I wrote a radical feminist performance art piece...

[Paradoxical]

This is for a college course final that I literally just finished. This was the last task. It is my interpretation of an EXTREME form of feminist performance art.

As a warning, it's really quite graphic in nature.

Please remember that this story carries with it a symbolic meaning that I will not explain. You'll have to interpret it's meaning on your own. But I don't think it's too difficult to get the message.

Anyway, here it is...

There is a giant warehouse 500 feet wide and 500 feet long. In the center is a plexiglass box sized just large enough to fit a small human being inside. The box is filled with water until it crests at the top.
The female artist places the respirator over her face and hooks it up to a small tank of air. The tank of air is much smaller than a diving tank. At a relaxed rate of respiration, it will last no more than 10 minutes. She tests the flow of air. It's functioning properly. She removes the mask and sits on the edge of the box, dangling her feet into the water. Meditating.
The space is well lit as thousands of cast members pour into the building. Thousands of men. All the same height, similar build and complexion. They are all wearing blood red shirts and pants. Within minutes, there is not a single space in the building not populated by the same man. There's so little room that each individual huddles compressed against the other. The heat radiating from their bodies causes the temperature to rise rapidly. Before long, they are a giant mass of sweating beasts, pushing and shoving for the tiniest bit of room to flex their muscles.
A small side door leading into the building is opened for a brief second as another human being is shoved into the mass. This time it's a woman. Identical in every way to the woman sitting on the edge of the water filled box. Same build, same height, same complexion. It would not be unimaginable for you to confuse one for the other under different circumstances. But the women just entering the building is not wearing a diving suit or respirator. She's wearing clothing like the males. But her shirt and pants are the color of purple; the same shade as blood that's suffering from oxygen depletion.
No announcement of her entrance is made. Only the men directly beside her know she's arrived. She huddles along the wall, 500 feet from the woman on the box. She holds in her hand a key. The key fits a lock resting in the hand of the woman sitting on the edge of the box.
The woman sitting on the box reaches over the edge to the nearest male and gives him the lock. She instructs him to lock the box shut once she puts on her respirator, dives into the water and closes the lid. Once the lid is closed, there is no way to breath inside the box without a respirator. Once the lid is locked, there is no way out.
The woman puts on her respirator, dives into the water and closes the lid. The male reaches up and connects the lock. The woman is now trapped inside the box, sustained only by the tiny tank of air that will last only 10 minutes.
At once, all the lights illuminating the warehouse are shut off. We are now in complete darkness. She has 10 minutes.
News starts to spread away from the box as each male tries to notify the other of the woman's predicament. The other woman at the far end of the warehouse now desperately tries to make her way into the mass of men, tunneling towards the woman in the box. After several minutes, the woman has only covered a couple dozen yards of ground. She is inching towards the woman in the box. But word has spread quickly from the first male with the lock. And the males surrounding the woman with the key tells her to give them the key. They will pass it along to the male standing at the edge of the box so that he can undo the lock before the woman runs out of oxygen.
She has 5 minutes. The woman with the key refuses to give it up to the males. She provides no justification for such a refusal. She simply ignores them, pushing her way through the seemingly endless wall of others. There is a noticeably increasing tension in the air as the seconds tick down. Most of the males are not aware of the dire situation unfolding. But they know something is wrong. They feel the sickening grip of helplessness creeping into their bones.
The woman continues to fight her way through the mass of men. She's now nearly halfway to the woman in the box. The woman in the box is sitting at the bottom in what seems to be some form of meditation. She's sitting in the darkness of the water, depleting her lifeline. She has 1 minute.
The woman with the key begins to scream and cry as she shoves her way ever closer to the box. She frightens the males around her setting off a chain reaction of panic and distress. The room is vibrating with chatter and some men begin to yell for explanation. Before long, their is an ever increasing roar emanating from the group. Still total darkness. The room is now overwhelmed with confusion.
The woman with the key can no longer overcome the strength and alarm of the males around her. She is trapped and possesses no way to quiet them or get them to cooperate.
The oxygen tank is now empty. The woman in the box has a few minutes of oxygen reserved in her lungs if she keeps her composure. She senses the impending failure of the woman with the key and she panics. Bubbles flood from her nostrils. In desperation she begins to inhale water. It fills her lungs as she spasms in horror.
The room is now screaming with activity. There is no method to the madness. Everyone is mad. The woman with the key fell to the ground under the strain of the males around her.
5 more minutes pass as the insanity deepens. All at once, the lights are switched on, blinding all of the inhabitants of the room and instantly silencing them.
Except for two. For they are already dead. The woman in the box floats lifelessly, slowly rebounding off the lid. The woman with the key is a crushed pile of flesh and blood, spread out over a surprising area of the floor.
The males have won.

[laconicsax]

1. Recommended.