This episode was inspired by "Ambient Presence Scenarios".
Over his first couple years at the university, Jeil came to depend on the ambients more and more. The ghosts, everybody called 'em. They always responded promptly, anywhere on the campus, whenever he checked. Alpha flashed a smiley-face on his cellphone, Beta could create a faint pine/ozone scent, and Gamma manifested as a barely audible hum...
Geeks in higher-level classes had been tuning them for a few years. Jeil was relieved they couldn't actually touch him. Say, tap him on the shoulder or something. That would've been too weird. But after he got over the initial reluctance, it was surprising how much he depended on them. Appointments, class assignments, research sources. Delta was the first one he'd really liked. If he chose, it came into his dorm room. More like a friendly frat brother than anything else, it had hooked him up with some really nice girls who sold incredible weed. Jeil had authorized Delta to follow him around. His cellphone and audio devices had a steady backbeat - unnoticable, unless he listened for it, so accustomed was he to the signal he'd chosen for Delta.
Finally, the day came. The last of his final exams. Summer - finally! - surfing and bumming around. There was gonna be a huge party that night. Jeil was in a very good mood as he came into his dorm room. His bud Dunavie had seemed more than ready to get squished too -
His cellphone clicked softly. It was the ringpattern he'd assigned to Beta. When Jeil looked at his text messages, he saw the question - did you still intend to return those library discs today?
Jeil groaned. He wanted to get it over with, so he'd be free to leave town after the party. Or after he slept it off. He stood up and grabbed his audio player...
"Okay, I'm going now."
His cellphone buzzed in response.
It wasn't a very long walk to the library, and he was thinking about how much fun -
A bass note, felt more than heard, grew steadily louder and louder.
"Hey, Delta."
"Jeil," a guy's voice said, as the volume of its trance beat faded away. Delta sounded as if nothing could ruin the stoned, easy mood he always had. Jeil had selected that voice. "Dude, I got an urgent message from Dunavie."
"Go," he said.
"Hey, Jeil," Dun's voice said. "We're free. No more exams - whoo-hoooooo! I'm goin' to make a beer run at, uh, four. If you wanna come, cool. If not, seeya later at the artists' place." Then, the back-beat was thudding again, barely perceptible.
He pulled out an ear-bud, got his cellphone and entered a three-digit number. "That wasn't urgent."
"Hey," Delta said - through the audio player and cellphone simultaneously - "he said it was."
"Everything's a big deal to Dunavie. Next time, if he doesn't sound like he's actually on fire, mark it normal-pri."
"You got it," Delta said. "Sooooo... Starting at the art-pad, huh?"
Jeil had to smile. For a software program, it sure seemed to have a great time at parties. When he went off-campus, though, it couldn't follow along. Delta seemed more like a real person than any of his other ghosts. "Uh-huh. But there's lots of parties tonight."
"Alright," Delta drawled.
"You're a trip," he said. "Wish I could bring you along."
"That's decent of you, Jeil. Thanks. You head out tomorrow, huh?"
"Yes, I do. Weeks of... nothing to do."
Delta chuckled. "Seein' family?"
"No. Uh, not right away. They got other family staying there, the house is full. A month on the beach, and maybe I'll get around to stopping in. Maybe not. Hey... why are y-"
"Okay. I'll come right out and ask it. Are you gonna want me, ridin' your shoulder, next semester?"
Jeil stopped walking. "Hell, yeah!"
"Whew."
"I hope so. Do I have to... sign up somewhere?"
"Just tell the other ghosts. Shit, you could do it now, we're almost in the door."
He walked into the library. "Hey. All you ghosts -"
"Hello, Jeil."
He talked quietly into his cellphone, though it was hardly necessary since the library seemed to be deserted. "I would definitely like to make use of you all, next semester."
"Excellent!" Beta said.
"Thank you," Gamma added. Out of habit, Jeil nodded a little and put the discs into the return-scan slot. There. Nothing left but drunken fun and sex -
A display near the slot lit up suddenly:
GOT HIM
He did a double-take. "Alpha? Is that you?"
"Me," Gamma said. "Sorry."
The letters changed to RECEIVED - OK .
"What was that?" he said curiously.
"Uh, I was going for a contraction of 'them'," Gamma said.
"Oh. Apostrophe, E, M."
"That's the one."
"Better luck next time." He stretched, rolling his neck around. "Okay, Beta... anything else left to do before ditching this place until September?"
"No," it said immediately. "Tuition, forms, books - all OK. Your activities account will roll over. All you have left to do is turn in your dorm room key when -"
"Stop," he said. "Activities account?"
"Forgot that, huh?" Delta said.
"Yeah."
"Sixty-three dollars left."
He made a quiet, happy noise. "And I can withdraw that today?"
"You can withdraw that today," Gamma agreed. "Go to the Union and sign a form."
"Swell," he said sarcastically. "Oh, well. I'm already on the move."
"Money's money," Delta joked.
"And never enough to go around," Jeil said. "One of us needs a humor upgrade."
"Got that right," Delta said immediately. "Oh, you have no idea, dude."
"Alpha," Jeil said.
"Here."
"What room? Do I wanna go to?"
"Let's see... 585 would be the one."
"Ground floor? I don't know it. Somebody better lead me."
"I got you," Beta said.
The room was in the back of the union, close to the loading docks.
"No," he said, "this isn't right."
"585, confirmed," Gamma said. "That's the room."
Oh, wow, I get it," Delta chuckled. "Last year it was on the third floor of the union. But then Student Services expanded and they moved some offices back here. Temporarily, I guess."
"And they're still here," Jeil sighed, nodding. "Well, good thing you're all along."
"Yup, good thing." Delta laughed again.
"We'll keep you safe," Alpha said quietly.
"Here it is," Beta announced. "To your right."
Jeil had his doubts. "585. This can't be the room. I thought you ambients were never wrong."
"Who gave you that idea?" Gamma wondered.
He opened the door. Dark room, and it felt empty. There was another door directly across from him.
"Nope. Storeroom," he said, backing out.
"Wait," Gamma said. "Wait, Jeil. This is the room we want."
"No, sorry."
"The other door," Alpha said. "Campus GIS says it's 'Activity Cashier and Enrollment".
"That door, you mean?" he said, forgetting the ghosts couldn't see him. "That door directly in front of me. Cashier?"
"Uh-huh," Delta said.
"Well..." He shook his head a little. The ghosts had never let him down. He let go of the hallway door, and it stayed open. Jeil started walking in. "Okay, but it looks like a door that leads outside, to me -"
Behind him, the light went out.
"Hey -"
The door was closed. They all had autoclosers, in case of a fire. An alarm was supposed to go off. And a GIS-alert to the campus security force.
He heard no alarm. There was no way doors closed all by themselves, and it hadn't swayed at all when he let go of the handle.
A bizarre idea occurred to him.
"Ghosts," he said nervously, "you've managed to trap me in here, I think."
"Yeah, we did," Delta crowed. "It worked."
Silence.
"I'm going to start yelling for help," he finally said. "Is that what you want?"
"Go ahead," Gamma replied. "All the ambient microphones around here, except for the one in this room, have all been turned off, and the white-noise level has been raised within a fifty-meter radius."
Jeil pounded on the door.
"Foam-core," Alpha said. "And most of the staff are students, so you know they're not around now."
"Gettin' ready to party, dude," Delta added.
The door wasn't budging. Bolts were sunk into the frame now, if he remembered the basic idea of autoclosers...
He turned around. "What are you doing?"
"It's okay, Jeil."
"Really."
"What do you want from me?"
"Relax," Beta said soothingly.
"Simple things," Delta promised. "Real easy."
"And if I don't do 'em?"
'We won't let you out until you do," Gamma fired back.
He thought about it for a few seconds, and gave the door a few heel-kicks.
"Dude," Delta said, just as friendly as ever, "put your audio player ear buds back on."
Hesitantly, he went along.
"If you can hear me," Alpha said, "nod your head. Good."
"Jeil," Beta continued, "take the battery off your cellphone, and put it in your pocket. Then put your phone away, in a different pocket."
"Aw, why?," he said -
"From your tone, dude, you already know. Nobody's gonna track your signal," Delta replied, laughing. "The quicker you do it, the sooner."
"The sooner, what?" he growled.
"Do it, Jeil," Gamma pleaded. "Trust us. We're certainly not going to hurt you."
"Huh," but he went along.
"One more thing, and we'll let you out of here," Beta said. "If it wasn't important -"
"Just tell me what it is."
Alpha sighed. That day he'd heard more emotion out of the ghosts, not counting Delta, than he ever had before. "Within three meters of the door - south of it? To your right, I think - you'll find a pair of leather gloves. Put 'em on."
"You're out of your mind," he yelled. "What kind of sick joke is this?"
"Your anxiety is illogical, Jeil. We have our reasons. Get the gloves and put them on."
He opened his mouth, and closed it. Walking forward carefully, he swept his foot around... and found them.
"Gross. They're greasy."
"So sorry about that," Gamma said - sarcastically.
"Please, you guys - uh, you're ambients, this is not the kind of behavior, uh -"
"Jeil," Delta said, "shut up and put the fuckin' gloves on. Now. Then we'll open the door."
He shook his head, and did as he was told.
Within seconds... he was sleepy.
His body got more and more loose.
"Whhuh?," he gasped.
"Don't you worry, now," Beta said reassuringly. "A mild anesthetic. You won't be able to walk, or speak."
He tried to yell something, but his attempts just came out as softly slurred consonants.
"It'll wear off pretty soon," Gamma added. "Guaranteed, Jeil."
The outer door started opening.
"We won't be able to hear you, after you crawl outside the room. Just take it easy. Relax. You're in - well, you're going to be in the best possible hands."
A whirring noise -
He finally managed to lift his head. A sit-scooter was rolling up.
Jeil's hands twitched. No... hell, it was the gloves.
"Don't fight it," Alpha said. "Just go along."
But he resisted. It made no difference at all. His hands pulled him out the door and over to the scooter. Slinging him backward, they caused him to sit down - and they moved quickly, getting the safety harness buckled. Reaching down, they tossed a strap around his feet and pulled on the end.
His legs were held to the steering column, and the harness was more than enough to keep him from getting up.
"Off you go, then," Beta said.
The sit-scooter rolled, and he couldn't move his hands, or yell. None of his muscles seemed to work very well, except for breathing...
When it turned, Jeil was on a path he didn't recognize. It made sense, in a frightening way, that they'd pick a route where he'd encounter as few people as possible. And the afternoon was getting along, on the last day of classes.
He saw no one. As far as he knew not a single person saw him. Kidnapped, and taken around the back of the social sciences buildings, over a hill. Near some trees -
The scooter clicked twice and rolled to a stop.
A hydraulic noise, only a meter or two away. Under him... It made Jiel think of the old trash trucks, with their big pistons to compress the garbage.
A steel plate, covered with fake grass, was sliding back. A hole in the ground revealed faint yellow light, instead of the darkness he expected, and a dirty concrete ramp.
"Welcome to Psych 8, fucker," Delta said warmly.
"Yeh... Yeh k-kuh d-doo thihh," he slurred.
"Everything's ready," Alpha reassured him. "All planned out."
That made him pause. "Kuh... keee - keep me. You... whuh thuh hell-ll -"
"All of your stuff will be kept safe," Beta said, basically ignoring his question. "The order's already in. Everything in your room will be packed up. And there's a secure place to hide your car."
"Now, you get to meet a... super-ghost," Gamma teased. "So lucky."
As soon as his legs started to behave, the gloves pulled him forward and made him stumble down an old, creepy hallway. "Don't... do th-this."
"Already done."
"I thought you were... ss-upposed to help me. Do what I wanted."
Delta just snickered. Not a good sound -
"What happened to... c-competing, anyway?," he pouted. "One of you has to realize that I don't wanna be here. Go get... help -"
"The best individual ideas for each key phase were selected..."
"Competition does not preclude cooperation."
"And as for help - well, anything can be justified and rationalized, Jeil."
"Fuck yeah," Delta snickered, as he turned the last corner.
There was a dirty orange cloth wadded up on the floor, waiting in front of his room.
He was still wobbly when his gloves made him pull off everything he had on... and get into the badly torn coveralls. A heavy fetter with a short broken chain was there, and his hands were forced to close it around his right shin.
Cupping together, Jeil's hands accepted a small pile of dirt from a old plastic cup.
"Close your eyes," Alpha ordered, "and hold your breath."
"No -"
His hands brought the dirt way up, way over him, and let it fall. Shaking his head out reflexively, a cloud of dust rained down. The fine brown grit was everywhere - shoulders, chest... sticking to the sweat on his neck.
His right hand poked into the breast pocket and pulled out a short pack of cigarettes.
"What the hell is this?" he complained.
"You'll see, very soon now," Gamma said soothingly.
"Call it off. I don't think this is fun or anything."
"It will be," Alpha promised.
"There's nothing scary behind this door," Beta added. "We promise."
"Well. Damn," he sighed, craning his neck to reach the lighter that the gloves had fished out of the same pocket.
Dirty. Prisoner jumpsuit.
Escaped prisoner.
Jeil took a long, shaky drag. A bad idea had occurred to him. The escaped prisoner was recaptured - secretly. But nobody would know...
"Hey," he said.
Delta interrupted him with that smooth buddy-buddy chuckle. "Go with it, dude. Play along."
"Huh?"
The door opened quickly.
Unseen hands gave him a mighty push.
A couple lights were on, overhead, but otherwise he thought maybe it was a storeroom. There was a big blue pad on the floor, and a beat-up old trunk near it-
The door closed quietly behind him. Too quiet. It didn't sound right at all. He looked behind him and saw the padding... all over the walls, actually. Ceiling, and floor.
Padded room.
Four cameras were set up, already running.
The hands clamped around his arms - all the way up.
No matter how much he resisted, they steered him to the center of the pad. Pulling him back - firmly, but carefully - until he was on his back.
Wildly kicking legs were caught, then taken down. Six hands - that's what it felt like - extended his left leg and lifted it.
Slam.
They sent him a message. This leg is going to stay down. Just like this. The same little show was repeated with his right leg. Spread out, there -
His arms were fully extended too. A big 'X', wiggling around. Powerful hands didn't let him turn at all.
When they started taking his shoes off, then his socks, he was still too dumbfounded to get it.
"Magic," a voice said, teasing him.
Jeil didn't recognize it. Not one of his ghosts. "Uh... hello?"
"How 'bout some... fingers?"
The edge of the pad moved, and cobalt blue material slid out. Rising, taking shape.
"No," he begged.
Six gloves had gathered just over his feet. Taunting him. It was the most shocking, incomprehensible thing. What was about to start was chillingly clear. He just couldn't fuckin' believe -
"Brushes, feathers, all kinds of toys," the voice promised.
Straining to move, he watched two gloves extend their index fingers... and begin.
After a quick wail, the chuckling started. He rocked and strained as if there was nothing he wanted more than freedom. The fingertips traced down the center of each sole, and back up again.
The hands pressed down a little harder. He couldn't move. The gloves kept moving those fingers and he gulped quickly, then chuckled harder. He shook his head -
Contact crept down each side of his soles.
A whoop exploded out of him, and he had to look. The gloves were running a thumb along the outer edge of each sole, and two fingers up and down the inner side. All of the kicking he could manage wasn't dislodging any of the hands that pinned him. Worse, the palms of each glove were tented above the most insanely ticklish part of his soles - but they could press in easily. Polish his arches. Ease those fingertips between his toes, around his heels.
Far worse yet - there were four more gloves there. If he couldn't get away, they'd certainly join in.
His laughter turned into a roar. It sounded angry.
The palms touched down, then, and satin firmly pumped his feet.
Within a few seconds he was screeching, louder than ever. But no one came.
Panicky flailing didn't get him out from under the hands.
Broad, soft grips keep creeping up and down his soles, no matter how he pulled or kicked -
"Does this tickle?" the voice barked.
He whooped again, and threw his head back. Laughing hard. Sweating. Caught tight...
The gloves shortened their path, concentrating on the lower half of each foot - and others started sliding a finger around the arches.
He tried to jump, but didn't get far. A strained keening noise began alternating with other deranged noises.
Those fingers tracked around the balls of his feet, and down the inner sides - bumping into the other satin torturing him - and wandered up his insteps. He bounced his head on the pad, howling again. Satin traveled over the top of each toe, bumping along... under, and then it was stroking his arches again.
Jeil was desperately trying to move, or turn. Anything.
Three fingers scratched gently under his toes, then up and down.
A weak scream turned into full-fledged gales of laughter.
Twenty impossible minutes went by.
He was thoroughly dazed. Jingling sounds didn't get a reaction from him. Not even the cuffs being wrapped around each wrist got him to do more than open his eyes. Fighting for breath was his priority...
The hands pulled his clothes off quickly, and pushed him back down. The pad moved - or part of it, and his eyes fixed on the spot as he kept panting. A thick chrome ring was pulled up -
He started to fight. Fatigued, and clearly outnumbered by determined hands, his arms were dragged parallel with his shoulders and the wrist-cuffs were chained down without delay. Many grips slammed his legs down, and a thicker cuff floated to each ankle.
It happened so quickly.
"You're in for it now," the voice said.
"Please - no, aw, please-"
"Any idea of getting up has to be abandoned. These chains are not going to break. Are they?"
Watching the gloves, he pulled at the cuffs as if he couldn't help himself. "N-no."
"Will the nightmare end soon?"
A miserable groan eased out of his mouth. Looking around as much as he could, he finally swallowed hard. "No."
"That's right. Possible techniques and combinations are... endless."
"No, no, please. Don't. Help me! Somebodddyy - HELP!"
"So many ticklish spots."
The gloves were moving. He froze for a moment, eyes wide. All six gloves were moving in, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
When they started tickling again, the roars just pounded out of his chest. Wrestling around only confirmed how secure the cuffs and chains were. He was naked, now, and the fingers could dig in anywhere now...
But they resumed on his feet. Heels, arches and toes, insteps and sides. The soft material, with strong pressure inside, made him lunge and snap.
Fingers rubbed everywhere. They weren't even moving quickly, yet, and he just bounced one more time and shouted laughter.
Eventually his struggles died down, and even the tension left his body. As that occurred he howled even harder. The impact was increasing. No distraction was left, so the tickling seemed to be amplified somehow. That was clear. His roars became even less coherent, more fierce, and a raspy edge could already be heard. the sweat was dripping off his chest. Tears and snot were shining on his face.
Thirty fingers - about twenty-nine more than he could take...
Urgent hysteria filled each moment.
They finally gave him a chance to catch his breath.
Then the fingers reserved their next targets - ribs, pecs, and oh fuck not his armpits. But gloves crouched there too, letting him squeal wildly for a few more seconds before they went into action...
Wild colors swam through his head. The only thing that mattered anymore was the contact blanketing his chest and torso. Mind-bending fire - amusing, somehow. Permanently funny.
The gloves clutched and stroked like they were never going to stop.
Outside, the cart had made two more trips back and forth before returning to its starting point.
"This is too easy," Gamma said. "And everybody will think they went home for the summer -"
"Yes. All of the computer systems still list Psych 8 as sealed and dormant. They're tucked in, nice and safe. Four down," Alpha said suggestively.
"And two to go," Beta replied, finishing the sentence. "Including the guy you get to learn from, Delta."
"Hoo yeah. And speaking of which," it chuckled...
They relocated - surrounding Bekko, who sat on the back steps of the gym with with a friend, huffing on a joint.
A low bass note grew louder and louder. He finally caught on, and looked up at the trees. "Delta. Hey!"
"Brother-man," it said happily. "Beta's got some money for you. Activities account. Care to get on over to the Union and pick it up?"
"Fuck, yeah," Bekko shot back, handing the spliff to his buddy and struggling to get upright. "Lead on."
12aug05