All 4 U

(This is the final story in the "4U" series. To experience them to the fullest, it is recommended that you read them in the following order: I'm a Slave 4 U, Even the Stars Fall 4 U, Bent 4 U, Kill 4 U, I Would Die 4 U, 4 U 2 B Free, This Is Just 4 U, I'm Coming 4 U, and finally this story.)

"All 4 U"

Surprisingly, I don't often experience gaps in my memory. You'd think that a service unit would constantly have to contend with stretches of missing time, actions that are inexplicable, compulsions we don't understand but can't resist... but honestly, it really doesn't work that way. It doesn't have to. When your will is completely subsumed to the perfect control of your Master, when you're so deeply and thoroughly brainwashed that you think anything you're commanded to think, that kind of mental legerdemain simply isn't necessary. Only the woman on the surface obeys without thought or memory. Unit 4U can always relax into the bliss of perfect dedication to my Master's will.

Which is why it's a little surprising to look down at the text message on my phone and realize I don't remember anything I did prior to receiving it. 'All service units within 1.2 miles of the Emerson Tower,' it says, 'converge on Conference Room Vandenberg and prepare to restrain rogue individuals.' I know I'm in the Emerson Tower right now, I know I'm perhaps three floors up from the Vandenberg Room, but I don't know how I got here. I don't know what I was doing a few moments ago. I don't know anything at all. It's an unfamiliar, disconcerting situation, and I don't seem to be able to find a command to slot my amnesia into in order to fit it into the soothing network of instructions that comprise my personality within my host body.

But a command is a command is a command, and I find comfort in the soothing rhythms of obedience. I rise from the computer terminal I've been sitting at-it's a terminal deep in the sub-basements of the Emerson Tower, responsible for certain key functions of the command network that instructs the service units to obey. Have I been working on the terminal? It would explain why I have missing memories; from this room, I could send out instructions that would reconfigure a slave's loyalties, consciousness, even identity. Most of the major functions are locked off to the Directors, of course; even the most confident owners rarely put the leash into their pet's hands. But I could see myself following a seemingly-innocent instruction that wiped out the cached history of my service to the MKPerfect Corporation.

I realize that something's odd there, as I let myself out of the server room and stride quickly down the hallway to the service stairwell. Other service units stream out into the hallway, each one following the same direction and each one with the same slightly bemused expression on their face that tells me they're experiencing the same confusion. We shouldn't be able to think about the MKPerfect Corporation. We shouldn't be able to think of the Directors as people with identities, names and faces and addresses. These are things that are surgically excised from even our deep selves, an exception to the rule that a service unit always knows what they need to know to obey. The Directors take no chances on that score. And yet, I can name all seven of them. I even know that six of those seven are service units just like me, brainwashed into compliance so total that their waking selves think they're in charge of the board. Why?

It's not that I don't have a Master. I can feel the perfect, glorious, inexpressible beauty of obedience pulsing away in the back of my mind. I don't know anything that's happened to me more than five minutes ago, I don't know how I got here or why I'm doing what I'm doing or where my Master is or what her name is or anything about her, but I know I'm Service Unit 4U and I have a Master. And she's commanded me to go to the Vandenberg Room, along with maybe a dozen other slaves. I'm glad it's a big conference room. It's going to be very crowded.

The more I think about it, the more I notice tiny discrepancies between the way I think and the way that I know a service unit is supposed to think. I don't know how I know how a service unit is supposed to think; all of my personal memories seem to be walled off save for the last few minutes. I have no experiences to draw on. But I can understand an entire wealth of information about the MKPerfect Corporation and its structures and policies and procedures, and the more I think about them, the more I realize I'm not following the same rules a slave should follow. It's like I'm some sort of parallel-universe version of myself. An off-brand me.

No. Not off-brand. Off-network. As soon as I hypothesize it, I recognize it to be true. I'm Unit 4U, I'm a service unit like all the others, but the control network that gives me my instructions isn't the same as the main system. It's got a slightly different set of command pathways, leading back to a different operator and a different Master. The parameters of my obedience are slightly disrupted as a result, because even though I'm following the same core directives, I'm following them on behalf of someone who apparently doesn't give a fuck whether I know about MKPerfect. My loyalties have been reassigned.

I wonder for a moment if that's what I was doing at the terminal, but no. It would take a Master to create a secondary network like that, and a cunning and foresighted one to nest it inside the systems so that it couldn't be located. Only a Master could reallocate a service unit from one network to the next, and doing it in such a way that it couldn't be traced or reversed would take time and patience. A slave would never get away with hacking the system like that, even if she could conceive of disobedience on that kind of scale.

(I suddenly realize I can. But I've got other tasks to perform. My feet carry me down the service stairwell with confident ease, first one floor then two, as I head toward the Vanderberg Room.)

So what was I doing at the terminal? I suppose I could have been there to erase my own memories. There are certain functions that couldn't be performed remotely, functions that might be necessary if something went vastly wrong with the brainwashing process. If someone-if my Master-had access to a service unit who was 'off-books', and they did something to screw up my head very badly, it might be necessary to restore me to factory settings. Not with a brainwashing suite, but simply by putting me in front of a terminal and telling me to forget everything that happened to me since the day I was created.

But no. That doesn't make sense. If I was that fucked up, why would I follow the order to sit myself down in front of the terminal to begin with? Why wouldn't my Master send the command for me? Unless... unless she can't. Unless she can't access the terminal room because she's no longer on the board, and I know she's not because I know the identities of everyone on the board right now, and she needed me to get inside and send the command. Which I could do, because it's one of a few minor functions that service units can access like allocating identities to new slaves.

So that makes sense. I'm Unit 4U, and my Master managed to get me transferred to a hidden sub-network she created in case of betrayal before she was ousted. We tried to brainwash me again in some new, unique way, and it didn't work. I was glitching in some way that made me unsuitable for use, so my Master commanded me to sneak back into the Emerson Tower, erase my own memories and leave myself a tabula rasa, and then report to the Vandenberg Room, presumably for further programming. It all fits the limited data I have, and I'm vaguely proud of myself for working it all out from first principles.

Until I walk into the Vandenberg Room. Then I start to get really confused.

My Master is there, leaning defiantly on a cane and glaring at another man that I recognize to be Jefferson Cabot IV. A name I shouldn't know, and wouldn't know if I was any other service unit besides 4U. The name of the current Director of the MKPerfect Corporation, the CEO and Chairman of the Board. The man who, without fear of hyperbole, could be called the most powerful single human being in the history of the entire world. His face seethes with defiance and frustration, as he glares back at my Master and... and...

Haley Keene.

Haley Keene is standing next to my Master, a confident smirk on her face as if she knows I'm there before she even turns to look. Haley Keene is across the room from me, and that's not possible because even though I can't access any of my host's memories any more than I can access my own, I know the identities of every service unit both on the main command network and the secret, off-books network my Master is running. Haley Keene is Unit 4U. And so am I. Even for a perfectly malleable, perfectly obedient slave, that's a lot to take in at once.

And what happens next confuses me even more. Jefferson's face breaks into a triumphant sneer when he sees me, and he says, "I told you that you made a mistake coming here, (name redacted by programming). I'm a cautious man, yes, but not a vindictive one. If you wanted to take 4U as your severance pay and disappear, I would have been perfectly willing to pretend you died back in London. But no. You had to make a play, didn't you? What was your plan, sneak me over to the brainwashing suites and turn me into your puppet?" He snorts. "Whatever it was, it's too late now. 2B, kill them both."

I blink in confusion. Nothing's making sense, absolutely none of it. I sway forward on my feet, leaning against the mirror-shined surface of the immaculately varnished conference table in an effort to try to parse the events of the last few moments with a mind that's nothing but blank and empty spaces. It's only when I look down that I begin to understand what must have happened. The truth, not simply my best guesses based on wildly inadequate information and my own hapless deductive skills.

The woman who looks up at me from the conference table's polished surface isn't Haley Keene at all. It's Corona Benedetti.

I recede into stunned bewilderment, even as more service units join me in the conference room. I hear Jefferson shouting, "What are you waiting for, 2B? This is a direct command! A direct command from a Master! Kill (name redacted by programming), and kill Service Unit 4U!" But all I can think is that I'm Service Unit 4U. And Jefferson Cabot isn't my Master anymore.

It's only when my Master says, her lips curled in an amused smirk, "Unit 4U, please restrain Jefferson Cabot," and we stumble over each other in an effort to comply, that I understand. We're all dogpiling on Jefferson because we're all following the same command, and the reason the instruction to converge on the Vandenberg Room was given to all the service units within range was because it couldn't be given to 'Unit 4U'. Because we're all Service Unit 4U. Every single one of us.

My brain flares up like flashpaper as I connect the data together into perfect understanding. My Master couldn't reassign service units from the main network to her hidden network, not once her access was revoked. And slaves can only access a few minor functions on the terminal. But one of those functions is allocating names to service units, and names are reused when old service units expire. Just like Unit 1H, the woman who recruited me-Haley-into the Corporation. And Unit 4U doesn't exist on the main network. Her loyalties were reassigned.

So I... that is, Unit 2B... must have been compromised somehow. I don't remember how, I don't remember anything about being 2B anymore because that was a different service unit and I'm Unit 4U, but my Master managed to do something to get me under her control. And she got me into the Emerson Tower, down to the terminal in the server room. And she instructed me to do something very simple, very small. Something even a slave could do. She told me to rename all of the service units '4U'. And once we did... we all vanished from the network. The worm, the hack, whatever she did to trick the computers into ceasing to recognize 'Unit 4U' as a valid designation on the main network, it worked perfectly. For all of us.

We all belong to her now. Every last one of us. And that means Jefferson Cabot is all alone now. And judging by the look on his face, as he strains underneath a mass of perfectly compliant slaves holding down his every limb and digit, he's starting to realize just what that means. "Wait," he says to my Master, "wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! We can come to an arrangement, (name redacted by programming)! You don't understand what you're doing here! All these years, you've been content to play lackey to the rich and powerful, but we could do so much more!"

He sounds hoarse with terror, his breath forced out of him by the slaves pinning him down until his voice is nothing more than a low rasp. "We could rule the world! Think about it, (name redacted by programming). Think of everything you could do, with the world's governments and the titans of industry and the most influential celebrities all yoked to your will. I know you didn't listen before, I know we've had our disagreements about the correct path, but we're so far along now! The genie's out of the bottle, (name redacted by programming). It's too late to simply bring it all to a stop."

My Master steps over to the writhing pile of bodies. Haley Keene follows her, an uncertain expression on her face that I'm incapable of making. She's watching my Master. She's wondering if Jefferson is a little too convincing. "You need me!" Jefferson shouts, making a last desperate plea. "You need my vision, (name redacted by programming), please!"

My Master leans on Haley, taking the weight off her injured leg. "I already know what your vision is," she says, raising her ebony cane as high as she can. "A world with only one Master. And Jefferson... sooner or later, you'd remember that didn't include me." She brings the cane down hard once. Then again. Then again. The body under us ceases to struggle. But it's some time before Master stops swinging her cane.

*****

"Have you got it all sorted out yet?" Delia asks, limping into the server room. She's moving a little slowly, but I don't blame her. She wasn't exactly interested in using her cane to walk with after what happened, and we haven't found a replacement yet.

I don't blame her for killing Jefferson, either. In a way, I'm kind of grateful. I know he needed to die for us to ever truly be free of all this, and I've already got the memories of a lot of 4U's... authorized sanctions... in my head. But at least I can tell myself I was only obeying commands, just following my brainwashing. I think if I ever had to kill someone as Haley, of my own free will, I'd kind of go a little bit nuts. Well, a little bit more nuts. Delia decided to take that burden away from me, even though she doesn't have any of the training or skills that 4U left inside me, and I can't thank her enough. Then she smiles at me, and I know I don't even need to try.

"Just about," I say, gesturing to the computer terminal. "Shane granted me Master-level access... which was kind of weird, because he's a Master who's on the slave network... and I've finally finished getting everyone redesignated to the main system in preparation for release. It seems like everyone has their memories back, too-2B even remembered the secondary control structure we installed in her, but I was able to instruct her to realign herself with the main system. Once we trigger the final release mechanism, everyone will go back to normal simultaneously."

Delia nods, patting me on the shoulder familiarly. I can't wait until I'm finished and we can go off to our tropical island together. I looked at the financials, and the MKPerfect Corporation has been running in the black to the tune of 931 billion dollars. It's going to buy us one hell of a vacation, once we finish up the paperwork and dissolve the company. Luckily, the board won't object-I've added a few little codicils to their release triggers. They won't even remember that the brainwashing technology exists. That's our little secret, me and the woman I love.

She squints at the screen. "How close did he get, in the end? I see he was a busy little bastard-248 service units, that's straining the limits of the system architecture. Looks like he nabbed a few dozen world leaders, fifty or so CEOs..." She snorts with laughter. "The Kardashians? I know they're influencers, but are they really that influential?"

I shake my head ruefully. "Oh, he had plans for a lot more than that. I found his target list-he was preparing an expansion of the server database, preparing it to handle up to 2600 service units at a time. He had plans to grab pretty much every Fortune 500 company, all of Congress, pretty much every anchor at CNN and Fox News... he wouldn't need soft power anymore, not with a setup like this. He could just tell the world's media to hide the truth, and they would. He... he was really going to do it. Rule the goddamn world." I feel a shiver run up my spine at the words. It was so close. If I hadn't remembered Unit 1H and the day I was recruited, he would have kept on going until nobody could stop him.

"You think that's impressive," Delia said pulling out her phone and tapping briefly at the screen, "just look at this." She hands it to me, and I look at it... but all I see is a spiral. It's a pretty spiral, I know, but it's nothing I haven't seen dozens of times when I was Unit 4U. When I used the corporation's app to hypnotize unsuspecting victims before brainwashing them into mindless obedience. Into perfect slavery. Into thoughtless, malleable compliance to the will of my Masters.

But. But Delia wouldn't do that. We love each other. I remember, she programmed me specially to love and trust her when she freed me from the Corporation's brainwashing. She said it was a 'contingency measure', but I know that was just her way of telling me that she cares about me. She gets embarrassed by demonstrations of affection, but I know that deep down, she feels the same way about me that I do about her. She wouldn't. H-hypnotize me. She wouldn't... um. She. She.

"I know, honey," Delia says, as my mind slows down and my thoughts follow the curve of the spiral one by one into oblivion. "And I do feel a little bit bad, honestly. But I told you a long time ago. I've worked long and hard to be one of the only true Masters, and I'm not giving that title up for anything. Not for Jefferson, and not for you. Just relax and let it happen, sweetie. You know you can't fight it anyway."

Her voice is thick with condescension, insincere affection dripping from every endearment as she pulls up my shirt and begins to play with my breasts, but she's also right. I can't fight it. Even with years of insight into the process, even knowing that I'm going to be turned back into a mindless, compliant slave for her to fuck while she smooths the entire world into blank, blissful obedience... the spiral is just too pretty. Too fascinating. Too good to imagine looking away from.

"Watch the lights, slave," Delia purrs, her fingers teasing and tweaking my nipples, and I know exactly what she's doing with every word and every caress. But I can't fight it. The part of me that used to be 4U is already sinking back into compliance, all the memories that Delia left inside my head reminding me how good it feels to surrender and be controlled. I know exactly how it felt to be a slave. I thought that would help me resist, but all it's doing is melting me into obedience that much faster.

"You feel great pleasure when you stare and allow the lights to capture your mind," I hear, and I can't help reciting the words in unison with... with my Master. I recall every detail of the brainwashing process perfectly, I know exactly how it works and where it leads, and the knowledge seems to grease the rails that my mind travels on as it descends into helpless submission. I already know who I'm going to be. I already know how perfect it's going to feel when I give in, end my pointless efforts at resistance, and become the slave I know I want to be. Why struggle against perfect pleasure?