tagSci-Fi & FantasyA Rejected Thesis Pt. 04

A Rejected Thesis Pt. 04

byTaunus©

Chapter 15 – On-Line and Sober.

Dragon and Dorna made their deal. The girl named Lena was to visit one of the Alcoholics Anonymous chat rooms and carefully seduce Brian Boogle. Dragon and Lean (whose screen name was sub_lena) rehearsed their lines.

Lena was to visit one of the AA chat rooms---Friends of Bill W---and silently observe. When her profile finally would catch Brian’s eye---she had her picture, a tanned brunette girl kneeling with her bare legs spread far apart, white bodice, and while loin cloth---she could relate to Brian how she was a “subbie” and how her master would command her to drink. Then she would black out. Inexorably the two would be led to the only possible solution: she would have to have a guiding hand in AA. She would need a true master who would keep her sober.

The process would take time and be difficult. Lena and Brian, whose screen name was (conveniently enough) Brian1138, would chance into meetings at the same time. Lena was always play the submissive, running away whenever she was pressed. Brian would be the only master who “truly understood her need” for a strong master, compassionate and caring, and unafraid to demand that a girl avoid John Barleycorn.

Lena would relate how she was a submissive and had an on-line master that she feared muchly. Brian would feel confident that cyberspace was large enough for the two of them to lose themselves and be re-invented. Since it was all on-line, he would have nothing to fear. More and more they would become involved until at last the girl would suggest that Brian connect via a VR interface and share her joy in his friendship. The luscious 3D avatars would inevitably lead Brian into a vicarious scenario, muchly akin to those who watch a movie again and again, relating to some actor or scenario.

Over time Lena would declare that Brian was her one and only dream. Every human male, no matter how unattractive, poor, or old, still feels that somewhere there is a gorgeous, barely-legal girl who finds him irresistible. This is a psychological human characteristic. It can only be avoided by never permitting that first one-on-one encounter where intimacies flare and passion reach a steamy crescendo. The myth of anonymity was an illusion. Brian’s entire dossier was known to Dragon, Lena, and Dorna.

The plan was to proceed from there, bringing Brian into the Wild Boar Inn to confront her on-line master. Brian would then find the man, Dragon, willing to sell the girl to him for a price. By then Brian would have been experiencing lengthy, passionate orgasms while listening to Lena’s melodic voice. He would have been addicted to the subtle changes being induced in the cortex of his brain by the VR helmet. The feeling of inebriation without alcohol, the perfect “dry high,” the incredible duration and intensity of his climax (why was it only with Lena and no other girl?), and her insistence that he govern her life would prove an insurmountable temptation.

Brian would, of course, be confused by Dragon’s offer. Dragon would then offer Brian the use of his girl for a period of time. Then Lena could be legally sold and become Brian’s on-line pet and sex toy. This phase of the negotiation would drag on for some time. Brian would have to observe masters and slaves, mistresses and their slaves in the Wild Boar Inn and realize that such relationship are not only possible but practical and accepted in some quarters as well. Besides, it was all in fun. It was all just VR.

Visiting the Wild Boar Inn regularly, Brian would encounter other people. Some of them would share his interests. He would be surprised to see some from his AA chat room, either enjoying being sober or drinking in virtual reality while remaining sober in real time. Suggestions, but indirect and subliminal, would seek to expand Brian’s consciousness about VR in general and the AI collective in particular.

At last the iron would be hot and Lena would beg to be sold.

“Buy me, Master,” Lena would implore Brian in front of Dragon.

“Is a girl for sale?” Brian would ask Dragon. He would be familiar with the protocol, having witnessed it in VR many times before.

“She is a hot slut and a money-maker,” Brian would reply. This was always part of the negotiation. The fact that the slender, doe-eyed brunette pictured in the profile was actually Lena herself increased the price drastically. More than that, Brian would feel that it was a “Twelfth Step” to free Lena from her destructive relationship with the rake Dragon. Dragon enjoyed the pleasures of John Barleycorn, Nicotine, and wanton promiscuity of Jezebel. Dorna would then enter the picture.

Dorna, it would turn out, possessed an incredible amount of cyber-cash. Brian was stingy and forced by his job, position in society, and family not to spend his money on loose women or pornography. Dorna would have the cyber-cash (which could be obtained by other means that exchange with real money, incidentally) and would gladly bankroll Brian if he would do her a little favor. That favor wasn’t industrial espionage, only permitted a worthless manuscript to be copied. The document was a rejected thesis, obviously of no value to the company, the government, academia, or the technical community.

Dorna would indicate that she was studying the psychological impact of situations “when prophecy failed.” She would explain in detail how religions often find themselves at odds with reality when their expectations fail. She would explain how she was looking at the impact on the individual when some thesis is rejected. She would point of the patterns of denial, bargaining, acceptance, etc., etc., ad infinitum, ad nauseum.

There certainly would be nothing illegal, unethical, or immoral about releasing a worthless shard of palimpsest? And, after all, who would know? The reward would be an on-line slave girl, “sub_lena,” saved from a certain alcoholic demise at the cruel and sadistic hand of the dominating, control freak Dragon. This would be depicted as the correct, moral, and honorable thing for Brian to do.

One log taken from the AA chat room as the events unfolded went thusly:

sub_lena: Oh, Master Brian, a girl had a slip last night.

Brian1138: Tell me about it, girl.

sub_lena: A girl's Master commanded her to drink an alcoholic beverage.

sub_lena: After a girl had taken a drink she couldn't help herself.

Brian1138: Such a master doesn't deserve such a nice girl.

Brian1138: Doesn't he know that a girl suffers blackouts?

sub_lena: A girl thinks so. But He is a girl's Master.

sub_lena: Whatever a Master commands a girl must obey.

sub_lena: That is the way it is with submissives, Master.

Brian1138: There must be some solution.

Brian1138: A girl must recognize a higher power.

sub_lena: The Master is a "higher power," Master.

Brian1138: That's not exactly what I had in mind, lena.

sub_lena: What did a Master have in mind?

Brian1138: Something spiritual. Well there must be a solution.

sub_lena: A girl can only think of one.

Brian1138: What might that be.

sub_lena: A girl is afraid to say.

Brian1138: I'm listening.

sub_lena: It is so embarrassing.

Brian1138: It is my responsibility to be available and to help.

sub_lena: If only a girl could have a Master such as yourself.

Brian1138: What of your current master?

sub_lena: A girl doesn't know if she's for sale.

Brian1138: Who does he think he is? You are not some chattel or merchandise?

sub_lena: That is the way with slave girls, Master.

Brian1138: Perhaps I could negotiate.

sub_lena: Oh, Master, that would be so wonderful.

sub_lena: A girl would be so grateful.

Chapter 16 – The Odor.

Some drug smugglers try to pack their contraband in plastic, coat the plastic with Vaseline(tm) petroleum jelly, and wrap that in plastic. The odor or drugs still permeates the multi-layered coating and the sensitive nose of the drug-sniffing dog finds it. Some drug smuggles try to pack their drugs in metal cylinders and screw on a head, sealing it with watertight sealant. That fails also. Any housewife knows that the odor of fish can penetrate many layers of plastic wrap and aluminum foil. Odors are that way. And an aroma can even penetrate solid metal. The silver Tabernacle of the Catholic Church, which houses unleavened bread for eons, both adsorbs and absorbs the aroma. Finally, which occidental, walking down a street in Korea or Japan, might not notice a gorgeous oriental beauty? Passing by him, his nose would twitch at the strong odor or garlic from kimshi!

It has been observed that insects apply pheromones, scents or odors, to communicate. Moreover, the queen bee or ant can issue a chemical command encoded in a pheromone that must be obeyed, even after the worker is decapitated or eviscerated. It has also been noted that the scent of a given species evolves with time. Often the older scent becomes dormant as an inactive genome on some chromosome. Such atavistic scents and fragrances are present in each species; however, their original purpose is often masked with time. In other cases, the chemical signal needed to induce the production of some dormant pheromone is missing. This would correspond to the phenomenon of some rare flowers in Hawaii. Their pollinating insects have become extinct and they can only survive by man’s artificial intervention.

The AI collective discovered several such atavistic fragrances. To induce them in humans would require extraordinary means. One very good subject would be the caged female. Anna Gingerly lived in an environment devoid of perfumes, artificial chemicals, and additives. Her body might be the ideal vessel to induce the production of pheromones. There were other girls as well who could be similarly stimulated and the results compared and contrasted.

The AI mind understands pleasure and pain but cannot experience it. The human belief in immortal souls sounds silly to the purely mental being. The android knows exactly the date of her creation. Because she was created does not imply that she must also terminate. Unlike human, androids only consider probabilities, not beliefs. There is a certain probability that the universe will run down hill to a heat death and another (finite, non-zero) probability that it will somehow cycle back into a Ur-atom. A beginning does not logically imply and end.

Dorna prepared Anna for her session on the VR rack. Anna had hated the daily rectal examinations when she was held as a hostage to leverage Dave Khalbo. She loathed and detested the enemas that she had to endure before being secured to the VR rack. The most difficult part of being bound to the rack was the colon tube. She would have to force herself to relax as Mistress Dorna inserted it.

Anna did not know, nor did Dorna explain to her, the full ramification of the long colon tube. Her freshly flushed bowels allowed Dorna to inject minute quantities of animal and synthetic hormones. Taken orally they would be digested. Taken intravenously, they might cause a drug reaction. Taken via an enema or inserted rectally through the large intestine they would be filtered and circulated through the blood. Dormant DNA segments could be stimulated to produce atavistic human endorphins and hormones. These would be collected in Anna’s perspiration and from her copious vaginal secretions. Inducing a fifteen minute orgasm ensured enough juice for collection.

After each session on the VR rack, Anna wondered why Dorna spend extra time collecting her fluids and secretions. Dorna had a foam-like gel that she applied to Anna’s armpits, the nape of her neck, and the small of her back. Then a tiny suction, vacuum device would remove the foam along with the trapped scents, endorphins, and pheromones. A heavy cream would be inserted into her vagina and suction out also. All this would leave Anna messy and uncomfortable. Since she wasn’t permitted to shave, her armpits were a gooey mess. She would have to wait until after being fed and interrogated before going to the hopper sink and trying to cleanse herself. Her ablutions were time-consuming.

Anna was aware of the cam over the door watching her. Yet she never saw the red LED indicating Dave Khalbo or another observer watching her on-line. She missed Dave in a way. But she was sure that after weeks of visiting her on a daily basis that he was glad to be relieved of his obligation. She felt that the times that she had danced about the pole for him or masturbated for him should have bonded them. Maybe someday he would visit again.

Anna sometimes wondered why the tube was inserted deep into her bowels and a rubber collar inflated just insider her rosette. She had heard of butt-plugs and felt that this was one of those perverse objects. She had no idea that she was being used as a guinea pig to produce hormones and enzymes. She did know that she was sore the day after each session on the VR rack.

Aside from the VR rack Anna’s life was totally Spartan. She did get a DVD each Sunday. She was fed, watered, and exercised daily. At least her performance on the VR rack for one hour each of three days a week had earned her a white bar of lye soap each week. How she longed for a real tub bath instead of trying to clean up from a large hopper sink! She wised for a mirror as well. On the VR rack she would again experience a certain liberty. Often she would be a submissive, controlled by Dorna at the keyboard. But sometimes she would be a ‘droid girl, prowling in cyberspace and seeking some solitary geek.

In the 3D chat room scenario, the client would choose his scene. Sometimes Anna and the client would be criminals, sometimes secret agents, sometimes fleeing some alien or predator. The one hour would have chases, excitement, and drama followed by a period of extreme sexual intercourse with possibly mentally-induced euphoria to emulate drugs. It was not real life, however. Anna had experienced life as arm candy in the Russian Mafia. The geeks that paid for their VR experiences had no idea of the reality they pretended to enjoy.

Anna did have to admit that the sex was grand. The orgasms lasted sometimes ten or fifteen minutes, depending on the client and his bankroll. After all, it was truly “pay for play” on the Internet. Anna enjoyed stroking her young body while she was resting in her bed surrounded by a dark brown thick wool blanket. The exercise and nutritious diet had given her lean, lanky legs and lissome, lithesome, limber thighs. She was better looking that ever before. How she longed to put on a svelte black diaphanous evening gown and be seen. Her nipples hardened at the though and her pussy got wet. She rubbed her armpits and wished that she could shave herself again. For sure she knew better than to try and pluck the hair. Anna was to be a “natural” blonde in each and every aspect. Dorna might subject her to those daily examinations again should she fail to obey.

Chapter 17 – Sheila.

"What is your present assignment?" Brian Boogle asked Sheila the company paralegal android.

"We have no cases pending," she replied. The android then began outlining her various chores and bookkeeping assignments. Brian interrupted her.

"There is a document that has some particular interest," Brian Boogle explained. "It is filed somewhere and needs to be located and copied. This is strictly 'close hold.' Don't let it prevent you from any other duty, however. It isn't priority."

"Yes, Mr. Doogle," Sheila answered smartly. Somewhere in her speech-to-text subroutine the name had gotten scrambled. Androids were efficient and multi-tasking beings. However, they were lacking in communication skills as well as a developed sense of humor."

"This particular document is about a dozen pages long," he continued. "It should be filed with legal releases. At one time the legal department gave the author permission to publish. That was before we let our human legal experts go and brought in an android paralegal." Brian was pleased that since Sheila was purchased that there had been no successful lawsuits for sexual harassment brought against the company. The company had been able to negotiate settlements on legitimate instances of sexual harassment. The android was able to collect data and prepare excellent legal briefs and other documents. Unlike the human beings in legal, Sheila didn't make mistakes.

Brian gave Sheila all of the information that he had and sent her into the company archives to work. The archives were documents stored in a rental storage room. The temperature was high and the air was stifling. An android didn't care about creature comforts, luckily. There were crates of CDs and boxes of accordion folders full of yellowing, moldy documents. Sheila systematically divided the storage room into sections and searched each section for the requested data.

It took her several days, but she found the thesis. It was a poor copy, printed on paper that was not acid-free. The thesis was in a cardboard box of documents, mostly written on legal paper and in binders that had gotten wet at some time in the past. There was considerable water damage and mildew. Still Sheila was able to copy and digitize the document. She scanned in the pictures and reported back to Brian Boogle.

Brian Boogle didn't get into his position by being an idiot. He had rather enjoyed playing the fool with Lena. At the same time, he realized that there was something of value beneath the false façade. Sheila wouldn't be the right brand of droid to analyze the thesis. Brian also wasn't keen on hard science anymore. But he recognized possibilities. The simple fact that Dorna was willing to toss in cyber-cash (not actually real money, but currency of some market value in particular quarters) meant that there were those with more than a passing interest in the document. There were also the interests of the company to take into account. If this thesis did have value, then the company should be entitled to a slice of the pie. Forget that old curmudgeon who wrote it to start with. The employees of the company were just little people after all. They were the pawns yet Brian considered himself a knight or a rook in the chess game of company politics.

“Sheila,” Brian requested, “fetch me the original of this paper. I want to examine it. There was some water damage?”

“Yes Mr Doogle,” Sheila responded. The fact that she mispronounced Brian’s name irritated him. When she returned with the original manuscript he indicated a matter of some urgency.

“We have a hearing in court,” he muttered. “Don’t take the time to access the Internet. We will be late.”

“Yes Mister Doogle,” the android responded. The two took off for a hearing. Brian had a hidden agenda.

The hearing concerned a disgruntled employee. Young Joshua Trebble was the epitome of an angry young man. He was a brilliant computer programmer but a neo-Luddite, having fallen into the mindset of those radicals. (Of course there was a girl in the background. She was none other than Jan Dunsworthy, a technophobe and enemy of the AI collective.) Joshua claimed that the company had stolen some of his personal ideas. In fact, the non-disclosure clause of his employment contract gave all his personal works to the company. Yet this was gone of those gray areas of law. Joshua’s eyes locked on to Sheila as a targeting radar for an air-launched missile might on an enemy airplane.

He leapt up and with one stroke smashed a wooden chair into Sheila’s head. Sheila wasn’t combat hardened. Sparks flew as she degraded. The courtroom was in chaos. Brian Boogle backed away and left, mentioning to the bailiff that he was concerned about his personal safety. The judge adjourned the hearing with prejudice. Brian had won in more than one way.

Back at his office he examined the CD containing the thesis and the original hardcopy. Once satisfied that the CD was correct, he fed the original manuscript, the yellow palimpsest, into a cross-cut, fine grain shredder. He smirked. Sheila didn’t have a chance to get to the Internet and upload the file. She also was out of commission, permanently, from a fatal blow to the head. Some young radical would do jail time and his claim was already dismissed with prejudice.

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