Galactic Energies

  7

  I tell Narios about the surreal encounter. He remains silent, like he does every time he can't figure something out. From his expression, I understand that meeting with the Director is a rather unusual thing for a detainee to do.

  “Well, maybe it's a good sign, bro.”

  He always tries to emphasize the positive aspect of every situation. I feel very selfish: even if he constantly strives to make me feel better, I really don't think much of him. But I'm beginning to like him a little.

  A deadly boredom assails me. The routine completely floors me. Narios tries to keep my morale up any way he can. All I want to do is read. The holobooks are the only thing that capture my interest and help me escape from all of this. Narios, however, interrupts me constantly. I almost feel guilty for how irritable I am with him. I know that he does it because he wants to be close to me, but I really need to throw myself into reading in order to forget about everything.

  I hear the bars open, I turn around and see two robots, immobile. Trying to contain the feeling that some bad news is on its way, I go towards them and step out onto the platform. We start rising upwards. Let's hope I don't come back from this!

  Instead, they take me right to the Director.

  She's busy doing something at the desk. Then she looks at me and, with her big fake smile, encourages me to loathe her even more.

  “Hi, Germil. Please, have a seat on the couch. I can call you Germil, right?”

  No, actually! I think. We're not friends and I doubt we ever will be, but for now I abstain from telling her so.

  “Hi, Ally.”

  “Can I offer you something to drink? Actually we don't have a whole lot here. Wait, I'll order something.”

  She comes and sits down on the sofa, next to me. Her steps are calm but a little too controlled.

  “I saw the deposition you made at the hearing. You don't know how sorry I am that you ended up here.”

  I don't comment. I think my silence is starting to embarrass her.

  A robot brings us two tall, narrow glasses. Her glass is full of a shiny green drink, and mine is a bright blue. I've never seen any beverages like these before.

  “I imagine this would be a pleasant change of pace compared to the food pills and water from the sink.”

  Well, you're the Director, if you want to serve me a nice plate of pasta with a good bottle of wine, go right ahead.

  She lifts her glass towards me. “Cheers!” She gives me a foolish smile.

  “Cheers,” I respond.

  I take a sip and immediately feel looser, at peace, calm, a pleasant sensation. The room is warm and welcoming. I wonder if the beverage is some kind of drug, but I've never tried any and wouldn't know how to guess. I feel really good.

  “That's just what you needed, right?” she asks me.

  “Not bad, Ally. Not bad at all.”

  She smiles. What the hell am I doing? asks a little voice from somewhere inside of me.

  “Let's talk a little bit about you,” she says.

  The voice inside of me doesn't want to say anything, but I reel on for several minutes about everything that comes to mind about my life. The words seem to come out on their own. She wants to know about my wife Sofia, and I tell her how we met, the engagement, our marriage, the kids. Ally looks at me, interested. Talking about my family now isn't painful. I feel like I'm at dinner with friends.

  Ally's legs are crossed. Her foot bounces up and down. Are those the same black shoes she wore the last time? I wonder. When I lift my eyes again, I realize she noticed what I was gazing at.

  “Have a seat on the floor, you'll be more comfortable.” She smiles.

  On the floor? I don't usually sit on the ground.

  I get up from the sofa and start to bend my legs. I don't want to do this, why am I doing this? I think as I get down on the ground, my head near her shoe.

  I look around, searching for something to help me understand. The drink! I look at the glass that contained the blue beverage. Then I turn towards the Director. She says: “Nothing wrong with a little fun, right?”

  I'm not having fun, but the sensations in my body are pleasant.

  “If you like my shoe, do whatever you want with it.”

  I don't want to do anything with it. The tip of her shoe comes towards my lips.

  “You want to kiss it, don't you?”

  Yes, I mean, no! I have no idea what I want to do.

  The effects of the drink seem to intensify in my body. I put my lips on her shoe. I kiss it in several places. I rise towards her calf. I stop. Maybe I should lick it? I stick out my tongue and start to run it down the leather of her shoe. I look up at her, she's nodding. I set myself to the task at hand. She points her toe upwards. I look at her, surprised. She nods, indicating I should go on. Her approval makes me more enthusiastic. I pass my tongue vigorously along the sole of her shoe. It's like I'm trying to clean it. “Take it off...”

  Her bare foot seems like a conquest to me. There are no more contradictory little voices inside of me. With my lips and tongue, I go up her calf, reach her knee and linger along the inside of her thighs. I don't dare go further. She raises her skirt a little with her hands and then places a palm on my head. I let her push me. With her other hand, she pulls her panties aside a little. I start to really get into it. She lets out soft, throaty cries. Then she places a foot on my forehead and pushes me away. With one finger, she opens the buttons of my uniform, from the neck down to the waist. I don't understand. I go back to my first position. She puts her right foot behind my neck and again pulls me between her thighs. I see her place one hand behind the arm of the sofa. I realize that she's holding a whip in her hand.

  My tongue and my lips go back to pleasuring her.

  The first lash arrives unexpectedly, strong and extremely painful. She screams, apparently out of her mind with pleasure. I stop because of the pain.

  “Don't you dare stop. Continue!”

  Her imperious tone forces me back to work without a second thought.

  The other lashes arrive in a violent, steadily increasing rhythm. The pain almost makes me faint. My back seems to collapse. I feel the blood trickle down my skin. But I don't stop doing what I'm doing and she, with every lash, seems full of a savage joy. The rhythm of her hand increasingly intensifies, just like her pleasure. She explodes in an intense orgasm and shakes with violent tremors.

  I stop. Her screams of pleasure seem further and further away. The image of her skin covered with pleasure and sweat starts to grow fuzzy. The pain in my back disappears. I feel my forehead hit the floor when my body collapses, senseless.

  8

  I feel the shape of a pillow under my right cheek. The pain is atrocious in my back, it seems like I'm in a haze. I try to figure out where I am. I open my eyes: I see the cot and part of the greyish, dirty wall. I'm still in this filthy cell. I turn my face. The movement stimulates the muscles of my back, which scream out in pain. Narios notices this. He turns and smiles at me. He grabs the stool and sits down next to me.

  “Hey, bro, what did they do to you? Two robots carried you into the cell, you were unconscious and stayed that way for two days. The wounds are a little better now. I tried to do what I could, but we only have rags and water here.”

  “Narios...”

  It hurts even to speak.

  “That bitch.”

  My voice is barely above a whisper.

  “The Director? Her again? What happened?”

  “She made me drink something blue...I don't know what it was...but afterwards it felt like I was...a robot...under her command.”

  He looks at me, perplexed. I tell him what happened. He listens without interrupting, his face darkens.

  “No, bro, shit, I'm sorry! I'm really sorry! Why did she pick you? We're all monsters here, human wrecks, criminals, racketeers, dealers, murderers, junkies, thieves! Why you? I don't know what to say, bro. Come here!”

  I look at him, terrorized. He understands that ma
ybe this isn't the time for a fraternal hug.

  Over the next few days, Narios tends to my wounds, soothes them and keeps them clean, helps me with everything. I stay lying down, but every once in a while I pull myself up to a sitting position.

  After two more weeks I feel like I'm almost normal. I start to do push-ups, sit-ups and other exercises to stay in shape. In the mirror, I can see there are still a few scars. If I could only get my hands on that subspecies of a bitch!

  Two silent robots stop in front of the bars of my cell. Her again, I know it is!

  She waits for me, standing a few feet away from the door, with an apprehensive look on her face.

  “How are you?” she asks, in no uncertain terms.

  “Well...”

  “I monitored how you were doing from the video surveillance of your cell. I'm so sorry about your wounds. Good thing Narios was there to take care of you. He didn't take his eyes off of you from the moment they brought you back to the cell!”

  “I don't think he had anything else to do.”

  “Come on, you understand what I mean!” she says in a friendly tone, patting my arm.

  Is she insane? Isn't she the one who whipped me until I almost dropped dead?

  “Maybe it was worth it, though, right?” she asks me, tenderly taking my hand and bringing me to the sofa.

  “For what?”

  She acts embarrassed. “You were good, really good. And your Director really likes you. So we had to wait a little longer so you could get better.” The seductive tone again.

  I don't understand if I'm dealing with some sort of evil genius, a schizophrenic criminal or a complete imbecile.

  “And,” she continues, “I think that you really liked it too, right, Germil?”

  “We need to get things straight, dear Ally.” I emphasize her name. “I have a wife, two children and a nice life. All of a sudden you locked me up in this hell as punishment for I have no idea what. One fine day the director, you, decided to whip me unconscious, leaving me incapable of movement for days with a back that looks like a battlefield. What part of this do you think I find pleasant?”

  She's offended, and starts to pout. What the hell do I care if she's pouting? Why doesn't she kill herself and leave me alone?

  “Okay, maybe Ally exaggerated a little, but I'm not that experienced. I mean, I'm a beginner. I don't like having to wait all this time between meetings either. Can we call a truce?” Her tone and words are a mixture between a toddler and a crazy friend. Her words between meetings set off an alarm inside of me.

  “Do you want another drink?” she asks me.

  “Ally, please, leave me alone. I have to spend six years in this place and I'm counting the days that separate me from the end of this punishment, since the appeal isn't looking good. Please let me go on with my miserable existence. I won't give you any problems, I'll be a model prisoner. I won't tell anyone about what happened. Please, I have a family, children...”

  My words make her think. Maybe something inside of her is moving.

  “Germil, listen, that beverage isn't an offer. Do you want to drink something?” She has the sympathetic tone of someone who's doing you a big favor.

  The robot brings our glasses to the coffee table in front of the sofa and stops a few feet away from us.

  “Go ahead. I'm sure we won't have problems with Germil.” She lifts her glass. “Cheers, dear.”

  I drink.

  I suddenly feel comfortable with Ally. Now the room, furniture and decoration seem pleasant and welcoming.

  Something tells me this is all an illusion, but I don't pay attention to it. If it is, it's incredibly nice. I forgot about the cell and my other life. I feel good, relaxed.

  Ally goes to her desk and comes back with a pack of cigarettes. She lights one. Wow! I want to smoke one too! I observe her lips, closed around the filter. She breathes in deeply. She holds the smoke inside. She exhales. I don't know how to resist the temptation.

  She knows I'm looking at her. “Do you smoke? Do you want one?”

  Do I smoke? I don't remember ever doing it.

  I look at her, a little surprised. She smiles, satisfied. “You don't remember if you smoke?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Don't worry, Germil. These drinks not only make you a tiny bit more inclined to accept my requests, but they also blur your past a bit. This way you feel better, right?”

  Oh yes, that's true. I feel really good.

  “Listen,” she continues. “You need to earn the cigarette, okay?”

  Sure, no problem!

  “So now I'd like to have you lie down right here, in front of me.”

  I lie down in front of her, my face under her shoes, which are bright blue with stiletto heels. I remember her shoes were black last time. She brings the tip of one heel down into my mouth. I start to lick it, avidly. She's obviously pleased. She puts the heel between my lips and I let it go far down into my mouth. Then she gets up, takes a step towards the table, puts out her cigarette, turns around and puts the heel again between my lips, balancing on her other leg. She starts to push it down harder, towards my throat. It hurts. I want to vomit, and I can't breathe. I give her a begging look, hoping she'll help me. She stares at me and pushes down harder. I feel that I can't hold on any longer. Finally she takes her foot off of my throat.

  “You're so handsome when you suffer for me.”

  She kneels down next to me. I feel her hands in my hair.

  “This is what you want, right?”

  I think so, but I'm not sure.

  “Yes, Ally.”

  “I want to hear you say it to me.”

  I don't know what exactly to tell her.

  “Tell me!” she repeats, insistently.

  I have to respond.

  “I want to serve you. I want to be under you. I want to learn how to fulfill your desires. I want to be whipped and stepped on and beaten up. I want to be an object in your hands. I want to feel you pour out all of your violence over me. I want to hit the limits of everything I can bear and go beyond them.”

  I can't control the words that are streaming out of my mouth. Ally is in ecstasy. “Good, Germil, you'll be mine. You'll be my little toy, forever.”

  She kisses me, biting my lips. I taste blood mixed with saliva. She unbuttons my uniform. Her nails dig into the skin of my back. She continues kissing me, biting me, scratching me.

  “Take it all off!”

  As I take off the uniform, she gets out of her business suit. She lies on the floor, on her back. She invites me to get on top of her. When I penetrate her, I close my eyes and moan with pleasure. We start to make love passionately. Her hands are still on my back. She can't hold back any longer and scratches me manically.

  “Lift up your head. Keep it up.”

  She screams with joy with the first slap. She seems full of an ecstatic pleasure and continues slapping me, harder and harder. Her rhythm is frenetic. She's going out of her mind with pleasure. Her forehead is beaded with sweat from the effort. My blood starts to drip onto her neck and face. She brings her other hand up to her lips. The rhythm of the slaps becomes frenetic. She reaches orgasm, screaming savagely. I come with her.

  She gently pushes me off of her body. She nods towards the little table. She picks up her cigarettes and lights one, still relaxed. I'm sitting, my back hurts and so does my face. “You deserved it.” She offers me a cigarette, which I light. I like smoking. It's a strange feeling, it's relaxing.

  I feel like something is wrong.

  9

  “Bro, what's the name of the plant where you used to work?”

  “I don't know, Narios, I don't remember.”

  “How could you not remember?! You worked there your whole life!”

  I don't even remember the name of my daughter's school, or most of my coworkers. I have a vague idea of where I used to take the family to eat every Saturday evening. The memories are blurred, far away, vague.

  “Narios, I don't kn
ow what to do.”

  “Germil, you need to stop drinking that stuff.”

  The Director usually calls for me every three or four days.

  “I can't! Once I refused and she made the robots force it down my throat.”

  “That whore doesn't even have a heart! Try talking to her again. You said that she likes you, in a way.”

  “No, I said that she said she adored her toy and can't live without it. She doesn't give a damn about me. She wants her sex slave, her horse to ride, the one that brings her pleasure.”

  “Germil, you need to be careful. If you lose your memory, you lose everything.”

  As we speak, the robots come towards the bars to get me and take me to her. When I return, Narios is pale.

  “Germil, the hearing...”

  “What?” What is he talking about?

  “The robots came by to take you to the hearing for your appeal!”

  No, it can't be! I'm still under the aftereffects of the blue drink, but I feel the cell floor collapse.

  There's no way the Director didn't know about the hearing. Did she call for me on purpose? I can see the fake, incredulous look she'll give me when I ask her.

  My cellmate and I remain silent.

  “The attorney was there!” Narios exclaims, triumphant. “Your family must have agreed to pay for your legal assistance. They must have taken care of everything. Even if you weren't present, I'm sure it went well.”

  I lower my eyes. I feel lost.

  “Germil, don't give up now. It'll be over soon, I can feel it. I know it will. Just have faith, a few more days and this time it'll be over for good.”

  I don't know what I'd do without him.

  However, as I suspected, Narios wasn't quite right. In fact, a few days later the robot announces:

  “Germil Isiek, you've been sentenced to eighteen earth years and six earth months to be served in the Varcoria prison on Plezis III. Do you wish to make an appeal in the Court of Cassation? Any legal expenses will be paid by your family, subject to their approval.”