Aberrant Futures Ch 01

I woke up before my alarm in the dark feeling sick with anxiety. The last text message from my bestie, Ally, blinked unread on my phone. "I feel like I'm going into war," she'd sent and I felt the same.

In five hours a government drone would hone in on my bio-marker and whisk me off the the courthouse to be fitted with a collar. A a couple of hours after that, I would be released from an undisclosed clinic fully activated and available. My parents had plans to send me on an opening vacation to avoid the hoards of men with a fetish for inexperienced girls, but there were no guarantees once I was collared.

My lamp balanced on on a stack of textbooks and journals instead of a nightstand. I flicked it on, and the yellow light revealed novels piled like snowdrifts over shelves. On my duvet, a coverless, dogeared copy of Mansfield Park lay open and face down. I had escaped between its pages for the past week into a life before collars, but I was too jumpy this morning to read.

On the floor were the loose jeans and hoody I'd laid out for today. I thought the outfit would conceal my young face and athletic body outside of the clinic long enough to give me a fighting chance to get to Mom. While I was a freshman, I had imagined what it would be like for the big, dumb jocks in my intro classes to capture me and take me in front of everyone. I had teased them by letting the strap of my tanktop slip down to expose a bare shoulder and the curve of my breast. Their whispers and stares were gratifying. With a shiver in the cool morning air, I wondered what would happen if I saw them later today.

My phone began to buzz with my friends' texts. They were saying things like "I love you" and "goodbye" as though we wouldn't see each other again. The drama felt silly and good. While I was showering and brushing my teeth, my phone continued to buzz on the counter.

Every time I tried to dress myself in the protectively baggy outfit, the depression from hiding myself in grey, utlitarian clothes stopped me. I wanted to feel free and sexy as long as I could and fought my way through empty hangers and winter coats to the back of my closet to fetch out, perhaps for the last time, my favorite sundress.

It was thigh length, red gingham print that Mom called my "tablecloth" dress. But I thought it looked southern and pretty. With it on I tried getting away with copying my mom's country drawl. The neckline hinted at the dip between my breasts and the short thin fabric clung to my track-and-field thighs. In a few hours, I probably would feel differently about it, so was going to wear it and feel girlish as long as I could. With my jeans and hoodie in my backpack, I grabbed my phone, and locked my front door behind me.

The rising sun was toasty on my skin and it lit the clounds with firey orange rays. Morning commuters in grey and navy suits were making their way to the 8th street subway, and I, having nowhere to go, followed them. I felt like an exotic flower caught in the drab press of business people. Old men stared at me on the train, no doubt wishing I were collared. In the financial district, the seats across from me filled with self-important finance bros in expensive wool suit. Their loud, self involved conversations about hedging and indexes was grating and I parted my legs a little and hitched up my skirt to see if I could distract them. The leader, a tall thin nerd with a pompous voice, stumbled over his words as he struggled not to look. They got off after a few stops later on 31st, and I smiled to myself when the tall nerd did a "tuck and hide" with his erection.

I got off on 45th and took the first bus that caught my eye. Out of the window, the houses grew bigger and and fell deeper behind wide, green yards street after street. A young woman with a bag of cleaning supplies got on with me from the train and then off again by a large stone house with three stories. She was collared and I wondered if the owners inturrupted her while she worked. The estates became more extravegant the deeper in the bus took me--I saw horses in stables and even a private passenger drone idling above a landing pad.

A limestone house, small comapared to its neighbors, caught my eye. It was an unassuming but pretty two story with big windows. In them were simple, beautiful rooms--comfortable plush furniture, heavy full bookshelves, and homely white paneling It's design called out to me, and I got off the bus to snap a few photos.

I stayed for a while looking, it was really a very nice house house, before checking what time the next bus would be by--late, I would have to rideshare or the courthouse drone (an hour and twenty minutes left) would be my ride. Loitering felt awkward, I was the only pedestrian and the landscaping crew cross the road was begining to stare. I stood for a little while more looking, wishing I knew the owner, that he or she would let brows their library and sink into one of those deep, tan couches. In my mind, I walked up to the house and told them how much I liked books, and they invited me in to puruse theirs.

The sight of my finger on the doorbell startled me, I didn't recall going through the gate or passing under the arch of the porch. But the door opening in front of me was heavy and all-too real. I had no idea what I would say.

"Good morning," said Professor McVoy. I recognized his craggy face and grey hair from my Collar Law and Technologies class. I wanted to hate him, he had humiliated me during in class demonstrations. But I felt the butterflies of a crush for him in my stomach all the same. It was strange to see him outside of school, doubly so because I had randomly arrived at his doorstep.

"Uh," I said looking up at him. He had on a navy sweater and serious, light grey slacks. I repeated "uh" again when I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I've been expecting you," he said, "Thank you for arriving promptly. Have you had breakfast, you seem pale?"

I stammered a little before settling on, "No sir, not yet."

"Come then," he said, "I'll whip you up something in the kitchen. He pushed open the door for me and I stepped past him into the house. He smelled like cedar and pine.

Inside, the hallway was a forest of luscious green houseplants pruned just enough to leave the walkway clear. Between them were framed botany prints of strange mushrooms and ferns. McVoy talked as he walked.

"I've been preparing for you all week. You wouldn't believe the legal hurdles, the technical challenges. Even the your hardware only came this morning."

We passed a living room with massive stone fireplace and an oil portrait of McVoy holding the reins of a stallion and a riding crop, an office with a cherry wood desk and big windows facing a stream, and--my favorite--a library with shelves of antique books behind glass covers up to the ceiling.

"Professor," I said wondering if he'd mistaken me from someone else, "I think there's been a mix up, the courthouse drone is coming for me in less than an hour."

McVoy chuckled at that, a low cracking sound like splitting glaciers, and opened a door to a sunny kitchen. He bustled among shelves, oven, and pantry with the efficiency of habit.

"Sit," said McVoy, "Scrambled eggs?"

"Yes, please," I said, "I don't think you understand. I just went for a walk and ended up here."

"That is only what you perceived," Said McVoy, "Let me tell you a story." He donned a white apron and cracked eggs into a bowl. "The AIs choose six human administrators to make judgement calls on humanity's behalf on this planet. You know that much?" The slice of butter in his pan sizzled.

"Yes," I said wishing he would abandon the lecture and just tell me, I didn't have much time.

"One is chosen to make moral judgements about the infrastructure of The Law of the Collar. Most recently, a very powerful, capable professor, someone the AIs have been pestering for a long time to produce children." The muscles in his back flexed through his shirt as he whisked the eggs.

"Ok," I said.

"The only contact this professor had with breedable class women was through his students, so he kept his eye on them for a suitable mate. When he found her, he decided he wanted her to himself and didn't want to muck around in the public breeding pool." With a flourish, McVoy scooped the steaming pile of eggs from the pan into a bowl and set them in front of me. I hadn't eaten breakfast and my mouth watered for them. He poured us both cups of coffee and sat across from me. His eyes were icy blue under bushy eyebrows.

"Eat," said McVoy, "I don't want you fainting on me." The eggs were simple and delicious. He continued, "If you haven't guessed it Claire, I am this professor. I've decided who will have my children."

I nodded, mouth full of eggs and eyes wide making a "Mm hm," sound behind my closed lips.

Said McVoy, "And you are the girl I've chosen. I'm going to captured you permanently. You will live here and serve me."

I was beginning less and less to dread the arrival of the drone and think of it more of an escape from the Professor, who I thought might be insane. Swallowing my bite, I said, "Professor, that is impossible, I don't even have a collar yet."

He laughed his deep, glacier cracking laugh again. "Dear, Claire, I have tools far more elegant and powerful than those collars. But I suppose for appearance's sake I'd better fit you with yours. Come, finish your breakfast, let's relax in my study before we get to business." He hung his apron in the cupboard carried the steaming coffie between both hands.

I ate the last bite of my eggs in a gulp and left my plate on the counter and followed him to his office. The window covered the whole west wall. It was pristinely clear so that from the end of the couch, I had the illusion I could put my hands in the gurgling brook outside. Along the banks, carefully curated, delicate red flowers waved in the breeze. But the gurgle was silenced by the glass and the sound of water was replaced with the hum of the devices piled on his desk. McVoy sat across from me in a padded leather chair, down the hall came the jingle of an approaching cat bell.

A pretty little calico chirped as she came through the door and leapt onto McVoy's lap. I thought stroking her, McVoy looked like a Bond villain. And then with a startled jump, I realized she was wearing a miniature control collar.

"My pet," he said, "and sometime test subject. The AIs thought making collars for pets would humanize them for use on people. They were in production before they reached out to me and I nixed the idea. This is a prototype." I could hear the rumble of the calico purring from my seat on the couch. She pushed against his big, heavy hands with her nose.

An alarm on my phone buzzed, I had only a few minutes left. "Please, sir," I said, "Can I use your bathroom to change, It's almost time."

"No," said McVoy, "We will see what we will see from her." We sat in silence for an excruciating minute, McVoy sipping on his coffee and I wondering what would happen if I just changed as quickly as I could in front of him.

The drone dropped out of the sky like a boulder five minutes before it was due. It looked like a casket floating a foot off the ground behind the stream. Bladed, electric mouths of the accompanying enforcement flechettes crackled audibly through the glass. I saw where I was supposed to step up into the drone and where the doors would seal me in. I stood up feeling sick with anxiety.

McVoy commanded, "Sit," and my muscles responded to him before my brain caught up. I was beside myself with fear, we had seen videos of what enforcement flechettes could do in grade school. The calico, disturbed, jumped down and hid under the desk.

"Please," I said, "I have to go. I have to go right now."

McVoy's smile was mirthless. He typed something into his wrist and waved his hand at the window. The doors of the drone closed, the red lights of the flechettes winked out, and they fell back into the sky as quickly as they arrived.

"Well," said McVoy, "that was terrifying. I will have a word with the AIs about how they present themselves to teen girls." He whistled and the Calico came running back to him, her bell jingling as she took happy, prancing steps into to his lap.

"Shhh," said McVoy to the cat, "You're alright." He stood, the calico jumped down and followed him behind his desk. He rummaged around in drawers and under stacks of tablets and machines.

"Where were we," he continued talking as he looked, "Despite having engineered much of the program, I am old fashioned myself. I will be using a riding crop to discipline you. No doubt you will appreciate the transparency of its mechanics, and I will appreciate the beauty of a classically disciplined young woman. You will continue your studies here during the day, help me with my work, clean, and cook. While you are pregnant, I will bring on hired help."

He straightened holding an unfastened collar in his hands. I gasped, they weren't supposed to exist outside of top secret government labs except when fastened around our necks. McVoy, "The drama they made delivering this, two armored cars in the middle of the night. The neighborhood association was at my throat all this morning. He sat back down, "Come, kneel in front of me."

"Wait," I said. I knew he must be telling me the truth, but the facts were too big for me and I struggled to make sense of them."

"Yes, Claire," McVoy said.

"You said you were going to capture me permanently?"

He was a little impatient, "I did say that. What of it?"

"But you can't, I mean the Veil. I won't be be your slave." The furrow of his brow made me quiver inside, but I didn't back down. "The Law of the Collar cuts both ways," I insisted, "It takes away my autonomy during capture, but insures it outside."

I thought for a moment he was going to be really angry, but then his eyes twinkled with laughter. "Oh my!" He said chuckling. "Please, don't let me stop your on your way to be bred by any Tom, Dick, and Harry with a big brain and plenty of spermatozoa, I believe you know the way," and turned away from me to examine something on his desk.

I felt dismissed rather than freed, rose and grabbed my bag and--determined to be free of the strange and compelling man--walked quickly out of the room, through the hallway of plants, past the heavy stone fireplace to the front door. I paused, through the panes of glass down the road, the bus stop shimmered in the afternoon heat. On the other side of the road, a young woman was talking to the landscapers. I was too far away to see if they had captured her. I wondered if I would reach the stop before a drone swooped for me out of the sky. I remembered my humiliation in class, stripped naked and quivering over his desk, begging for relief.

When I returned to the study, McVoy was seated where I left him except he was gazing out of the window at the flowers. "Claire," he said turning to me, "I'm only allowing you this little rebellion once. Come kneel here for your collar."

In the kitchen, I had thought McVoy might be insane, but now I wondered about my own state of mind. Leaving my backpack on the couch, I stood between his knees and lowered myself. I was close enough to feel his warmth and smell the piney, cedar scent of him. He reached down with his massive hands and lifted my chin so I had to look up into his bright blue eyes, and then he reached down through the top of my dress and cupped my bare breast.

"Lovely," he said, "I wanted to wait and savor this moment, but I couldn't help teasing you in class, giving myself a preview of our time together." He paused to enjoy himself, looking me up and down like a picked flower ready to be arranged in a vase. As he released me to pick up the collar, I leaned forward to follow the warmth of his hand.

He put the two half circles around my neck and squeezed them together until they clicked. "They say these things are ugly, but I always thought my design was elegant," he said. "I will activate you from my desk, hop up here and lie down." My heart was pounding and he had to help me stand.