Telos

So let's see my plan to put out a chapter every two weeks lasted *checks* exactly two weeks. Hooray personal life! Back on track now.

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Grace wasn't sure how long she spent in the white room. The first time she had been in it master erased all her old memories and built a new life for her. He gave her a purpose. Sitting in the room again was terrifying. He was changing her again, that was what the white room was for. He might take away what he'd given her. Every time master visited he told her it wasn't a punishment. He made her smile while he was there but every time he left her stomach curled up inside and she felt cold.

Books were left for her to read just as they had been before. White covers and simple words. The first few days she threw them at the walls rather than read them but every time she awoke they were waiting for her on the bed. She felt petulant and stupid and frightened all over again. After a while she started reading the books. Master always gave them to her for a reason. The next time she awoke a bowl of fruit replaced the tasteless gruel that had been provided before.

Every page was filled with words. Interspersed between the new books were her favorite chapters from the old ones. Little rewards for her progress. She read a parable by Hegel then dreamed of master's lips on hers. She learned the history of Greece then lay back while master drew a bath and scrubbed her clean. And then it began again. She read the book from start to finish a dozen times until a new one was provided.

Each one was different.

Philosophy. History. Arts. Culture.

The contents filled her head only slowly. It was all so complicated.

Occasionally master joined her in the white room. The lock turned on the far side of the door and he stepped inside. She wanted to make love again like they had done before but he made her talk instead. He quizzed her endlessly on what she had learned from the books. Each time when he was done he kissed her and locked the door behind him with a familiar click.

The routine went on forever. Grace didn't try to keep track of time. She poured all her effort into pleasing him. She read faster every day. She learned the laws of rhetoric. Ethos. Pathos. Logos. When master came to speak with her she gave more clever answers and his smiles were warmer, he even seemed to spend more time.

When he left she redoubled the effort to learn just to get him back.

After weeks or months inside the white room she asked a question before he did.

"Master, why are we doing this?"

He paused with the door half open. "Patience, slave girl."

"Sorry."

Master closed the door behind him then joined her on the bed. "I was worried you'd never keep your mind in order outside. There are so many things to distract you out there. The white room has helped you to concentrate for once." He drew a light caress across her collarbone. "Do you remember Doctor Silva? She was in here after Amy. She told me no one would ever choose to be a slave. Amy has told me the same thing once or twice."

Grace placed a hand on his chest. "Master . . ."

"Hush." He petted her head. "You have in your head every reason I could think of to resist me."

Her eyes flashed up to his in terror. "Why?"

"Because if I can find the one thing that that makes people resist then I can take that away and leave everything else intact. You're the perfect experiment. You have nothing else in there to muddy your thoughts." He smiled down at her. "I can cut this irrational need for independence out of everyone. It will be surgically precise. When I broke you I worry I might have done too much. You are so vulnerable. If I had a more precise way to fix people then I could make the world happy without it costing them anything else."

"Oh."

"Now tell me what's in your head."

Grace looked away from him. "I don't want to leave."

"You'll never have to leave, little slave girl." He turned her head back. "Now tell me."

Grace squirmed and tried helplessly to avoid thinking. "I don't know."

"Little lambs shouldn't lie."

"Master . . ."

"I won't be angry no matter what you say."

His touch made her eyes close. "It's frightening. You might do . . . you might do anything to me and there's a voice . . . I remember it from before." It screamed inside of her head and battered against the flimsy bindings she held it in. "I ought to be free no matter what, that's what it says. Make it stop." She pressed against him harder. "Please."

"Not yet. Tell me why."

"Because freedom is good. Because you might be evil. Because I'm afraid." Grace squeezed her eyes closed. It all came back to that. Freedom refused to let her accept slavery the same way master didn't want her to accept freedom. But master offered her comfort and freedom only insisted that she be frightened.

"If I made you choose now what would you do?"

"Anything to make it stop," begged Grace. "Anything."

"Good girl," he touched her cheek. "You've been working so hard."

Grace shuddered.

"Enough pain." He placed a hand on the back of her head and Grace released a soft breath. "Would you like me to take it away from you now?"

"Yes."

He pulled the thoughts out of her head as one endless silken thread, ever so slowly. The world became simpler. Her objections became too complex for her to hold onto. The voice telling her faded away. She grappled with it and forced it under control but even as she did it became too small to hold onto. Eventually it vanished altogether and left her mind in peaceful emptiness.

"Is that better, slave girl?" asked master. He gathered her closer to him.

She hummed a bit in enjoyment.

"Just a little more."

The threads of thought spooled back into her head. The voice whispered at her again for a instant than vanished as he pulled her thoughts away once more. Master continued the process for a while. Taking things away each time and giving a bit less back. When he was done she was nearly asleep.

"There's still stuff in my head," mumbled Grace.

"Lots of things." Master's fingers trailed their way up her neck. "I could take them away too, you don't need to be clever, but I think it's more useful for you to keep them."

-)(-

The eastern riverfront, a few blocks beyond the busiest streets, was eternally peaceful. A clean shaven man in an expensive suit was sitting on one of the benches doing nothing. He had no suitcase beside him and no newspaper in his hands. The wind cut along the ground and joggers shuddered from the cold but the man kept his place without moving. A warm smile for each passersby and the occasional flicker of his eyes were the only signs that he wasn't a piece of modern art.

Every week for two months Laura had been having meetings with him in the same place at the same time. He liked the river. She was starting to worry it was another manipulation on his part, the white room all over again, but nothing ever came of it except conversation about her progress in undermining his work. He disapproved politely. The drug, Bliss, was everywhere. Water samples from clear across the country showed traces. It lingered in the water supply for weeks after she removed the additives from treatment facilities.

While she worked Laura had solidified her sphere of influence enormously. Within the area she kept clean of the drug few people received important jobs in government without her approval, the better to keep conspiracy from gaining a foothold. Her fingers brushed through their minds for evidence of tampering. Usually Amy stopped her before she could perform any tampering of her own.

Usually.

Laura drummed her fingers on the windowsill of the car as she stared across the street at the clean shaven man. "You know what he is, don't you?" she asked Amy.

The former detective cocked her head curiously in the driver's seat.

"Never mind."

"He'll be upset if you're late."

Laura laughed. "Nothing upsets him."

"That's not true. One time . . . one time I tried to say something cruel about Grace. He was very angry when I did that." Amy rubbed her legs. "I know you hate when I say it but he is a lot like you, very protective of people."

Laura unlocked the door. "Stay here, sla . . . Amy." She took a breath. That shouldn't be so hard. "Stay here, Amy."

"Yes, mistress."

The clean shaven man made no indication that he noticed her until she sat down. "Hello, madam mayor."

"That was mostly an accident." After a while it had been easier to simply take over running the town than continue using the former mayor as a proxy. He was happy to keep working with her. Extremely happy, in fact, even if running a large town was slightly too complicated for him anymore.

"I heard you were very popular."

Laura sighed. "That's not why we're here."

"I know that, doctor, I simply wished to congratulate you on your success."

"Thanks." She tossed a thick report on the table. "I had this drawn up by one of those big think tanks," explained Laura. "Most of it is filler discussion and methodology. Summary statistics start on page twenty. Knock yourself out."

The man paged through the document silently.

"Voter turnout is up fifteen percent across the board in the last three months," Laura said when the silence became too much. "Everything from the governor's race to school board elections. No one has ever seen anything like it before."

"Have better leaders been chosen?"

"A few corrupt officials got thrown out of office."

The man looked up from the paper. "And the ones who replaced them were more effective?"

"That's not really the point."

He set the paper down. "I have found these conversations . . . enlightening but distressing. Surely the purpose of government it good governance. These demands you place on people are understandable, if perverse, but to pretend the quality of their leaders is irrelevant is monstrous."

"Perhaps I'm explaining poorly."

"The act of choosing is more important than the choice?"

Laura opened her mouth to respond then closed it. "Yes," she admitted after a moment.

"Madness."

Laura shook her head. "I'm not going to be a fan of tyranny any time soon."

"I have seen many irrational crowds and countless wise tyrants. Yourself for example. The town you rule has flourished under your guidance. The people you protect are happy despite your interference in government." His expression broadened into a proper smile. "I have the greatest respect for you skills."

"Violent crime is up, too," Laura said, quickly changing the subject. She had no interest in being reminded of how good it felt to use the control over other's he'd given her. "So that's one in your favor." She laughed tiredly. "People keep telling me it must be something in the water. Speaking of which, I still don't understand what you get out of this other than a giant Petri dish. I know these friends of yours want to retaliate. Why take the risk?"

He made a point of saying nothing.

"The best part of these conversations is how forthcoming you are."

"We lost a war, Doctor Silva." He looked back out over the river. "The others have not forgiven your people for that."

"And you?"

The man regarded her for a moment. "I was made to command and to lead."

"To lead them."

"No," he said, "I was given charge of our brothers who are lost to us. Among my people those who remain were more highly placed when the war began. I have no special influence over them. They would see you all destroyed in revenge."

Laura nodded. "And this is why you say you want people to be happy."

"I say that because it is true, doctor. If I were to let your people suffer that would violate everything I was made to do. There are many results my comrades would accept as victory. There is the only one where you are happy. If you cannot find people willing to choose a better world then it is better that they have no choice." He frowned. "I know that you'd rather see your people dead than enslaved but I cannot allow that to happen. Still, when we are forced into confrontation I promise you will be an honored martyr."

The wind had stopped. The river was still. His smile was gone. Laura became very aware that they were alone on the path. She took a few quiet breaths without looking away from the man.

After a second the world came to life again. A gull called in the distance. The river waves splashed against the bricks. He smiled at her with all the pleasant warmth of a friend. He very nearly looked human.

"That was you trying to comfort me, wasn't it?" Laura asked quietly. "You . . uh . . . you're

offering

to kill me if it ever comes to that rather than . . ."

"Of course, there is no need to cause you any fear. I have learned a great deal from you. I can respect your wishes in this matter even if they pain me. We must be enemies but that should not prevent us from being friends." His eyes shifted to look into the distance. "Shall we meet again in a week?"

"I'd prefer not to be your enemy," said Laura. She followed his gaze to a person standing in the distance, too far away to make out the details.

His smile faded slightly. "If you believed you could kill me my head would be on the ground right now."

Laura pursed her lips. "I like this river, see you here next Thursday." She rose to leave. "Tell Grace that Amy would like to see her whenever she's. . . free."

The man nodded and left down the path the way he had been looking. The figure was gone.

Amy blinked at Laura a few times when she returned to the car. "You look angry, mistress."

"It was that or terror." She slammed the door. "Head home."

Amy drove the way to the mayoral residence in silence.

Laura had been sure that everything the clean shaven man said was sweetly worded lies, crafted to disguise his motives and soften the impact of his intentions. To threaten to kill her, though, as if it were a favor was so insane that he had to believe it. Somehow that was worse. There was no chance of negotiating with him. She was already appealing to his better moral sense. Putting the world in pretty golden chains they'd never want to remove was more than an acceptable outcome to him. It also meant she wasn't likely to find allies among his comrades. Even if they weren't as overtly vicious as the blond man had been they would pursue their goals with the same inhuman reasoning.

The worst part was that it had starting to get to her as well. Whatever he'd done to her made it hard to see the world the way she used to. People deserved protection but the impulse to place them under her control, to make them happy, was becoming harder to resist. Having the power to she did was corrupting her with each passing day. She wavered between excuses. Smoothing out people's minds made them happy even if it made them docile in the process. Letting them suffer and squabble let them live their own lives even if it wasn't clear why they kept choosing the things they did.

The former mayor of the town was standing at the end of the driveway when they reached the residence.

"I hear things are going well, George" Laura said as she emerged from the car.

"I would have said slowly."

She placed an arm around his waist and drew him into the house. "So long as we're continuing to make progress. It is a difficult job but it needs to be done. We are setting people free. This is important. Never let me forget it. We are setting people free and it is the right thing to do. Tell me you understand."

George nodded obediently. "We're setting people free, mistress."

"It's going to make them miserable," said Laura, "if it doesn't kill them first." She grabbed his face with one hand and her mind merged with his.

It was all such a mess. The intact human mind was too complex for its own good. A knot here and a tangle there and living became torture. The places where she had fixed his mind were infinitely more elegant in design. No fears or stressors. It had been so easy to do. Pleasure wore away at his ability to resist and when his mind was left exposed she could rearrange the threads into a better order. He never had to worry about what to do anymore. He obeyed, happily and eagerly.

Laura dragged herself away before she could get any deeper. "Bring my little slave girl here. Now!"

"Yes, mistress."

"Good boy."

Laura sank into her chair. She was barely in control of herself anymore. Too much time with George would only end with her destroying his mind. Amy was safer outlet. The detective was resilient and it wasn't as though Laura could enslave her in a moment of passion. That had already been done.

Her hands shook with the effort of resisting. In the grip of her need to control she was nearly as helpless as Amy. When the young woman came round the corner a minute later Laura seized her. "Slave girl." As she leered at her subject a bit of clarity rose to the surface. "Amy . . . I'm . . ."

"It's okay, mistress."

She wasted no time forcing Amy's defenses to fail by inches. A single overwhelming wave of pleasure wiped away the younger woman's thoughts. The little ember of independence that Amy kept safe in the deepest recesses of her thoughts sputtered but didn't die. The threads of her mind, once tense with thoughts, went limp. Bliss clung to them like dew.

Laura found a memory of morning coffee. The rich aroma of the roast. The warmth of it in her throat. The caramel taste on her tongue. When she placed a hand the convolution of sensations she heard Amy moan. It was an innocent place to indulge herself. Laura bent down and licked a bit of the blissful dew from the memory. She sank her fingers into it so she could feel out every curve. She stroked a strand of contentment. A delicate touch claimed it and she followed it deeper into Amy's mind.

Like every other thread it led to the very center where obedience kept Amy in golden chains. Laura strengthened the connection to the memory she had found. There were worse things to be enslaved by than happiness, although none harder to escape.

She placed a hand on the masterwork that bound the woman to her and sighed. Amy's happiness was very real. There were signs of many artificers' hands. The clean shaven man's work was starkly direct while Laura built smooth connections. Most of the construction, though, was crude and simple, the work of Amy's own mind. Even as Laura watched one thread wound itself around a cord of emotion while another was severed.

When she returned to the world outside Amy was writhing in wordless rapture.

"Good girl, Amy." Laura laid herself down on the bed and closed her eyes. She awoke almost immediately to the feeling of lips on her skin. "Down."

"Yes, mistress." It took several second for Amy to pull herself away.

Laura rolled to look at her.

"You could take my body."

"I could." Laura shook her head slowly. "Show me."

Climax exploded through Amy's body seconds after her fingers went to work. She arched up with a strangled cry of pleasure then fell heavily to the bed. "Thank you, mistress."

"Again," ordered Laura.

The slave girl obeyed eagerly.

"Again."

Amy's confused look lasted only until her body convulsed with orgasm a moment later.

Laura continued to give the same order until exhaustion finally forced Amy to sleep. "Oh my dear, my dear," she said, brushing the hair away from Amy's face, "I have to go start a war and I . . . and I don't even know which side I should be on anymore."

She rolled onto her back. Even if she stopped them she was probably too far gone to stop herself anymore. A few more months and she'd talk herself into taking over the world. Everything would be back where it started. When Laura closed her eyes she saw the smiling face of all the people she could save.

-)(-

Navigating which thoughts were appropriate was becoming difficult for Amy. Mistress wanted to remove the Bliss from the water supply, she said it harmed millions of people. Master said it helped people to be happy. She had finally decided she belonged to mistress at present and whatever master wanted was less important than making mistress happy.