Go Off The Rail... And You'rebyjane marwood©
Cal looked across at the monitor, watching the multi-dimensional picture flick into life as his eyes rested upon the open space above the gleaming white Manumite table. Rob 1 and 4 still playing up on their 'go-slow', he thought as he stood upright and emptied the flask in one gulp.
He watched the robotics as they churned out length after length of perfect Manumite, the process impeccably synchronized and unhindered by the sluggishness of the older robotics.
Manumite, he thought, the thirty-first century material, harder than a surgeon's scalpel, or softer than the finest lingerie. Never had a problem in over fifty years, toxicity zero, completely reusable or recyclable. Oh Yeah, money on a stick!
He turned to look out of the panoramic wall, seeing the lights of the city beyond. He had done well. Rising above the financial need to live in that sterilised, pristine city they called Tarn.
Shit, I need to do something... anything. His thoughts were nothing new. To take a chance and leave the rails! Others had done it - and got away with it. Or had they? Although not illegal, the Govern's propaganda always cited death or disappearance as a result of leaving the rails. And yet there were people there! If every Govern edict was to be believed, there would be no one left to inhabit the areas beyond the rails.
Cal knew the reason for his discontent. He knew that there were real people out there... no... what he really meant was, real women out there. Not the hybrid perfection that was on offer at every Govern sanctioned 'Relax'.
He had seen one once, as a teenager. It was just a fleeting glance of someone - a female. Different but real, he was sure of that, as the Govern officers had chased him and three friends back to the bright lights and the safe transportation of the rails.
His recollection of her was hazy... and yet there had been something, earthy and real about her. What was it... equality? No it was more than that, he felt sure. When she had looked at him, what was her expression, perhaps sardonic, the comfort of being comfortable in her own skin? Could it have been an aura of superiority, even aggression? Dominance perhaps, he thought wryly, that that was wishful thinking.
Maybe I'll chance it tonight. How many times had he said that to himself? To his surprise, he felt his penis stiffen at the thought. His routine took over as he shrugged on his jacket.
Always in the same order, he glanced across to the top of the thick plexi-humidor. Assured that the gauge glowed green as it read the perfect temperature and humidity for the preservation of the object within.
A hallowed relic! He allowed his eyes to rest upon it... his one sacred possession. There it stood, a thousand years old... one whole millennia, or was it millennium... and yet here and now in 3050 it stood, perfectly preserved and ultimately playable, his Goldtop 1952 Les Paul.
Cal gazed lovingly at it before he moved towards the portal. He could hear the rails thrum as his exit from the living pod summoned the arrow. He watched as the sleek elongated point of silver hovered above the rails in the distance. Its speed dissipated rapidly as it came nearer, eventually lowering into an access hover. Its transportation portal lifted in a graceful arc above his head.
He stepped up into the sleek interior of the car and gave one instruction. "Last Relax." Was he giving himself the possibility of moving away from the rails? After all, it was the last Tarn Govern Relax before the rails finished.
The sensors had made sure that he was properly seated before the car moved forward. The elongated pear-shaped metal tube lifted further above the rails as it continued accelerating. There was no cruise mode for latest generation of arrows, acceleration, deceleration or stop. Had Cal bothered to look at the information display, he would have seen that his ETA read 27 seconds.
Without haste and without any real ambition to do anything, Cal moved along the street towards the wide portal of the last Relax and the sound of a heavy bass beat. He had already attracted the perfectly practiced, shy covetous glances of the throng of girls in the street. Each girl, whether blonde, dark or redhead was physically perfect. Without acknowledging any of them he entered the portal, its sensors recording his visit, his bank details - and ascertaining his alcohol level. Cal instinctively felt for the Cone Card in his pocket. If he did intend to leave the rails, he would need real money – and only Cone would do!
The Relax was already busy and would soon be bursting at the seams. Cal's natural good looks and athletic physique matched the Relax clientele perfectly. He knew that a lot of the guys were much older than his twenty-eight years. But these days it was hard to tell. There were very few males, never mind females, who had not taken advantage of hybrid bio-surgery.
He nodded to the girl behind the bar, affirming his database choice of drink that was already being displayed on the bar readout. The girl was naked apart from a slender thong. The erect darkened nipples of her bared breasts moved seductively as she dipped her body to serve his drink and indicate that he had been charged.
Normally Cal would have moved away from the bar and watched to see whether the guitar player in the band was good, bad or merely average. Instead he looked at the girl behind the bar, examining her face and body.
What is it with me, he thought? Why risk leaving the rails? She is perfect... as are they all!
The girl noticed his lingering look and posed prettily, her eyes offering encouragement rather than showing offence. She slid her hand to her hips and moved the slender waistband of her thong suggestively. Her long red fingernails dipped beneath the material and slowly began to caress her plump pubis. Delicately, she pushed the black lace aside to reveal a glimpse of the glistening smooth flesh beneath.
"Would you like to see me after I finish... or I can get someone else to serve if you want me to be with you now?"
Cal knew that his citizen status and spending habits would have already been displayed to the girl - and that the Govern sanctioned Relax would have been only too happy to have released the girl immediately from her duties, had he so desired.
Cal smiled at her, a wry expression on his face. "Thanks, but I'm not good company at the moment."
She shrugged prettily and gave him her best professional smile. "I'll be here if you need me sweetheart."
Cal moved away from the bar towards the stage. What is the matter with me? Everything is available to me... the very best... and yet I want something different, something that is not available. I must be stupid!
He gritted his teeth in anger at himself. God if I don't get out of this way of thinking I am going to go mad. Without looking at the band he turned and put his drink down on the nearest table and moved quickly back towards the portal.
He moved hurriedly, to avoid the messages from his common sense... down the street, heading towards the open space beyond the gradually thinning crowd of young men and girls.
The streetlights were dimmer now. He hurried on quelling any concerns... on and around the corner, he moved as quickly as he could without running. His mind now made up and determined. He moved to the other side of the street, deliberately avoiding a Tarn Govern Security Officer, but noting with some humor, his disapproving look.
He could see a rank of battered Secars lining the sides of the street in front of him. He knew the drivers would be from the Rim. He was right!
Swarthy creased faces with hooked noses and fat fleshy lips peered from the battered cabs of the Secars as he approached. A heavily tattooed arm emerged from one of the cabs and rattled the screen as he walked past.
"Going somewhere guy?"
Cal looked curiously at the driver. Two thick golden rings pierced his almost blue lips. His teeth and his skin appeared yellow under the dim street lighting.
He answered the driver. "Looking for a good band, know of anything?"
"Anywhere on the street is good." The driver looked away disinterested as Cal walked on past the line of Secars. He examined them more closely as he passed.
Every one of them was old, some hardly clearing the ground by more than a few millimeters, even though their energy packs were running and could be heard quite distinctly. God knows how they got here, never mind being able to carry anyone home!
Cal ignored the rather predatory looks of the other drivers as he headed towards the first of a long line of brightly lit signs that illuminated the street some way ahead of him.
Surprisingly he did not question himself further as he headed towards the biggest and brightest portal on the street. He could hear the growl of a guitar that sounded centuries old. His step quickened with excitement.
There were no scanners. I guess you don't need scanners when you have the likes of them, thought Cal, as he saw the huge size of two Rim dwellers leaning against metal pillars, lazily guarding the portal.
Cal nodded to one of them as he approached. He was quite sure that his entire walk from the top of the street had been well monitored - and that they had already categorized him, probably at best, as someone that rarely, if ever, left the rails.
The doormen neither acknowledged his nod nor impeded his progress as he took the Cone Card from his pocket and swiped it past the admission receptor. About a tenth of the price of the Relax, he thought as he walked through into an atmosphere that, to his sudden chagrin, he had never experienced before.
Why hadn't he? It was amazing: mind blowing. Not in the way of the technical sterile atmosphere of the Govern's sanctioned Relaxs. This was different. How did it go in Genesis? God called the light "day," and the darkness he called "night." Well Cal thought... this is night and this is good!
The sound from the band drew him towards the stage as if a pied piper or a Svengali had mesmerized him. Was he a child or was he a Trilby? Whatever, he was enthralled. Yet his mind still harbored the mundane. This many people... in this amount of space must contravene every safety rule ever promulgated. He laughed at his own pompous thought.
He pushed through the dancing, shimmering, hypnotized crowd, towards the sound coming from the stage. His first glimpse was a truly magnificent sight... noooo it could not be, he looked and looked again, pushing excitedly against the throng. It was real, there behind the smoke, behind the black leather-clad guitar payer, there... at the back of the stage, not one, but two... Marshall stacks. No wonder the sound was drawing him on. He could not believe it. He knew instinctively they were real, truly vintage. Valve... fat and proud. Nirvana encapsulated!
He looked around him, bewildered at the nonchalance of the crowd. Did they not know? Did they not care?
Then, like a cold douche, it dawned upon him. It wasn't them it was him! My God! He was twenty-eight years old. This had been going on for his lifetime and he had not seen it or heard it... ever!
He looked around again, his eyes roving wildly in a sudden epiphany of realization. They were off on it. They were immersed in it, drowning in it. It was not just music. It was an orgy driven by an astonishing sound. An orgy spurred by eight overdriven EL34's and sixteen Celestians!
Now he knew where he wanted to be... and yet he had to find what he had wanted to find... the forbidden fruit. All from that sudden subconscious thought in the Relax that had spurred his loosing of the reins; his move away from the rails.
High above the writhing throng of the dance-floor, she had seen him. How could she miss him! A sheep walking into the den of a pack of wolves could not have appeared more naive. Poor baby, what can I do for you, little boy? Perhaps I can give you a lifetime's education in the ways of the street.
Nexa settled back comfortably into her chair as she looked down from the balcony. The contoured holder of the phallus pressed in-between her buttocks so snuggly that she shivered in delight. Wearing it was a luxury that she reserved for those nights of possibility. When something inside told her that it was right.
She had had it made from the finest and lightest ancient titanium. It was a testimony to the skill of the most sophisticated craftsman in Tarn. The sculptured shape was beautifully contoured to the cleft between her buttocks. It started at the dimple at the bottom of her spine and ran between her cheeks to the under part of her vulva.
The beautifully shaped metal sculpture held the phallus so neatly, that when retracted, as it was at the moment, the glans of the long slender penis, barely reached under the lips of her labia. When extended it curved from between her thighs, jutting forward and upward, almost in a semi-circle, dominantly, aggressively, ready to penetrate her prey. The epitome of the priapic ancient Greek gargoyle!
Her eyes followed the young man. What a sight... an innocent abroad – and yet he excited her. There was something in his expression of wonderment. Perhaps a spectre of regret, a longing for what might have been, or perhaps a wistful hope of what might be to come.
Worthy of her attentions... yes, she thought. You are worthy of my attention... and I think that I had better come and rescue you quickly, before you come to the attention of someone with more sinister intentions.
Time seemed to stand still as Cal listened to the sound of the band in awe and wonderment. Bewildered by the spectacle around him, he turned this way and that.
The women were beautiful, not in the stereotyped hybrid perfection of the Govern Relaxs, but in the authentic beauty of nature itself.
Breasts brushed against him, some naked, others covered in wisps of enticing promise. Slender fingers groped him, as he stood transfixed upon the dance floor, absorbing the sights and sounds.
There was a sexual undertone; it seemed to resonate within him. He was aware that his penis had become engorged, hard and throbbing, pushing and straining against the tight material of his pants.
Suddenly there she was in front of him - a tall, awe-inspiring apparition, dressed in a tightly formed cat suit, her green eyes immediately enveloping his senses. She looked amused, sardonic almost. She looked him up and down as if measuring him.
Cal looked up at her face. Her look, what was it... quizzical perhaps. It was impossible to read; her expression seemed to change, suddenly saying everything, so many different things to him. What are you doing? Why are you here? Do you actually know what you are doing?
He could see that she was amused by his wonderment. He felt stupid and slightly ashamed of his gaucheness. He looked up at her, rather like a young schoolboy would look at his headmistress. She seemed to suddenly make up her mind. Without one word, she slung her bag nonchalantly over her shoulder and took his arm, leading him through the crowd.
She looked down at him, substituting a smile for a laugh. Her face looked beautiful as she raised her eyebrows at his innocence, his lack of guile. She held him firmly as he tried to look up at her.
She was over a head taller than him, her sinuous, sensuous body was lean and svelte. Her grip upon his elbow was firm and strong as she led him through the portal and up into the street.
He could not have explained his feelings... and yet he knew that he trusted her as she led him past the Rim dwellers and their rows of Secars. He was letting her lead him, either consciously or subconsciously, he was actually allowing her to lead.
Up and beyond she guided him, her grip upon his arm and elbow, firm and solid as she walked him quickly through the dimly lit streets towards the corner – and then beyond, to the brightly lit open-space of the rails.
Her long legs and rapid pace made Cal almost stumble against her as she increased the grip upon his arm and elbow. He tried flexing his bicep, perhaps a test of her metal. There was no response; her grip remained just as firm and solid until they were almost at the rails. She pulled him to a stop and relaxed her grip.
"Do you have a proximity caller?" Her voice was authoritative, demanding. The question did not need answering; as at that moment the rails began to thrum and she caught the glimpse of a flash of silver appear in the distance. She looked down at him, watching him blush with embarrassment as she caught him examining her breasts and body.
Cal could not help his sudden flush of embarrassment. He could not remember the last time he had been made to blush. In fact, had he expressed any sudden emotion in the last ten years? It seemed to him, as they stepped aboard the arrow, that his life had been dormant and predictable.
He tried looking at her face as she sat at the other side of the car. Her strong profile was quite beautiful, natural yes, irregular yes, but quite beautiful. Suddenly, as the car slowed she looked at him directly, her expression one of indecision before making a choice. Impulsively she smiled at his helpless and worried expression.
They stepped from the car. He first, as she propelled him forward with a firm grip of his arm. She held him, standing still, facing towards the portal of his living pod as the arrow sped away. She stood with her body close behind his, her breasts pressed against his back as she wrapped her arms around him, deliberately holding him immobile.
"What is your name, little boy?"
Cal could feel his cheeks blushing again, although he was fairly sure she could not see his embarrassment in the darkness of the walkway to the portal.
"Erm... it's Cal." He stammered slightly as he tried to turn his head to look up over his shoulder. "Erm... what's your name?"
"Nexa, my name is Nexa. Tell me Cal, does your mother know where you've been? Does she even know that you are out? It is very late and I am quite sure that you have been 'out of bounds,' like a naughty little schoolboy!"
Cal could not help blushing, although he was fairly sure that she could not see his face. What was it with him?
"Erm... I live alone."
Nexa spoke again, her lips close to his ear. "Come along, let me get you inside." She unwrapped her arms and took a firm grip of his arm and elbow as she propelled him forward once more.
"Will the portal security accept two people?" Her voice was again close to his ear as she asked him the question.
"I didn't set personal attack security, just the locks." Cal was surprised at how inept his reply sounded. Everyone sets full security, especially if they intend to visit regions beyond the rails.
"You have been a naughty boy tonight. I suppose I really will have to spank your little bottom, if your mummy is not here to do it!"
Cal's laugh was strained and sounded false, even to him. He knew his face was red with embarrassment as they passed through the Portal and into his living area.
Rather than giving him complimentary remarks about the luxury of his living pod, as he expected... Nexa remained silent.
Quickly, she turned him around and pulled him close to her body. She wrapped her arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides.
"Now little boy, before I spank you, I'm going to taste you."
Cal blushed again as he looked into her eyes. He had never seen such a vivid green, or such a deeply set color. She gave him no time to examine her further as she placed her lips against his, tilting his body back, as if she was the man and he, the woman.
Her tongue pushed insistently between his lips, her breasts pressing firmly against his chest. What was happening to him? He felt himself almost wilting in her arms as if he was weak and frail.