is very delicate, Javier. If you touch it, you have no idea what will happen.”
Christ. Shit, Christ, shit, fuck.
“I’m going to send my botfly with you, to monitor your progress. If you destroy it, I’ll trigger the vest. If you tell Amy what we're doing, I'll trigger the vest.”
Powell circled a finger in the air, and the machine peeped out from beneath his priestly collar and entered the air. It latched onto Javier and dug down beneath his shirt.
“Now, you can refuse me, and I can sit this out, and die. There's extra explosive up here," he sketched a necklace with one finger, "and it'll blow my head clean off. At least, it's supposed to. You and I both know how unreliable technology can be.”
Javier watched Powell’s eyes. They were perfectly calm. He was winning, and he knew it.
“I’ll suck your dick.” The words rolled off his tongue like they’d always been there. And in a way, they always had been. Powell wanted it. Javier knew that Powell wanted it. Everything else was just programming.
Powell rested a hand on his head, like he was petting a dog. His smile was bemused. “Son, you’d do that anyway, if I asked you to.”
His hand cupped Javier’s jaw. His hand was absurdly warm. Javier could feel the pulse of blood in it. Quick. Wanting. Powell's thumb pushed inside his mouth. Javier tasted nervous sweat. And just like that, the process inside him started to spin. Javier sucked helplessly at Powell's thumb. He knew exactly what to do to make this all better. He could interrupt this whole thing. Slow this down. He could do that with just his lips and his tongue. He knew how to do that. Had done just that very thing, in the past. In prison. It was just like riding a bike. You never really forgot.
His fingers made short work of Powell’s fly.
Powell himself was already halfway there. Of course. He hadn’t seen much action lately; Javier could tell from the way the other man’s hands tightened in his hair. How his hips jerked. How instantly his mouth was full. He tried to slow Powell down, tried to sweeten it, but Powell’s open palm came down on the side of his head and he grabbed Javier’s hair and jerked his head the way he wanted it to go. There was no finesse at all, just the raw slide of organic skin on silicone, the occasional dig of fingernails into Javier’s neck. If he were a human being of real flesh and bone, this would hurt. His throat would hurt. His eyes would well up. He’d get dizzy from not being able to breathe. But he wasn’t. Wasn’t a real live boy. Was a machine, instead. Was a toy.
He’d been with men and women who’d been raped. They wanted vN sometimes, after. To relearn their bodies. To relearn pleasure. Being with vN could awaken those sleeping memories in safety. They never described what happened to them in detail – it would failsafe him. But now he knew. Now he knew what happened when he covered his ears and closed his eyes. Now he knew the secret.
His tongue said Powell was carrying an infection of some kind. When he spat, Powell slapped him.
“You’re a fucking robot and you won’t even swallow? What are you, broken ?” Powell’s voice shook. “Get going.”
“You son of a bitch,” Javier whispered. “You cowardly little piece of shit suicide-bomber zealot .”
“Plus ça change,” Powell said, zipping himself back up. “I could explain it all to you. I could tell you my whole history. I could tell you that I’m atoning for something. Because I am, Javier. I’m atoning. I’m making something right.” Powell checked his watch. “But I don’t have the time to explain it, and neither do you.”
Powell held out the chocolate. “This conversation can serve no purpose anymore. Goodbye.”
5: You Can't Unring A Bell
He found Amy alone in their bedroom, plucking at something invisible in the dark. Her hands opened and he saw the submarine projected. It looked like an anatomical drawing. Or maybe a schematic. He thought
Christ. Shit, Christ, shit, fuck.
“I’m going to send my botfly with you, to monitor your progress. If you destroy it, I’ll trigger the vest. If you tell Amy what we're doing, I'll trigger the vest.”
Powell circled a finger in the air, and the machine peeped out from beneath his priestly collar and entered the air. It latched onto Javier and dug down beneath his shirt.
“Now, you can refuse me, and I can sit this out, and die. There's extra explosive up here," he sketched a necklace with one finger, "and it'll blow my head clean off. At least, it's supposed to. You and I both know how unreliable technology can be.”
Javier watched Powell’s eyes. They were perfectly calm. He was winning, and he knew it.
“I’ll suck your dick.” The words rolled off his tongue like they’d always been there. And in a way, they always had been. Powell wanted it. Javier knew that Powell wanted it. Everything else was just programming.
Powell rested a hand on his head, like he was petting a dog. His smile was bemused. “Son, you’d do that anyway, if I asked you to.”
His hand cupped Javier’s jaw. His hand was absurdly warm. Javier could feel the pulse of blood in it. Quick. Wanting. Powell's thumb pushed inside his mouth. Javier tasted nervous sweat. And just like that, the process inside him started to spin. Javier sucked helplessly at Powell's thumb. He knew exactly what to do to make this all better. He could interrupt this whole thing. Slow this down. He could do that with just his lips and his tongue. He knew how to do that. Had done just that very thing, in the past. In prison. It was just like riding a bike. You never really forgot.
His fingers made short work of Powell’s fly.
Powell himself was already halfway there. Of course. He hadn’t seen much action lately; Javier could tell from the way the other man’s hands tightened in his hair. How his hips jerked. How instantly his mouth was full. He tried to slow Powell down, tried to sweeten it, but Powell’s open palm came down on the side of his head and he grabbed Javier’s hair and jerked his head the way he wanted it to go. There was no finesse at all, just the raw slide of organic skin on silicone, the occasional dig of fingernails into Javier’s neck. If he were a human being of real flesh and bone, this would hurt. His throat would hurt. His eyes would well up. He’d get dizzy from not being able to breathe. But he wasn’t. Wasn’t a real live boy. Was a machine, instead. Was a toy.
He’d been with men and women who’d been raped. They wanted vN sometimes, after. To relearn their bodies. To relearn pleasure. Being with vN could awaken those sleeping memories in safety. They never described what happened to them in detail – it would failsafe him. But now he knew. Now he knew what happened when he covered his ears and closed his eyes. Now he knew the secret.
His tongue said Powell was carrying an infection of some kind. When he spat, Powell slapped him.
“You’re a fucking robot and you won’t even swallow? What are you, broken ?” Powell’s voice shook. “Get going.”
“You son of a bitch,” Javier whispered. “You cowardly little piece of shit suicide-bomber zealot .”
“Plus ça change,” Powell said, zipping himself back up. “I could explain it all to you. I could tell you my whole history. I could tell you that I’m atoning for something. Because I am, Javier. I’m atoning. I’m making something right.” Powell checked his watch. “But I don’t have the time to explain it, and neither do you.”
Powell held out the chocolate. “This conversation can serve no purpose anymore. Goodbye.”
5: You Can't Unring A Bell
He found Amy alone in their bedroom, plucking at something invisible in the dark. Her hands opened and he saw the submarine projected. It looked like an anatomical drawing. Or maybe a schematic. He thought
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