The university’s rgest auditorium was a sea of students—3,000 of them, buzzing with energy. Phones were out, livestreams were rolling, TikToks already posting. Naomi Patel was in the building.

  Once a champion of intersectional feminism, once the face of anti-theocracy protests on this very campus, Naomi now stood tall as the Vice President of the 6 Commandments Party, draped in a sleek navy blue abaya with a silver pin in the shape of a stylized “6C.” Her transformation was legendary, porizing, and undeniably mesmerizing. Some called her a sellout, others a visionary. Everyone called her brilliant.

  She approached the podium like a seasoned performer, letting the appuse swell, then settle. Her voice, calm but cutting, filled the air.

  “You want coherence? Let’s talk logic.”

  The crowd hushed. Some leaned forward. Others smirked, arms crossed, waiting to be outraged. Naomi always knew her audience.

  “America failed because it tried to please everyone and offended everything sacred. We at 6C ask one question: What happens when a society stops pretending that contradictions can coexist?”

  She clicked a slide. Behind her, in giant white font on bck background, appeared the six commandments:

  No Pork.

  No Gambling.

  Women can share beds, not wages.

  Marriage: One man, four wives.

  Jesus is a Prophet. Muhammad is the Final Messenger.

  No Secur Law—Only Divine Governance.

  Gasps. Whispers. A few cheers from the growing 6C student bloc in the front row. Naomi paced.

  “You ugh at ‘no pork’? Fine. But think: If restraint is weakness, then why do all great athletes and monks practice it? Why is every religion’s starting point self-denial?”

  Slide changes. A burning casino in Marynd.

  “Gambling? A tax on the desperate. The poor fund the rich with their addictions—and you called it entertainment. We call it haram.”

  She paused.

  “Now the fun part—women.” Her smile turned into a bde. “Yes, we ban feminism—but not femininity. We respect women’s bonds. We honor sisterhood. Women can share beds. What they can’t do is be exploited in a capitalist job market just to come home to a man who treats her like a co-worker.”

  Dead silence. Some furious. Others intrigued.

  “Polygamy? You think it’s oppressive? No—it's a contract. A sacred one. Better than the disposable culture of Tinder. Four women, one man—committed, protected, and revered.”

  A student yelled, “What about choice?!”

  She didn’t flinch.

  “You had ‘choice’ for 50 years. And where did it get you? One in three women medicated. Record loneliness. Fragmented homes. Your freedom is killing you.”

  Another slide: A Venn diagram of Abrahamic faiths.

  “We honor Jesus. We love Moses. But Revetion doesn’t end until the Final Prophet speaks. This isn’t erasure. It’s completion.”

  The final slide: “No Securism.”

  “No divine order can coexist with chaos. You cannot worship God on Sunday and the Market on Monday. Pick a god. We did.”

  The room erupted—some in wild appuse, others in stunned silence. Some stormed out, others shouted “Alhu Akbar,” still others stood frozen, not knowing how to react.

  And Naomi? She just stood there, drinking in the confusion like wine.

  She paused, let the silence thicken, then stepped back toward the podium with a sly smile.

  “Let’s talk about what gets everyone nervous—sex, love, and fairness.”

  She clicked again. A split screen showed two commandments:

  ‘Women can share beds, not wages.’

  ‘One man, four wives.’

  “Now, I know what some of you are thinking—‘Oh look, this favors men.’ But let’s slow down and look at the logic.”

  “First—yes, lesbianism is permissible. Homosexuality between men is forbidden. That’s not bias, that’s biology. Women bonding with women is natural. Not because we say so—but because nature corrects itself.”

  She raised a hand, as if to quiet the murmurs.

  “In all 20 states under 6C, we’ve never criminalized lesbian retionships. Not once. And yet... do you see lesbian communes rising? Are there waves of female-female child-rearing households? No. Because even when allowed, it rarely sustains. That’s the beauty—we permit it, but we let nature sort it out.”

  Another slide. The phrase: Permissible ≠ Encouraged.

  “So yes, a woman may love another woman. She may make love to her. And if she’s married to a man? Still allowed. Because female bisexuality is not only real—it’s sacred in its own way. It doesn’t viote the divine order.”

  The students shifted in their seats. This was taboo territory, but Naomi delivered it like a courtroom closing argument.

  “But men? No. Polyandry is forbidden. A woman may have only one husband. Why? Because biology matters. Lineage matters. Structure matters. A household can’t have five fathers and no crity.”

  “So yes, it looks like men have the advantage in marriage. But in love? In sensuality? In freedom of bonding? Women have no limit. That’s not oppression. That’s wisdom.”

  There were audible gasps. A few cps. A lot of conflicted stares.

  “6C isn’t here to control your desires. It’s here to give them a framework. A design that works. That honors creation and order. That leaves room for pleasure—but within divine architecture.”

  And with that, she moved on. But the room? It hadn’t caught up yet.

  Scene: Q&A Session – Central Michigan University Auditorium

  The appuse had been hesitant—cshing with internal discomfort, curiosity, and that strange, electrified silence that follows a speaker who just rewired the room.

  Naomi Patel took a seat on the high stool, microphone in hand. The moderator—a nervous poli-sci grad student—stepped to the side as the first student approached the mic.

  Student 1: (She/Her, Sociology Major)

  "You say polyandry is unnatural, but isn’t that just conditioning? Isn’t monogamy itself a cultural construct?"

  Naomi nodded, smiling as if she’d expected the question.

  “Good question. But monogamy isn’t banned. Polygyny is permitted. Polyandry is prohibited. That’s not the same thing as saying every woman must be in a polygamous marriage.”

  “And as for conditioning? Biology is conditioning. If polyandry worked at scale, you'd see it somewhere thriving—across history, across cultures. But you don’t. It creates paternal chaos. That’s why lineage in polyandrous setups always dissolves into confusion—or authoritarianism.”

  She paused.

  “We don’t build commandments on theories. We build them on patterns that have sted centuries.”

  Student 2: (She, Queer Alliance President)

  "You say male homosexuality is forbidden but female homosexuality is permissible. Isn’t that a contradiction in moral logic?”

  A few murmurs rippled through the crowd. Naomi kept her voice even.

  “Not a contradiction—a distinction. Female intimacy doesn’t negate male responsibility or disrupt divine structure. Male homosexuality reassigns male energy away from providership and leadership. It inverts the order.”

  “Also, ask yourself: Why has nearly every civilization reguted male-male intimacy, while women loving women was often ignored, eroticized, or spiritualized? We don’t cim to invent morality. We observe how creation reacts.”

  She let it hang in the air before adding:

  “And again—we don’t criminalize. We delineate.”

  Student 3: (They/Them, Undecred)

  "What if I reject all of it—what if I say none of this is for me?"

  Naomi gave a half-smile, more curious than judgmental.

  “Then don’t follow it. But understand: the 6 Commandments are not designed for everyone. They are designed for civilizational health. For coherence. You can opt out of nature—but you can’t opt out of consequences.”

  Student 4: (She/Her, Pre-Law)

  "How do you reconcile freedom with divine w? Isn’t divine w by definition restrictive?"

  Naomi leaned forward.

  “No, divine w is structural. It’s the difference between a river and a flood. Freedom without structure destroys. Freedom within structure flourishes. That’s not restriction. That’s form.”

  Student 5: (He/Him, Mathematics, former atheist)

  "So... wait. You're saying women can love women, even if they’re married to a man, but men can’t have more than four wives, and women can’t have more than one husband. So who has more freedom?”

  Naomi ughed softly. The room followed.

  “Ah, the question of bance. Men have more juridical flexibility in marriage. Women have more emotional flexibility in love. That’s how 6C designed it.”

  “Not because one gender deserves more—but because each is made for different strengths.”

  Even students who hated 6C started murmuring things like:

  “She kinda made sense.”

  “I don’t agree, but... I get it now.”

  “It’s coherent. Like, disturbingly coherent.”

  The questions slowed. Not because the students ran out of objections—but because the framework had started to settle in. Naomi’s logic wasn’t brittle. It bent, absorbed, then redirected every challenge with unnerving poise.

  She gnced at the moderator, who nodded, signaling time for a closing thought. But Naomi had one more card to py.

  She opened her phone, scrolled deliberately, then read aloud:

  From the official 6C doctrine site, Article IV, Paragraph 6: ‘There is no limit for women in love. There is limit for men in love.’”

  She looked up, locking eyes with the front row—where feminist student leaders sat skeptical but attentive.

  “Let’s unpack that. A man? He can love up to four wives. No more. That’s structure. That’s w.”

  “But a woman? She can love as many women as she wants. She can be married to a man, and still have sexual and romantic intimacy with women—no punishment, no shame.”

  “Ten women could have sex with each other tonight, together, in a synchronized expression of affection—and the w says nothing. No condemnation. No limit.”

  She paused. Silence.

  “Now... flip the genders. Ten men in an orgy? Forbidden. Not because we hate men—but because men must be restrained, or they ruin everything. History proves this.”

  Another pause.

  “A man with four wives? Okay, fine—if he qualifies. But even he must accept this: His wife can cheat on him... with a woman. And 6C won’t intervene. Not because we’re blind. But because we’re wise.”

  Gasps. Nervous ughter. Wide-eyed students gncing at one another, recalibrating what they just heard.

  Naomi leaned forward, eyes sharp as steel.

  “So I ask you—especially the feminists in this hall: Is this not female advantage?”

  “A society where your desires are not criminalized. Where your love is not policed. Where your sensuality has no ceiling—but his does?”

  “Don’t mistake modest clothing or faith nguage for patriarchy. 6C doesn’t fear female power. We just organize it.”

  A long silence followed—charged, unsettled, buzzing.

  Even those who hated everything about 6C couldn’t deny it:

  Naomi wasn’t preaching oppression.

  She was preaching an alternate architecture of power.

  As Naomi Patel id out the forbidden logic of the 6 Commandments, something surreal unfolded in the auditorium at Central Michigan University.

  At first, there had been tension—intellectual resistance, moral unease, suppressed ughter. But by the time Naomi finished the section on “no limits for women in love,” the energy shifted.

  The boys leaned forward.

  Some nudged each other with sly smirks, as if finally hearing a system that gave them structure without shame. Polygamy with rules? Respectable. Women sleeping with women? Allowed—even encouraged. And if your wife had a secret girlfriend? That wasn’t betrayal—it was divine nuance.

  One frat boy whispered to another:

  “Bro… I could live in that world.”

  Another nodded slowly, jaw sck, not out of lust—but out of relief. Here was a worldview that made their desires not only valid, but organized.

  Meanwhile, the feminists were thrown into something stranger: conflicted agreement.

  They had come ready to protest, ready to challenge another religious theocracy trying to suppress women. But Naomi wasn’t suppressing anything. She was handing them a sexual monopoly.

  “No limit on female love.” “Female bisexuality acknowledged as sacred.” “Men capped. Women free.”

  A girl with a “Smash the Patriarchy” hoodie whispered to her friend:

  “Wait… is this actually empowering?”

  Another, blinking hard, tried to catch Naomi in a contradiction—but couldn’t.

  Even the queer alliance reps, initially tight-lipped, couldn’t ignore the asymmetry: lesbians not just tolerated, but protected. For the first time, a religious system had carved out a space where female intimacy was neither sin nor spectacle—it was strategy.

  Naomi wasn’t just winning the room.

  She was hacking their sense of justice—with coherence.

  By the end, most of the students were cpping. Others just sat in stunned silence—unwilling to endorse, unable to dismiss.

  For many, it wasn’t conversion.

  It was something deeper.

  And that’s where movements like 6C gain ground—not with force, but with frameworks that make even their enemies... pause.

  .....