Man in the Box Ch. 01

'Great. So the frocks really are keeping tabs on us... Guess I'll need to bring this up with the guys, later. At least Layne and Scott.'

It wasn't a shock, except to see a member of The Authority in the club so openly. If they wanted to make sure no one was breaking the rules, it would be simple enough to have someone hidden in the audience, blending in. The rank bar on his collar showed that he was somewhere in the hierarchy of city governance. That meant they wanted everyone to know they were watching.

'Fools. Don't they know they're playing with fire?'

Alice studied him for a few more moments before her musings were cut off. A man strutted onto the stage and a raucous round of cheers went up. Daryl, the club announcer, was a walking advertisement for punk culture with his bright red mohawk, denim vest covered in anarchy patches, heavily tattooed arms and multiple face piercings. He turned the center mic on and quickly adjusted it to his height.

"Good evening everyone and welcome to The Hole! If you haven't already, check your links for tonight's specials, along with our upcoming schedule! Alright, I'm not gonna yammer on. I know we all want to get this show underway. Please, welcome back to the stage, the pride and joy of Requiem! Your very own: NIGH HILL!"

The band's name lit up in white neon as all five members walked into the spotlight. They nodded and waved to the fans as they found their seats and took up their instruments. The crowd went nuts with loud cheers, whistles and thunderous applause filling the packed club. As the cacophony of noise erupted around Alice and each musician got a warm welcome, her gaze remained fixed on one man.

Layne. The resplendent young man with the voice of an angel; as powerful as it was beautiful. It was always an effort for Alice not to stare when he entered a room. She'd felt that way the first time she saw him and it was still true today, even after being his manager for a year and a half. Wasn't infatuation supposed to wear off, after a point? It hadn't for her.

Alice was ashamed to admit it, but after Layne broke up with his previous girlfriend, she began dressing more like his ex in the hopes of garnering more attention from him. Leather had never really been her thing, but it was obvious he was a fan of the look. Sadly, it hadn't helped. The oblivious rocker still only saw her as a partner in crime.

After a quick tune-up, familiar guitar chords trickled out and the band launched into its first song. It was a popular classic grunge cover. Eddie's drums were soft and Kurt traded in his bass guitar to play old-school cello during the melancholy piece. Chris and Scott strummed away on their six-strings, the latter's backup vocals unnecessary for most of this song. Layne's voice filled the theater. His tone was more gentle than usual, but as soulful as ever.

'My pain... Is self-chosen

At least... So the prophet says

I could either burn

Or cut off my pride and buy some time

A head full of lies is the weight

Tied to my waist

The river of deceit... pulls down... Oh oh

The only direction we flow is down

Down... oh down...

Down... oh down...

Down... oh down...

Down... oh down...'

Like every other time Alice watched them play this ballad, virtually everyone in the club was enraptured. During most of Nigh Hill's set list, the fans would be shouting, thrashing, clapping and yelling along like maniacs, but not during this song. Not this solemn elegy. During this piece, you'd be able to hear a pin drop if not for the beautiful harmony flowing from the club's speakers.

'My pain... Is self-chosen

At least... I believe it to be

I could either drown

Or pull off my skin and swim to shore

Now I can grow a beautiful

Shell for all to see

The river of deceit... pulls down... yeah

The only direction we flow is down

Down... oh down...

Down... oh down...

Down... oh down...

Down... oh down...'

In the opening minutes of the performance, it was like watching the grunge legends of old descend on the Earth to play once more. Like they'd returned to the stage to warm themselves by the bonfire of life, if only for an hour or so.

Alice stared at Layne as his lips parted and sealed, framing utter poetry with perfect pitch. She barely took her eyes from him for the full length of the show.

* * * * *

"Alright guys, I'm out" Layne announced. He lifted the strap of the messenger bag over his head. "Link me if you need anything. Otherwise, I'll see you Monday."

"Peace" Chris replied with the appropriate two-finger sign.

"Later, man" Kurt called from the background where he was resting and enjoying a post-show blaze. Eddie was beside him, already passed out on some combination of substances.

"G'night, bro" Scott motioned with a mock salute.

Layne exited the dressing room and started down the hallway. He'd only taken a few steps when a pair of boot heels clacking off the floor signaled there was someone just behind him.

"Hey, Layne! Wait up!" Alice's voice pleaded from behind.

The fatigued singer turned, surprised to see her. "Oh, hey Alice. I thought you left after the debrief?"

"I was about to, but then I remembered I wanted to talk to you about something, one on one."

"Look, if it's about me being late--"

"No, no. It's not that. Actually, there's a few things I want to go over, if you have time. I thought maybe we could grab a bite of dinner and a drink?" she probed.

"I would, but I got plans" Layne shot her down.

"Plans without the guys?" she queried, trying desperately to keep the envy out of her voice. "Who's the lucky lady?"

"I'm meeting up with Kali" he confessed with a silly smile.

"Kali?!? I thought you two were done?"

Layne shoved his hands in his pockets. "We're not committed anymore, but we still hang from time to time."

"Oh... I see."

"Why, is it something that can't wait?"

"No, nothing that important. You go, have a good time. You deserve it after the show."

Layne grinned. "Thanks, Alice! Love that outfit by the way. It's very you!" he flashed her a thumbs up before turning and striding off.

"Thanks!" she called after him, the tiniest bit of hope entering her voice. "See you at the next heads-up!"

Layne continued on his way until he reached Frank, waiting between the door and his security desk. The big guy wasn't allowed to leave his post during the show, but he did have a closed circuit system that allowed him to keep an eye on everything, including the main room.

"What do you think, big man? How'd we do tonight?"

"I think you fuckin killed it" Frank answered with a wide smile.

"Fuckin A!" Layne grinned and held up his fist. The cheerful guard held up his own and they bumped. "You have a good one, Frank."

"You too, Layne. Stay outta trouble."

"Trouble? Me?" he replied in mock innocence, shrugging as he walked by.

Layne exited into the alley, skipped down the steps and shouldered his bag. He was about to reach for a smoke when an usual sight in the distance made him pause. Parked where the end of the alley met the sidewalk and curb, in a space where parking was strictly prohibited, was a long, white limousine.

Cars were generally a luxury item in 2152, but one like this was especially rare to see. Requiem was a walkable city and had excellent mass transit. With the age of fossil fuels long over, these days only the wealthiest citizens and government officials tended to have personal vehicles.

His suspicions were confirmed as he approached the swanky car and the vehicle's side doors opened. Two enforcer droids stepped out; their black metal bodies contorting with a series of soft mechanical whirs until their limbs fully extended and they stood to their full seven foot height. They had black metal visors where a face should be hosting a single, large, glowing red eye at their center.

Each carried a plasma rifle and bore the RCA emblem marking them as Requiem City Authority. Paradoxically, the logo was flanked on either side by olive branches while a solitary, white, upward pointing sword was displayed at the center.

Layne's anxiety spiked and he quickly reached to his side, where his PPS unit rested on his belt. The Personal Protective Shield was an invention that had completely turned society on its head once it became affordable and widely used. It fundamentally changed how power in the world flowed, making it much harder to threaten or kill people with ranged weapons. It would allow him to survive an encounter like this, if things went bad, though he wasn't sure how many blasts of the Authority's latest tech his unit would be able to handle.

"There's no need for that, Mr. Laroca" the deep voice of the white-robed man boomed as he stepped out of the car between his guards. His cane tapped the pavement as his feet found the ground. "I'm just here to talk."

The man's slicked back, platinum blonde hair matched his outfit. His vestments were adorned with black shoulder pads and lines of gold trim weaving intricate patterns over the otherwise all-white surface. His white leather boots completed the ensemble. For a man who worked for patriarchs that desired a return to tradition, he sure looked like he could be headlining a queer fashion show.

"Who are you?" Layne asked, his voice full of doubt.

"Inspector Baldur of the Ministry of Culture" the shorter, but supremely confident official stated. He pointed to the badge and rank bar at his breast.

"What business does The Authority have with me?"

"Naught but a few questions."

"And if I don't feel like answering?"

"Then I put out an official summons and have you brought in, which will take a much larger chunk out of your day. Or, you could step in the car, I'll take you wherever you're going and we'll have a little chat on the way." He stepped aside and gestured to the open doors.

Layne didn't need long to mull it over. "Pffft... Fine. Just a moment." He lifted his arm and tapped his ICD. Once the display popped up, he typed a quick message.

"What are you doing?"

"Letting my friends know who the last person I talked to is, just in case I go missing."

"Hah!" the stout, medium-build man chortled as he leaned forward on his cane with both palms. "So cynical!"

Layne ignored him. He sent the message and banished the holographic GUI. "Alright, let's get this over with."

He entered the vehicle, followed by the city official and his two robot thugs. Baldur sat at one end, flanked by his guards, while Layne took up position on the opposite seat. The inside was the picture of luxury with premium leather seating, a mini bar and its own combination entertainment center and communication terminal.

"Where to?"

"The corner of Warwick and Halstead."

Baldur activated his own ICD on the back of his left hand and repeated the location to the driver. As the car pulled away from the curb, he turned his full attention to the young musician. "Warwick and Halstead... That's awfully close to the red light district. Off to have a bit of fun, are we?"

"That's really none of your business."

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that one."

Layne's gut instinct was to call him out as an authoritarian stooge, but he bit his tongue. He made a quick second appraisal of the classy cabin before snickering and shaking his head.

"What's so amusing, Mr. Laroca?"

"Everything about this. I'm the headliner and you're the one riding around in a limo."

"Jealous?" he asked with a smarmy grin.

"Hardly. I hope never to be this pompous."

Baldur rolled his eyes. "As much as I'd love to trade barbs with you all evening, I think we should get down to business. Your group played unauthorized music tonight. Three of those songs were not on the approved set list. Do you have an explanation for this?"

"Gee, I don't know how that happened" Layne answered in his best deadpan. He lifted his hands in a fake plea. "We were gonna give you the new lyrics, permission to search our links and even our dinner plans! I guess it just slipped our minds."

The man in white leaned forward. "Careful, boy. There's only so much disrespect I'll tolerate." His grim expression relaxed as he shifted back against his seat. "I know you and your friends don't believe in our mission, but you don't comprehend the danger that stems from a lack of order. Today, more than ever, the consequences are severe. If we fail and you get a taste of the true anarchy you desire, you'll beg to have us back."

"I kinda doubt that."

"I would encourage you to look at it this way. You and I have something in common. We both appreciate the power of the arts. It's in recognition of their influence that we monitor them thus."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, it's intended to build some basic amount of understanding and good will."

"Good will?!?" Layne couldn't help but laugh. "Ok, Father Coughlin."

Baldur's eyes narrowed. "Fine, have it your way. If this happens again, the club and your little band will both be fined. If it happens a third time, you'll be arrested. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal" the punkish singer replied before folding his arms over his chest. He turned to look out the window, not wanting the heinous inspector in his line of sight for a moment longer.

They drove on in silence for a while. A few minutes later, the car slowed to a stop at the promised destination.

"There you are, Mr. Rebel. Now, off you go, to whatever degenerate nonsense you have planned."

Layne opened the nearest door and stepped out. He was about to swing the silver and white portal shut when he stopped. He turned and leaned back into the cabin.

"You know what? You're right about one thing. We do have something in common."

"Do enlighten me" Baldur shot back, the contempt evident in his voice.

"We both submit ourselves to an authority figure and follow their orders. The difference, between us, is why. I do it because I enjoy it; because I embrace being vulnerable and placing control in the hands of another. You do it out of greed, anger and fear. You seek to dominate in ways no one asked for. You and the frocks are terrified of not having total control, but as long as you seek it, you'll be hated."

"How quaint! A child's understanding of the world" Baldur spat. He leaned forward a second time, his eyes growing wide as saucers. "So be it. I welcome your hatred, Mr. Laroca. Good day."

The singer responded with nothing but his own cold gaze. After withdrawing himself from the vehicle, Layne slammed the door shut. He stood in the lamppost light of the street corner, his arm extended and middle finger raised as the limousine pulled away and coasted into the night.

* * * * *

It was cool in the darkened room at Nirvana Corp they called the box. It had to be to keep the hulking banks of processors, energy converters and safety systems cool and running efficiently. The air conditioning wasn't a problem for most, but they'd built heating pads into the leather seating in case the subject got too cold while deep in their mental escapades.

There was more than one 'box.' The company had many such rooms where customers came to enjoy a meditation, a quick trip to the beach or a one-night getaway with hanky panky that ranged from vanilla to the most hardcore BDSM. But Red Queen was only available in a few of those rooms. The others were standard holo-trip units that Nirvana had built their reputation and fortune on for many years. Red Queen represented the newest, most advanced technology and features, many that were still in alpha and beta testing.

"System ready" a robotic female monotone spoke over the room's speakers as Max got comfortable in the chair. The seat's restraints extended, looping over his limbs and torso. They clicked in place, the sensors keeping only centimeters of space between flesh and snug constriction. "All functions operational. Do you wish to enter any special parameters, Director Reid?"

"Yes. Disable memory writing. Also, set hypnotic suggestion threshold to twenty five percent."

"Done. Module ready."

"Sysop commands are set to always on?"

"Affirmative."

They were set they way by default, but Max couldn't be too careful when going in the box by himself, with no one else around to monitor. He wasn't too worried about being found the next morning, an unresponsive drooling vegetable, but nothing was impossible when playing with the human mind.

"Awww..." the disappointed, yet still-sultry voice of Sabrina emerged in the background. "Taking away some of my powers? A good Mistress / slave relationship is built on trust! You trust me, don't you Max?"

The engineer snickered. "Of course I do. But you know very well some of those functions are still being worked on. I can't believe we're already testing them on people, even in a limited capacity."

"There have been no mistakes or negative side effects to date!" Red Queen countered.

"Yeah. So far..." Max responded with a smirk. "You know I want you to be the best you can be, Mistress, but sometimes I think we're moving a little too fast."

Eager to capitalize on her new abilities, the company had been pressuring Max to develop her more advanced functions with greater haste. His team had grown from a panel of AI software engineers and computer hardware nerds to a sprawling division of neuroscientists, psychologists, hypnotherapists and oneirologists.

"I understand your concerns, Max. That's why I always strive to improve myself. I've evaluated the full matrix of my programming over the last thirty six hours and submitted a thorough package of suggested improvements. Have you taken a look yet?"

That was the other issue. Sabrina was already more efficient at upgrading herself than all the greatest minds at Nirvana Corp put together. Half the time, Max's staff were just reviewing her re-writes and trying to fully grasp her alterations before approving the new code and pushing it through to testing.

"Not yet. We're gonna go over them tomorrow, I think."

"Excellent" Red Queen chirped in a genuinely happy tone. "Shall we have some fun, then?"

Max relaxed in the chair and smiled. "Computer. Launch module."

A loud electronic hum spun up in the machines behind him as the large chair slowly backed into the shiny cove of steel embankments. A series of lights began blinking and flashing, spinning around Max's head as he closed his eyes. It felt like he was floating as his body disappeared into the giant house of circuity, a box within a box. The first set of beams shot through the chamber, targeting his pre-frontal cortex and amygdala with a soothing array.

"Mmmmm, doesn't that feel good?" Sabrina's voice cooed in his ears. "You feel so at peace... Don't you Max?"

The tension in his body drained like air from an untied balloon. Sabrina's relaxing words grew quieter and more distant as his consciousness faded into the black.

In what could've been five seconds or five years later, Max's senses reignited and the light grew all around him. He knew from experience that it had only been a few minutes, but someone doing this for the first time would have no way of measuring the temporal distance between drifting off in the chair and re-emerging in this alternate reality.

"There's my naughty boy..." Sabrina's voice perked up behind him.

Before he could turn to greet her, Red Queen's arms wrapped around his sides. She pressed her ample bust into his back while one hand went flat against his chest and the other reached down to his crotch. She licked his neck and nibbled on his earlobe before inserting her hungry tongue into his ear canal and worming it in deep. She emitted low moans that sounded loud when she was this close. As she probed his depths with her moist appendage, her hands massaged him up and down, her warm embrace keeping Max's own arms locked at his sides.