"You’re learning fast."
EXT. CITY EDGE – DUSK
Ivy walks alone, past the edge of the newly built Triad Cluster. Beyond the wall lies the old Baton Rouge—worn brick homes, broken streetlights, resistance graffiti half-scrubbed from alley walls.
She lights a cigarette, watching a delivery drone hum past.
Behind her, the new city glows. It doesn’t pulse with life—it hums with order.
IVY (to herself):
"It’s working. But for who?"
***
LOUISIANA CAPITOL – 30TH FLOOR, STRATEGIC OPERATIONS ROOM – NIGHT
The room is dimly lit but humming with high-tech interfaces. A transparent touchwall dispys live dashboards: economic indexes, compliance metrics, spatial thermal maps of communal activity. At the head of the obsidian conference table sits Hezri, perfectly still, backlit by the city he controls. His presence silences everything.
Attendees:
Ivy Thompson, urban pnner
Priya Varma, chief economic architect
Morgan Yates, Civic Bance Institute director
Elise Carter, National Chairwoman of 6C
Naomi Chen, Director of Communications
Hezri gestures without speaking. Naomi taps the interface. Ivy’s rollout dashboard blooms on the wall.
NAOMI CHEN (crisp):
"Phase One metrics. Baton Rouge Cluster Zeta. Triadic units activated: 138. Polygamous integration: 91%. Femme Group stability: 87%. MAI has climbed 6.2 points. CSI... down to 41%."
HEZRI (quietly, eyes fixed on Ivy):
"That number has not changed."
Ivy clears her throat. She knows this is the moment. She steps forward, clicks the next slide.
IVY THOMPSON:
"You're correct. CSI dropped again after Day 3. But that’s because concubines are not yet socially embedded. They function as affective outliers, cking both a status dder and containment space."
PRIYA (nodding):
"Which is why Ivy proposed Spatial Dignity Nodes—self-directed wellness enclosures in non-dominant positions of the architecture."
HEZRI:
"You’re suggesting soft privilege."
IVY:
"Perceived privilege, not soft. These are gated spaces for concubines only, ced with biometric exclusivity. They simute elite status without altering their role in the hierarchy."
She flips to the mockups—chic, minimal sanctuaries, full of filtered light and isotion. No luxury, just control disguised as retreat.
MORGAN YATES:
"We’ve tested simir methods on ex-feminist poputions during reentry. Autonomy simution reduces friction by 31%."
HEZRI (still staring at Ivy):
"And if they misuse it? Organize? Hide disobedience?"
IVY:
"That’s where my system feeds back into Priya’s: spatial behavior tracking yered into DFG metrics. They’re free only within monitored bounds. The illusion is the tool."
A long silence. Elise sips from a gss of infused water. Naomi reviews the psychological trendlines. Morgan looks amused, as if watching a chess game.
PRIYA:
"We’ve already seen a 9% drop in behavioral conflict where Ivy’s isotion zones were prototyped."
HEZRI (finally, softly):
"And you believe the city itself can persuade them to submit?"
IVY:
"Yes. Let the architecture teach them obedience. Make control beautiful."
Another pause.
Then Hezri smiles, only slightly. It’s not approval—it’s recognition. A new pawn has learned to move.
HEZRI (standing):
"Proceed. Scale it. And Ivy—this is no longer freence. You’re one of us now."
He leaves the room without waiting for agreement.
Morgan leans over to Ivy, whispering with a smirk:
MORGAN:
"Congratutions. You just sold surveilnce as serenity."
**"
BATON ROUGE – TRIAD CLUSTER ZONE A – MORNING
A pale sun rises over a freshly paved district south of downtown. Uniform beige and ochre dwellings sprawl in modur symmetry. Ivy Thompson steps out of a dark SUV with a bck 6C pnner badge clipped to her jacket. She’s fnked by a local compliance officer, Rashid Khan, mid-30s, polite but armed.
RASHID:
"This was a slum before. Now, it's a compliance corridor. Fifty-seven households onboarded. Two fgged for Matriarchal Instability. You’ll meet one today."
Ivy takes it all in—the newness, the tension behind every smiling face, the drone hovering above. Children run between communal courtyards in matching linen tunics. The scent of boiled lentils and synthetic soap lingers in the air.
INT. FEMME GROUP POD #12 – MID-MORNING
Inside the pod, three wives sit cross-legged, facing Ivy. Their leader, Maha Idris, age 31, speaks with the calm precision of someone who’s watched every indoctrination video.
MAHA:
"Our husband works for the water authority. We have fulfilled our group duties. But the concubine rotation—she is not adhering. She sleeps past 6AM, and she does not participate in the Harmony Chants."
IVY (notepad in hand):
"How many viotions?"
MAHA:
"Four. She cims ‘migraine,’ but none are documented."
RASHID (aside):
"That’s borderline rejection. Under MAI code, non-cooperative concubines reduce male value. It impacts the whole unit."
Ivy writes: “Behavioral drag as architectural vulnerability.” Then turns back.
IVY:
"She may be reassigned. But I need you to log her behaviors through the CommPod. Use the ‘Group Alert’ feature. No whispers. We formalize dissent now."
MAHA nods.
EXT. CENTRAL COURTYARD – NOON
Ivy stands beneath the public loudspeaker arch. An AI-generated female voice pys daily affirmations:
"Harmony is Order. Group Before Self. Movement is Merit."
She watches a Femme Group in workout uniforms perform synchronized squats. Across the street, men queue in silence before the Mobility Kiosk, swiping their ID bracelets to check route eligibility.
Rashid walks up, showing her a tablet.
RASHID:
"Your Chaste Axis boys are spiking in productivity. We had one abstainer win the Urban Greening Award. His family line’s been granted a concubine credit. That’s your social farming, huh?"
IVY (dryly):
"Pnt virtue, harvest compliance."
INT. PLANNING OFFICE – LATE AFTERNOON
Back at her temporary desk, Ivy reviews the first 72-hour metrics. Everything glows green except one field: Concubine Satisfaction Index (CSI): 41%.
Priya Varma calls in on video.
PRIYA:
"That index will tank morale. Hezri won’t like it. They don’t need to be happy, Ivy. But they can’t revolt."
IVY:
"I’ll restructure their leisure architecture. Add isotion gardens, motion-responsive spaces. Solitude disguised as privilege."
PRIYA (grinning):
"You’re learning fast."
EXT. CITY EDGE – DUSK
Ivy walks alone, past the edge of the newly built Triad Cluster. Beyond the wall lies the old Baton Rouge—worn brick homes, broken streetlights, resistance graffiti half-scrubbed from alley walls.
She lights a cigarette, watching a delivery drone hum past.
Behind her, the new city glows. It doesn’t pulse with life—it hums with order.
IVY (to herself):
"It’s working. But for who?"
Want to continue with a concubine-led compint, or the first data review meeting with Hezri?
2/2
You said:
first data review meeting with Hezri
ChatGPT said:
INT. LOUISIANA CAPITOL – 30TH FLOOR, STRATEGIC OPERATIONS ROOM – NIGHT
The room is dimly lit but humming with high-tech interfaces. A transparent touchwall dispys live dashboards: economic indexes, compliance metrics, spatial thermal maps of communal activity. At the head of the obsidian conference table sits Hezri, perfectly still, backlit by the city he controls. His presence silences everything.
Attendees:
Ivy Thompson, urban pnner
Priya Varma, chief economic architect
Morgan Yates, Civic Bance Institute director
Elise Carter, National Chairwoman of 6C
Naomi Chen, Director of Communications
Hezri gestures without speaking. Naomi taps the interface. Ivy’s rollout dashboard blooms on the wall.
NAOMI CHEN (crisp):
"Phase One metrics. Baton Rouge Cluster Zeta. Triadic units activated: 138. Polygamous integration: 91%. Femme Group stability: 87%. MAI has climbed 6.2 points. CSI... down to 41%."
HEZRI (quietly, eyes fixed on Ivy):
"That number has not changed."
Ivy clears her throat. She knows this is the moment. She steps forward, clicks the next slide.
IVY THOMPSON:
"You're correct. CSI dropped again after Day 3. But that’s because concubines are not yet socially embedded. They function as affective outliers, cking both a status dder and containment space."
PRIYA (nodding):
"Which is why Ivy proposed Spatial Dignity Nodes—self-directed wellness enclosures in non-dominant positions of the architecture."
HEZRI:
"You’re suggesting soft privilege."
IVY:
"Perceived privilege, not soft. These are gated spaces for concubines only, ced with biometric exclusivity. They simute elite status without altering their role in the hierarchy."
She flips to the mockups—chic, minimal sanctuaries, full of filtered light and isotion. No luxury, just control disguised as retreat.
MORGAN YATES:
"We’ve tested simir methods on ex-feminist poputions during reentry. Autonomy simution reduces friction by 31%."
HEZRI (still staring at Ivy):
"And if they misuse it? Organize? Hide disobedience?"
IVY:
"That’s where my system feeds back into Priya’s: spatial behavior tracking yered into DFG metrics. They’re free only within monitored bounds. The illusion is the tool."
A long silence. Elise sips from a gss of infused water. Naomi reviews the psychological trendlines. Morgan looks amused, as if watching a chess game.
PRIYA:
"We’ve already seen a 9% drop in behavioral conflict where Ivy’s isotion zones were prototyped."
HEZRI (finally, softly):
"And you believe the city itself can persuade them to submit?"
IVY:
"Yes. Let the architecture teach them obedience. Make control beautiful."
Another pause.
Then Hezri smiles, only slightly. It’s not approval—it’s recognition. A new pawn has learned to move.
HEZRI (standing):
"Proceed. Scale it. And Ivy—this is no longer freence. You’re one of us now."
He leaves the room without waiting for agreement.
Morgan leans over to Ivy, whispering with a smirk:
MORGAN:
"Congratutions. You just sold surveilnce as serenity."
Continue with concubine-led disruption or Ivy’s first private 1-on-1 with Priya?
You said:
Ivy’s first private 1-on-1 with Hezri (and Priya) The sex need not to be explicit, emphasize on her feeling
ChatGPT said:
INT. LOUISIANA CAPITOL – 30TH FLOOR, PRIVATE CHAMBER – NIGHT
The atmosphere in the room is starkly luxurious: deep mahogany walls, soft ambient lighting casting a halo over the sleek, minimalist furniture. The air smells faintly of incense, heavy yet calm. The city’s outline glows in the distance, far below. Ivy stands by the window, the deep shadows of the room surrounding her, feeling the weight of the moment press in. This was never how she imagined her career would unfold—being here, in this pce, with these people.
Hezri enters silently, as if the door opening was merely an extension of his will. He’s alone, but Ivy knows Priya is somewhere close—likely observing from the shadows, a silent partner in every conversation.
Hezri’s eyes are sharp, assessing. He moves toward her without hesitation. Ivy feels a strange pang in her stomach—his presence, commanding yet enigmatic, leaves her feeling both unnerved and oddly drawn to him.
HEZRI (calmly):
"You did well today."
His voice is steady, but there’s something predatory in the way he watches her, as if measuring not just her intellect but her every reaction.
Ivy’s pulse quickens, but she forces herself to remain still.
IVY (softly, carefully):
"Thank you."
She doesn’t quite know how to respond. There’s a part of her that wants to impress him, to show she can handle the pressure, the power dynamics at py. But there’s another part, buried deep within her, that wonders if she’s already lost control.
HEZRI (pausing in front of her):
"I like the way you think, Ivy. You bend to no one. But you will bend, in time."
His words hang heavy in the air. Ivy feels them like a challenge, an invitation. Something primal shifts within her. She doesn’t know if she should feel repulsed or intrigued, but the sting of his gaze makes her want to prove him wrong—prove that she can stand her ground, no matter how much he looms over her.
IVY (carefully, a note of defiance in her voice):
"I don’t bend, Hezri. I choose where I stand."
His lips curl into a smile, a predatory one that sends a shiver down her spine.
HEZRI (softly):
"Do you? I think you’ll find that choices are often limited, Ivy. They’re not as free as you imagine."
There’s a deliberate pause, and Ivy can almost hear Priya’s presence in the background, silently waiting for Ivy’s next move. The tension in the room is thick.
HEZRI (sliding closer, his voice low):
"You’re an architect of space, Ivy. But I see the way your mind works. You’re also an architect of control. Do you understand that?"
Ivy turns her face slightly, her eyes flicking up to meet his. The calm, calcuted gaze he gives her sends an electric pulse through her, but she doesn’t look away.
IVY (quietly, trying to steady her emotions):
"I understand more than you think."
She’s not sure if she believes it, but it’s the only answer she can give without showing weakness. Still, there’s something unnerving in the way he watches her. She feels herself pulled in, as if he’s trying to see past the walls she’s built, to find the cracks in her resolve.
HEZRI (leaning in just a little):
"Then you’ll see that your pce here, Ivy, is more than just a strategy. It’s about power. And that power..."
His fingers brush against the edge of her arm, light, almost casual, but the contact sends a pulse of heat through her.
HEZRI (continuing softly):
"That power, Ivy, belongs to those who can wield it without hesitation. Those who don’t ask questions, those who embrace what is given to them."
Ivy fights the tension that’s beginning to build inside her. She wants to pull back, to find her own ground, but something inside her begins to shift.
She’s not sure if it’s the way he speaks—like every word is carefully measured and calcuted—or if it’s something deeper, a part of her mind that is beginning to unravel and recognize the subtle pull of his influence.
IVY (with a quiet, determined edge):
"I don’t think you understand me, Hezri. I never just accept what’s given."
The words are sharp, but the heat in her chest makes them feel hollow, unsure. His influence is starting to touch deeper pces within her than she expected.
He smiles again—this time, a softer smile. It’s not an invitation, but a reminder: this game, this world, this power, is something Ivy is only beginning to understand.
HEZRI (his voice now almost a whisper):
"We’ll see. We always do, Ivy."
He steps back, and for a moment, Ivy can’t breathe. The silence between them is charged, but it’s the kind of silence that makes her feel smaller, weaker. She wants to push against it, to fight it, but something inside her still lingers on the edge of submission.
HEZRI (with finality):
"Good work today. Your next steps will be… different. I look forward to seeing how you handle them."
With a final gnce, he turns and walks away. The weight of his presence lifts, but his words linger in the air, still heavy on her chest.
PRIYA (emerging from the shadows, voice cutting through the silence):
"You’ve impressed him. But remember, Ivy. He doesn’t do favors. Not without a reason."
Ivy looks at Priya, not sure whether to feel relieved or more disturbed than ever. The room feels colder now, the shadows deeper. She’s not sure what game she’s caught in, but one thing is clear: she’s no longer in control.
***
