Good Afternoon Alison

I was waiting for Master when a knock came on the door. I stood up from my kneeling position and ran to the door. I was disappointed to find it was two policemen. They held me and put me in handcuffs. I tried to fight, to wait in the room for Master, but they were too strong. I was taken away in a car.

I was taken to several places, and eventually to a house. The doors were locked and I could not get back to Master. I didn't know where it was. I think I lived in the house for some days; I ate and drank and was given things so I looked pretty for Master. The person at the house wouldn't take me to him. I could make phone calls whenever I wanted, but I didn't know Master's details; I could make the Monitoring calls. I didn't want to phone anyone else. The man kept asking me to sit, saying things, or my old drone trigger phrase to me. When I was hypnotised I was asked things and he looked to see how I reacted to partial phrases.

The man got the phrase right eventually. I had been untriggered from this hack before, so he knew the sort of things to try. I awoke.

I was me again. Sort of. I was tired, mentally not physically, but knew that I was me. I could feel the hack inside, still lurking. I took an inventory internally then looked around. I was sitting in a chair in a lounge. The man was sitting beside me on a sofa. Average decor for a house. I was familiar with the house. My eyes felt puffy, I had been crying.

"I'm back now. Hello, I'm Alison."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Jim Hedges." He spoke carefully and slowly, in a calm low tone. "You are in my house. I'm sort of a semi-retired consultant. I deal with recovering drones who are a bit unusual. I'm employed casually: by NI sometimes, at other times by people who want to help drones, and sometimes just for myself."

"Which is it this time?"

"Just for myself. You haven't got a lawyer, and NI won't officially help you. I do know Julie, the psychologist. She called me in to try and help you."

"Did the police bring me here. I remember most of it..." I stopped and wished I hadn't remembered. "I was raped."

"Yes, and yes." He paused, "Or you could think of it as being a drone, and just someone borrowing your body. You were like that when you were a drone. It's probably not much help to say that now, but it might be in a bit."

"Borrowing my body and my mind. Being taken was terrible too..." I started crying. My mind was in my body, if you were under control it wasn't just the body. When I had been a drone I had given permission, in a way. This had been so different.

Jim let me cry for a while before slowly reaching out and patting my hand. He got up and came back with a bowl of warm water and towels. He first sat beside me and wiped my face and hands. Then he knelt in front of me and washed my feet and my legs up to my knees. He rubbed my feet gently. It wasn't sexual. It was saying he was present, serving me.

I could remember all the time I had been under the hack now. Nokamura Industries must have arranged to erase that before the contract ended. If I could remember that, perhaps I should remember everything I did when I was a drone, then I wouldn't have a hole in my memory. But perhaps that would be worse.

"I could do with a cup of tea. Everything is better with a cup of tea."

"OK. How do you like it?" He stood, stretched and went off.

I stood and stretched too. He was middle aged, looked as if he exercised and about two metres tall. The lounge was for a man living alone, nothing very personal in this room such as family pictures. If Julie trusted him and had stuck her neck out for me I probably could trust him too. I was back to myself, so that was proof and he had not used me at all. I was wearing a bathrobe, belted, and some pretty underwear which I remembered being given and putting on this morning. I needed to check my hair and face. Damn. That hack was still in my mind. My situation had not changed, except I had been attacked.

I stayed in Jim's house for some time. I didn't want to be back in my flat, on my own; it didn't feel safe. I was very weepy for a few days. I started talking with Jim, he was easy to talk to.

We decided to get all my drone memories back. It wasn't bad, because I was expecting most of them and recall didn't take more than a day. I felt like I was dreaming the memories, then they felt more real. After a day everything was back.

Jim said, "Memory manipulation is all very smooth now, but in the past was much more difficult for everyone concerned."

The memories were, to start with, very routine. The first two jobs would have been boring as a human, but I remembered them as being gratifying and feeling happy that I was meeting targets and being a good drone. The main difference between a drone working in those environments and a human, was the drone worked longer and did not need so many breaks. Drones aren't stronger of course, though they train themselves to stay in better shape than most people, they just work steadily without breaks for socialising or gossip. I knew this, it had been explained when I signed up. If a normal person works at 80% and has holiday, then a drone works at 90% for seven days a week. We had lived in little dormitories on site, helping each other wash and cook as needed, for maximum efficiency. We had a little space to rest besides our beds, and used that for physical work outs (again, we helped each other as needed to keep us in good condition) and to meditate and revise truths.

The accident was painful, but Nokamura Industries had told me I was being compliant and was a good drone. I did not mind some pain on being told that. They had used painkillers when treating me, they weren't inhuman, even to a drone. The work in the processing building had been helping induct other drones, and some administrative work.

The memories of being used by Andy, the bastard – that was my interjection into the memory – were fine. He gave me orders and I complied. Anything sexual he wanted, any position, any time he wanted. He had wanted me to be proactive in sex which I had found more difficult. I was trying to anticipate his needs and please him and he wanted me to please myself. A drone does not want that, a good drone wants to be compliant. He also would not punish me enough when I was not fully compliant, even though I asked. I remember even at the warehouses we had used AI headsets. The headsets had monitored our self-assessment of our performance and shocked us if we had not been fully compliant. Andy would not even do that after the first month, which was frustrating to the drone.

Andy had asked me to stay with him after my contract. I had not been able to agree to this, just replying that I was under contract and he should seek a replacement at the end of my duties. He was not pleased with this. He asked me to say that I loved him. I agreed of course.

Then it changed, although I did not remember this as abuse. One day he told me to put a headset on and installed the hack. My behaviour did not change much, I had always done what my leased owner had asked for in all ways. I was more vocal in my cries when he fucked me, and I told him that I was his slave more. After a week I had felt the urge to phone Nokamura Industries and the Police and inform them of a drone crime; Andy was not pleased when I told him what I had done.

He hadn't looked like a criminal, or an abuser. I thought about this a lot now. He looked like an ordinary, reasonably well-off person. He hadn't been rough or punished the drone physically. He had allowed me to lubricate myself, or used lube whenever he used his drone. He had seemed shocked and worried when it, the drone, had cut itself in the kitchen, and had applied a plaster to it himself. He had looked like an ordinary man. Was it me? Was something so wrong with me that a man would change my mind without my permission?

I told all this to Jim, as I remembered it and thought about it. He was a very good listener as I wept.

I tried to get to know Jim and find out his background, over the next few days. He would talk about some of it, but not details of his drone training days.

"It was different then, more physical, and they were all convicted criminals then too."

I found out he had no family and lived on his armed forces pension; he was vague about which force he had been in, but that he had done a job in logistics. He had friends who sometimes came round for dinner: a lawyer, who always came alone; someone called Jane who always came with her personal service drone; a couple of trainers who worked at NI. The three circles of friends seemed a bit uneasy with each other, Jim was the common point. Like three circles overlapping at the centre, with Jim in the middle as the common area. I think the lawyer had been an anti-droner and did not quite approve of Jane with her drone; and the trainers seemed surprised that Jane was so close with her drone. A drone can be treated any way an owner wants, of course, provided they are not mistreated; even life-time drones cannot be mistreated.

I felt I was in limbo, and asked Jim for any advice. He said that a way that sometimes worked was to get a drone to own itself, but he had only tried that with drones trained in the older ways, which did not apply to me. More modern training techniques were always reversible. My hack did not seem to be. The anti-droners had been a big factor in getting the reversible training put into place, but the movement had fractured after that success.

He did say that becoming a drone permanently would probably fix the hack. But I wouldn't be me, this seemed the same as death to me. He said that having a permanent slave-owner might be stable for me, but after my last experience, or in fact, all of the other 15 experiences of being a sex slave, not a great choice. I did remember that I had been extensively tested at the Nokamura Industries factory when they were testing the hack; I was a drone then, so it was all entirely legal and consent didn't come into it. I split consent in my head: drone, OK; me, definitely not OK.

The single part of the jigsaw missing was the view from Andy, the bastard. It might make me feel better. So I contacted Julie.

+++ Meeting the Hacker

I had decided to meet Andy, the bastard. So here I was entering another Nokamura Industries building, to see what he had been thinking. I was both cross, and despairing. I know that if I carried on I would be caught, and triggered again. I'd arranged the visit, giving time to get him ready, and I'd asked Jim to come with me for support. I hadn't told my family about my hack; it was too difficult for me. I was OK with the 'job' choices I had made, but this, being seen as a victim, seemed too hard for someone intimate with me. So I had asked Jim.

We arrived and got out of the cab. Jim led the way into reception, and we got booked in. A trainer came out and asked if we wanted any refreshment and nodded to the toilets. I shook my head. We followed into the back.

Drones were trained here. This was a building where all the drones were convicts. Since the reforms, now that reversible droning was possible, minor offenders could get as little as two years. Major offenders got life and were legally dead. Most people were happy with this; effectively the offender was dead, arguments about bringing the death sentence back had vanished. If a mistake were made, they could be brought back, not too far changed. I'd been recovered, and I hadn't been changed badly, apart from the hack. I felt the same, and it was the same for all the thousands who had short-term contracts. I didn't miss being a drone at all, though I wondered if I looked pretty enough for my owner. No, stop that, I don't need to repeat that now. Damn the hack. Some thoughts triggered it more than others.

The place was enormous, I saw that as we walked through the canteen with its rows of tables. Hundreds of tables set out, full of drones. It took longer to train involuntary drones, so the facility was bigger. The UK had five of these places, I had heard. Trainee drones were often paired with a minder, leashed together. It was a security thing. I'd never ben leashed, but I had agreed to droning, and the processing had been easy, as far as I remembered. I didn't think this had to be easy.

We went into an office; two chairs and a table. I felt the room was very impersonal, just a box for things.

"Wait here, we won't be long." said the trainer. They hadn't offered a name. I looked at Jim, who was looking blank, and tried to look just as blank. I was shaking though.

The trainer came back, "Sorry," he said, "Just thought of it, we need chairs for both of you. You are meeting it next door. We'll bring it down, do the temporary recovery and then get you." He picked up one of the chairs and left.

Jim moved toward me and hugged me. "Take it easy Alison. You don't have to do this. You have to want it for yourself. It's nothing to the people here, or to me, if you never want to see him again." I relaxed a bit into the hug. "Sometimes people do evil things without reason or thought. I've seen that before, and I never could understand it. Sometimes they just fall into it because they are asked to; I've known that too."

The door opened and the trainer came back. "We are ready, he is recovered and is next door. He is not restrained, but he won't be able to move out of the chair. You can talk to him and he can answer. If you don't want him to say anything, just order him not to talk, and he will stop. You can stay as long as you like."

"All right. I'm ready." I stood up.

"Do you want me with you?" The trainer asked.

"Jim and I will be alright on our own." I looked at Jim and he nodded at me.

We followed the trainer to the next door along the corridor. Jim and I went in. Three chairs and a table. Andy Starter was sitting upright in one chair. His head turned to see us. I sat down and Jim remained standing.

He looked well. Fed and clean, wearing a black drone suit. I supposed any criminal could look normal, but he was not a criminal now, he was a drone.

"Hello Andy. Do you remember me? I don't remember you. You were my owner."

"Yes. You look different though." He could not hold my eyes. I was staring at him.

"I'm Alison, not the drone you know. Why did you do it to me?"

He looked up and seemed to examine me, then looked down at his knees. "I was in love with you. I wanted to keep you. But a short time with you wasn't enough and I wanted you forever. I thought that I could keep you, after... And I wanted you dirtier."

"You didn't have me. You had a drone. That wasn't me, that was a body you had rented. I didn't ever love you. I don't even remember what I felt apart from wanting to obey you." I lied to him. It was me, in a way, and I did remember.

"You were so beautiful. I wanted to keep you."

"What do you mean, dirtier? You bastard."

"You would do what I wanted, anything. But you seemed to not care what I did to you. I know it was fake."

I thought 'This person is pathetic.' Was this motivation enough for him? Didn't he think of any risk, or any consequence? I did not think the answers would be worth it. I could ask to see if he had the one thing I needed, but I supposed the police must have asked him. It was worth the question.

"When you bought the hack, did you know how to undo it?"

"No, I didn't ask."

"Do you know how to undo it now?" That was two questions, don't ask more you will look weak.

"No, I'm sorry."

"This hack programme is going to kill me you know."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to keep you. I wouldn't have abused you."

I felt empty. This wasn't revenge, this wasn't payback. I suppose it acts as a deterrent to others, keep the control in the government's hands, keep the people safe.

"Don't speak. Goodbye Andy. I'm not ever visiting you again."

I stood and left, Jim following. The trainer indicated the first room and I went in and sat. I was shaking but didn't feel sad. Adrenaline, I suppose. I asked the trainer, "How long did he get?"

"Twenty years. Unauthorised droning is taken seriously. Before the reforms it would have been life. Do you want us to punish it when you have gone, or do you want to punish it, as Andy, yourself?"

"Thank you, No. No point for a drone, and I don't care about Andy enough. I never met him before today anyway, not really."

We left, finding our own way back and the trainer went back to bury Andy and send it to its tasks.

+++ Meeting Another Anti-Droner

I went back to my own flat, and started going to lectures again. But I had to curtail going out. I could not face the stress and worry of being attacked again. But I was going insane not being able to go out. I tried relaxing, and mindfulness but it didn't really help. And then I would put pressure on myself as I thought, look pretty, dress up nicely and show yourself off. That is what a good girl would do.

I started going to more obscure activities. I could dress nicely, in a way that showed me off a bit, and go to lectures on fish, or listen to choir rehearsals (I could never sing, so I never tried actually joining). In the city events were on most nights if you looked even if they were somewhat sad. I went out once a week, twice at most and just attended random things. I felt this was a sad life, going to random events while waiting to become something else. I checked in with Jim and a few times got invited to his place for a meal. He supported me but we didn't have any romantic feelings, he would never want me with my background, because he knew what was going to happen; but I enjoyed his company and we could chat about progress or current events.

I didn't want to see my own family much, still. I did not want to show them the slow changes that were going to happen. It wasn't a good time. I went on living like this for three months.

Then I did something even more unusual. I went to an anti-droner meeting. Why not? I didn't know what they talked about. I wasn't likely to meet someone who wanted a sex slave at the meeting. It got me out of the flat though.

The meeting was in the evening, held in a hired hall. I saw about twenty people as I entered. I was not first, I turned up, on purpose, very close to the advertised start time as I wasn't intending to chat. The topic for the evening was written on a whiteboard by the door: 'Recent changes in sentencing for lifers – good or bad?' It sounded riveting. I went to the ladies and looked at myself. I was looking attractive, and I touched up my makeup. I had some eye shadow on, nothing too loud, and lipstick as well. I felt that was right for me, but knew where that feeling had come from. It was hard to leave the flat without makeup now.

As I exited the washroom I saw a shirt I recognised. It shouldn't surprise me; I was at an anti-droner meeting. I had seen a shirt like that before as I was finishing my contract. It looked like the same person: a young man with dark hair. Ha, now that is a coincidence.

I was going to go and say hello. What was the name? Bill or Billy. I was sure it began with a B. He didn't look bad, perhaps he needs a good girlfriend. No, don't go to that place in your head. Then I realised that he should not be here. He was going to start a contract with Nokamura Industries. I had last seen him with the psychologist, Julie. I was puzzled as I walked over to him; he was standing on his own.

"Hello, Billy, isn't it. Nice to see you again."

He looked at me, blankly for a few seconds, then flushed red. He must have realised who I was, and what I could say. He was looking really flustered.

I spoke again, "Do you remember me? Let's talk about drones and contracts." He looked panicked now. This was fun, if a bit cruel. "Do you remember my name, we met over breakfast?"

"Sorry, no. Don't say anything. Please."