For three hundred years, the immortal god king Macbeth survived.
Knowing that no man of woman born could slay him, Macbeth kept no women in his employ. He had his wife executed, of course. He funded a great initiative to ensure mothers gave birth in hospitals so he could keep a record of which boys were from their mothers’ wombs untimely ripped.
And then Gender started to happen.
Men sleeping with men, women sleeping with women, people of both genders up and declaring that their assignment at birth was wrong. “I’m not a man, I’m a woman!” “I’m not a woman, I’m a man!” “I’m not either! I’m genderless!”
To be honest, Macbeth didn’t much care how anyone lived their day-to-day lives so long as he remained on the throne of Scotland for all eternity. But this new upheaval in What It Meant to be a man or a woman proved most unsettling.
For a time, he outlawed the practice of non-traditional gender. But that just seemed to make the people upset, and when the people were upset, that’s when kings tended to get murdered. He would know. So he reversed course; alternative gender roles were embraced openly, with medical transition being fully covered at all of the kingdom’s many hospitals.
That way, he could keep track of which men had been born as girls and which women had been born as boys. He made sure to neither employ nor associate with any of these dangerous transgender people, nor the equally perilous non-binaries. He didn’t know which, if any, trans people “counted” as men by the reckoning of the prophecy, but he wasn’t about to risk it.
He just… overlooked one tiny little detail.
“So you’re applying for the position of palace guard,” the interviewer said. “Bob MacDuff?”
“Yes, sir,” MacDuff replied. “I have some experience as a security guard…” He gestured to his resume.
“Aye, well, a palace guard serves a largely decorative purpose,” the interviewer said, probably in a more Scottish sort of way than I’m capable of representing. Actually, this story takes place in a world where Scotland’s probably not part of the UK, and I haven’t accounted for that at all in this draft? Oh well. “While we run the background check, let me just brief you on the responsibilities of the job. We do have a full benefits package, of course…”
About ten minutes later, MacDuff was sitting there watching an introductory video on the responsibilities of a palace guard. An email notification popped up on the interviewer’s computer and he took a look at the background check results.
Raibeart “Bob” MacDuff, age 32, born male at a small but trustworthy hospital in a little nowhere village. A proper birth, not a caesarian. Lived a largely unremarkable life. No known insurrectionist ties. No apparent transgender leanings.
MacDuff seemed completely ordinary. Perfectly so, in fact. There was absolutely no reason not to give him the job.
“You got the job?” MacDuff could hear the smile in his father’s voice when he called home to let his parents know. “That’s great! Now maybe you can finally afford to come home and visit every so often. We miss you, you know.”
“I know, I know… I’ll try to save up. Rent’s terrible here, you know that.”
“Maybe we can come visit. Your mother has something she’s been meaning to—” Duff paused. “Really? Not even a hint?” he asked, hand over the receiver. “Okay, fine.”
“What’s that all about?”
“Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry about it. Just focus on your new job.”
“You really should tell him, Iain.”
Bob MacDuff’s “mother” sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I know! But I don’t want to do it over the phone, Duff. That just feels so… impersonal.”
“Maybe we can go visit him.” Duff squeezed his husband’s hand. “He’s our son. He’s not going to love you any less just because you’re a man now.”