Humanity 2.0 Year 028 Day 284?

HUMANITY 2.0

YEAR 028, DAY 284?

The "Day 284?" is a best guess. I'll explain later.

I don't remember how many times I tried to clobber the door to my luxurious prison cell before the gas got to me. Judging by my bloody-bandaged hands when I woke up, I'd say I put a decent dent in it. I was unconscious for an interminable length of time, and unfortunately, I experienced no visitations by which 15226 furnished a means of escape. I remember dreaming – not clearly, or about what, just a few themes and ideas.

I remember dreaming of angels, then of the mountains, then of bitter cold. I remember running through a cave, trying to find some money hidden inside, and then I was in Cincinnati for some reason – playing some video game with my old roommate from near thirty years ago.

My imagination flowed from place to place. I was probably out for a few days. I finally awoke much later, feeling drained and stiff. The first thing I noticed was that I was much less comfortable this time. My wrists and ankles ached and chafed. I blinked my eyes open, waiting briefly to let them adapt then looking around.

I was in a completely different place from the first – it was a wide, rectangular room, about thirty feet long and ten wide. The floor was lined with a carpet that was my only cushion; I was lying on my side on it, and my neck felt strained. I cautiously rose up, cracking my neck once, and reached up to rub it – and I noticed the restraints.

I was bound, but not by handcuffs. Instead, each of my four limbs had a round, tightly fitted thick metal band around it, which was itself firmly attached to a one-inch steel cable. Each of the four steel cables led into small holes in the wall around me – two low holes for my legs, two high holes for my arms.

The cables were fairly slack at that moment, all touching the floor. I noticed that I was naked, too – they must have stripped me, save for the gauze wrappings on my hands and knuckles. My flaccid cock was the only limb that wasn't bound by steel restraints, which I supposed was a small blessing.

Coiled around one of the cables – the one attached to my left arm – was a small plastic tube filled with fluid. It led to an IV inserted into a vein, secured by a metal strap around the forearm. That was worrying. Bethany had said we weren't immune to poison, and most pharmaceuticals would still affect us – though if the body thought the effect was negative, likely it would have to be a far stronger dose than one would give a normal human. I tried to reach it with my right hand, but suddenly found it snapped away by the cable – abruptly going taut and then pulling it away.

Someone saw me try that and stopped it. I blinked and looked around the room again. I was against one of the smaller walls, and behind me there was a wide, simple bed. The far smaller wall had a single door on it, and the rest of the room was filled up with couches and ottomans – seemingly grabbed at random, some looking old and some new, none matching. Similarly, the walls had a few old decorations, but were otherwise painted a drab mauve color. There was a sense about the place of being hastily thrown together.

I sat up, planting my ass on the bed and focusing inward. I couldn't tell exactly how long I'd been out, but I was starving. I looked around, and noticed off to one side there was a tray with a dish on it, covered with a metal disc. I stood, and experimentally walked over – and found the cables had enough play in them that I could make it over. I hunched in front of the food, pulling the disc off the plate and seeing a basic chicken and rice dish. The smell immediately assaulted me and I nearly lost control. I resolved myself again, and sat down cross-legged. Picking up a plastic fork placed nearby, I began to eat, albeit quickly. There was a plastic thermos full of ice water, which I downed during the process.

I cleaned the plate uninterrupted. Pushing it away, I went and sat back down on the bed. What was supposed to happen here? They weren't torturing or experimenting on me, so far as I knew. I didn't taste anything odd in the food. I hoped Vanessa was okay; she was one of them, and not one of the good guys, but she was just an employee doing her job as a basic administrator. She certainly hadn't known what I was when they sent her in to deal with me – likely she'd only been told that I was some kind of international criminal with valuable intelligence and she was to negotiate terms for me to divulge it. She'd been the closest pretty face they had on payroll, and they simply used her.

I sat in place for three hours straight, alternately meditating and considering my situation. I tested the cables, and found that I could make it about one-quarter of the way across the room toward the door before I could go no further. I tried bending them, but it was no good. It was the kind of cabling they used to hold cargo ships in place; even my full-grown hominus male strength couldn't make them fray, let alone snap. I noted that, along the edges of the ceiling, were small mirrored bulbs – those would be the cameras, covering all angles of the room.

Finally, after nearly eight hours of patiently waiting, I decided to see if my captors were willing to at least talk and provide some kind of interaction before I died of boredom. Maybe they just wanted me in good shape before they tortured me? I took in a deep breath, and spoke in a booming voice. "If you're going to send someone in, I'm ready."

There was a shuffling sound outside, and some muffled voices. I waited longer, not shouting again, and after a few minutes, I heard a click. The door opened, and a man stepped in.

He looked to be in his late fifties, nearly bald. He wore a fine charcoal suit – no pinstripes, just five thousand dollars worth of wool. He wore a white shirt and a grey tie; it was a severe, basic look, forcing me to focus on his weathered face. There was an almost kind expression to him – like a stern father. He radiated authority and respect. I knew, looking at him, that I was finally seeing the true enemy. One of them, anyway. Two soldiers, in black combat gear, came in, flanking him.

The man stood there, just meeting my eyes, judging me somehow before proceeding. A third soldier entered, with a folding chair, and placed it in the center of the room – outside my reach. Smiling, the man walked to the center of the room, spun the chair around backwards, and straddled it, sitting down and folding his arms over its back, leaning towards me and smiling. He nodded toward the soldiers over one shoulder, and they filed out, then closed the door. I heard a click as it locked. He turned back to face me.

"You're Ben Stanton." He said it matter-of-factly. His voice was strong, with a kind of gravitas that I've never found. The guy looked like he ought to be out campaigning for President.

"I am." There was silence for a few moments. "You're the one who ordered them to set off the bombs at the stadium. Just to capture me."

"Yeah, we finally found something that worked, huh?" He chuckled. "Don't worry, they were mostly just for show. Only a few casualties. We didn't need a body count, just the ruckus that followed. Who knew, after – God, has it been sixteen years? – that all we needed was some rioting soccer hooligans to bring you down."

"The horse tranquilizer dart probably helped a bit more."

"Ah, you noticed that, did you? One of our labs cooked up the stuff. The amount they gave you would actually kill a horse, I'm told." He pointed at the IV going into my arm. "They think they've cracked the nut about getting drugs to affect you. They said it was so simple it never occurred to them until recently. Whatever that means."

There was another brief silence. I frowned, wondering if he was bluffing. What had they given me before? For that matter – what were they giving me now?

Miller continued. "You know, they told me you were a big guy, but I never knew. Christ, son, you should have just joined the NFL instead of leading us on this goose chase. You would have just totally dominated the league."

"Not really my schtick." I folded my arms, the cables rubbing raw against my flesh. "So who are you, anyway? You obviously know who I am."

"Call me Miller. Everyone else does." He smiled and nodded. I had to admit – he was completely unreadable to me, who had more than a little practice. The guy's face might as well have been carved from stone for all I could see of his true thoughts. His affable exterior was only that. My mind finally was able to place where I'd seen his face before.

"Nigel Miller. Greater World Transit, CEO and chairman." I repeated it, more to myself than to him. A name to a face. Our enemy. Corporate, big shot – really big shot. Not a big surprise, but it was more than I had before.

"Hey! Somebody reads Forbes! You'd think, you know, that running seventeen percent of the shipping and arbitrage in the world would mean people would recognize you in public more than once in a blue moon, but unfortunately not." He shook his head. "Glad that we got that out of the way. So you know what the idea was with the last thing, right?"

"She was bait. You wanted me to use my powers so you could observe them. You probably had the room lined with more sensors than NASA."

"Good. I don't need to waste time explaining then." He clasped his hands together between spread knees, leaning forward and looking at me. "You know what we want."

I frowned. "Well, just for clarity's sake, why don't you spell it out for me?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "We've got no idea what you are or where you came from, but those are secondary. You have to have realized, Ben, what the implications are of your little super power."

I growled. "You want to know how I can control people."

"Damn straight." He leaned back briefly, leaving one hand on the chair back, and gesturing widely with the other. "There's enormous potential in that power, and you just use it to get your nuts off. You need super powers to do what I can do for eight bucks in Thailand. It's time to step it up, Ben."

I shook my head. "Then you're going to be disappointed. It doesn't work like that. It's more limited than you think."

"We know you only use it to affect people's sex drives. But our guys – and we have some damn smart guys working on this – think that limitation is more of a Ben problem than a science problem." He tapped one temple.

I paused, my mind racing. 15226 had told me that it would be limited to sexual control – but did that mean that the power was limited to that in general, or that it was only so in my specific case? Dread twisted in my stomach. On some level, I'd suspected what Miller was saying for a long time. Why else would 15226 have locked the power away and only given it to me when there were absolutely no other options?

I had already surmised the last room had been lined with every sensor and scientific device they could find, all pointing at me as I so kindly gave them a demonstration of my power – on multiple settings, no less. I had never had the chance to really analyze the ability 15226 had unlocked within me, not in laboratory conditions. They likely knew more now about the field than I did.

He continued as I was silent. "That power is the best shot we know of to turn this train ride to hell around, Ben. You must realize it's all going wrong. World War 3 is brewing in the South Pacific, and even we can't stop it. It's not even going to be the profitable kind of war. Economies tanking left and right. Did you hear that they had to send the National Guard into your hometown? Riots." I hadn't known that specifically about Sacramento, but it wasn't surprising. Things were proceeding roughly along the lines 15226 laid out.

Miller brought his hand back to the chair. "I know you're as old as I am, even if you don't look it. You've been around the block a few times and you're thinking I'm just another liar. The committee wants your power, Ben, and they wanted to go the X-Files route and dissect you, all that shit.

"Fortunately, I sold them on trying something else first. You see, I don't want to rip it from you. We might know how the field works generally, but there's still too many unknowns for us to produce it artificially. Cutting you up before we have enough information to work with might leave us with only half the picture forever. We could lose the opportunity."

"True..." I peered at him.

"All of us signed off on a deal for you. If you're willing to give us everything you know about your ability, we've agreed to grant you one-tenth of each of our companies. There's ten of us, and there's nobody bigger than all of us put together – so you'd be our equal. You'd be a player on the world level. You would have a seat on the committee, and even I wouldn't be able to touch you. You'd have round-the-clock protection, a really just completely silly amount of money, your own chunk of the world if you want it, an army of staff and assistants... not to mention as many women to fuck as you can dream of."

I hadn't expected this. Was he serious? Or would they just kill me the moment they had what they wanted. I played for time. "What about my girls?"

"Your sister and them? Kinky, man... but yeah – we can throw that in. You can keep all of them, every one. We wouldn't lay a finger on them – on my honor. They can live with you, and work for you, or just hang out and diddle their clits all day for all I care. The real prize here is what you can do, not you specifically."

"I... I didn't expect this." I sat in place. "How do I know it's not bullshit?"

"To be honest? You don't." He held up his hands. "I tried to think up a way to convince you on the way here, but in the end, it comes down to you making a decision. Ben, if they cut you up and get the secret anyway, which they're awful damn determined to do - what purpose did it serve to take a stand? This way, you not only get to live and walk out of here, you get everything you ever wanted. You can be the voice of reason on the committee, Ben. And you have to want to settle down with those girls of yours by now, right? Get a few of them pregnant? Start up a whole clan of whatever you call yourselves?"

There was silence as I just stared at some point well past him and to his left, considering. If it was real, then I could build a fucking fortress to protect the girls. I could build a place even more secure than the Vault, recruit dozens more girls, and get them all pregnant until there were thousands of us. Even if things went to hell like 15226 thought, we'd be ready, in force, and well-equipped to face anything that came at us. And if he was right, if we could turn things around using mind control technology, then mankind wouldn't have to die out. Humanity 1.0 and 2.0 could live, side by side. It was a nice vision.

... And whether or not the offer was real, it meant giving potentially unrestricted mind control technology to a secret cabal of the world's most power-hungry, filthy rich, amoral bastards alive. I shook my head, folding back into a lotus position to meditate. The offer was false, whether or not Miller intended to really give me all that money and power. I recalled the twenty-two years on the run, the utter ruthlessness of the men they sent after us.

I remembered Emily, bullets piercing through her abdomen and seeing blossoms of her blood spray out. I remembered Bethany's long and jagged scar she got in Bolivia, the injury that nearly killed her. I recalled Wren's smooth alabaster skin marred by the painful burn marks along her shoulder, back, and the side of her neck, where the phosphorus had left her permanently scarred. Not once, until today, had anyone just asked us to cooperate – instead, they'd come with guns, intending to shoot first and study us later.

Only now, when they had me captive and chained down, did they bother asking. There was no conceivable way Miller and his ilk could be trusted with something like mind control – even if it was just as limited as I'd first thought. I had to trust in 15226, and do whatever was possible to protect the secret of the little gift she'd given me.

"I'm sorry, Nigel. I have to decline." I straightened my back, steeling myself. "If you're going to have them dissect me, you should probably have them do it soon. I don't intend to eat anything after this."

Miller frowned, and studied me for a moment – and finally seemed to be satisfied that I wouldn't be budged. "I see." He stood up from his chair, leaving it there as he shook his head. "I had to move heaven and earth to make that offer happen, too. Well, Ben, I hate that it's come to this. I wouldn't wish this fate on any man, but the lab really needs more data on that ability of yours."

They'd be letting their scientists and scalpels loose on me, then. At the very least, they'd have to unchain me to do it – maybe I could use the feigning death trick again, like in Seattle and Buenos Aires, and make my escape attempt then. It wasn't a great plan, but it wasn't terrible.

Miller walked back to the door, and grinned as he looked back at me. He knocked three times, and the door opened. He stepped out, and turned, putting one hand in his pocket, and the other cupped to one side by his mouth to amplify his voice. "Like I said... I wouldn't wish this fate on any man." He burst out in raucous laughter, which grew softer as I heard him walking away.

The door remained strangely open for a time, then I heard something. It was giggling; light, feminine voices, excited and happy. What in the world?

Two girls came through the door, holding hands; they wore only lingerie. The left was black-haired, with pale white skin, and slightly tall for a girl. She was skinny, with small breasts, and a pretty oval face with brown eyes. The girl she walked with was a pretty little one, black-skinned, with ample boobs and soft, feminine curves. They walked inside, and laughed as they tumbled together onto a couch, hugging and squeezing one another's bodies as they giggled and began to make out.

A second group of girls – three this time – came inside, all three blondes. They were of differing height and build, but I soon got the mixed up. They wore only lingerie or bikinis, and seemed very much into each other as they came inside. They found another couch, one sitting on it with her legs spread, the second next to her, kissing her deeply, while the third kneeled between the first's legs and teased a panty-clad pussy.

More girls entered – nine in all – the remaining four in two pairs. Two black-haired Asians, short and skinny, who fell into a sixty-nine. Another girl with black hair, holding hands with a striking caramel-colored girl with auburn hair. The last two were especially captivating, and I found my eyes following them the most in this scene.

They found a couch, and the black-haired one was soon flat on her back, legs spread wide as the auburn-haired one curled up between her legs, licking her pussy without any of the hesitance that the other eight showed. I could tell they were here to put on a show – likely hired just for this purpose. They all seemed to be doing a fine job, though, considering. My cock was soon hard as steel.

I was utterly unused to having such a scene in front of me and being denied joining in. All of the girls were making love on the other side of the room, well outside my reach. I tried to meditate, but it was impossible. My body betrayed me; I reacted in a primal way to the scene. My hominus male instincts were being used against me; the sight, sound, and smell of multiple women making love was something that every fiber of me wanted to be involved with. It felt only natural, only too easy, to reach out just a little bit, to draw one of them over toward me, and-

I hastily shut down that thought before it could become manifest. Where was my self-control? I had much more discipline than this. I glanced over at the IV. They were likely dosing me with something – or trying to. This room was probably even more loaded with specialized sensors than the last – and, on the other end of those instruments, a cadre of scientists, eagerly awaiting even a smidgeon of data on my electrophoric field and how it interfaced with the neural pathways, influencing mind and body.