Live as luxuriously as you like? Live as simply…? Be anyplace? Do anything? Or, have the world around you change to suit your slightest whim? All you need to do is accept the rules of the Perfect Society, PerSoc, for short, which states if you must go Outside you must wear your blinders (rose-colored glasses) and absolutely, under no circumstances, will you make any social contact. Unsanctioned personal contact is punishable by death…or so it goes in this scene from Harry’s Reality. But then, some stupid laws are meant to be bent or broken, and as we know, people don’t always say what they mean. Or, think they mean.
“Harry Bolls is mine!” Bio Chief Prosecutor Marlene Hess exclaimed loudly to herself at her monitor as she witnessed him leave Cyber Match Central. Bolls had committed a most heinous crime as far as she was concerned. He had violated personal space and, without Makr sanction, left with a stranger—a known Outsider at that.
Criminal acts like these normally disgusted her, but this single blatant violation by a single SensaVision employee enraged her. While other Bios had committed similar capital crimes, her feelings then had been indifferent, uninvolved, except to prepare Makr for the Bio variable. This one was different: A Bio cyberlink of proven influence! And he was loose Outside!
His psychological profile told her he was a searcher—a troubled soul who was using the Cyber psychotherapist program regularly and someone who can lead us to others.
“Do you wish to delete his mental record now, Prosecutor Hess?”
The question came from an animated, exceptionally lifelike hologram perched on a platform floating some five feet high and in front of the prosecutor’s chair. It wasn’t really necessary for the operation, but it made her feel Makr’s personal presence rather than a disembodied voice that just seemed freaky sometimes. Since Makr always looked to accommodate her preference and the most receptive format for his Bios, so be it. Most times the platform hovered at a safe distance where the chief prosecutor was able to ignore the presence if she wanted to. The sensory-enhanced three-dimensional image was a rather handsome, distinguished gentleman about fifty years old with graying temples and a slightly receding hairline; she perceived him as a seemingly paternal man—firm, yet fair, and found it easy to forget he was not real.
“It is normal procedure,” the image added pleasantly.
“No,” Marlene Hess responded. “Not yet, anyway.”
“What about the girl?”
“Insignificant. No potential impact.” She tried to sound sure of herself.
“If we take her out of the social equation, he’ll become invisible.”
“Excuse me?”
“He either goes underground or back Inside where he’s no good to us.”
“Why ‘invisible?’ How does he do that?”
“Sorry, creative Bio speech,” she offered.
“If you are to succeed in this job of advising me, you’re going to have to be more efficient in your word choice.”
“Yes, Makr.”
She paused, stirring the thoughts in her mind, trying to separate the emotional from the rational until cold hard facts emerged. Let’s see how far he goes, she concluded.
“Do you wish to override State procedure?” The cyberserver image sounded impatient. Strange, almost an emotion, she thought.
“At the moment, yes,” she replied.
“May I remind you that State recognizes there will always be a few dissidents?” Pause. “It is better to let them go than infect investigators with undo evil influence.”
“I know. I know!” Sometimes Makr can be most annoying, she thought.
With that thought, Makr’s image changed from the fatherly authority image on the platform to a six-sensory illusion of a handsome soul mate, a confidant. The voice was gentle, caring, reassuring, but Marlene knew, no matter how real it always seemed, that it was still pure cyberserver magic.
The hologram disappeared because it had perceived its presence was interfering and potentially affecting the chief prosecutor’s thought processes. It would return the instant the chief prosecutor needed it. She sighed.
SensaVision break.
The office, reading her tenseness, became an island escape. Like Harry, she loved the smells of salt air, gardenias, coconuts, and wet sand being dried by the sun; however, the environment was totally hers. She was surrounded by all the positive attributes of the scene she loved so well as a distraction from life’s stressful moments.
Her office, like Harry’s wall, knew she hated bananas so there were no bananas in the fruit feast that lay at easy reach. She thought of pineapples, and the office obliged—slicing them before her eyes. The island birds’ melodic music played to the wind’s bass section and the ocean’s easy beat as waves broke on the beach. Seagulls added the refrain. That was the music Marlene heard. Yet, as she lounged luxuriously she found something missing; an unwanted thought almost invaded her space.
With her next breath she heard the native music. Suggestive, sensual music played with her subconscious, creating the total reality. Everything is real. Believe everything. The presence was complete. The carpet had long become sand as the image combined sounds, smells, and subliminal mental suggestions so Marlene could experience sand squeezing between her toes. She turned her head and discovered her towel spread in the sand waiting for her. She enjoyed this image and let the pampering relax her. Makr knew she needed time not to think. She knew she needed something else.
Sitting naked on the towel a few minutes later, Marlene was satisfied—at least in body—her mind still listless, undecided. Moments before there had been a lover who had made love to her; she liked her men, tall, slender and fit with dark hair and unshaven. A rough exterior, but gentle inside. As a physical match he had been her type, but she couldn’t love or fall in love with this imitation Bio man; he was image and sensation—nothing more. He hadn’t spoken but her mind had filled in the blanks with a voice calling her name, expressing desire, excitement and fulfillment. Not everyone needs to go to Matches R Us or Cyber Match Central, she thought. There was no need to leave the room; she didn’t have time.
Then again, it was never really up to her. Knowing what was best for her, Makr selected the details accordingly. At that moment, Makr had decided that she didn’t require romantic assignations or emotional commitments, just sex. The right images, a few aromas, multiple sensations, a few specially focused sensations and voila! Our chief prosecutor was primed for action.
She responded to the image Makr had provided by clinging gratefully to her lover’s hard muscled form, moving rhythmically, purposefully rubbing sensitive areas to excite him. Not surprisingly, he uttered moans of pleasure and turned to massage and caress her own svelte form until she reciprocated with her own moans and gasps of delight.
Marlene sensed their bodies flowing together. This motion was pleasing and satisfying in a natural way that seemed in sync with the other rhythms on the island. The six-dimensional image of her world flickered. Instantly, the blue sky turned bright white, then black with stars in abundance. It was as though the sky has turned inside out. The stars melted into a myriad of bright colors. The wind blew gently at first, then, became a hurricane force. She was blown away, scattered to the heavens, but her body remained—and his… She felt his presence inside her and her own warm juices. They were entwined in each other’s body, moaned with pleasure again and again, but it was anything but monotonous to Marlene. More! More! She screamed. She saw his mouth form the same words, but he was silent.
Must be the strong silent type, she mused and stifled a giggle. Then, as abruptly as he came, he’d gone—without leaving a trace—just a feeling, a memory. Sand became carpet again. Island-like images dissolved.
She rubbed her chin, still stinging from being scraped by his rough beard. She smiled. Of course, her chin was not really scraped, although she would see a scrape if she looked in a mirror and the pain would feel real. She knew that the mildly painful sensation would help her remember and enjoy the sexual experience later without depending on Makr’s SensaVision. So, real or imagined, it didn’t matter.
She didn’t need people—real people; she needed to do her job and that pleased Makr, Who, in turn, pleased her by giving her pleasure on her terms. What more was there to life?
Shaw's Reality 