The Problem With Immortality Ch. 06

Chapter 6

By Gary LM Martin

Chapter 6: The Monks of Schlong Aus

"We have eternal life. All our material needs are being met. Why, then, are we so unhappy?"

Brother Theo was a mild mannered bald monk who led the Monastery of Schlong Aus, high up in the Ebernalp, above the picturesque town of Appenzell, Switzerland.

When Jennifer Spaulding and her friend Wendy Spanberger had arrived in Appenzell, her mood had immediately improved. Appenzell was a cute old town which hadn't changed much in over 800 years. Its downtown area was full of colorful buildings in bright red, blue, green, and yellow, like children's colors. Boxes with red flowers were hung from almost every window. An occasional horse drawn carriage could be seen klippity kloppetting down the street.

The city was framed by beautiful snowcapped mountains. On one of them, the Ebernalp, was the giant monastery of Schlong Aus. Jennifer and Wendy had taken a romantic hovercraft up to its peak.

It had all been Carl's idea. Carl Campion was one of Jennifer's closest friends from childhood. After graduating from high school, they had lost contact, only to connect again 120 years later when Carl was performing in a local theater. From then on, they were inseparable friends.

Carl had suggested that Jennifer try the monastery. He had heard nothing but good things about it. Jennifer didn't want to go alone, so had persuaded her friend Wendy to come with her. Wendy, who had separated from her husband and was living single as Jennifer was, readily agreed.

Brother Theo radiated calmness and confidence. Jennifer immediately liked him.

"So why then are we unhappy, when all our needs are met?" Brother Theo asked the audience, the latest inductees to arrive. "The problem stems from the disconnection between our conscious thoughts, and our inner selves. Our inner selves contain our most basic needs and wants. But we have a hard time determining what our inner selves really want, because what our inner selves want doesn't always manifest itself in consciousness. Consciousness, by its very nature, is a confusing jumble of thoughts and ideas. Some of our inner selves filter through to it, but much of it is irrelevant distractions."

Theo watched the audience. They seemed to be hanging onto his every word. "What we do here at Schlong Aus is to try to strip away the layers of the curtain, to bring you togetherness with your inner self. Once you do that, you will find true happiness, wherever you are, whatever you are doing. You will no longer flirt with the idea of taking poisonous Weed to dull your senses, or plugging yourself into the ungodly Dreamscape, the slow form of death. You will be happy with life."

"But the effort to achieve oneness with your inner self is hard, and requires a lot of stripping away of your old selves. Not all are capable of achieving it. But if you are willing to try, we are willing to help you. In this regard, we only have two rules."

"Rule number one. It is important that you have a positive attitude, even in the most trying of circumstances. If you do not have a positive attitude, you will be asked to leave."

"Rule number two. You must obey every request a brother or sister makes of you. The request may not make any sense to you, but you can be assured that it is designed to help you in your quest to achieve oneness."

"Are there any questions?"

There were none. There rarely were. They were usually eager to put themselves under his control. Excellent.

"Then you will spend your time here in the East Wing. Sister Janice will see to your needs."

"Come, children," said Sister Janice, who was dressed like a nun. She escorted them out a side door.

Brother Theo returned to his office, where his two guests were patiently waiting for him.

"Mr. Ford and Ms. Dhomes, thank you for waiting," said Theo.

"You're a busy man," said Anson. "You have quite an operation here."

"Yes, word has spread. People come from all over the globe for enlightenment," said Brother Theo.

"How did you get into this field?"

"From a passion to help others," Brother Theo said, smiling amiably at Anson. "Even as a young boy, I found myself driven to help others."

This was true. As a young boy, Theo, a runaway from home, was captured by a pimp, and forced to service customers with his mouth for 20 credits a piece. His pimp beat him when he could not find at least two clients a day, driving him to "help others".

"How commendable to be so virtuous as a young age," said Anson.

"Thank you. My need to help others only grew as I got older. I found the calling early on and joined a monastery. When the elder brother unexpectedly got sick and died, my brothers called on me to take over."

After four years of being pimped out, Theo grew tired of only making 2 credits per suck while his pimp was making 18, so he murdered his pimp and took over his operation.

"Other monks flocked to our banner of love, reconciliation, and happiness."

Theo made connections with gangsters in the underworld and set up a series of brothels all over Germany, France, and Italy. They were run like franchises, with each brothel kicking back profits to Theo.

"We found a calling helping others with special needs."

Theo quickly discovered that servicing Headophiles could be the most profitable line of work, that Headophiliacs would pay four or five times what regular clients would.

"And then we saw the global cry of angst when virtual immortality was achieved, and realized that unhappiness was swelling in the ranks of humanity. It was like a cry for help, one we could not ignore."

Theo realized he could make twice as much money by fleecing money from people who wanted to cope with their unhappiness while at the same time using them as cannon fodder to service Headophiliacs. The secret of Schlong Aus was that the people who visited here were not the beneficiaries; the "monks" and "nuns", who used the visitors to satisfy their needs, were the true clients.

"You charge a lot for your services, for such a modestly run place as this," Anson noted.

"Yes we do. Our living requirements as monks are modest, but we have enormous costs. There is tremendous demand for our services. We are in the process of constructing 14 more facilities around the world like this one, and recruiting and training monks and nuns to staff them. All that, unfortunately, takes capital. But by helping others, you will also be helping yourself." Theo gave Anson a gentle smile.

Anson smiled back. "It sounds wonderful."

"It can be wonderful, but it can also be trying," said Brother Theo. "To be honest, I am not certain that this is the place to cure what ails Francisco Odour." They weren't looking for rich people here; they were simply looking for cosmetically young, healthy bodies. Rich people could cause trouble.

"Why not?"

"Our cleansing process requires a lot of devotion, a lot of deprivation and discipline. I don't know if someone accustomed to such a lavish lifestyle as Mr. Odour would be willing to subject himself to that."

"Well, we'd like to explore it and see."

"Then of course you may. A week's trial period will only cost you and your companion $100,000 credits each. "

"100,000 credits?" said Anson, his eyebrows raised. "I was hoping, given the prominence of the person we represented, that we might be given a free sample."

"I am sorry, Mr. Ford, but we have bills to pay. Surely your employer has given you an expense account?"

"Yes," Anson sighed. "Very well."

"Very good. We have a space for the two of you in our West Wing, I think."

********

In the East Wing, Jennifer and Wendy and the latest initiates found themselves in a large room with a woman dressed as a nun.

"Greetings," she said. "I am Sister Janice." Sister Janice spoke in a deep voice, and had a big, square jaw, like a man. Unlike most of the brothers and nuns in the monastery, who had paid a lot of money to be there, Janice was no Headophile, who enjoyed sex with people with diminished mental capacity. She was Nymphophile. She loved sex of all kinds--with men, with women, with children, with baby zebras, with broom handles, with baby zucchinis... almost every kind of life form and objects one could imagine. She had paid Brother Theo a pretty price to pose as a "Nun" in the Monastery, and intended to get every credit's worth.

"Please remove all your clothing," said Janice.

"All of it?" Jennifer asked. She should be the last to object; she had posted quite lascivious photos of herself on the Circuit. But this was different, somehow; this was actually in front of other people.

"Your hearing is remarkably acute, child," said Janice, in a deep voice.

Jennifer looked at Wendy, who shrugged. They removed their shirts and pants and then, hesitantly, their bras and panties. Jennifer couldn't help but notice that Wendy had a B cup, like she used to, but her breasts were still cute and perky. Wendy was a blonde, but her hair between her legs were black. No surprise there, of course.

Sister Janice watched the initiates undress. All of them cosmetically had the bodies of people in their 20's, but some were still more attractive than others. She looked at Jennifer and Wendy, and licked her lips as she admired their tits and curvy asses and furry bushes. These two would be among the first to be taken, she decided. Jennifer in particular had such an innocent look to her. Janice would enjoy making Jennifer her own.

After looking all the initiates over and making a priority list in her mind of who would get fucked first, she opened a closet, and started to hand out clothes. Robes. And also sandals.

Jennifer took the robes. It was one size fit all. It fit her like a circus tent. And it was made of a rough material. She reached down to pick up her underwear, but Sister Janice put out a restraining hand. "You won't need those, child," she said.

Jennifer looked up at Janice's hard face and dark eyes. She nodded slowly and stood erect, pantyless.

Sister Janice put them immediately to work, scrubbing walls, floors, and countertops with damp rags. The monastery was huge; they could easily spend weeks scrubbing the East Wing itself. Perhaps they would.

"I don't understand the point of this," said Wendy, as she started rubbing. "This is robot work. Robots could do this in a fraction of the time we are."

"That is the point," said Jennifer, rubbing cobblestones vigorously. "We are being given physical work to help us connect with our inner selves."

"We're paying 100,000 credits to scrub floors?"

Jennifer looked up at her blonde friend. "We're paying 100,000 credits to connect to our inner selves."

"Personally, I find it invigorating," said a man who was scrubbing next to them. "I've spent my entire life doing mental work."

He introduced himself as Ron Fielding, and with him was his wife Anna.

Ron was not an especially accomplished man, although he might disagree with that assessment. He had intended to go to business school, but had dropped out shortly after college when Anna, who was then his girlfriend, got unexpectedly pregnant.

"It was my own fault," said Fielding sheepishly. "My penile neutralizer ran out faster than it was supposed to."

So he got a low level job in the corporate world. This was back before robots filled most of those positions. He became an office manager at a small sized firm. And Fielding was a good office manager. No one ever had a want for office equipment of any kind when he was there. And everyone liked Ron Fielding. Everyone.

As the company grew, so did his responsibilities. He was made a junior customer service specialist. Customers loved the easy going man, just as his fellow employees did. Everyone liked Ron. He rose in the ranks there over several decades, becoming a customer service supervisor for years before someone had the bright idea to transfer him to sales.

Again, he started at the bottom, and worked his way up over several more decades. He was on his way to the beginnings of senior management when Anna persuaded him to retire.

By then, eighty years had passed, their children were grown, and Anna was restless. She was trained as a school teacher, but teachers were being slowly replaced with robots, and she didn't want to be a supervisor of robots. So she quit, and became a lady of leisure, living off her generous pension.

But it was lonely without Ron. So she pushed him to retire. Ron loved his work, but he gave it all up, to be with Anna. He would do anything for Anna.

They travelled the world three times over. Ron, who had been so focused on his work that he had never travelled much of anywhere (except his honeymoon to Barbados, and the time they went to Krasnyland with the kids in Moscow), found he enjoyed travelling, much to his surprise.

But Anna quickly grew bored of it. She became listless. So Ron did some research, and found out about the reputedly wonderful rejuvenating effects of a stay at Schlong Aus... and here they were.

Jennifer found that she liked Ron. He was a cheerful unassuming man. His wife, Anna, who looked glum, was another story. She looked like she would rather be somewhere else.

"Ron, we've been scrubbing for an hour! How much longer?"

"I think a while, dear," he said.

"It's so tiring!" she said.

"Here, let me help you," said Ron, and he slid over to help rub the spot of floor she had been working on.

Jennifer smiled inwardly. That kind of gallant love reminded her of... no, she mustn't think of him.

********

"I am Brother Roy. Please take off all your clothes."

Anson and Jessica were in the West Wing of the Monastery, with the latest batch of Initiates. Anson looked at Brother Roy's face, and something about it bothered him. The man had a hard face, lean and stern. There was a smile painted on it, but it looked cosmetic. And the eyes! They looked like the eyes of a killer.

Anson shook his head. He was just projecting his fears and anxieties, he was sure. He started removing his clothes. Jessica did the same. Neither felt especially inhibited about being nude in front of others. Sometimes, it was part of the job.

After they had stripped off their clothes, they felt Brother Roy's hard gaze on them for a long moment. What was he looking for?

And then he smiled broadly, and said, "Goooood," in a creepy voice, and started to distribute robes and sandals.

Unlike Sister Janice, who was a broad based Nymphophile, Brother Roy was a confirmed Headophile. He had spent seven years in jail in Hamburg for engaging in sexual relations with women who had diminished capacity. Unlike most people, who enjoyed having a sex partner who was lively and engaged in the act, for Brother Roy it was the complete opposite; he loved pounding into a woman who was only vaguely aware of what was being done to her. It made him feel powerful and alive.

When he got out of prison, he got involved in a number of drug and prostitution rackets before he met Brother Theo. Theo quickly realized that someone with Roy's credentials would make an excellent senior monk at the Monastery. He was firm and decisive and gave off a complete air of authority... and he enjoyed the perks of the job. All of them.

Anson and Jennifer were put to work wiping the floors in one of the many rooms in the West Wing.

Jessica looked at the rags they had been given. "Old fashioned wash clothes! How 19th century," Jessica complained.

"You should be here with an open mind," said Anson.

"There is not one chance in a million that Francisco Odour will want to come here, dress like a slob, and wipe floors like a slave," said Jessica.

"Don't be so sure," said Anson. "Remember Aukara of Arkadia, the famous painter who lost his eyesight?"

"Yes," said Jessica. "That was one of your most famous cases. You gave him the will to live again. How did you do that?"

"It wasn't easy. His eyes couldn't accept new ocular implants. He could never paint again. He wanted to kill himself," said Anson.

"What did you do?"

"I cut off all his other senses--touch, hearing, smell, even taste. He was fed through a tube going directly into his stomach."

"How did that help?" Jessica asked.

"After several days in a sensory deprivation tank, I periodically gave him a musical note."

"Just one?"

"Just one. I could tell from his brainwave patterns that he hung onto it. It excited him. After several days of seeing, hearing, and sensing nothing, he sensed something. A musical note! It became his entire universe," said Anson.

"Gradually I increased it. I exposed him to a second musical note. He grew to like it, even when it was repeated over and over. It was either that, or total nothingness. Gradually, when I determined he was in a proper frame of mind, I slowly started to restore his senses, bit by bit. I fed him some food--bland food at first, but to him, having not tasted food in days, it was rich and wonderful. I exposed him to very fleeting touches and caresses from a masseuse I hired. He loved it."

"Over a period of weeks I gradually restored all his senses. Except his sight, of course. When we were done, he was cured."

"Cured?" Jessica asked.

"Aukara the painter became Aukara the musician. Not surprising, since artistry usually transcends mediums. But the point is that by taking away everything he had, and I mean everything, I got him to appreciate having less."

"And you think that could work with Odour."

"Perhaps," said Anson, as he scrubbed.

"Excuse me," said a blonde woman, "My sister and I were wondering when we will be finished with this exercise. Do you know when the sauna and massage session starts?"

"Sauna and massage sessions?" said Anson curiously.

"Well yes," said the woman. "Surely this is going to be more of a health spa experience, is it not?"

The woman was named Chelsea McGyvers, and with her was her equally blonde sister Ambrosia McGyvers. Chelsea and Ambrosia became instant multibillionaires when their parents died on the ill-fated Vixia crash, nearly a hundred years ago. They knew nothing about running companies or investments, and left that to others. Instead, they both pursued lives of leisure. They had had men in their lives, many men, but none lasted for long. They travelled the world, and even visited Mars and Proxima Centauri.

But such pleasures could only keep one occupied for so long.

"Life is so limiting, isn't it?" Chelsea asked. "I think I've tasted every kind of food, and now it all tastes the same. Why can't they make food that tastes different? We have such advanced technology, they should be able to, shouldn't they?"

Anson started to respond, but Ambrosia cut him off. "And holos. They are all the same. Holomovies, holobooks, they all have the same plots, the same characters."

"And the same with entertainment destinations," said Chelsea. "Venice is always the same, every time we go there. Why can it never change? Why must it always be locked into the 18th century? Can they never build anything new? Can't they invent a new kind of cuisine?"

"And the men. They're all the same too," said Ambrosia. "No offense, Mr. Anson."

"None taken," said Anson.

"But it's just... they're all alike. They all have the same smile. The same hairy chests. The same thing between their legs. They get on top of you, work themselves into you, and then grunt-grunt-grunt, and then they cry out, and then they spooze into you. It's always the same, all the same!" she cried.

"I quite understand, dear," Jessica said sympathetically, putting a hand on Ambrosia. "I go crazy with boredom every time Anson spoozes inside of me."

Ambrosia grinned, "You understand!", feeling an instant connection with Jessica, not realizing it was she, and not Anson, who was being mocked.