Chapter 40: The Ordeal
It was supposed to be a routine scouting mission.
"Barack Obama? What an odd name! Who is that?" Calle asked.
"A politician who ran for President of the United States in the year 2008," said Sarah. "He campaigned on a promise of socializing health care. If elected, he would have started down the road of outlawing private medical care."
"So?" said Calle.
"Our timeline indicates that he lost the election," said Sarah. She pointed to a holomonitor. "But
this
seems to indicate that he won."
"Seems to?"
"This one says he did," she said pointing to one holomonitor. "But this and this and this says he didn't," said Sarah, pointing to other monitors. "John, we so hate anomalies like this here at the Continuity Service. Could you be a dear and dash back to the past and find out who won the election of 2008? I'll even cook dinner for you, if you get back in time."
They both smiled at each other knowingly.
********
Barack Obama campaign headquarters was like a morgue on election night. Everyone was depressed as the results started pouring in. Obama wasn't just losing, he was losing in a landslide. Everyone looked glum.
Except for one woman who smiled at Calle, looking very pleased.
"You look happy," Calle commented.
"I am, John Calle," She said, raising a compression pistol.
********
Heat
.
That was the first thing Calle felt as consciousness slowly leeched back into his brain. The feeling of the intense light of the sun beating down on him.
"Time to wake up, John Calle."
Calle stirred on the hot desert sands. He blinked and opened his eyes. It was bright. As his eyes focused, he saw blue. An ocean. He looked around.
He was on a tiny island, perhaps 40 feet long and thirty feet wide. There were exactly five coconut trees on this island, and nothing else.
Nothing except a tall bearded man with a compression pistol, smiling at him.
"Welcome back, John Calle," said the man.
Calle slowly got up. "Who are you?"
"My name is Maria Jefferson," said the man.
Calle's eyebrows shot up.
"Ah, you've heard of me."
"You're the leader of the Temporal Social Justice Warriors," said Calle slowly.
"Quite a mouthful, isn't it? We're much better at dispensing justice than logos and branding, I'm afraid."
Calle nodded, not really listening. Suddenly he looked down, and noticed he wasn't wearing any pants. Or underwear. What's more, he was now wearing some kind of metal basket around his waist. It shone in the bright sun. "What is this?" he asked, running his hands along it. It seemed smooth, except at the bottom, where there were tiny holes. It covered his groin in front, and attached in back with a metal strap. It was quite solid, and quite firmly attached to him.
"That will become self evident in time," said Maria. He looked out at the ocean. "Lovely view, isn't it?"
Calle looked out at the ocean. "Nice."
"Peaceful," said Maria. "I often wished I had the time to just kick back and go to a deserted island and lie in the sun. I envy you, John Calle, because you are about to live my fondest fantasy."
Calle had a sinking feeling in his stomach. "What do you want?"
"What does anyone want, John? Justice and equality for everyone."
"Those words mean different things to different people," said Calle, his eyes narrowing.
"They can only mean one thing to those who truly seek social justice," said Maria. "I want justice, John Calle. Justice for blacks. Justice for Spanish people. Justice for Superior Americans, for Laquintans, for women, for lesbians, for trisexuals, for every category of oppressed persons on the planet Earth."
"It sounds like you've got your work cut out for you. I wish you luck with all that," said Calle warily.
"Oh, you're going to do more than wish us luck, John Calle. You're going to help us. You're going to work for us."
"I don't think so," said Calle.
"Not yet, anyway," said Maria. He gave Calle an odd smile, and activated a gateway. He stepped through it, and disappeared.
*********
Calle tried to hide under the shadow of the bushiest coconut tree. Without pants, his legs would burn easily in the sun. Unfortunately the shade kept moving. He tried to sleep, but woke up with the sun on him, and he constantly had to move.
It didn't take him long to find the packet of food and water. He looked at it suspiciously for a long moment, and then realized he had little choice.
The food was sandwiches and water, nothing special. But after he ate and drank, Calle started to feel... different. Agitated. Aroused, even.
Packets of food and water mysteriously appeared once a day, enough for two meals, not a tremendous amount of food, but enough to keep him alive. But as Calle ate more and more, his sexual arousal only increased. Soon it was at an intolerable level. He had to get release.
He tried to touch himself, but he couldn't. The metal cage around his waist wouldn't allow him access. He could urinate through the small holes in the bottom, but that was all. He tried in vain to get the device off him, but it was too tight. He felt combination cylinders on the back of it, and spinned them fruitlessly, but couldn't get it to unlock.
Calle's penis was erect all the time now, pressing painfully against the inner walls of the metal cage. Calle thought about sex day and night now. He desperately needed release. He tried rubbing his cage against the desert sands, hoping to get some desperately needed friction, but it did no good.
And that's how Marion found him, two days later.
********
"Well, look at the fine mess you've gotten yourself into."
Calle blinked. He had been alone for almost two and a half days. He turned his head slowly and saw her.
Marion.
He gasped. "Marion? Is that you?"
"Who else would it be, my love?" She sauntered over to him, wiggling her hips. Calle slowly and painfully stood up and embraced her. She hugged him back. He tried to kiss her, but she pulled back. "I see you've gotten yourself into a little difficulty, my love," she laughed, touching the outlines of his metal cage.
"Marion?" Calle's mind felt confused. The drugs that were causing his arousal were also doing something else to him, he sensed. Something which didn't let him think clearly. But he tried anyway. "Marion, you died."
"Yes, dear," said Marion. "I died. Past tense. These wonderful people saved me. They pulled me out of the car right before the crash, so I could live again. To be with you." She leaned forward to give Calle a kiss. Calle leaned forward to meet her, but then fell on his face when Marion pulled back at the last minute.
"Oh, dear," She laughed, getting down her knees to help him sit upright. "What a fine mess you've gotten into!"
"Marion... why are you here?"
"To help you, dearest, of course," said Marion.
"Help me?" Calle blinked. "To escape?"
