maybe

Sitting at my desk, my heart hammering in my chest, thundering in my ears, almost dizzying me. This was the moment. With a pencil in hand, a magic pamphlet on the table, and a penis as hard as a rock, I set out to change the world.

First, I wrote a very specific, and most crucial, part to give the entire evolutionary branch I had planned the slightest chance of existing.

'1.8 million years ago, a type of hominid emerged from Africa, more or less at the same time as Homo habilis and Homo herectus, sharing a common ancestor with both, called Homo fatus. It was characterized by initially possessing reverse sexual dimorphism in its descendants and a marked imbalance in the sex ratio, with one male to three females.'

I paused, my heart nearly stopping as I waited for the letters to change color. And the muscles in my body relaxed as I watched them turn green. A light green, almost white, perfect.

'Approximately 40,000 years ago, the offspring of Homo fatus, an evolutionary stage known as Homo proctus, developed alongside Neanderthals, Homo sapiens, and Denisovans. The species' sexual dimorphism was further accentuated. Females of the species were characterized by being significantly taller than other Homo sapiens and by superior musculature, caused by a digestive system specialized in digesting plant fibers and harnessing volatile fatty acids. Females with these characteristics were better able to protect their young and hunt, which contributed to the proliferation of their genes, given that those who didn't possess these characteristics had a higher mortality rate. Furthermore, the sexual bias further increased, with five females for every male, given that the greater the number of females per male, the more capable the male is of impregnating even more, leaving more offspring.'

Another pause... green.

'Unlike Homo proctus males, who had sexual dimorphism more likely to lead to reduced height and poor musculature. Their digestive system specialized in slow digestion, to maximize the use of nutrients, and a metabolism geared toward low energy consumption, which is the cause of their short stature. Mutations in genes regulating adipogenesis caused their inability to store fat.'

Pause, wait, and it turned green, a little darker, but still approved. I knew I'd pushed things a bit on this part, and I was happy to edit it if the sentence turned yellow, but there was something I struggled to recognize, and that was that in addition to everything I wanted from women, I also wanted a different body, not more muscular, but quite the opposite: slim, short, somewhat athletic, but above all... beautiful. I feel sorry for the men of the world who don't like this, but I do. Besides, they wouldn't remember what the world used to be like. ‘There is evidence of hybridization between the four groups of homos from this time period, given the remnants of Denisovan mitochondrial DNA in the current population. However, only the offspring that inherited the sexual dimorphism of Homo proctus, and its underlying advantages, survived.’

This didn’t have any specific purpose in my plan, but I thought it would score points with the game by filling in some gaps in the story, using real events as a basis. And I was right, because in addition to the green color, a feeling of appreciation for the detail being put into the booklet emerged from the booklet. Ultimately, this game rewarded patience and intelligence. A sex-mad person who had launched into writing his fantasies without pausing to think about how to phrase them would not even have received warnings from the game, but would have let it continue and suffered the consequences. 'It is known, as it still happens today, that the physical characteristics of Homo proctus males trigger an emotional response in the females of their species, similar to the Kindchenschema, of tenderness, care, and protection, since it reminds them of Homo proctus offspring. This is why there is an impulse, almost a compulsion, on the part of females to seek the care and indulgence of Homo proctus males for a longer period of their development.'

This, in part, was very important, and one of the reasons why I had to give this body type to men (besides my personal tastes). The 'baby face' schema is the same one that kittens and other mammals have, which drives people to care for and love them. In this way, it would condition women to care for men. It wasn't far-fetched, except that a few decades of overexposure to information was taking its toll on people's ability to retain attention, so I thought, what would more than 40,000 years of psychological conditioning do in this new world?

But that wasn't the best part; it was the next.

‘More than ten thousand years ago, Homo proctus developed a mutation so drastic that it became a very obvious marker to separate them from their offspring, thus forming another evolutionary stage. This mutation involves their bodies' ability to synthesize active telomerase, which repairs DNA telomeres, preventing aging, thus forming Homo aeternum. This had several consequences, such as historical demographic crises, but the main thing was that, with the eternal youth of the males of this new species, the emotional response they provoke in females extends throughout their lives.’

Pause, this was the most crucial part, and honestly, I would give up everything else if I had to make this one quality work; I much preferred eternal life to a world of sex. I nearly had a heart attack when the letters took a long time to change color, as if the game was undecided on how to describe this, but in the end the sentence turned a strange shade between green and yellow, so I could barely tell which one predominated.

In itself, the mutation is realistic; some animals have their own form of immortality, like jellyfish, so the game couldn't take points away from me for being impossible. Spontaneous mutations can occur, and with ten thousand years to spread throughout the world's population (just like the gene that allows other species to digest milk), the scenario was feasible. But I also recognized that it was pushing realism almost to the limit.

That was it, right?

I didn't rush it; I spent a whole hour carefully reviewing each line, correcting some parts of the writing, but overall I didn't see a single mistake.

Now it was time for culture.

The rules were simple: I could do whatever I wanted, as long as it was justified by the evolution I'd established. The less closely related the person was, the lower his "score" would be, and the more he would punish me. So I had to focus. What did I want?

'Given the superior abilities of Homo aeternum females, and their ancestors, civilizations throughout history were characterized by women in positions of power, providing the economic support for the population.'

The letters turned green. Okay, I'd established the premise, now I had to focus on the important part.

'The civilizations of ten thousand years ago, after the rise of Homo aeternum, were affected. While previously men lacked many responsibilities, in adulthood they were expected to contribute to the maintenance of the home, while their wives worked, this changed with the functionally eternal youth of the species, the emotional response of females for males does not disappear with age, since they do not age, as such, women did not demand any effort from men, in fact they insisted on their protection, health and happiness.

The letters turned green, my smile almost split my face.

'As such, societies changed, little by little. A trend began to shape the laws of ancient states to protect men, ensure their safety, and keep them happy. This in the political sphere, while in the personal, fashion began to warp, seeking to please men. This differed from community to community, and the common tastes of the moment.'

I had found a way for women to wear skimpy clothing, or so I hoped; it was the only way I could find to reconcile this desire with the rest of the argument. The sentence turned yellowish green.

'Currently, civilization has considerable technological, medical, and scientific development, slightly more advanced than today. Driven mainly by women's concern to protect men, such as the elimination of STDs, one of the few causes of **** in the population. On the other hand, wars are rare, led by women rather than men, given that they are not fit for combat. But knowing that armed conflict can lead to the deaths of many men, the global community makes efforts to prevent them, and when there is no alternative, they make sure to keep men safe.’

It wasn’t world peace, but I knew I had to be realistic (as much as a magic brochure would allow me to be). The letters turned yellow, and I frowned. I didn’t like that color. I thought it was because of the wars, but I couldn’t be sure. For now, I would keep writing, and then I would see if I could correct it.

‘On a personal level, a nuclear family is made up of five women and one man. The former are expected to fulfill roles focused on ensuring the stability and prosperity of the group, while men have no social expectations. At the same time, given the indefinite longevity of the species, children are not desirable, since an increase in population without a decrease in older generations can lead to a resource crisis, so birth control, on the part of women, is the norm.

I didn't want to have children. Something I never understood about porn stories, especially those with pregnancy fetishes, is that they never realized that the more babies you have, the more work there is to support them, and the less time available for laziness or sex. So I made sure I never had any, nor that women would want one. The plot turned sour.

Concentration, perfect world. What was I missing? Ah, yes.

Current fashion trends focus mostly on men's visual pleasure, but they prioritize practicality. While standard underwear is a variation on lingerie or provocative clothing, the wearer's comfort comes first. It's winter, and a woman won't risk dying of hypothermia by going out in just a G-string and heels. Instead, she'll wear safe, sensible outerwear.'

The sentence turned a yellowish green, which was the most I could ask for. And that was it, I think. I carefully reviewed each section for an hour, then spent two hours reviewing the entire brochure, but I didn't see anything that could be improved. The only problem was that sentence about wars and sexually transmitted diseases. That yellow color could come back to bite me in the ass in the new world, but I didn't want to die from some stupid war caused by the egos of a bald man and an orange man (in this future reality, it would be a bald woman and an orange woman), nor from some disease I'd catch from enjoying my paradise. I wasn't about to change it; it was better to guarantee my safety before some kind of cosmic joke, as soon as I woke up in the new world, I was killed by an intercontinental missile. The question was, was all that worth it in exchange for a low score? A sentence in yellow meant that some part of reality would be conditioned to displease me—nothing too serious, but it could be dangerous.

It would be different if the sentence were in red; I'd delete it immediately. Such a low score could cause me to, I don't know, end up engaged to the only women in the entire world whose brains have some strange mutation that allows them to hate men. I shuddered just thinking about it.

So the answer is yes. Whatever is wrong with the next reality, it wouldn't be so bad I'd regret it. It might be manageable. The current world wasn't perfect, and yet I survived 22 years in it.

I closed the booklet, pleased with my weeks of work, looked around, saying goodbye to this old world, never to see it again. I signed the paper to end the game…

I waited for ten, twenty seconds, nothing happened, I almost believed this was all a trick from some cosmic god, until I felt horribly nauseous, everything around me melting, like wet oil paints. Even my own body was melting, and before I could panic, everything just melted, even me, turning black.