The Incel
Staff writer Sophie Miller sat at her desk in the busy office of OMG News, on the 8th floor of a downtown office block. She was trawling through her email folder.
An email from the managing director caught her eye: "Great work on the article Sophie! Click rates are through the roof!..."
This was the first direct communication from the top boss since she started at the online magazine 6 months ago. Prior to that she had been a freelance writer struggling to make ends meet. Now she was a full time staff writer and her latest article had generated a lot of publicity.
"I'd rather be beaten to death than bored to death - why a boy can never be too bad." had generated controversy, humour and condemnation. Some critics had called it crass and risible, others had called it dangerous apologism for abusers. Others saw the ironic humour and critique of toxic masculinity. The one thing no-one had called her...is boring. You could never be too controversial in an outlet like OMG news.
She continued reading the boss's email "...I'd love to discuss it with you personally, pop into my office whenever you have a moment."
Her heart raced. The managing director wanted to see her. She'd never spoken to him before. She wasted no time and headed towards his office at the other end of the floor. On the way she checked her face in the mirror. Lashes were on fleek, red hair was neatly in a bun, makeup perfectly contoured. She knocked gingerly on his office door:
"Mr Donnelly?" she inquired gingerly.
"Come in my dear!" he ushered her into the office. His normally stern face was grimacing. She found it unsettling but forced a smile nonetheless.
"You wanted to see me Sir?" she said nervously
"Yes sweetheart" (he never used the names of any of the women in the office) "I called you in here to congratulate you. Since your little article was posted on the website our engagement and clicks have gone through the roof. Now I may be an old grey-haired dinosaur but I know that for an online news service, clicks mean dollars, and that makes you a golden goose."
He grinned and she responded likewise, awkwardly.
"Now I understand you've been here 6 months?"
"Yes sir" she responded cheerfully.
He stood up and began to pace up and down the room:
"That makes you entitled to a raise, but of course raises must be justified, with...a real business case." He stood next to her and placed his hand on her lower back. She could smell the coffee on his breath as he drew closer...
As she walked back to her desk afterwards, she felt everyone was staring at her. She was paranoid her makeup or hair would be disheveled. She hurried to her computer and lowered her chair so no-one could see her. She opened her emails again. She figured she would answer the important ones then head home. She needed a shower.
"SLUT!" jumped out at her from the screen. It was the title of an email.
Oh God, someone had seen her leaving Mr Donnelly's office looking disheveled. They knew, and soon everyone would know. She'd be the talk of the office for all the wrong reasons. As she clicked on the email she realised it was sent hours ago, at 10am this morning, just after the article went live on the website.
She opened the email:
"Dear Purveyors of Immoral Filth. I recently read your article entitled
'I'd rather be beaten to death than bored to death - why a boy can never be too bad.'
Needless to say I was disgusted. You are advocating for a lifestyle that rewards the churlish brute and damages the fragile female. In your world there is room only for the Alpha male and all other males are cast by the wayside. This is a primal, barbaric mentality. Sadly there are many females out there that share your point of view, and articles like this will only encourage their depravity further. It's because of low culture Svenagli's like yourself that modern womanhood is poisoned. I am unable to find a wife and folks like you are to blame.
The long and the tall of it is: I demand your 'news website' publishes a retraction, within the next 48 hours, of there will be Hell to pay. There will be no peace for the wicked.
Yours sincerely - The Incel."
At first Sophie was taken aback, then - comprehending the full meaning of the rambling nonsense, she burst out laughing. Immediately she forwarded it on to her colleagues. Then she screenshotted it and shared it to her seventy thousand Twitter followers. The reaction was one of almost universal ridicule, interspersed with the odd note of concern, which she duly ignored. Sophie suddenly had an idea for her next article, which she spent the rest of the day working on.
The following morning OMG News published another article
"Incels - do they deserve our ridicule or our pity?" - by Sophie Miller.
The article got even more clicks and engagement than her previous article about bad boys. Mr Donnelly offered her a raise then and there. Late that afternoon, as the staff enjoyed a coffee break, the security guard brought in a package.
"Special delivery for Sophie Miller. Just arrived now." Curious as to what it could be she opened it.
The explosion gutted the entire 8th and 9th floor of the 10 storey office block. The fire brigade evacuated the remaining floors of the building just before it collapsed in on itself. Of the 30 person staff at OMG news only 3 were pulled from the rubble. The floor above had been unoccupied but two Guatemalan maintenance men who had been cleaning up there were killed as well. Sophie's body was never identified although the crime scene investigators did find one of her shoes and her phone (still working) the lockscreen featured her cat mittens, who was taken in by a neighbor.
Moments after the explosion all the major news networks received the same email:
"I am responsible for the explosion at OMG News. I warned them of the consequences of their immoral words. Below I have enclosed a link to my manifesto. If my manifesto is not published my bombing campaign will continue. There shall be no peace for the wicked.
Kind Regards.
The Incel"
The editors of the major news networks were unanimous in their opinion that this so-called 'manifesto' was rambling, misogynistic garbage, ranting about Chads, Stacies and trad values and so they were united in their refusal to give it the time of day.
A week went by since the OMG news bombing. Investigators were at a loss to find any evidence. The FBI were called in. They set up an incident room nearby, headed by an FBI Assistant Director. They took forensic samples of everything but there was no trace of any DNA anywhere, the original package had been destroyed in the explosion. They checked the security footage from the office building reception. Grainy footage captured a figure in a black hoodie dropping the package at the doors and quickly fleeing the scene. The figure was average height and the face was indistinguishable.
Just as he was getting ready to go home, the Assistant Director's phone rang. It was his junior agent.
"There's been another bomb, this time at NRC News."
Smoke billowed out of the reception of the NRC news building. The Assistant Director arrived to a scene of chaos. Sirens wailed as medics helped the walking wounded to waiting ambulances. It wasn't long before police assessed the scene and found that 6 staff members were missing, presumed dead. Their corpses were pulled from the rubble before nightfall.
Another message was sent, this time to the FBI Incident Room. It read:
"I hope you enjoyed the fireworks. Next time it will be a school or a Mosque. I will continue my campaign unless the government provides me with a wife. She must be slim, pretty and below the age of 25. You have one week."
The FBI Assistant Director turned to his junior agent. "That's 35 people this bastard has killed so far. We're gonna have to take this higher."
President Roland Dunst sat at his large desk in the oval office. His Chief of Staff General Trebuchet walked in:
"Mr President, there's been another bombing, 6 people have been killed in this bombing, that's on top of the 29 in the last bombing. The FBI are saying we need to do something. Fast."
"Who is doing these bombings General? Is it Isis? ETA? China?"
"It's...an Incel Sir."
"A what now?"
"An Incel, a guy that...can't have sex...and he's pretty darn mad."
"Sounds like a stone cold loser to me. What does he want? Money?."
"Well Sir, originally he just wanted his manifesto published..."
"Well let's do it then, let this freak have his 15 minutes of fame."
"But now Sir....he wants a wife."
"A wife?"
"Yes and he wants a hot wife too."
"Hmmm" the president rubbed his chin. "What sane woman would want to marry a psycho freak like that?" The President paced up and down the oval office. He gazed at the flag and exclaimed:
"General, I have an idea....."
Natalia Kowalski sat shivering on a metal bench in the holding cell of the Immigrant Detention Center. The stone walls seemed to be closing in on her and her fellow occupants. She gazed around at the sea of brown and black faces. A bald African man was staring at her. She turned her blonde head away from him. She didn't belong in a place like this, she thought to herself. She was a European. She remembered her father's words.
"The finest thing in the world is to be a European. And the finest type of European is Polish. And the finest type of Polish is a Krakowian. Na Zdrowie!" then he would take another shot of vodka.
The memory made her smile warmly as she imagined herself far away from this awful cell, and these awful people. Europeans should have a separate detention centre, she ruminated. Europeans built America after all.
A sharp bark roused her from her daydreaming.
"Kowalski! Natalia! You're up!"
She leapt to her feet and followed the guard out of the cell and into a warm office down the hall. Two men in high ranking military uniform were sat on the other side of the table. They invited her to sit down.
"My name is General Trebuchet and this is my assistant. I'm President Dunst's chief of staff."
Natalia burst out laughing.
"This is joke right?"
"This is no joke Miss Kowalksi. I understand you were arrested on prostitution charges? And upon arrest it was discovered that you overstayed your work visa by over a year?"
Her pale cheeks burned bright red
"This guy....he say he look after me, find me work as nanny...but instead he make me sleep with men, he take all the money I earn, make me live in tiny room, he take my passport."
"Why didn't you just go to the police?"
Natalia laughed derisively. "Police? What they do? Send me back to Poland to peel potatoes? No vay."
"Well Miss Kowalski, you are going to be sent back to Poland."
She turned to them with sudden pathos. "Please Mister Army man. No send me back. I just want to be American. Live in white picket fence house like in TV show Wonder Years. Please."
The General and his assistant exchanged smug glances.
"So you want to be an American Miss Kowalski?"
"Yes Mr General, I do anything please." she clasped her hands together and feigned tears.
The Incel logged onto his computer. He accessed the high security VPN that protected his identity and logged onto his secure email. He checked his Bitcoin wallet. A payment of $5000 dollars from the government of Luxembourg, in exchange for unblocking their servers. He duly unblocked them and smiled at his successful ransomware blackmail. He was a man of his word. As he glanced through his emails one caught his eye.
'From the desk of General Trebuchet. Chief of Staff to President Dunst.' It simply read:
"We have a wife for you, enclosed is a picture of her. You can pick her up at 7pm tonight from Pier 5 at the docks in your home city. No tricks."
The Incel gazed longingly at the photograph. A blonde haired, blue eyed woman smiled pleasantly. She looked a little like Taylor Swift but with a more Slavic bone structure and fuller lips.
As 7 o'clock approached Natalia grew more and more nervous. The General and several soldiers stood around her, but she had never felt more alone.
"Now just trust me Miss Kowalski nothing can go wrong. Just walk up to him, smile and we'll take care of the rest."
"General I really scared, must I do this thing?"
"Unless you want to go back to Krakow and sell your ladygarden for coal then yes I suggest you do as we say."
He nudged her through the door and onto the open pier.
"Walk out to end of the pier and wait. We'll be in the building watching.
Shivering in her little black dress Natalia Kowalski nervously walked to the end of the pier, her high heels making an audible clip clopping sound. She stood waiting, there was no-one around so she looked out over the shoreline at the boats and the seagulls. She thought about how far she'd come.
Just then she heard a voice behind her.
"Erm hey."
She shrieked in shock.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you...You must be Natalia?"
She gazed at the source of the voice. It was dark but she could make out the figure of a man. He seemed to me smiling. She stepped closer. He wasn't very tall, maybe around 5'10. The same height as her in flat shoes. He was a little on the chubby side but it might have been the winter coat he was wearing. He had a mess of dark hair and dark eyes.
"You're v..very pretty." he stammered. His voice was quite deep but soft, he reminded her of the narrator from the Wonder Years, the show that gave her her first glimpse of America.
"Thank-you." she smiled. He smiled back, genuinely.
She noticed he had very kind eyes, a little beady, but kind.
"I don't normally hang around in place like this. Not for free anyway." she said with a wry laugh.
He laughed and cleared his throat.
"Do you wanna....I dunno....go someplace else? My car is waiting nearby."
"Erm...okay sure." They started to walk. "Maybe there is coffee shop still open at.."
She heard a loud bang. It sounded like fireworks. She turned to the man and saw him slump to his knees.
She looked at him and even in the darkness could see that the top of his head was missing. He slumped forward and dark liquid poured out of his head onto the wooden boards of the pier.
She felt weak at the knees and ran towards the buildings on the shore. The General emerged from the building and guided her inside. Shaking she sat down.
"Well done Miss Kowalski. Mission complete. We got him!"
Natalie felt numb. The General spoke on his phone excitedly.
"Yes, Mr President, Operation Loser was a success. We got him. Yeah he's dead, killed on the first shot."
Natalie was then escorted to hospital where she was checked over by a doctor. Physically she was fine although the doctor recommended counseling. After an hour or so the nurse said:
"Miss Kowalski you have a special visitor. It's the President."
Natalia's eyes widened and her heart raced again.
A face she had seen so many times on the TV filled the doorway of her hospital room. President Roland Dunst marched over and shook her hand.
"Well done Miss....erm...
"Kowalski, Natalia Kowalski."
"Well done Miss Nawalsi, you did a HUGE job for this country and helped us defeat a really bad dude. A terrorist, which is the worst kind of dude. And for that I now dub you a US Citizen."
He handed her a certificate of citizenship. She took it with a grateful smile but inside she felt hollow.
Some news cameras entered the hospital room.
"This brave lady Miss Nadine Koala helped to defeat a terrible, terrible terrorist. Let this be a lesson, that beautiful women will always be the downfall of stone cold losers like him."
The cameras pointed at Natalia but all of a sudden she began to cry.
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