Wiped

The implant

There were slow steps in the night. The air was warm, the grass, like wet silk caressed my bare feet. A little gust of wind played around with the leaves. Stars twinkled overhead. I thought I was alone, but then it grabbed me.

Red light glowed through the smoke, leaving a nauseating trail of memories that jerked me awake. Bodies danced around me, forgotten by reality, like puppets in revelry. The rythym, amplified by the lights felt like a thunderstorm.

My arms shot out, as if I was but a cell in this amourphous body made up by adjusted humans. It was time for the raindrops again. The crowd started to move. Like waves bodies crashed to bodies, untill we became a thick mass and the mist of the drug erupted and enveloped us.

What happened to me? My body, human and metal parts in unison danced to the music, while my brain just stood there, frozen in time, calm, naked, terrified. How did I end up here, and where was I?

The last thing I remembered was the wall across the charging station in my flat. It was a blank, white wall, like all the rest of them in my home. I had plans to decorate - for years now they were in dvelopement -, I even had the paint for it, but never the time. I was thinking about something.

An implant. A tiny device, that could help us. An enhancer. Not for testicles, but for connection. Or touch. Something funny, a little fashion item. I remembered thinking about the design, and then suddenly I found myself in the forest, seeing, feeling something I never wanted to experience again.

My fingers curled and I could smell my circuits burning. It was time to leave.

As I tried to push through the crowd, a shape of a woman, tall with a commanding stature formed up in front of me. She was not alone. The Handlers were never called to parties. They came to break them up.

This was no exception. As the music stopped and the air cleared from the drug and smoke, I noticed Cuss-Bert on the dancefloor. I had half a thought to go there, but a Handler stepped in front of me, cutting the way.

- Things are going great with your guest then, I assume – she noted. - Otherwise you would be back in your lab, toilin' away on your little tech things.

- Yep, he is delightful. Did you know I wanted to get married in the Rurals? At a specific part not far from North A? Hm?

She did not anticipate my answer. Honestly, neither did I. It just came through without the sensors beeping in alarm to alert me. I really shouldn't have tried going raw.

- You, married? - the Handler scoffed, but then she caught herself – What are you talking about?

- I tried. He is feral. I need more time. And I need Cuss-Bert. Just letting Jonah free won't cut it.

The look on her face was dreamy, wondering. Handlers had a hive-mind system they could consult if they encountered a difficult situation. This was their communication platform too in emergency. Noone could break their code, although there were many who tried.

The interesting thing about this wasn't the hive-mind though, but the fact that they existed as individuals normally, and still all of them knew if you did something. There was no way to play the system. Especially if they were in the cities.

Maybe in the Rurals, where the coverage is barely enough, this info-avenue could be disrupted. If I could have one in the Halo... I stopped myself abruptly. Why was I even contemplating this? I'm a citizen. From a good, law-abiding albeit looked at with contempt caste. I have no reason.

In the meantime the Handler got the information she went after and glared at me with disgust.

- You and your little switcheroo friend can go. You will be ready with him for the festival, or your brother... - her voice trailed off.

I wondered for a moment if I should correct her on Cuss-Bert but then I decided against it. We were lucky to get out of this without a fine or the lock. Drugs were no easy matter here in Z City. In the Rurals though. The parties, out in the open, with the great big trees, you were held as if on the palms of nature.

There was a sharp beeping sound that woke me up the next morning. In my memory my last thoughts buzzed – something about having to get these time losses checked. But I ran the security and the hard-drive scans and there were no spikes, not anything that stood out.

When I got to the lab – the man was still in the Halo, deep in stupor -, I started working on the idea that I had in sleep. The hours passed and slowly the little implant shaped up between my fingers. It was a tiny translator device, but custom made to help him decode and amplify what his guests will want from him in the pleasure house. If it worked he would be like a mind reader to them, knowing exactly how to please. If it doesn't, still, he'll be easier to work with once he is tamed.

Cuss-Bert arrived not long after I finished my little gem and took a look at the patient.

- Quite a beauty - we agreed.

- Yes he is. What do you think?

- As a woman, I like his features. I mean that is a well grown p***s. Can I take a look?

- Suit yourself.

She opened up his pants and we both observed.

His manhood was long, and strong, like a tree, but at this point limp. The colour differed markedly from the nearby bodyparts and I started to think about how to adjust that too.

His testicles hid behind, shy as maidens on their wedding nights. By the feel of it, there was a bit of a difference in size between them, but nothing too crooked. The tiny lopsidedness gave it a hint of a little excitement. I'll keep it – I've decided. Let him have something less then perfect about him. I'll correct the skin, that will be enough. The Handlers can kiss my ass.

In the meantime, Cuss-Bert started to investigate. She lifted parts, tried the skin and the tissues underneath. As she probed along, she hummed a little tune to herself. It reminded me of something, but I couldn't find it in any of my memory stores. Maybe it was from before my first implant. Before the wipe.

- Look! - her voice was excited.

I peeked at what she was trying to show me.

It was a tattoo. A small one, almost indistinguishable from a scar tissue. The magnifier stood on the table, so I stepped over to grab it. We both looked again. This time the little inkblot opened up and turned into a dragon. Cuss-Bert started to giggle.

- What? - I asked her.

- Are you two related? - she gasped between bouts of laughter. - A dragon? A radical? Like you?

- It was a long time ago.

- And yet. Here you are, 'dreaming' of wedding venues in the Rurals, and sniffing raindrops like a wild animal.

- Cuss-Bert, I swear to god!

- Dude, the Handlers had no idea, did they? I mean, what are the odds? Where did they catch him?

- The one who brought him said something about Oldtown. But it may be that he was there because of the coronation. The festival is in two weeks.

- Oh, maybe he was there to plant a...

- Don't! This whole thing shuts down if you say it. Then we'll have the city council on our asses too.

- You really should move. This place is fancy but I rather like my part of town.

- The Prism does not support my business, Your people think I'm barbaric. That this is not art.

- Is it though?

- No. But it's good money.

- Yeah, money you don't spend sitting in your room staring at the wall.

- Like you are any better.

- Well, at least I'm an artist – her voice sounded hurt. - We'll need to have him transferred to my shop.

- Listen, I'm sorry.

-Yeah sure.

- Cuss-Bert...

- We need a transfer, make it happen!

So I went and called for a pick-up. A few minutes passed in awkward silence, but then she picked the implant up from the table.

- So, what does it do? - she asked slowly, while I was packing him ready for the journey. If the taming was successful, he wouldn't be moveable for a few days. Then we'll need to board the train to G City. I'll need my tech to work until we get there. And the results are still not guaranteed.

- It translates and enhances the subtle signs of the s****l partner to his brain so he'll be more inclined to please. Knowing the Handlers, if he is not accepted at the festival, he'll end up in a pleasure house. With this, he'll be fairly successful.

- Nice.

- Yeah.

- Could you make me one of these? Preferably portable, so that I can just clip on the partner and when we are done, take it off?

- Or you could have a stable relationship.

- I could, but where would be the fun in that?

I nodded. She was right, she had fun, she could change as she wanted, and get a partner every night. What reason was there to settle?

- I'll try. But now that the transfer is here, let's go.