This is not a future we have ever seen before.

For those fascinated by, but tired of, the oppression of women in both the real world and pop media, you may be interested in the new series TYRANNA which turns the whole thing on its head.

It’s about a future-set world that is a reversal of THE HANDMAID’S TALE, one in which women are in power, enforcing order against men by using huge A.I. androids which they long ago gained exclusive control over.

As a result, men are controlled or imprisoned by a matriarchy that reproduces entirely from artificial insemination.

The series is based on a flashfiction short story (included below) and includes a glimpse of the main character, a psychiatrist who wants to investigate the mindset of men, a forbidden subject.

Perhaps even more interesting, men in general are not particularly a focus of women in this society, who view them as irrelevant or dangerous. In fact, it is only a couple of the women who trouble themselves with understanding the male prison population, and even then, there is no romantic appeal: the catalyst for entering the male world is that one of the women overlords wants to play matchmaker to two men who may or may not feel a connection to each other. It is only when the main psychiatrist, Dr. Mallier, begins to realize the man she’s with is a more interesting person than she ever realized that a hint of her true emotions comes in, and love may definitely not be one of them.

In this realm, nothing is more disappointing than a male child, and the doctor has long ago given hers up for the enslavement program. She wonders if the prisoner can reconnect her to the boy, or if she even wants that.

Rules are enforced by a variety of female-looking droids, including huge female hulking police officers that make women almost as uncomfortable as the men. Add this show to the pop culture list for your paranoid male friend—or your empowered female friend. Either way.

The series has gained notoriety among a certain corner of the population in its country of origin for sparking fierce fights between men and women. In fact, there is a message board out there for homicide investigators that have tied domestic disputes that end in murder to arguments resulting from watching the series.

This theory might not be an exaggeration; Swedish police found the show still running on television sets in 4 homicides in a given week, and murder is not at all common in that nation. What’s going on out there that a rather obscure show like this can strike such a chord?

We aren’t saying, are we, that a scifi tv show can cause a real war between the sexes, are we?

Certainly, TYRANNA has caused its share of arguments both inside and outside Sweden, as any visit to a Reddit discussion on the subject of the show will tell you. What’s disturbing is how angry some of the men are getting in regards to a completely fantastical premise. It is as if the show has tapped into an area of the subconscious that is not meant to be touched for some reason, and the audience is paying the price. But this cannot be true, can it?

TYRANNA can be found on the Apple store if you search carefully, or on Hulu’s hidden menu. You’ll need to email customer service at Hulu or call them to get the hidden menu code to see it. To get you ready, or for an interesting reference point, below is the original story that launched the show.

T Y R A N N A

Flashfiction story by T.J. Harriman

-I look at it like a weakness.

-A weakness how?

-I wanted to understand imprisonment. The psychology of imprisonment.

-Is that something hard to find out about?

-What do you mean?

-You chose me. Specifically. You could’ve found out about a prisoner’s mind from any of us.

-I don’t like your tone.

And then he bristled. Bright blue eyes fearful. She didn’t like the power, didn’t enjoy making men feel afraid. Women always made men feel afraid.

-I apologize, mistress-master.

-Don’t call me that. I have a name.

-Did you tell me your name?

-Doctor Mallier.

-Thank you for letting me know, ma’am. Doctor Mallier.

-You said it wrong. Like this: mahl-ee-ay.

-Mahl-ee-ay.

-Good.

She tried to smile at him. Wasn’t used to smiling. She had no idea really how to begin this. Men were problematic.

Outside the panoramic window, out there in the rain, octopus-like hodcarrier droids were setting up a building, tentacles rapidly dropping bricks into place. Expensive work. She allowed him to look.

What was he thinking about? Gratitude, probably. The Octopawns meant he didn’t have to do the heavy slave labor that never seemed to end on the outskirts of the city.

-Do you prefer to work. Is it better than being inside?

-Dr. Mallier, forgive me, I don’t want to be impertinent or say anything disrespectful, but I also don’t want to get into any… I don’t want to face any punitives because of talking to you.

-You won’t face punitives.

-It hurts.

His eyes nearly let loose with tears. God. What exactly did they do to him in the prisons? Women could do that? Hurt men that way?

What sort of punitives had he faced, anyway?

-No one will hurt you. I already told you, I view this as a bit of a weakness on my part. All this, wanting to know about you. I have a bad curiosity about people. All I ever interview is women. So I’m… opening up. You know? You have that over me. Just, there won’t be any punitives. I have a lot of authority.

-Doctor, I know this isn’t supposed to be done. Meeting like this.

What did he know. Mistress-masters met with men all the time. For whatever the hell they wanted. If she wanted to meet with a prison-man because of his mind, it was doubtful it would be all that scandalous.

He didn’t understand anything.

-What I specifically want to know, Prisoner 51-10, to start off is, do you recognize in yourself any abnormal, especially compulsive, behavior because of being in lock-up?

He seemed angry again. He kept it in check. She found this curious and impressive and somehow sorrowful.

-Is compulsive behavior your specialty?

-Actually it is.

-When women are in power, they are specially compulsive?

-Now I would watch yourself, 51-10. Women are always in power. Women have always been in power. At least since the A.I. came under their sway. And I don’t think we want the suggestion that because of this power, women are necessarily mentally unstable.

-I didn’t say that.

Scared now. She hated that she pulled rank on him. How can she get him to open up if she can’t let go of her mantle of superiority?

-51-10, is there something that you would like to talk about?

-I don’t even want to be here. You don’t need me. Don’t they give you something to… to make you feel happy and satisfied, or whatever?

-Yes, they do, 51, they give us pills and many things, but that isn’t what this is about. It isn’t romantic. I’m curious about your life.

–Yes. There is weird, abnormal behavior in the prisons. Okay? Every possible kind. People pace in weird patterns, they cut themselves, they shave every bit of hair on them—you must have cameras that show this, what the hell do you want from me?

Very angry now, he moved a bit forward toward her desk. Young, but he was pretty big. She didn’t like this. The A.I. bodyguard she kept also sensed this and lumbered from a sentry position at the side.

51-10 didn’t react. His hands were clenched. The A.I., an absolutely massive hulk with the muscular but female form of a Blue7 series, moved intimidatingly beside the young man.

The Blue7’s metallic hair fibers rattled with a slight scraping on its armored bodyform, a needle clatter. Its steel feminine face was fixed into a resolved grimness.

Some women enjoyed this, seeing a man cower before the huge female warrior form. Most women did. Dr. Mallier did not. This morning she had watched a teenaged girl arrogantly order a man-slave to his knees at a coffee stand to give thanks for the holiday of Judaitov, and when he wasn’t quick enough, she had her Blue7’s huge muscular arms clutch his head and push him down in the rain.

The girl was Dr. Mallier’s daughter from a standard insemination pool and she tried not to think about the little psychotic she was becoming.

-51-10, I am interested in improving prison conditions. But I can’t get women on my side to support it without… something in return. I’d like to give them research on mental abnormalities. They’ll find it fascinating.

-I don’t want to be anyone’s entertainment.

-Yes, you do. It will be your ticket out of there.

-You’re the psychiatrist, but I’ve got a real good sense of when people are lying to me.

Impressive. He wasn’t afraid to be surly with the Blue7 right there looming over him like he was a toy. Blue7s were made by a firm called Vemonin, rhymes with feminine, the brand name right at the prisoner’s eyes, reflected there coldly. Some of them they nicknamed Jeanne D’arcs because they looked like women knights.

She held his stare and then feigned at relaxing.

-Okay. You got me. I’ll tell you what I’m lying about if you tell me your male name. The one they call you privately.

-It’s 51-10.

Was that a sense of humor? She decided to go first.

-It may shock you, being a man, but there aren’t very many cameras on you. There are no experts examining your conditions either. Women don’t care about you. They are not the least bit interested in men, except as slave labor and sperm farms.

He tilted his head, maybe interested in her frankness.

-And the way I found my way to you was this. In this office building we have a woman named Allieya. She is very unusual. She met someone in your cell block and was, I guess, startled to learn that he was in love with… another man, in a different prison house. They met on a work detail. Allieya decided to help them find each other. Her paperwork caused suspicion that she was using funds illegally, so she stopped, and handed this job over to me. I’m supposed to find out how their relationship is going.

-What?

-I’m supposed to…

-I heard you. I don’t believe it.

-She told me I could use this opportunity for whatever I want, and I want to further my research into compulsive behavior.

51-10 had a look on his face that was hard to read. She assumed it was confusion. But then he spoke and she could see he was insulted.

-I don’t play matchmaker.

-You’ll do what I want.

She bit her tongue. She couldn’t help herself, treating men this way. It wouldn’t help this situation.

-51-10, there are people on this side who want to improve conditions for you. But you have to give us something back. For me, I want you to tell me about the imprisoned minds you spend time with. For Allieya, you need to make certain reports on the inmates she asks you about. And, in case I didn’t make this clear, Allieya… is my supervisor.

51-10 grinned. This thought hadn’t come into his head before. She knew what it was before he said it:

-Even you have wardens over on this side, huh?

In response, she tried to grin. She handed him what was left of a muffin on his desk—which he had admirably hidden his interest in.

He devoured it, blueberries staining his young teeth.

-Cody. My name is Cody. And if you get me more food like this, I’ll tell you anything you could possibly want to know.

Then he added:

-And some of it will even be true.