My instruction had had dramatic effect. Now all three major channels were in use, and the detail was much improved. The action was unchanged up to the point of the kiss.
I took her in my arms, as before, and brought my lips to hers. This time she did kiss back, passionately, her lips parting for my tongue. Her body pressed in close to mine, and I felt her breasts nudging me. When my hand slipped down to her buttock, her buttock twitched in acknowledgment.
Well, now. Obviously she had understood my words and taken pains to master the helmet. The seduction that had been lacking before was now present; she evidently wanted my hands on her body.
I experimented. After the kiss I looked at her Helse-face—and that face still stirred me deeply, though I knew it wasn’t her—and asked in English, “Will you remove your cloak?”
She had anticipated this. She shimmered, and the cloak was gone. Evidently she liked the magical effect I had demonstrated with the appearing and disappearing helmet. Feelies are fantasy worlds; anything can happen in them. That is much of their appeal.
Underneath she wore only a red bra and panties. Her hair descended to her shoulders in the manner that Helse’s had at the end. Her body was voluptuous; it had evidently been crafted from the contemplation of holos of lush starlets. There were nuances about it that satisfied me that it was not her own; the natural body signals were absent. Still, my curiosity led me to experiment further.
I reached out and touched her full bra. She did not shrink away. Instead the bra dissolved, leaving her bosom bare. But her breasts did not sag, as masses of that magnitude should; they remained supported. I had suspected as much.
I touched her panties. They, too, dissolved, showing her genital region—quite innocent of pubic hair, in the manner of holo starlets but not of real women.
I paused again. It was evident that this woman was willing to go as far as I might wish, in the holo. Indeed, I understand that in some circles this is the preferred mode of lovemaking, as the protagonists remain technically uninvolved, true to their spouses or whatever. A spouse who might be quite jealous of his partner’s physical affair with another individual might accept the holo version with equanimity and even participate in it. Physical purity was evidently more important than emotional purity. Perhaps it was ever thus; what man was ever really certain of what passed through the mind of his woman? The feelies merely made it more evident.
However, this was not the real woman. Her face was that of Helse, her body that of some holo representation. Even in imagination I preferred more reality than this.
So I stood back. “We must talk,” I said.
“Talk,” she said hesitantly.
So she had anticipated this too. Good enough. “What we do here in the helmets, on this chip, has no legal force in the real world. It is only a shared fantasy. But even so, I prefer greater realism than we have here. I’ll let you keep that face, for I understand your desire for anonymity, even though I myself am not anonymous. But the body—that isn’t natural. Is there anything wrong with your own body?”
“My body—is not—this good,” she said hesitantly. Her voice had a peculiar quality, as if she were having trouble registering it for the recording. All she needed to do was to speak aloud and the helmet would pick up the essential impulses; evidently she was trying to do it entirely by imagination, and that’s tricky.
“Well, enhance it a little,” I said. “But start with your own, as it is, so that your flesh responds naturally when you move it.”
She did not respond; she had not anticipated this answer, so had not programmed for it. Still, we had made considerable progress.
• • •
“Hitherto,” Mondy said, “certain insiders have had their hands on the levers of economic power. We must now assume control of those levers.”
“Isn’t that paranoid?” I asked. “Blaming the problems of society on mysterious, anonymous culprits?”
“It is paranoid,” he agreed. “But also true. These few people have always played the economy like a game, constantly milking it for their own benefit. The only barriers to their complete success are the unpredictable vagaries of chance and their inability to unite for their common advantage.”
“Just what do you propose to do with these people? If they aren’t criminals—”
“Recruit them,” he said. “They will in the future work for us instead of for themselves. This will have an enormous impact on the economy.”
“But surely they won’t simply cooperate!” I protested.
“They will if they understand that the alternative is extinction.”
“But—”
“Tyrant, what kind of a game do you think we’re in? These are not marbles we’re playing with, and these people are not schoolchildren. We need them, and we won’t get them unless we talk their language. They are sensible; when they see that we have the will and the power to eliminate them, they will elect to cooperate. We simply have to do what is necessary, at the outset. Otherwise the Tyrancy will be a joke.”
He had spoken magic words. Reluctantly I gave him the go-ahead.
“The key is Machiavelli,” he concluded. “The infamous Italian schemer. It is safer to be feared than loved.”
“I’d rather be loved,” I said, and it was not really a joke.
“Be loved by the common, ignorant people. Appearance is more important to them than substance. You must seem to possess the classic virtues of mercy, faith, integrity, humanity, and religion. Then they will be satisfied.”
“I do have these things!” I exclaimed.
“Of course, Tyrant. Just don’t take them too seriously.”
I left him, disquieted. I trusted his judgment but not his cynicism.
• • •
Ebony shook her head. “It’s not just Jupiter,” she said. “Overpopulation is threatening to overwhelm the whole System. Earth itself has more people now than it did before the diaspora to the System. We don’t have to worry about System War Three; our own numbers will do us in in another generation regardless.”
“But we can’t do anything about the population of other planets,” I said.
“Tyrant, we have to! Every day thousands more cross over from RedSpot and from Callisto.”
“I’m an immigrant from Callisto,” I reminded her.
“And if they had proper government there, you wouldn’t have had to do it,” she retorted, unfazed. “Your folks would have been okay and you’d have been happy. It all starts with population control, so nobody gets squeezed out.”
“Could be,” I agreed, impressed. It was not exactly the way I saw it, but she did have a case that could be argued.
“But how do you propose to solve the population problems of other planets?”
“Same way as here. Start with contraception: put your Navy medicine in the civilian water, or the food, or the air, so no more children for a couple years. Then ease up selectively; give the neutralizer to only those families who are good prospects for good, healthy children.”
“But no one would agree to that,” I cried, half appalled, half intrigued.
“Who said they had to? Just do it. You’re the Tyrant.”
“There’d be a revolution!”
“Not while you control the Navy. They’d settle down soon enough.”
“I never realized you were so cynical, Ebony.”
“I wasn’t—till I studied the problem. Then I saw what had to be done. We’ve got to control our population or it will destroy us; it’s that simple.”
“But other planets—”
“The countries of Latin Jupiter will do it if you make them a bargain. Carrot and stick—give them money, give them food— tell ‘em why. They’ll do it, and it won’t take much pushing. They’re hurting a lot worse than we are.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s such an ugly policy.”
“Would you rather line ‘em up and laser ‘em down? We can pass out euthanasia pills—effective, painless, work in a few hou
rs if no antidote taken—but we really need to get it at the other end, the birthrate. We can impose the death penalty for every little crime, but it’s better if the criminal is never born.”
“But it’s a fundamental right to reproduce!”
“Is it? Does every individual have the unlimited right to make babies, whether or not he can care for them? If he can’t take care of them, does the government have to do it for him? Or should they just be allowed to starve? In some places they have forcible abortion, sterilization, and they kill girl babies. They also murder the old folk and the ill folk. You want that?”
“No!” I said. “But we need to take time to consider—”
“Tyrant, we’re out of time. The problem is now. We can’t wait for the people to get around to doing something about it; they never will. If we don’t act now, population will wipe us out all too soon.” She stared into my face. “Tyrant, we’ve got to act now, while it can still be halfway gentle. You know that.”
“I don’t know that!” I protested. But inside, I did.
• • •
There was a longer interval before the next chip returned. I wondered whether my anonymous woman had had second thoughts, being too shy to present her own body to me, even if enhanced. Well, it had been a nice diversion. Certainly I did not need to expend time on foolishness of this nature.
When it showed up, I knew by my own reaction that my interest was greater than I had let myself believe. There was something about this woman, perhaps her quality of naïveté, that intrigued me. Also, I realized that I did, after all, need this type of diversion. My tenure as Tyrant was becoming increasingly restrictive, both physically and intellectually; I could neither go freely out in public, lest I get assassinated, nor readily solve the problems of the society. Everywhere I turned, the barriers were formidable and complex, not admitting any simplistic answers. So I needed simplistic relief and distraction, much as a child needs candy or fairy tales as a counterpoint to grim reality. This exploration of love and sex with the anonymous woman, an enjoyable challenge that had no substance, risk-free—this was helping me to cope with the rest of my situation. Pleasure without responsibility—what a treasure that can be!
I played the scene. It went through the kiss. Then she removed her cloak and stood before me, much less fully endowed but also far more natural. When I touched her undergarments, they dissolved, as before, but now her breasts had human nipples and human heft, and her cleft had down.
I paused. This was only a feelie, not real, yet on a certain level it was real enough. Did I really want to do this? Did she? I had possessed many women in my day, but she had evidently possessed no men.
I asked her. “You have offered your body to me. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes,” she said. I realized that this simple answer could have been keyed to any number of potential suggestions. Still, it did seem to be what she wanted: to make love to the Tyrant. After that act was completed on the chip, I might never hear from her again; if so, that was the way it had to be.
“Then I will show you my body,” I said. I disrobed, carefully, so that she could protest if she wished to. She merely stood there and watched.
When I was naked, my member expanded and became erect, ready for the act. Then, yet again, I paused. There had not been sufficient reaction on her part; this could be beyond what she had programmed for. “Do you know what this is?” I asked.
“I have not seen ...” she said hesitantly.
Never seen a man naked? An erect organ? This was too risky. I decided to postpone the act. “Consider and prepare,” I told her. “If you still wish to do it, we shall do it next time.”
Then I prepared some alternatives for her to explore at her leisure: the feel of a firm member pushing into her orifice, of a male body pressing her down, of a mouth at her breast. Increasingly I suspected that she had not engaged in any kind of sexual act before, not even hugging or kissing, and I did not want to overwhelm her. I did make an attempt to complete the act with her and found that while she lay down on her back at my command, she did not otherwise cooperate; she really didn’t know what came next. So I erased that sequence; it was indeed too soon for it.
• • •
The population control measure stirred up literal riots. The Navy had to move in to restore order in a dozen cities, and quite a number of people were shipped out to space. When we announced that anyone caught committing vandalism against property in the name of reproduction would be permanently barred from restoration of such rights, the violence abated, but it was evident that much bad feeling remained. It seemed that the people wanted me to solve the problems of society but did not want to be personally touched by the necessary measures. My sympathy for the common man was diminishing in the face of this hypocrisy. Had they really expected to breed without limit, while the government covered all costs of child care and good employment for all the offspring?
Actually they could enjoy children via the helmet too. There were chips available that covered all the details of child rearing, so the population could be controlled without depriving families of the experience of having children, just the reality. But of course that wasn’t enough.
• • •
The next tape showed how correctly I had judged her. She knew almost nothing of actual sexual expression, not even what was available on the more graphic holos. She had led a sheltered life. She was willing and eager but ignorant. I would have to take her through it step by step.
First I did what I should have done earlier: I explained it to her verbally. I described how a man and a woman came together, how she spread her legs and he set his organ carefully in her. Then I set out to demonstrate.
I had her lie on the bed that appeared in the scene, naked, while I approached with my erect member and ran my hands over her body. She had improved that body greatly; now the flesh felt as it should. But when I mounted her from above, she did not respond properly; her legs remained closed. I realized that she still did not realize the extent to which her cooperation was necessary. I ran my hands along her thighs and tried to separate them, but there was no response.
Again I paused to consider. I had grown accustomed to experienced women and took certain things for granted. This woman had no sexual experience. Perhaps that was why she had come to me, via the helmet: She wanted to learn at the hands of a public figure she respected, one who was reputed to be very good with women. Then she could apply that knowledge to real life and suffer few, if any, of the false starts and errors that inexperience brought. It did make sense.
I remembered Juana, my first roommate in the Navy, some thirty-five years before. A lovely girl who was terrified of sex because she had been raped, yet who had to get through it because of inflexible Navy policy. How had I handled that?
“Let me show you a different way,” I told my helmet woman. “One that requires less of you. I will describe it to you now, and next time we can do it.”
I told her to lie on her right side and draw up her legs. “I will embrace you from behind and enter you in the normal manner. You will feel my legs against the backs of yours, and my left arm will circle your body so that my hand can caress your breasts. I will go into you slowly; there will be no discomfort. Do not be concerned about being a virgin; here in the helmet there need be no complications.”
I continued to describe the expectations, so that she would have no surprises, and would be able to accommodate me in anything I might do that she chose to accept. This is easier to do when limited to a single position. I tried to describe what her feeling of me inside her should be, but of course this was difficult. I couldn’t act it out, because I lacked the feminine anatomy. Finally I drew on my long-ago memory of one of the reverse-role feelie chips, in which a male could experience the sensations of the female during the act and projected that memory as clearly as I could.
I returned the chip to Shelia. What she would think of the content I could not say. But she did know me well enough
to accept it.
My memory suggests that only a few days later the chip returned, but either it was longer or there were intermediate missives that my recollection has compressed into a single episode. Again it hardly matters; the essence is accurate. I was eager to don the helmet; my secret romance with this anonymous woman had quite taken my fancy. Perhaps it was the novelty of introducing her to sex, which is a special type of pleasure for a man. The nervous excitement of her learning process fed back to me, making the familiar become new.
I played through the routine opening sequence, then got her on the bed. She assumed the position I had described, and I got on the bed behind her and brought my member into play. Her flesh was ready, responsive, and wet where I positioned myself for entry. I advanced slowly, and she had keyed in the crossover tactiles so that the distinction between this and reality was not great. I moved into her all the way, and my hand took hold of her left breast and squeezed it gently. Oh, yes, this was good!
Then her vaginal muscles clenched. Surprised, I thrust, and suddenly we were in the culmination, moving almost together, thrust and clench and squeeze. Very soon I jetted into her ... and then the scene ended, and I realized I had soiled my trousers. This is a consequence of careless use of the helmet; I should have taken a precaution.
I removed the helmet, took a shower, and changed my clothing. Then I returned to the helmet and played through the alternatives. She had indeed learned well; we completed the act in several slight variances.
But though she had reacted well, she had not actually climaxed; careful study satisfied me on that. So I explained what I contemplated for the next occasion and told her how to accommodate it, so that she, too, could experience the thrill of culmination. complimented her on what she had done so far and invited her to play through my personal channel to verify the joy she had brought to me. There are ways in which feelie sex is better than the reality, and this is one of them: The partners can actually feel each other’s pleasure. I had recorded a formidable dose of it this time, and it only excited me further to realize that her first experience of orgasm might be mine. Later I would have the special pleasure of feeling hers.