D.I.A.N.N.E. Ch. 07

"Whoa," I breathed. "These all work?" it was a stupid question, but it was out before I could stop it.

"Of course, Jake," Dianne assured me. "I am the product of an exceedingly high standard of quality control and manufacturing."

"Well, you certainly are full of surprises," I replied. "I suppose I need to connect you up to the satellite box now?"

"Just the television will suffice," Dianne said. "From there, I will have access to all connected devices."

The tech nerd in me scoffed at that. "How?"

"The same way the television displays a signal via the data electronically transmitted from the devices," Dianne explained in her ever-patient tones. "As long as I have access to the signals via the television, I can create the neural network environments necessary to facilitate immersion."

"Sure," I said flatly as I dug a spare RCA cable from the draw beneath the TV. I noted a few other spare cables in there, too, which might come in handy later. I connected Dianne to the TV and put her back in her hole in the cabinet. Back on the couch, I fitted the headband on and closed my eyes. "I hope there are no more surprise visitors today."

Inside the MAP, I went to the wall near my rotating hologram, studying the numbers on the huge monochrome display. It would seem my stats had increased again since last time I'd used Dianne, which was odd. How had that happened without using the system? Some sort of delayed benefit? Residual growth? Or was it a sort of momentum, like a boulder slowly rolling down a hill? Too many questions.

My physical, mental and social stats were now thirty-seven, thirty-nine and twenty-eight respectively, but further down, the more complex list of skills and abilities appeared not to have changed much.

"Let me know when you're ready, Jake," Dianne said, brining my attention away from the screen. "Though I must offer caution: assimilating information in this way may produce some discomfort."

That didn't sound good. "What sort of discomfort?"

"Previous testers of this aspect of the technology have experienced muscle pain, headaches, exhaustion and dehydration. In severe cases, seizures are possible."

"Jesus!" I cried, worried. "Your interpretation of 'discomfort' is very broad, Dianne!" I was beginning to think my idea wasn't worth it; I'd rather learn the slow way.

"Your adaptive traits, however," Dianne continued, "Are beyond those of previous testers, Jake. Especially the ones who experienced the more severe side effects. I have been monitoring your progress carefully, and I believe you will suffer little rejection of the neural activity, if any at all."

I said nothing for a while, deep in thought. Was it even worth it? Think about it, though, a curious voice said inside me. If you can learn so quickly, and the skills become yours forever, isn't it worth a little risk? The voice had a point; martial arts was a diverse skill, the physical and mental disciplines useful in countless arenas.

"Do you wish to proceed, Jake?" Dianne asked after a few minutes.

"Yes," I replied, firming my resolve.

"Very good, Jake. It is recommended that you take a sitting or lying position for this exercise." As she finished speaking, a comfortable chaise lounge -- not unlike one you'd see in a psychologist's office -- materialised nearby.

"You're not going to plug anything into the back of my head, are you?" I asked as I got comfortable, only half-joking. I stared up at the square white panels of the ceiling above, my brow creased with nerves.

"That would be unnecessary, Jake," she assured me. "I have analysed the television program you requested and took the liberty of adding information from other programs available through the satellite receiver. This will provide you with a more comprehensive learning experience for the combat discipline called 'kung fu.' Are you ready?"

I took a deep breath. Please work, and please, no side effects. "Go for it."

I gasped as my vision of the ceiling was shoved roughly aside, replaced by myriad cascading images, some still, some moving, a thousand pictures and clips flashing into my brain faster than I could comprehend. My muscles quivered, tensing and relaxing spasmodically, though I was barely aware of my body. A hundred voices echoed, as if a hundred masters were teaching a hundred lessons at once.

Names attached themselves to the different styles my brain was absorbing: White Crane, Shaolin Wushu, Gung Fu, Jeet Kun Do, Tong Long, Tiger, Wing Chun... the list rolled on.

An hour passed. A day. A week. A year, and still the impressions kept on. Finally, they relented, and I returned to my senses soaked with sweat and panting as if I'd just run a four-minute mile. "Holy shit," I breathed, barely able to speak around my heaving chest. Suddenly queasy, I leaned over and vomited onto the glowing white floor. The mess disappeared immediately, of course, though back in my body would be another story. I grimaced at the thought.

"That response is common," Dianne said once I'd finished hurling. "Do not be concerned. I am monitoring your vitals closely, Jake, and you have accepted the integration remarkably."

"I don't feel bloody remarkable," I croaked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. It wasn't until I sat up -- the ease in which I sat up -- that I noticed the difference in my body. I brought my hands up and stared at them in wonder as I flexed my fingers and made fists. "Unbelievable," I muttered, eyes wide. "I could punch a hole in a car door!" The sick feeling was melting away quickly, leaving me feeling rather different.

"That is something of an exaggeration," Dianne intoned. "But your tendons, ligaments, muscles and bones will be strengthening considerably over the coming days and weeks to match the updated neural network in your brain."

"Wow." I grinned, enjoying the way I felt. There was some soreness, but nothing like what I'd had before. A dull ache throbbed between my temples, too, but I was too buzzed to care. I eyed the section of the MAP I'd been using for training and my smile deepened.

"Dianne? What else can you access?" The sheer possibility of what I could learn were making my head spin. A giddy joy overtook me. I could learn to do anything!

"I can access anything that is programmed into the satellite television schedule," she replied. "Alternatively, I can search the Internet for suitable knowledge and compile it into a learning framework much like the martial arts you have just integrated."

There were so many choices, I didn't know what to do. I realised I was out of the chair and pacing back and forth. I moved differently, now, more graceful, fluid, but I hardly noticed. What had I always wanted to learn but never got around to it? Guitar? Coding? Skateboarding?

Dianne appeared to anticipate my train of thought. "I must advise caution, Jake," she warned. "I do not recommend attempting further integration for at least one week. Two, to be completely safe."

"Why?" I demanded, disappointed. I paced back and forth, brimming with energy. I wanted to do more now!

"Your physiology and psychology need time to adjust to the significant changes," she explained. "Your brain requires time to cement the new neural pathways, just as your body adapts to its new physical state."

"Okay, okay," I said irritably, disappointed I would not be able to keep going. I bounced on my toes, chuckling. I thought I might vibrate right out of my own skin. All this energy needed to go somewhere, or I was going to explode! "Dianne? Get me Tifa."

"As you wish, Jake."

A moment later, the floor and ceiling panels in the corner of the room changed from white to blue. Tifa appeared a moment later, garbed in her usual tank top and black skirt. She stared around in confusion for a moment but relaxed when she saw me approaching.

I walked confidently toward the blue-panelled area, and Tifa eyed me curiously as I approached. "You're different," she observed. "What have you been doing?"

"Learning," I replied casually as I entered the space. I stopped a few paces away from her. "I was hoping you'd be up for some more sparring."

She folded her arms beneath her prodigious breasts and looked me over for a moment, then nodded. "Not like I'm doing anything else," she said with a grin before slipping her suspenders off her shoulders. A thrill of excitement shot through me as her hands moved to the hem of her tank top. When her tits bounced free, I bit my lip. She chuckled when she saw the look on my face. "Oh, this is going to be too easy!"

If she thought I was going to let her naked body affect me, she was right. I was already hard as stone, but I kept my silence as I watched her slowly turn and bend at the waist before peeling that tight black skirt over pale, taut buttocks. In my head, Indy whistled softly in appreciation, while Cloud groaned hungrily.

No sooner was she naked than she was coming at me, and all thoughts of her sexiness vanished as she took two long strides and struck out with a nasty right cross, aimed at my jaw. Last time we fought, that strike would have caught me for sure, but the way she moved her body told me a story, now. Right hip twisting a second before the shoulder followed, left hand up to guard any counter I offered. I knew if I did counter, she would slip it and that right knee would be in my stomach.

Without thinking, I pivoted slightly off my right foot, moving my right shoulder back and my left forward, just enough to turn my body a few inches. The punch sailed past my face. My left hand came up and pushed the outside of her extended arm, nudging her off balance. She let her momentum carry her forward a step, then caught her weight on her right foot and turned back, her head whipping around and her left leg already lifting into a kick, heel first.

Again, I moved, keeping my body centred and my weight grounded as I flowed around the kick, knocking it aside with the back of my hand before buckling her other knee with a sharp kick. Rather than fall, she instinctively rolled aside and away from me, coming back to her feet smoothly. She was good.

"You have improved, Jake," she remarked approvingly. She watched me carefully, her fists raised, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. "I may have to start trying."

I grinned. "Maybe you should," I shot back. "Or you might end up losing, this time." She smiled back, but I failed to notice the dangerous glint in those big, dark eyes. She came forward again, and I met her in kind, letting my new instincts take over. Back and forth we went, using the entire space available. I hadn't scored a hit on Tifa yet, but neither had she on me. The longer I lasted, the harder she fought, until she was pressing me to the edge of my new abilities. Sweat covered us both, dripping onto the bright blue floor panels before vanishing.

Finally, my guard failed, and she got inside it, delivering three quick strikes to my belly, solar plexus and head, in that order. I folded like a bad poker hand, and a second later she was atop me in a full mount, pinning my wrists to the floor above my head. She kept me like that as we breathed heavily from the exertion. Naturally, the sight of her pendulous breasts swaying just above my face was not lost on me, nor was the feel of her warm body pressing down on mine, particularly the heat that radiated from her sex.

"That was invigorating!" she exclaimed, looking down at me. I moved my eyes from her tits to her face and smiled. She was so beautiful.

"I almost had you," I said with a playful growl as I struggled against her hold. I barely shifted her at all, and when my butt left the floor, she pressed back and down with her hips. The intimate movement had my cock inflating quickly, until it was nestled in the cleft of her arse.

"You keep telling yourself that," she teased. Not willing to admit defeat just yet, I lifted my head and captured a pink nipple between my lips, making her squeal. "Fighting dirty, huh?" she giggled. I felt her adjust her weight, and then I moaned loudly, for I was sliding inside her. Keeping my wrists pinned, she rode me slowly, grinding her sweaty body over mine, sighing as I kissed and licked at her breasts.

"So," she began casually as she released my wrists and sat up, "What's with the new skills? Been training?" Her hips never stopped lazily undulating, which made it difficult for me to formulate an answer.

I did my best to explain to her what had happened, without too much unnecessary detail. She listened, though her eyes glazed over every now and then as my cock hit a sweet spot inside her. "So that explains it," she said when I was done. "Your body has not adjusted to your new skills yet, I think."

Her words were a close echo of Dianne's advice from earlier. "It seems that way," I agreed. There was a dull ache creeping through my joints, but it wasn't bad enough to make me ask Tifa to stop. My hands came up to her breasts, and I kneaded and squeezed the soft flesh hungrily. She thrust her chest forward, pressing the soft orbs more firmly into my grip.

"Now that you're on this level," she said as she planted her palms on my chest and began to lift and drop her hips more insistently, "You should train with me a few more times. It won't take long for you to be ready for this tournament of yours."

I grunted as my balls suddenly churned and my cock spasmed in the sweet vice of her pussy. When my orgasm subsided, she just kept right on going. I was happy to let her. A wet sucking sound filled the air as our combined juices flowed.

"Sounds good," I breathed when I could speak again.

"Done," she replied with a nod, hardly sounding out of breath despite doing all the work. "Now fuck me for a while. I don't know what it is, but I seem to get really horny when I come here."

Like a true gentleman, I obliged the lady's request. When I finally exited the training space, I was truly exhausted. The ache had developed further as Tifa and I screwed, but it had been dulled by the pleasure. Now, it was glaringly prominent, and every movement was uncomfortable, like that feeling you get when you've got a bad flu. Not pain, exactly, but still a nuisance.

I checked the status screen before going back to my body. My main stats had improved again from today's undertakings; all three were now at forty, forty-two and thirty, perhaps the biggest increase since I'd begun this crazy journey. Further down the tree, a host of other detailed stats were flickering as the numbers updated. Things like 'Combat > Hand-to-Hand' and 'Martial Arts > Kung Fu > Shaolin Wushu' were changing as I watched.

The extensive tree was becoming so detailed the text was getting hard to read for being so small. I didn't really care so much about every single item on display; there were simply too many of them. For now, I was only really interested in the primary three stats. Everything else was secondary. Interestingly, however, I did catch a sub-stat under Physical simply titled 'Sex,' which I noticed was getting an update, too.

"Whoever made this tech was really bloody thorough," I muttered as I bent to squint at the numbers.

"I would strongly recommend taking a break, Jake," Dianne told me as I straightened, my head spinning with data points. "Your body and mind need time to recover, and it's been ten hours and twelve minutes since you entered the MAP."

My eyes bugged. "What?!" Dianne patiently repeated herself -- verbatim, of course. I'd never thought to check with her on times. "It was the integrated learning thing, wasn't it?" I didn't need to wait for her answer to know.

"Yes, Jake. As I explained earlier: this technology is intensive. The process took nine hours, and from there you spent the remaining time with the one called Tifa."

"Jeez," I muttered. "I'd better go then."

"As you wish, Jake."

A moment later, I was back on my couch. The room was dark but for the lights displayed on the devices in the TV cabinet. Early evening had come during my adventures in Dianne. The smell hit me first, the stomach-turning stench of vomit. Looking down almost made me hurl again; I had thrown up all down my front. Thank God for the towel I'd so thoughtfully put down before sitting. Sighing, I forced my aching body into motion and began to clean up.

More by the moment, I felt tiredness dragging me down. Perhaps the integrated whatsit was as risky as Dianne said. Yawning, I shuffled to the bathroom and put the towel in the tub to soak before getting in the shower. My stomach growled, wanting to be filled, but after the shower I had deteriorated to the point of only just being able to make it into bed. I collapsed there and fell asleep in seconds.

***

--TECHNOLOGICAL FACILITY, LOCATION UNKNOWN--

"He's down," M told J from where she stood facing a wall of data. She moved some holographic displays around with precise movements, her eyes darting back and forth.

Working at the adjacent wall, J grunted as he recalibrated the ILP back to parameters more suited to their usual standard of subject. Under M's insistence, he'd increased the capacity to half again the default intensity, giving Twenty one-hundred-and-fifty percent of the recommended experience in the ILP. "About time," he muttered under his breath. He had argued with M -- an often-futile exercise, but he had been concerned enough for Twenty to at least try and change her mind -- but she had convinced him nonetheless, which is how the ILP had been boosted. M could have done it herself, of course, but she had other things to monitor, things she was much better at than J.

A small picture inlay in the top left corner of J's floor-to-ceiling array of images and data showed Twenty face down in his bed, unmoving. If not for the vital signs J could see in another inlay nearby, he would have been deeply concerned, yet Twenty's pulse was even, his breathing deep and regular. Brain activity was a little high, but that should be expected after what the young man had just been through.

There still was some cause for caution, however; Twenty might still abreact and slip into a coma while he slept. J had seen it before.

"Are you upset with me?" M asked him without taking her eyes off her work. Her slim arms moved elegantly as she arranged and aligned holographic panels. J eyed her sideways, his irritation softened somewhat by the sight of her slim body in profile. Her half-Japanese, half-English heritage gave her skin a light bronzing that J found remarkably attractive, especially with the lack of tan lines.

"No," he admitted begrudgingly. "You were right, as usual." J was never afraid of conceding a point; science was science, after all, and not all theories could be true, his own or others', and he always made efforts to put the work before his own self-importance. Terrible things had been done because men and women could not see when they were wrong.

"It wasn't you I was frustrated at," he went on after a moment, just realising the fact himself. "It was me." He turned from the wall and went to M, who stopped what she was doing to face him. "It's Twenty. He's turning everything we know on its head." J stopped there, unwilling to say more in a monitored environment.

M nodded in understanding, however, grasping J's unspoken thought, and he saw the same mirrored in her dark, slightly tilted eyes. They were both starting to care about Twenty, and that was a dangerous thing, around here.

"I have One-Three-Nine on standby," M said as she touched J's shoulder affectionately. "I say we send her in once he's awake."

J nodded agreement, but when went to turn back to her wall, J caught her hand. "You know I only ever question you when it's important," he said softly. "How did you know he could take it?" He was referring to the increased ILP settings. He did trust M, implicitly, but he had to know.