The Problem With Immortality Ch. 19

Anson got dressed and left without saying another word. But when he saw Mr. Walker at lunch, he immediately went over to him and told him what happened.

"Mr. Wheeler gave you intense pain? And then, he continued treatment even as you were screaming in pain?" Mr. Walker looked incredulous.

"Yes. It happened."

"Mr. Ford! I am so sorry. I am going to get Mr. Morrison involved at once. Immediately! I am going to report back to you. Don't go for any more treatments until you hear back from me!"

"Don't worry, I won't," said Anson. He sat in the lunchroom, slowly eating his food. Mr. Wheeler had seemed so sincere. Could it be possible the equipment merely malfunctioned?

An hour later he had the answer. Mr. Walker returned and sat down next to him. "I've done some investigating and reviewed the session logs. Everything you've said is entirely correct. Mr. Wheeler used the level 7 pain setting, which is entirely inappropriate except under the most unusual circumstances."

"He did?"

"He did," said Mr. Walker. "Mr. Wheeler no longer works for Integrative Pain Management. He has been let go. You have my sincerest apologies, Mr. Ford."

Anson looked at Mr. Walker. So he hadn't imagined it. He had just fallen in the hands of a bad actor. "All right," he said slowly. "There's no harm done. No permanent harm, anyway."

"Thank you for your understanding, Mr. Ford. And if you're ready for your next treatment, I want you to know that I myself will be handling it."

Anson gave a sigh of relief. "That would make me very happy, Mr. Walker."

"Then let's go to the treatment room and get you started, shall we?"

Mr. Walker escorted Anson to a treatment room. This time Anson took off his clothes without hesitation and lay back on the treatment table. He trusted Mr. Walker.

Mr. Walker made sure all the restraints were secure, then he said, "Oh! I forgot one tiny thing. I will be right back, Mr. Ford!"

And he left the room.

Anson lay there, naked, strapped to the table, and looked around the large room. That large mirrored wall nagged at him. Why would they have a wall with giant mirrors? It made no sense.

A moment turned into two minutes which turned into five minutes, and then Anson heard footsteps coming into the room. "Oh, I was wondering what had happened to-" he looked up, and saw that it wasn't Mr. Walker.

It was Mr. Wheeler.

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Ford. Are you ready to start your next treatment?" Mr. Wheeler asked.

"No... no, you were fired," said Anson.

"You're mistaken, Mr. Ford," said Mr. Wheeler, smiling as he looked at Anson's nude, bound body. He ran a hand along Anson's arm. "I am a senior pain technician at the Institute. This is my job."

He casually went over to his virtual console. "Are you ready for treatment, Mr. Ford?"

"No! No! I refuse treatment! Let me go! Let me go!" Anson cried.

"Then let's begin," said Mr. Wheeler.

The laser device hummed, and this time it struck out, at his left arm, but it was immediately extremely painful. It felt like his flesh had been burned.

"That was only an 8 setting, Mr. Ford. Would you like to try a 9?"

"No! No! Let me go!" said Anson.

Mr. Wheeler laughed, and a beam struck out again, searing his right arm. Anson screamed in pain.

"Are you enjoying your therapy, Mr. Ford?"

"No!" said Anson, struggling against his bonds. "Stop this! I want Mr. Walker!"

"You want Mr. Walker?" Mr. Wheeler asked.

"Yes! Yes! Get me Mr. Walker!"

"Then it's Mr. Walker you shall have."

And Mr. Wheeler walked up to Anson, still bound to the table, and then Mr. Wheeler stared down at him, and then he put a hand up to his own face, and started to pull on it. His nose, his cheeks, and his chin started to fall off. In moments they were gone, and underneath it was...

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Ford," said Mr. Walker.

"You... you're both the same people?"

"Quite right," said Mr. Walker, smiling at him.

"Why.... Why?" Anson asked.

"I think others are better equipped to explain that."

And suddenly the mirrored wall became clear, like glass, and Anson saw Jabil Morrison there, as well as several other men. And women. They were all bald. And they were all naked, lying on couches.

Facing him.

"What's going on here?"

Anson heard Jabil's voice over a wireless comm system, from the other room. "You are to provide our entertainment this afternoon, Mr. Ford," said Jabil.

"Entertainment?"

"Your pain will be our pleasure."

And then Anson looked at the naked men, rubbing the naked women, and then he understood. "You... you get sexually excited from watching other people in pain?"

"That's correct, Mr. Ford. My Institute actually caters to two distinct sets of clients. Those who like to receive pain, and those who like to watch it."

"But... why?"

"How much do you know about my background, Mr. Ford?" Jabil asked.

"I did some research... you lost your entire family, in tragic circumstances."

"Yes, very tragic. My mother, killed by a mechanical grape picker. A grape picker which I sabotaged. My father run over by a robotic steamroller, after I drugged him and lay him in front of it. My grandparents were killed by escaped animals from the zoo. I can't tell you how hard that was to arrange."

"You... murdered all of them?" Anson said.

"At a young age I learned that for me, others' pain was my pleasure. It really is a zero sum game, I'm afraid. So I set up this Institute, for people like me, to... enjoy themselves."

"But... how come no one has ever reported you?"

"Simply because no one who leaves the institute is ever unhappy. Once your treatments reach a certain level, you are given an amnesia mist which wipes out your short term memory and leaves you susceptible to suggestion. All you remember is that you had a refreshing treatment."

"No..." said Anson. He suddenly realized he was tied down and in the hands of professional sadists.

"I can't tell you how happy I was that a man of your caliber fell into our hands. We are really going to enjoy ourselves with you, Mr. Ford."

"No!" said Anson, struggling against his bonds. But they held him tight.

"You may proceed, Mr. Walker."

Mr. Walker moved his hands over the virtual control panel. A beam of light stabbed out, hitting Anson in the chest. He screamed in pain.

"No!" Anson cried.

"Is the pain level too high for you, Mr. Ford?" said Jabil, fondling a woman with one hand.

"Yes!" Anson cried.

"Very well. We wouldn't want you to be in too much discomfort. Mr. Walker, reduce the pain setting to 4."

"Yes sir."

"And aim directly for Mr. Ford's penis."

"No!" Anson cried.

The beam shot out, and Anson felt an excruciating pain in his cock and balls. There was no actual damage being done, but the nerve endings felt like they were being peeled off his skin.

He was tortured for the longest time, in all different parts of his body, in all different intensities. Part of the torture was not knowing how painful the next beam would be. It felt like he was tortured for hours, but was probably much less than that. But the pain was intense. Every time he screamed, he looked to the windowed wall, he saw Jabil, and his male companions, watching him, fondling their women. Some of them actually had vaginal intercourse, getting off on the sounds of his screams. They could hear him, but he could also hear them, giving off different kinds of moans as, one by one, they ejaculated into their women.

And then, when the last one had come, Jabil said, "That's enough for now, Mr. Walker." and the device was deactivated.

"How are you holding up, Mr. Ford?"

Anson's throat was sore from screaming. Every inch of his body had been bursting in pain. Had been. The pain was mysteriously gone. But the memory of it, of the intensity of it, was still alive in his brain.

"You bastard."

"You were quite exciting. I don't think I've ejaculated inside of Irena quite so vigorously in some time. I cannot wait until tomorrow when we do limb extraction."

"Limb extraction?"

"We cut off one of your limbs, without anesthesia, I'm afraid, and then we listen to you scream for several minutes before reattaching it."

"No!"

"Don't worry, we start off with a finger or two first, to let you get used to it."

"No, I won't let you."

A mist started to fall from the ceiling. "I'm afraid you won't be remembering very much from our conversation, other than that you had such a productive and refreshing session."

"No.... no... no...." But then Anson's mind started to fog, and everything went black.

********

Gradually, Anson found himself eating dinner in the dining hall. How had he gotten here? He had had some kind of session... a session, with Mr. Walker.... He tried to remember what had happened, but couldn't.

He looked over at the other diners. They seemed dazed, just staring out into space. Maybe the treatments did that to them. Maybe that's what the treatments were supposed to do, to distract them from the problems in their life.

But Anson was sorely confused. Then Mr. Walker dropped by to say hello. "Hey, Mr. Ford, how are you doing?"

"Fine," said Anson, not really sure.

"Are you enjoying your sessions?" Mr. Walker asked.

"I think so," said Anson.

"Good," said Mr. Walker. "I think you're progressing well. Tomorrow morning we're going to take you to the next step."

"The next step?"

Mr. Walker smiled. "It will feel like... being broken down into little pieces, but then put back together, even better than new. Trust me, you'll love it." His smile seemed so sincere, so genuine, that Anson felt no choice but to smile back.

That night when Anson went to bed, he felt troubled, but he didn't know why. He dreamed of Master Pho, from the Ju Chi Monastery. Master Pho was trying to tell him something, but when Master Pho opened his mouth to speak, Anson couldn't hear the words.

********

The next morning Anson reported to the treatment room. He stripped off his clothes and lay down on the table.

"That's good, Mr. Ford. You know the routine quite well," said Mr. Walker soothingly, as the restraints slowly slid into place.

The restraints.

Anson had a sudden flash of struggling against the restraints. Had he? Or had it been just a dream?

He looked at the mirrored wall. Something was wrong with it. And then it was no longer a mirror, but a viewscreen, and Anson saw a story play out on it. A story of decadent bald men, having sex. Having sex amid screams.

His screams.

And then, suddenly, he remembered.

"Are you ready for treatment, Mr. Ford?" said Mr. Walker pleasantly.

"No!" Anson cried. "Mr. Walker. Mr. Wheeler, whatever your name is!"

"He remembers," said Mr. Walker, surprise in his voice. "How much do you remember, Mr. Ford?"

"Everything," said Anson. "Release me from here!"

The mirrored wall became clear again, and Anson saw Jabil, naked, along with other men and women. "So you remember, Mr. Ford! Very good! Now I won't have to explain everything again! I get so tired of doing that. It's such a pity your memory only returned after you submitted yourself to restraint. But don't worry, after this session we'll give you a double dose of the amnesia gas, so there will be no chance of you remembering anything at all."

"No!" said Anson. "Let me go!" He struggled against his bonds. But they held him tight.

Jabil laughed. "Mr. Ford, those bonds were made to hold a much stronger man than you."

********

He was back at the Monastery.

There had just been a terrible storm the night before in Northern Tibet. A giant tree trunk had fallen in Master Pho's favorite lily pond. Anson watched in awe as Master Pho lifted the trunk and tossed it aside as if it were a twig.

"How strong are you, Master Pho?" said Anson.

"As strong as I wish to be, Chipmunk," said Master Pho.

"But Master, are there not physical limits on what the body can do?"

"There are limits, but the human body is not accustomed to even approaching them," said Master Pho. "Evolution has given us strong minds and strong bodies, but we still tap only a tiny amount of our potential. Our arms are only a certain strength because we believe that they are of a certain strength. When you stop believing in your limitations, you can achieve almost anything."

"But how do you do that, Master? How do you tell your body to stop being limited?"

Master Pho laughed. "How does the sparrow fly, Chipmunk? Or the robin sing? Each does according to its own. Each according to its own will."

********

"Let's have some appetizer pain before we get to the main course," said Jabil. "His left foot, please."

A beam shot out and hit his left foot. Anson screamed in pain.

"Oh yes, that sounds so good, Mr. Ford," said Jabil, fondling a bald woman's large breasts. "Now his other foot."

Anson screamed again as the next beam hit him.

The bald woman whispered something in Jabil's ear. "What? There? Why not! Walker, shoot him in the penis. It was so entertaining yesterday. But this time, give him an 8 setting." The woman fondling Jabil tittered.

"No!" Anson cried.

Time slowed down to a standstill. Anson had been struggling against his bonds furiously. They were made of a thick plastic that was not at all yielding. But then he remembered Master Pho speaking, and now he heard the words, and the words coming out of those lips were, "Need. Chipmunk. Need drives all abilities."

And then something in Anson's brain clicked, and he looked at his right arm in a new light, and with barely any exertion he lifted it up, and the restraints snapped off as if they were made of paper. And then Anson looked at his left arm, and he did the same, and then he ripped the restraint off his throat, and off his legs.

All this had taken less than three seconds. He was up and off the couch even as the beam was stabbing out to where his penis had been.

Time speeded up and Mr. Walker was running towards him, a stun rod of some kind in his hand. Anson brushed his hand holding the device aside and punched Mr. Walker in the gut. The punch sent him flying across the room. Then Anson ran to the glass wall, and punched so hard that the glass shattered. Suddenly, there was open air between him, and several very surprised looking naked people.

"Greetings," said Anson, his face grim, his right hand dripping blood. He smacked his fist into his palm. "Greetings, from the land of beatings."

The naked bald people recoiled and drew back, horror etched on their face. They could have easily overwhelmed him with superior numbers, but somehow the sight of a grim faced bleeding naked man, staring at them with death in his eyes, was more than they could bear. They trembled as he slowly approached them, a small smile set on his lips.