Control, Enkindle

Clearing my throat and pushing my soaked hair back over my head I said, "Well... this was fun."

She let out a groan and rolled over, leaning against the wall in a sitting position, panting and staring up at me.

"It's your fault..." She paused to drawn in a deep breath. "... if anyone heard that."

I just chuckled and held out my hand to her.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Decisions are a funny thing. Sometimes you make them and things just go like you want them to. Other times, and I've found it to happen more often than not, things doesn't go quite so smooth. Another thing about decisions is that they can be changed even after you make them — and especially after you've made them.

That is what happened after my talk and subsequent tryst with Anastasia. Or, well, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it swayed a decision I had yet to make.

"Marcus," I said, entering the kitchen. He was alone, an almost full bottle of amber liquid on the table next to him.

"What do you want Jason," he said without looking up, not sounding like he was in the mood for any form of discussion at all. The single ice cube in his glass was almost completely melted, attesting to how long he had been nursing it. Perhaps it was a bad time? Not like I cared.

"Get your money ready," I said, slapping him on the back as I passed him on my way to the wine cellar, some food and my laptop under my arm. "I've decided to help you with your little family problem."

Just as I reached the door he said, in a somewhat strained voice, "When?"

Pausing I looked over my shoulder, just in time to see him screw the cap back onto the bottle and push his nearly untouched glass away.

"Tomorrow," I said. "In the evening. Right before I leave. Can you have the money by then?"

He nodded, back against me. "One million each, plus what I already owe you for the job."

"Yeah," I said and pushed the cellar door open, its hinges creaking.

"Oh and Jason?" he said, again prompting me to stop. "Thank you."

I just let out an amused huff. "Cheer up old chap. What are friends for?"

-o-o-o-o-o-

I'm an ass, I know.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Chapter Nine

Heres some interesting trivia for you.

Did you know that globally the average price of a human slave is roughly $90?

That's right, that's an average. Meaning that you can find them even cheaper in many, many, areas of the world. And thats not even counting where they just capture people and force them into slavery, because they don't pay anything at all. Well, other than the upkeep of said slave of course, but really, a slave that can't earn their 'owner' more than their upkeep would make for a pretty bad slave, don't you think?

Horrifying, isn't it?

No doubt. But here's something truly horrifying.

I was in India once, walking some of the seedier areas of Delhi late at night. What I was doing there is irrelevant but what happened to me was a life changing experience for sure.

A woman, crooked and older looking than she probably was, approached me. With her she had a young child. A girl. Couldn't have been older than eight or nine.

She actually tried to pay me to take the girl off her hands.

Why? I didn't know it at the time but later I found out that it was because I was white. In retrospect it should have been obvious from the go. She wanted me, the white man, ergo the 'rich' man, to take her daughter because even if I decided to treat her in the worst way possible it would still be better than the life she would've otherwise had.

And the price for this little girl? 500 rupees, or around $7. Instead of taking her money though I gave her all I had on me, 3000 rupees, still less than $50.

And before you get any ideas, Fuck no, with a capital F. I may be a sick son of a bitch but I am not that sick.

Tanvi, that is her name, have since grown into a stunning young woman. Her wedding was a mere two months ago and together with her intended they have a little girl of their on on the way. My current circumstances aside, I can't say I've ever been prouder than I was on that day.

But that's another story for another time.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The next day I knew would be a hectic one. One way or another, come evening I would be leaving Italy. But before that happened I had several things to take care of. First and foremost, a certain redhead by the name of Gabrielle LeGrand.

As had become almost a ritual between the two of us she was hiding behind a shelf when I entered the small storage closet, not coming out until I called her name. She was still nervous and a little anxious every time I visited but not nearly as bad as it had been at the start. Her English had also improved by miles, only getting more and more detailed and proficient for each day that passed. This was promising and very good news for what I had planned.

"Good morning Miss LeGrand," I said and watched the short woman peek out from her usual hiding spot. "How are you doing today?"

"I'm... I'm fine," she said, making her way over to the very neat and well made up cot, giving my computer a wary glance.

She had done that ever since the memory transfer and I honestly couldn't blame her. After studying the data gathered in the process it became evident just how much pain she had been in. It had taken a good ten minutes the day before just to get her to understand that the tests I wanted to run wouldn't hurt her in any way. There was always the option of just telling her how to feel but the more I could avoid that the better. Well, at least until I had gotten what I needed from her.

"It looks like this will be the last of our little meetings down here," I spoke as I began setting up the laptop on an unoccupied shelf.

"W-what do you mean?" she asked, both sounding and looking very nervous, fiddling with her fingers in her lap. Perhaps I shouldn't have worded it in such an ominous way.

"Oh I just mean that today is the day you get to go home," I said, smiling at the look of wary disbelief that appeared on her face.

"Really?" she asked, guarded and slow, like she didn't know if i was playing a trick on her or not.

"Oh absolutely," I said, giving her a friendly smile. "I told you from the start, didn't I? I would get you out of that place and I did. Now I've managed to set it up so that in..." I paused to look at my wristwatch. "... less than six hours you'll be on a plane back to France."

It's funny. She was still the only one in the house I hadn't lied to.

"What's the catch?" she asked, still wary. Smart girl, that.

"No catch," I said. And there wasn't. At least none she needed to worry about. "All I need is to run some automatic diagnostic tools on the chip behind your ear. Won't hurt a bit." Well it might, but I was reasonably sure it wouldn't.

"Okay," she said. Her hand moved to her ear and I could spot the white gleam of the device as she touched it. "Can... can I ask something?"

"Of course," I said, setting up the connection without issue.

"What, um," she began. "What is it? This thing."

"In layman's terms, it's a communication device," I said, starting the initial scan of her brain.

She nodded, almost like she understood what I meant. "And what, uh, what does it communicate with?"

"Several things," I said, sitting down on an upside down wine crate. "Right now its communicating with my computer here. It lets me see the feedback from the several thousands of small nanobots currently moving around inside your brain."

She didn't look as surprised as I thought she would. Just hearing that you had things inside your head would freak out the best of us.

"And this is how you..." She glanced up at me before immediately breaking away, too shy or intimidated to even look at me. "... how you made me learn English?"

"Using these tools yes," I said, nodding. "I had to get the memories from someone else though. I haven't yet learned if its even possible to construct new ones from scratch. Certainly something worth exploring though."

"That... explains a lot," she said, swallowing.

One of my eyebrows rose. "What do you mean?"

"I've had these dreams," she began, hesitating only for a moment. "Images, or rather, flashes of images. Stuff that I know I've never seen before. Stuff that isn't mine."

Fascinating. I knew the possibility was there, of course, since it was, after all, Miss Sofie's actual memories of learning the language that had been copied. I just wasn't sure how the specifics would manifest themselves.

"What kind of images?" I asked, contemplating if i should run back upstairs to fetch my audio recorder but deciding not to.

"It's... hard to explain," she said, again giving me a tentative and very quick glance. "It's more feelings than anything. Like a classroom appears, only for a brief second, and then I feel excited for some reason, happy."

Well, a classroom definitely seemed like something that could be associated with Miss Sofie's memories. What was it she said? She spoke seven languages or something? And she was an undercover police agent. She would've had to spent a significant amount of time in a classroom to achieve all that.

"And does these images bother you?" I asked, not really concerned for her as much as i was interested in her mental state.

"I don't know. I guess, yes," she said. "They're not mine, right? Which means I have someone else's thoughts in my head, someone else's feelings."

"Hmm," I let out, stroking my chin. It was a side effect, sure, but was it a bad one? Should I try to work it out of the system? "Would you like me to make them stop?"

She threw another nervous glance at the computer. "How... would you do that?"

"Oh that's easy," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "From now on you will not experience feelings that are not your own and you will not see memories that are not yours. There, that should do it, I think."

She blinked, looking slightly confused. "That's it? You just tell me and it goes away?"

"Essentially, yes," I said, nodding.

The computer pinged ready, signaling that it was time to start the next phase. With a few taps a progress bar appeared. No reaction from Gabrielle. She didn't even seem to have noticed anything. Good.

"I'm not so much telling you as I'm telling the implant," I continued, keeping a close eye on the progress. "You perceive my words, you hear them, understand them and you interpret them. In turn the nanobots picks up on that understanding and communicates it to the implant, which in turn instructs the nanobots to carry out your interpretation of my words. By telling you not to feel those emotions, even though you yourself cannot distinguish between the two without feeling them, the intention is all that matters, and is what the implant will enforce."

She still looked confused, which was exactly in line with what I expected. If everything went as it should she shouldn't be feeling anything other than a small increase in effort to concentrate, and maybe a slight sense of dizziness. She was sitting down though so I didn't expect that to be a problem.

"It's actually quite a glaring loophole," I continued in an effort to keep her focus on my words. "If anyone would be able to trick you into thinking I had ordered you to do something, and you believed it without a shadow of a doubt, then the implant would enforce it just as if I had actually said it. As you might imagine someone... well, simpler, for a lack of a better word, would be far easier to trick than someone with a sharp mind like yourself."

It really was quite a risky thing. If I could come up with at least a dozen ways of exploiting the vulnerability then a lesser mind would no doubt be able to think of at least one. Thankfully I already had a solution in the works.

"I..." she began but stopped. She blinked and furrowed her brow before leaning her head in her hands. "Ugh... it's so... confusing."

"Don't worry about it," I said, squeezing her shoulder. She didn't flinch or quiver like she had in the past but I chalked that up to the computer doing its thing. "It's taken me five years to build the thing and I still don't quite understand every aspect of it."

It took another few minutes for the computer to finish and while I waited I just rambled on about complex but nonsensical things, keeping her focused and not paying attention to the effort she had to exert to even follow along. As soon as the progress bar hit a hundred it was like a light had turned on in her head, clearing everything up.

"And that's it," I said, closing the computer and standing up.

"Really?" she said, looking surprised. "I didn't even notice you started."

"I've been refining my methods. Really, the only reason I couldn't do it from upstairs is the thick walls down here," I said.

"Oh."

"Well, anyway, this is for you," I said and pulled out a folded paper from my pocket and held it out to her. "You will read it once I have left. And then you will read it again. Once you are done you'll believe and do everything that is written on there. Do you understand? Answer the question."

"Yes," she promptly said, one of her hands coming up to her mouth in surprise.

"Good, good," I said. "I'll be back later to pick you up. You'll be able to call your parents from the car then."

I left before she could say another word.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Are you sure about this?" Allie asked, pulling on her fingers like she did whenever she was nervous or didn't know what to do. She had been pacing back and forth in the room the past ten minutes while I was busy setting everything up.

"Yes, I am," I said, placing the silver box that contained the syringes with the nanobot-saline solution on the bedside table. "And I will need you to help me."

"But what if... what if something goes wrong?" she asked, stopping to stare at me with big wide eyes.

"Which is exactly why I need you and not Melinda doing this," I said. Checking the laptop I made sure everything was as it should be. It was and everything had been hooked up on automation. All that was needed was to hit the go button.

"We could run more tests!" she tried. "Simulations, anything. Make absolutely sure that-" I cut her off.

"Allie. Sweetie," I said, pulling her hands into mine and looking into her eyes. She was scared, I could see that, and I suppose she had reason to. It wasn't what I needed at that moment though. "I've already tested this. It works. And I've been able to streamline the process and work out most of the kinks. Nothing will go wrong."

She swallowed hard, not looking convinced. This was the first she had heard of this application of the technology so it wasn't entirely unexpected.

"Now I won't push you on this sweetie. If you don't want to help then that's completely fine," I said. "But if, god forbid, something were to happen, I know I would feel much safer with you here rather than Melinda. You'd be in a position to do something. She wouldn't."

Okay so I wasn't playing completely fair, but then again, when had I ever done that? Emotional extortion aside, what I said was the truth. Melinda would no doubt do exactly what I told her to do but only that. Allie, however, would go that extra mile to make sure everything went alright. Not that I intended to leave anything up to chance.

"Um, eh, Mr Jason," she said, wringing her hands. "I just don't... want anything to happen to you."

I gathered her up in a hug and she clung to me. "Don't worry, sweetie. This needs to happen sooner or later and I'm as prepared as I'll ever be."

She nuzzled her head against my neck. "You promise nothing will go wrong?"

That was something of an impossibility to promise and I was pretty sure she knew that too. Still, if that was all it would take...

"I promise," I said, stroking her hair.

Letting out a sniff she nodded against me. "What do you need me to do?"

"Hopefully just follow the prompts on the screen," I said, showing her the application running on the laptop. "And make sure no one walks in here, especially Anastasia or Cassandra."

"I can do that," she said, nodding.

"Good, good," I said and went over to the bed. Sitting down I took out one of the nanobot-saline syringes from the silver case. "I'll also need you to attach the device once I'm out. Everything is set up to connect automatically and begin the upload process."

"Okay," she said, coming up on my side. "How... how long will it take?"

"Hard to say," I said and popped the cap on the syringe. "Not more than an hour. This new process is much slower but far less straining."

She picked up the closed petri dish containing one of the prototype implants, looking a little lost as she held it with both her hands.

Crawling up the bed I made myself comfortable. "Don't worry sweetie," I reiterated and tapped the space next to me. She immediately crawled up to me, head on my chest. "You can stay right here if you want."

"Okay," she said in a small voice.

I gave her a squeeze with one arm while aiming the syringe with my other. "Well, here goes nothing," I said, sinking it into the soft flesh just below my jaw, ignoring the slight hesitation I felt.

The feeling was strange, relieving almost. Even just the act of pulling the empty syringe out felt like a monumental task. To my mind there was no sedative that worked this fast, not even if you were able to hit the carotid artery, which I was pretty sure I had not.

"Mr Jason?" came Allie's voice as the distorted figure of her face appeared in my vision. She sounded distant, like she was talking under water. I tried to say something but found that just moving my lips was impossible. I was still very much aware of everything happening, only my body wasn't responding to any of my cues.

And then my eyes began falling shut. I tried to fight it just to feel if there was any effect of doing so. A sharp stab cut through my head and I flinched. Or rather, I would have flinched if my body had been able to. As it were I could do nothing but succumb to the incredible power of the nanobots, performing their prime directive of putting their host to sleep.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Images, color, sound, emotions, they all flashed together in a jumbled mess before my eyes. Faster and faster they came, impossible to keep up with. People, words, places, experiences.

A woman, red haired and smiling. A man, tall and imposing, grand and awe inspiring. I didn't know why but I felt a strong connection to the two. I knew I had never seen them before in my life.

"Au clair de la lune, Mon ami Pierrot,"

A song echoed into the far corners of my mind. Someone singing, a woman. My... mother?

"Prête-moi ta plume Pour écrire un mot."