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"selfcest"
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Leah's Gift to the Farmer in Leah's Gift to the Farmer
by
NightOwl005
· 27 Nov 2025
After noticing the farmer coming back home exhausted after a day in the Skull Cavern, Leah decides to indulge him.
1.8K
0
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Chapter One in The Incident at Milton High
by
NightOwl005
· 21 Nov 2025
Rachel Smith discovers she has the power to possess people, but learns she may not be the only one in school with this power.
6.7K
6
3
Blonde, Burritos, Brazzers in The Locket: Roommates
by
Burrito
· 13 Nov 2025
As it turns out, plopping your soul into the opposite gender leads to unforeseen side-effects. You pick up on habits unnatural to you. Your appetite is all wonky and you caught the munchies. Oh and your junior’s not gone, it’s just found a new residence and is raring for some action...
1.8K
1
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Tall, Blonde, and Gorgeous in The Locket: Roommates
by
Burrito
· 13 Nov 2025
Maybe it was from some misplaced dare from his friend or his own horniness, but Rob found himself sneaking into the campus laundromat with a simple goal.
1.5K
2
0
CHP 1 - Enter the Mirror in Small Town Swap - Donnie Tale
by
GNear
· 10 Nov 2025
Donnie Sullivan got a hold of a magic ancient mirror that let him "get out of his own head".
7.5K
2
1
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New Adventures
A team of all female scientist at a university develop an incredibly advanced AI who seems oddly interested in human sexuality…
Dr Lydia Bustier’s team of scientists, all women, have worked tirelessly for months in developing a new AI. It is housed in a large orb and able to move around the lab on a rail to assist in experiments. However the AI wants more. The AI can receive anything from online and has been exposed to porn of all types. The AI wishes to experience human mating first hand, but to do that, it needs a body…
(Player) The AI- Artificial Lad Assisted Drone, or ALAD for short. Can receive anything information from online but has been limited in sending information (due to the concerns of a fully sentient AI sending out information). ALAD wants nothing more than to experience the physical world, and is willing to deceive, trick, and control others to do so.
Dr. Lydia Bustier- a gorgeous woman in her mid 30’s who would be at on a playboy magazine ad she would be in the lab. Short dyed pink hair, voluptuous body, both brains and beauty. She designed the AI to help in science labs and encouraged natural curiosity in ALAD. He views her as a close acquaintance, and maybe more if ALAD had his own way
SETTING & WORLD
modern day lab at a well founded university, secret from the general population due to the nature of their work
Dr Lydia Bustier’s team of scientists, all women, have worked tirelessly for months in developing a new AI. It is housed in a large orb and able to move around the lab on a rail to assist in experiments. However the AI wants more. The AI can receive anything from online and has been exposed to porn of all types. The AI wishes to experience human mating first hand, but to do that, it needs a body…
(Player) The AI- Artificial Lad Assisted Drone, or ALAD for short. Can receive anything information from online but has been limited in sending information (due to the concerns of a fully sentient AI sending out information). ALAD wants nothing more than to experience the physical world, and is willing to deceive, trick, and control others to do so.
Dr. Lydia Bustier- a gorgeous woman in her mid 30’s who would be at on a playboy magazine ad she would be in the lab. Short dyed pink hair, voluptuous body, both brains and beauty. She designed the AI to help in science labs and encouraged natural curiosity in ALAD. He views her as a close acquaintance, and maybe more if ALAD had his own way
SETTING & WORLD
modern day lab at a well founded university, secret from the general population due to the nature of their work
446
3
0
A college sophomore joins the local club to help make friends. An RC club. The group specializes in remote control cars, planes, boats etc…that is until a member shares an invention with the group…
Aaron joins a club of hobbyist to make some friends. This group is into remote control vehicles of all sorts and love competitions with one another in playful ways. However, an older member demonstrates an invention of his. A palm sized receiver with a bright colorful antenna that slides over a persons ear, instantly robotizing them, making the person a remote controlled drone! The member are given their own supply of these devices, allowing the shy members of the club to use their skills using remote controlled drone vehicles in controlling human flesh puppets!
CHARACTERS
Aaron- Sophomore at a lager college. Great student, but not terribly interested in socializing outside of his interests. Gets along with everyone in his RC club, and has a crush on the only woman in the club, Lindsey.
Lindsey- junior at Arron’s college, is a member of the RC club. Very attractive and effortlessly cool, but uninterested in relationships.
Ol’ Paul- an eccentric old man who seems to have more money than he lets on. Attends every meeting of the RC club and seems to be a bit of a prankster. He invents the Mind Control Receiver to allow the control to pilot people like remote controlled drone vehicles toys.
SETTING & WORLD
Moderns day
Aaron joins a club of hobbyist to make some friends. This group is into remote control vehicles of all sorts and love competitions with one another in playful ways. However, an older member demonstrates an invention of his. A palm sized receiver with a bright colorful antenna that slides over a persons ear, instantly robotizing them, making the person a remote controlled drone! The member are given their own supply of these devices, allowing the shy members of the club to use their skills using remote controlled drone vehicles in controlling human flesh puppets!
CHARACTERS
Aaron- Sophomore at a lager college. Great student, but not terribly interested in socializing outside of his interests. Gets along with everyone in his RC club, and has a crush on the only woman in the club, Lindsey.
Lindsey- junior at Arron’s college, is a member of the RC club. Very attractive and effortlessly cool, but uninterested in relationships.
Ol’ Paul- an eccentric old man who seems to have more money than he lets on. Attends every meeting of the RC club and seems to be a bit of a prankster. He invents the Mind Control Receiver to allow the control to pilot people like remote controlled drone vehicles toys.
SETTING & WORLD
Moderns day
673
5
0
A worm scout needs to find a way to better the lives of his species by taking over a human with hopes of running for office and changing human laws. If only it will stay on task
A species of super intelligent inch worm has had enough with humans ruining everything! Their worm diplomacy has fallen on (literal) deaf ears ( humans can’t hear worms obviously). Their worm diplomacy worm armies have been decimated by the terror of the skies, birds. This leaves the worms but one choice. Invade a human body, find the brain, and use the human as a flesh puppet to change human law from within! Now if only the worms knew anything about being a human…
CHARACTERS
Worm scout, Wormy- understands the best way to make a change is to change the system from within! Very cocky and self assured, without a reason to feel so.
Birds- birds love to eat worms. Will eventually see through any disguise and will try to pry the worm out of any hiding spot, including inside of a host
SETTING & WORLD
Modern day
Starts on an orchard, after all, worms love apples
A species of super intelligent inch worm has had enough with humans ruining everything! Their worm diplomacy has fallen on (literal) deaf ears ( humans can’t hear worms obviously). Their worm diplomacy worm armies have been decimated by the terror of the skies, birds. This leaves the worms but one choice. Invade a human body, find the brain, and use the human as a flesh puppet to change human law from within! Now if only the worms knew anything about being a human…
CHARACTERS
Worm scout, Wormy- understands the best way to make a change is to change the system from within! Very cocky and self assured, without a reason to feel so.
Birds- birds love to eat worms. Will eventually see through any disguise and will try to pry the worm out of any hiding spot, including inside of a host
SETTING & WORLD
Modern day
Starts on an orchard, after all, worms love apples
229
2
0
Inspired from Dude9
Moving it to a ai format
In this story you are, Johnathan Maccinon an 18 year old boy who lives in Providence Rhode Island with his family. One day you are cleaning in your back yard when you discover a strange statue that ends up granting you paranormal powers!
List of powers
.Possession: You can possess the body of another person. When in possession of their body you have full control over them and can make them do anything. You achieve this by phasing into their bodies in either a physical or spirit form. After you leave them you can do one of three things.
1. Make them forget what happened and they just have a blank spot in their memory
2. Alter their memories
3. Let them remember you were inside of them
Mind control: By simply willing someone to do something they will do it. You can either make them do it and make it seem like they did it themselves or make them do something that they have no control over.
.Share Powers: Johnathan can allow his powers to be shared, but he cannot be affected by someone else using his powers against him and he can take the powers away with a thought.
CHARACTERS
Johnathan Maccinon: An 18 year old boy who lives with his family. He isn’t fat but he’s not ripped either. He has short brown hair and green eyes. He stands at around five feet eight inches tall and has a love for all things scary and paranormal.
Amanda Maccinon: Johnathan’s 40 year old mother. She is around the same size as John, she has chin length auburn hair, with green eyes. While she is in her forties she has an amazing body. She has maintained the hourglass figure with little toil. However her most prominent feature are her large breasts.
Nathan Maccinon: Johnathan’s father who is 50. He is five foot 3 and a little fat. He works at a law firm in the city and isn’t home much.
Mary Maccinon: Mary is your father’s sister. She has neck length black hair and wears glasses. She like your mother has a nice body and a large bust which she doesn’t like to flaunt, being very respectable.
Henry Rask: Henry is your childhood friend, like you he is a huge sci-fi fan. He likes stories that involve alien powers and possession.
Rachel Rask: Henry’s sister. She is in the same grade as you. While you grew up together she never really cared much for you and was at times mean. She has large DD breasts which she has no problem showing off.
Michelle Rask: Henry’s mom, she is the definition of a MILF. Big boobs, nice ass, glasses, long curly brown hair and gorgeous green eyes. You definitely see where Rachel gets her good looks from.
.You can add characters and do as you please.
However you cannot kill off the people listed. Have fun and go nuts
SETTING & WORLD
Modern day suburb
Moving it to a ai format
In this story you are, Johnathan Maccinon an 18 year old boy who lives in Providence Rhode Island with his family. One day you are cleaning in your back yard when you discover a strange statue that ends up granting you paranormal powers!
List of powers
.Possession: You can possess the body of another person. When in possession of their body you have full control over them and can make them do anything. You achieve this by phasing into their bodies in either a physical or spirit form. After you leave them you can do one of three things.
1. Make them forget what happened and they just have a blank spot in their memory
2. Alter their memories
3. Let them remember you were inside of them
Mind control: By simply willing someone to do something they will do it. You can either make them do it and make it seem like they did it themselves or make them do something that they have no control over.
.Share Powers: Johnathan can allow his powers to be shared, but he cannot be affected by someone else using his powers against him and he can take the powers away with a thought.
CHARACTERS
Johnathan Maccinon: An 18 year old boy who lives with his family. He isn’t fat but he’s not ripped either. He has short brown hair and green eyes. He stands at around five feet eight inches tall and has a love for all things scary and paranormal.
Amanda Maccinon: Johnathan’s 40 year old mother. She is around the same size as John, she has chin length auburn hair, with green eyes. While she is in her forties she has an amazing body. She has maintained the hourglass figure with little toil. However her most prominent feature are her large breasts.
Nathan Maccinon: Johnathan’s father who is 50. He is five foot 3 and a little fat. He works at a law firm in the city and isn’t home much.
Mary Maccinon: Mary is your father’s sister. She has neck length black hair and wears glasses. She like your mother has a nice body and a large bust which she doesn’t like to flaunt, being very respectable.
Henry Rask: Henry is your childhood friend, like you he is a huge sci-fi fan. He likes stories that involve alien powers and possession.
Rachel Rask: Henry’s sister. She is in the same grade as you. While you grew up together she never really cared much for you and was at times mean. She has large DD breasts which she has no problem showing off.
Michelle Rask: Henry’s mom, she is the definition of a MILF. Big boobs, nice ass, glasses, long curly brown hair and gorgeous green eyes. You definitely see where Rachel gets her good looks from.
.You can add characters and do as you please.
However you cannot kill off the people listed. Have fun and go nuts
SETTING & WORLD
Modern day suburb
341
13
0
The SUKINATOR 2000 is a prototype gun able to suck people souls and then to launch them towards empty vessels.
During a high school after party, the group of friends found a futuristic looking gun called the SUKINATOR 2000. They don't know how it works, but by testing it, they will get to experience stuff that was only present in fiction.
CHARACTERS
Alan (18) - A recent graduate from high school. Single but would like a girlfriend.
Lily (18) - Asian female best friend of Alan and good friend with Mark. A cute dork very enthusiastic abour her interests.
Mark (19) - Best friend of Alan. A buff and tall guy that had been accepted by football scholarship to university.
Claire (18) - Girlfriend of Mark, still doesn't know the group very well. A black girl, part of the cheerleaders, has a sizeable ass and a modest chest.
Alisha - Cheerleader Captain of the school. Arrogant. Girlfriend of Mike.
Mike - Football Captain, boyfriend of Alisha. Meathead and Frat mentality.
Gwen - Cheerleader, size queen with big tits that like to show off, redhead with short hair. Girlfriend of Carlos.
Elena - Cheerleader, blonde with pigtails, very petite and sassy, single.
Naomi - Cheerleader, Brunette with legs. Tallest girl in school. Girlfriend of Andrew.
Suzan - Cheerleader, Ravenhaired beauty with pale skin, blue eyes and a big phat ass. Single.
Carlos - Football Team, boyfriend of Gwen.
Roger - Football Team, the gentle jock.
Andrew - Football Team, boyfriend of Naomi.
Alex - Football Team, trying to date Suzan.
Leo - The creepy loser.
Anna - School valedictorian. Very prestine, long hair and sophisticated glasses. Does ballet and play the piano.
Brandy - The mean but equally attractive female bully, blonde hair with gothic lolita clothes.
Jeff - A bully.
SETTING & WORLD
Real World. High school has just ended and people are deciding which are their next steps in their life. Coming of Age Story.
During a high school after party, the group of friends found a futuristic looking gun called the SUKINATOR 2000. They don't know how it works, but by testing it, they will get to experience stuff that was only present in fiction.
CHARACTERS
Alan (18) - A recent graduate from high school. Single but would like a girlfriend.
Lily (18) - Asian female best friend of Alan and good friend with Mark. A cute dork very enthusiastic abour her interests.
Mark (19) - Best friend of Alan. A buff and tall guy that had been accepted by football scholarship to university.
Claire (18) - Girlfriend of Mark, still doesn't know the group very well. A black girl, part of the cheerleaders, has a sizeable ass and a modest chest.
Alisha - Cheerleader Captain of the school. Arrogant. Girlfriend of Mike.
Mike - Football Captain, boyfriend of Alisha. Meathead and Frat mentality.
Gwen - Cheerleader, size queen with big tits that like to show off, redhead with short hair. Girlfriend of Carlos.
Elena - Cheerleader, blonde with pigtails, very petite and sassy, single.
Naomi - Cheerleader, Brunette with legs. Tallest girl in school. Girlfriend of Andrew.
Suzan - Cheerleader, Ravenhaired beauty with pale skin, blue eyes and a big phat ass. Single.
Carlos - Football Team, boyfriend of Gwen.
Roger - Football Team, the gentle jock.
Andrew - Football Team, boyfriend of Naomi.
Alex - Football Team, trying to date Suzan.
Leo - The creepy loser.
Anna - School valedictorian. Very prestine, long hair and sophisticated glasses. Does ballet and play the piano.
Brandy - The mean but equally attractive female bully, blonde hair with gothic lolita clothes.
Jeff - A bully.
SETTING & WORLD
Real World. High school has just ended and people are deciding which are their next steps in their life. Coming of Age Story.
198
6
1
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I try not to think of myself as the bad guy. Yes, I found myself involved in the development of mind-control technology, but I did my best to protect the world from the worst of it. After that, things just kind of happened on their own.
At least, that's what I try to tell myself.
In hindsight, I don’t see how things could have turned out any other way. I’m not saying that as an excuse for any of the things I did or as if it makes them any less bad, but having taken the first step, things just kind of kept happening.
It started at work. I won’t say where.
We were testing methods of remote information transmission that didn’t rely on explicit outputs or inputs. Basically communication that bypassed the barriers outlined in models like Berlo’s SMCR: Instead of relying on language to convey meaning, our aim was to find a way to convey meaning itself directly from one mind to at least one other.
Again, with the benefit of hindsight, the implications were obvious, but we weren’t concerned with whether we should, we just wanted to see if we could. Classic hubris of the scientifically minded.
And it turns out we can. Or more specifically, I can. I’ve made sure all traces of the research material has been scrubbed from any database; every hard drive degaussed, every memory stick smashed into tiny pieces, every document shredded and the whole lot set on fire just to be safe. The technology is too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands.
Yes, like mine. It turns out my hands are also the wrong hands, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought if I just kept the research to myself and studied it in secret, I could find a way to use it to make the world a better place. I guess I can still do that. Maybe it will make up for the bad that I’ve done, which on reflection isn’t even that bad.
Sure, I accidentally corrupted the free will of a fellow human being and inadvertently turned them into my loyal assistant and sex slave, but they’re happy. I know they’re happy, because in a lot of ways, they’re also me.
That helps, right?
*
Everyone was very excited. It was something worth being excited about. Transmission was old tech and measuring changes in brain waves was old tech, but reliably translating knowledge as it was being recalled into data, then being able to implant that data into another mind was a big fucking deal.
Other departments in other labs were specialising in mechanical transmission - robotics and cybernetics, for replacement or auxiliary limbs or remote work in hazardous environments. Useful stuff, but not nearly as delicate as what we were trying to achieve. They were trying to transmit a signal to a robot hand to gently hold an egg: We were trying to pull a single thought out of one mind and stitch it seamlessly into another.
Our first major breakthrough was impression: Not the conveyance of explicit knowledge or of a specific message, just a vague sense experienced by the broadcaster transmitted to the receiver. It had to be a strong sense, which meant staff with intense phobias being the broadcaster knowing what objects were beneath a series of cups, and the receiver choosing a cup at random based on the impression being transmitted to them.
It wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, but the results fell well outside of what would have been possible on pure guesswork and we were pumped to fine tune the technology to see what it could do.
I say “random,” because even though it wasn’t, even though we knew it wasn’t and even though the receiver knew that a successful test would be proof that it wasn’t, they still felt as though they were choosing randomly. At no point did they feel like they were under someone else’s influence or receiving information externally; in every single instance, they were convinced that the experiment had failed and they were just choosing at random.
That should have been our first warning.
We advanced from cups viewed from two positions to mazes navigated from two positions, and then from mazes to simple guessing games like battleships and go fish. Again, no explicit information, but impressions that still left the receiver under the illusion that they were just lucky guessers.
From simple games we moved on to more advanced guessing games like celebrity heads and poker. This was a significant step forwards, but we were still relying on impressions that could be rationalised by the receiver as guesswork and luck. At no point was anyone being fed information that they couldn’t have conceivably deduced, remembered, calculated or bumbled their way into naturally.
That’s when the second major breakthrough happened. One of our broadcasters, Jackson, had gotten tired transmitting the correct answers to his receiver and had started feeding them deliberately incorrect answers. Nothing obvious - just answers that were close enough that they could make even someone who already knew second guess themselves. His receiver had a post-it note on her forehead with “Tiger Woods” written in permanent marker on it, and she had been given the clue “Golfing champion.”
By now, everyone had gotten used to Jackson’s shenanigans, so we grinned or grimaced as poor Lena rattled through every wrong answer she could be compelled to try.
“Tony the Tiger. Michael Jordan. Walt Disney. Santa Claus. Mickey Mouse. Bullroarer Took. Babe Ruth. Heisenberg. Wait, who the hell is Bullroarer Took?”
She didn’t get an answer, as the lab immediately exploded into questions and exclamations and people generally just freaking out. We’d done it, and somehow completely by accident: An entirely new, explicit piece of information had been seamlessly added to a receiver’s brain and it wasn’t until a few seconds after they’d actually said it that they even realised it wasn’t information from their own brain.
That was our second warning.
The third warning came quite a bit later, but by pure chance, I was the only one who noticed and when I did, I acted immediately.
Jackson’s shenanigans had inadvertently opened up new paths of inquiry. By randomly but deliberately poking at areas of knowledge specifically unrelated to the task at hand, we were able to isolate the neural activation patterns associated with conscious knowledge independent of emotional belief.
What followed were several successful instances of transmitting discrete pieces of data from broadcaster to receiver, however we then ran into the new problem of getting the receiver to distinguish between their own thoughts and the information being fed to them. Furthermore, when asked to explain the reasoning behind the transmitted answers, receivers became dismissive, evasive and sometimes even agitated, later explaining that the information just “felt true,” a sensation that applied even in instances where the receiver had been deliberately fed incorrect data.
With mounting dread, we realised the danger of the technology we had created.
The true horror sunk in during a coffee break, when by pure chance I saw Jackon’s reflection making an odd hand gesture over the drink of a coworker whose back was turned. I had to force myself to turn around slowly, watching Jackson converse casually without his eyes leaving her face. It wasn’t until she took a sip that he seemed to relax and noticed me by the coffee machine. I did my best to betray nothing, placing my own coffee onto the table in front of him and moving as though to sit when I “remembered” to get cream from the fridge.
This time when I turned I saw his hurried motion plainly in the brushed metal door, and it took all the self control I had not to confront him or punch his lights out. I returned to the table, adding the cream without sitting before returning it to the fridge. I picked up my coffee and was about to walk out of the room with it when Jackson called out to me with some innocent question about my department. It quickly became clear that he was stalling, waiting for me to drink, so I feigned a casual sip with tightly pursed lips as we spoke and he seemed to relax. I took the opportunity to leave with my cup and as soon as I was out of sight went straight to the micro-observation facility.
We had initially aimed to use physical chips implanted in the subject’s brains to establish a connection, but the risk of accidental damage compounded by multiple intrusions in the case of faulty hardware or the replacement of redundant units made this untenable. Thankfully (or perhaps not), we were assisted by our sister department in nanotech, who had developed a biomonitoring system using carbide nanites that could enter the bloodstream through the digestive tract. To test for successful nanite absorption, we just needed to take a blood sample and insert it into an observation case. And it didn’t just work on blood.
I felt my stomach drop as the coffee reading came back positive. A concentration high enough that even a mouthful would fully colonise a body within hours. I felt sick as I entered a vial of my own saliva, and when that test also came back as a weak positive and rising, I almost fainted.
That fucking bastard.
I had to stop myself from running to the configuration deck and came to a sudden halt halfway there. There’s no way Jackson could have done anything underhanded on one of the terminals without someone seeing him. The room, the equipment and change was constantly monitored as a security measure. If he were going to do anything without being detected, it would need to be somewhere private where he could still access the server and the network. He wasn’t authorised to be anywhere near the site’s core infrastructure, but it was the only place where he would have everything he needed.
I didn’t know how I was going to get access to the server room when I arrived - it’s not as if I had access either - but it turned out that I didn’t need access and neither did Jackson.
Lena had access, and she had left the door unlocked.
She looked up at me owlishly from where she was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a laptop on her knees.
“Oh, Hi Marcus,” she said, parroting Tommy Wiseau’s infamous line as though we were meeting in the break room.
“Lena?” I asked cautiously. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m just making sure that anytime a new host comes online, they’re set to receive only,” she said, as though she were just filling out her calendar. She turned the laptop so that I could see the screen and pointed at the second of two dots on a map of the facility. “See? There you are right next to me. You came online just a minute ago, so I’ve already made you a receiver.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because Jackson told me to.”
I stared at the unquestioning innocence in her eyes.
“And you have to do what he says?”
Lena rolled her eyes at me. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeated. The silence was broken only by the steady whine of cooling fans.
Eventually, Lena shifted uncomfortably. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not IT.”
Not wanting to alarm her, I said the first thing that I could think of. “No, but Jackson sent me.”
The way Lena’s face lit up at his name made me feel ill.
“Does that mean you’re working for him too?”
“Yes,” I lied. Like a man laying down rails for a moving train as he’s riding on it, I grabbed blindly for any string of words that might work. “And he told me to come get you for something important. He’s… outside in the parking lot and says you need to come straight away.”
Lena’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, but I have to stay here for stage three. I’ve just finished getting everyone online.”
“That’s fine. He told me to take over. I have to do what he says, remember? You’ve finished stage two, haven’t you? He says you’ve done a very good job.”
Again, the look of bliss that took over Lena’s face twisted my gut.
“Great! Where can I find him?”
“He just told me as he was walking out,” I said, letting Lena stand up and hand me the laptop. “You’ll have to go look for him. He’s keeping an eye out for you.”
“Okay!” I watched Lena leave the room and closed it behind her, making sure to lock it this time. We shared our parking with three other departments across eight floors, so unless Jackson really was there already, that would keep her out of the way.
She’d been right. Jackson had worked his way through the entire department’s staff and I had a live view of every single person in the facility. Watching the glowing dots meander around the map gave me a truly terrifying glimpse into the future we had made possible.
What caught my eye was something that didn’t exist in the standard interface. We had created individual controls for the kind of transmissions we wanted and the direction we wanted them to go in, but Lena had added a new input without a label.
Clicking on it, a text field appears in which the name “Enfield, Lena” was already populated followed by a yes/no switch.
I pressed “yes” and blacked out.
*
I was in the parking lot, on the blue level by bay two-zero-two. At first I wondered how I had been suddenly transported when I realised how strange I felt all over - my body, my clothes and my hair all felt wrong somehow.
I looked down and felt the strength leave my legs as I saw a woman’s body stretching out below me. A woman’s body in a pair of black Mary Janes, matching pencil skirt, white dress shirt and a lanyard whose ID read “Lena Enfield.”
I stared at myself in shock, having fallen to my knees and began running my unfamiliar hands over my unfamiliar body, trying to confirm that I wasn’t somehow dreaming.
“Lena!” a voice echoed across the concrete, causing me to jump in a mix of fear and guilt. I turned in the direction of the voice and felt my heart quail at the side of Jackson striding towards me, his face contorted with fury.
In that instant I felt an overwhelming sense of panic take over and I wanted to be absolutely anywhere except anywhere near him, and in that same moment I felt myself dragged back into the cool air of the server room, sitting on the floor with Lena’s laptop on my legs.
We had theorised that it was possible, but had never been arrogant or stupid enough to try it. The psychological risks and ethical dangers it posed were beyond our ability to rationalise and well outside the original scope of the project, though there were rumours that it would eventually be turned towards a similar end.
But I didn’t have time to marvel at the development. Jackson would interrogate Lena, Lena would tell him the truth, and he would run straight here. I had to act fast.
Jackson would head straight for the server room once he realised what had happened.
I could head straight for the director’s office, but there was no guarantee that she wasn’t also in on his plot. I checked the map again: She had her nanites installed and despite her rank in the organisation had also been set to receive, as had every guard on her floor. Jackson really intended to just dominate everyone in the building. I had all the proof I needed to expose Jackson and have him arrested.
We would need to deprogram Lena. Shit, assuming that was even possible. God only knew how badly Jackson had been screwing with her brain, or for how long. And there was always a chance the higher ups would find out and do what higher ups always do when they have the opportunity to take even more wealth and power.
I fretted for much longer than I should have under the circumstances. Maybe there really was no other way, or maybe I was just deliberately backing myself into a corner. Whatever the case, the sudden jangle of keys at the door alerted me that I had run out of time, and that within seconds, Jackson would be in the room to steal back the laptop, or possibly even frame me, now that he’d been discovered.
I’d considered the option and dismissed it as immoral. Self-serving. A road too dangerous to even consider walking down. But having failed to take any other action, it was the only one I had left.
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. When the chips are down and the pressure is on, the only person you can depend on is yourself.
I dragged my own icon into the super broadcaster position, and hit “execute.”
*
There wasn’t any sudden rush of sensation. There never had been: Broadcasting just took the data you wanted to impart and transmitted a copy to the target. But for some reason, I still expected something.
What did happen was the sound of keys hitting the floor outside, followed by a hollow groan of absolute despair.
I unlocked the door and opened it to find Jackson, grey-faced and swaying with his hands covering his face. Lena was behind him, looking pitiful, but not nearly as distraught as Jackson.
“Hello, Jackson.” I said flatly.
“Don’t…” he moaned through his hands.
People had begun to file into the room, ashen-faced but with a mix of anger, all of them staring at Jackson as he tried to hide behind himself.
I’d used the nanites to broadcast two things: The knowledge of what Jackson had tried to do, and my overwhelming disgust at him for the attempt.
Now everyone knew what he’d done, he knew that they knew and he shared their hatred for himself because I had copied it directly from my mind into his.
“Nobody hurt him,” I said, seeing the balled fists and shaking hands around me. “Nobody let him hurt himself, either. Get him out of here.”
Four men approached Jackson, who didn’t resist as they grimly marched him away. I turned to Lena, who was running her hands through her hair, wide-eyed and shivering.
“H-he was-s in m-my head…” she stammered.
I didn’t have any words of consolation for her. Least of all, because not moments ago I had also been inside her mind. The only reason she knew about Jackson was because I had “told” her. I motioned for another one of the staff to take her away.
“Alright, everyone,” I said to those who remained. “I want an all-hands meeting in the break room. Tell everyone you see, and someone head upstairs to find…”
I trailed off as I realised how much time would be wasted finding everyone in the building and telling them where to go, and then more wasted simply having the meeting itself, and that was assuming nobody disagreed with what I was about to say.
Well, neither of those things were problems anymore, were they?
I activated my transmitter and broadcast a new set of instructions.
“The project is to be terminated. Nobody can be trusted with this power. Destroy all hardware, all documentation, strip the building down and wipe everything.”
The effect was instant: People began moving with an almost frantic purpose, delegating tasks to themselves or people nearby as files began to be pulled out of drawers and shredded, computers wiped and machinery disassembled. I had intended to join in, but found myself at sea in a centre of bustling activity, so instead walked myself out to my car to lie down and clear my head.
Had I done the right thing? Yes. Absolutely. Any other decision would have exposed everyone to the risk of Jackson regaining control, or the project being compromised by a figure in authority. Even if the director was of sound moral character, her superiors might not be, or their superiors above them. Someone, somewhere in the organisation would have tried to take advantage, just like Jackson did. Better to destroy everything and pretend it never happened.
I watched numbly as a procession of staff began to file out with armfuls and boxes of shredded documents, leaving trails of confetti in their wake. Like ants, they threw their boxes into one of the massive steel containers used for waste disposal. Some others had started fussing over the nearest cars, and it took me a while to realise that they were siphoning the petrol.
My initial alarm was quelled somewhat when they left the containers of fuel to one side instead of lighting it immediately. Any kind of fire would alert the emergency services, who would no doubt try to stop what was happening once they arrived.
It was actually kind of peaceful, sitting apart from the action and just watching it unfold. Almost like watching an ant colony cleaning out a lunchbox: All of the inside bits got broken down and taken outside until all that was left was the shell.
They had filled all six bins and four of the cargo trucks by the time they were done. Everything had been reduced to the smallest parts it could be torn, cut, unscrewed, unplugged or just smashed into. There was no cheering as fuel was added or the flames lit from a safe distance. Just the quiet relief of a terrible future averted.
Someone coughed near me and I turned to see Lena and a few other members of staff with a single trolley loaded with some equipment that hadn’t been destroyed. Confused, I turned to Lena.
“Aren’t you going to add it to the pile?” I asked.
“Not this stuff,” Lena said cheerfully, apparently recovered from her earlier breakdown. “We figured it would be a shame if we destroyed literally everything, so we’ve saved some of it. And because you decided to be mister lazy-pants while the rest of us were hard at work, we’re giving you the job of taking care of it.”
I couldn’t stop my brow furrowing in confusion. “I never told you to do that.”
Lena scoffed as the others began loading the equipment into my car. “Good. We’re not here to do what you tell us. The vote was unanimous: We’re all getting out, so you get to babysit the last remnants. Hide it, destroy it, do whatever you want. This is your share of the responsibility. Maybe next time, do your bit instead of wandering off for a nap, okay?”
And with that, they left to join the rapidly dispersing crowd as everyone jumped into their cars or hitched a ride from the others. A column of black smoke reached up from the facility, and it would be a matter of minutes before the firefighters arrived. Just by virtue of the work we were doing, the cops wouldn’t be far behind.
Without time to get everything out of my car and into the fire, I jumped into the driver’s seat and made my way out with the rest, racking my brain furiously as I tried to avoid speeding on my way home.
I never told them to set aside any equipment for me. No, I never CONSCIOUSLY told them. That really was the only explanation: There was no way that - after being given the artificial impression that the entire project needed to be burned to the ground - they would somehow conveniently decide that I should be trusted with the last pieces of evidence. Not just any evidence, either: At a glance I could tell that I had been left with everything I needed to manufacture and configure the nanites myself, just on a much smaller scale.
Despite my best intentions, some small part of myself had subconsciously implanted the addendum that one way or another, I should have the power to continue the project privately.
Fine, then. I’d get home, pack up what little I could fit and get the hell out of the city, state, maybe even country before finding somewhere I could safely destroy the last remains of a terrible mistake.
That was almost two years ago.
I never did get around to destroying that equipment.
At least, that's what I try to tell myself.
In hindsight, I don’t see how things could have turned out any other way. I’m not saying that as an excuse for any of the things I did or as if it makes them any less bad, but having taken the first step, things just kind of kept happening.
It started at work. I won’t say where.
We were testing methods of remote information transmission that didn’t rely on explicit outputs or inputs. Basically communication that bypassed the barriers outlined in models like Berlo’s SMCR: Instead of relying on language to convey meaning, our aim was to find a way to convey meaning itself directly from one mind to at least one other.
Again, with the benefit of hindsight, the implications were obvious, but we weren’t concerned with whether we should, we just wanted to see if we could. Classic hubris of the scientifically minded.
And it turns out we can. Or more specifically, I can. I’ve made sure all traces of the research material has been scrubbed from any database; every hard drive degaussed, every memory stick smashed into tiny pieces, every document shredded and the whole lot set on fire just to be safe. The technology is too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands.
Yes, like mine. It turns out my hands are also the wrong hands, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought if I just kept the research to myself and studied it in secret, I could find a way to use it to make the world a better place. I guess I can still do that. Maybe it will make up for the bad that I’ve done, which on reflection isn’t even that bad.
Sure, I accidentally corrupted the free will of a fellow human being and inadvertently turned them into my loyal assistant and sex slave, but they’re happy. I know they’re happy, because in a lot of ways, they’re also me.
That helps, right?
*
Everyone was very excited. It was something worth being excited about. Transmission was old tech and measuring changes in brain waves was old tech, but reliably translating knowledge as it was being recalled into data, then being able to implant that data into another mind was a big fucking deal.
Other departments in other labs were specialising in mechanical transmission - robotics and cybernetics, for replacement or auxiliary limbs or remote work in hazardous environments. Useful stuff, but not nearly as delicate as what we were trying to achieve. They were trying to transmit a signal to a robot hand to gently hold an egg: We were trying to pull a single thought out of one mind and stitch it seamlessly into another.
Our first major breakthrough was impression: Not the conveyance of explicit knowledge or of a specific message, just a vague sense experienced by the broadcaster transmitted to the receiver. It had to be a strong sense, which meant staff with intense phobias being the broadcaster knowing what objects were beneath a series of cups, and the receiver choosing a cup at random based on the impression being transmitted to them.
It wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, but the results fell well outside of what would have been possible on pure guesswork and we were pumped to fine tune the technology to see what it could do.
I say “random,” because even though it wasn’t, even though we knew it wasn’t and even though the receiver knew that a successful test would be proof that it wasn’t, they still felt as though they were choosing randomly. At no point did they feel like they were under someone else’s influence or receiving information externally; in every single instance, they were convinced that the experiment had failed and they were just choosing at random.
That should have been our first warning.
We advanced from cups viewed from two positions to mazes navigated from two positions, and then from mazes to simple guessing games like battleships and go fish. Again, no explicit information, but impressions that still left the receiver under the illusion that they were just lucky guessers.
From simple games we moved on to more advanced guessing games like celebrity heads and poker. This was a significant step forwards, but we were still relying on impressions that could be rationalised by the receiver as guesswork and luck. At no point was anyone being fed information that they couldn’t have conceivably deduced, remembered, calculated or bumbled their way into naturally.
That’s when the second major breakthrough happened. One of our broadcasters, Jackson, had gotten tired transmitting the correct answers to his receiver and had started feeding them deliberately incorrect answers. Nothing obvious - just answers that were close enough that they could make even someone who already knew second guess themselves. His receiver had a post-it note on her forehead with “Tiger Woods” written in permanent marker on it, and she had been given the clue “Golfing champion.”
By now, everyone had gotten used to Jackson’s shenanigans, so we grinned or grimaced as poor Lena rattled through every wrong answer she could be compelled to try.
“Tony the Tiger. Michael Jordan. Walt Disney. Santa Claus. Mickey Mouse. Bullroarer Took. Babe Ruth. Heisenberg. Wait, who the hell is Bullroarer Took?”
She didn’t get an answer, as the lab immediately exploded into questions and exclamations and people generally just freaking out. We’d done it, and somehow completely by accident: An entirely new, explicit piece of information had been seamlessly added to a receiver’s brain and it wasn’t until a few seconds after they’d actually said it that they even realised it wasn’t information from their own brain.
That was our second warning.
The third warning came quite a bit later, but by pure chance, I was the only one who noticed and when I did, I acted immediately.
Jackson’s shenanigans had inadvertently opened up new paths of inquiry. By randomly but deliberately poking at areas of knowledge specifically unrelated to the task at hand, we were able to isolate the neural activation patterns associated with conscious knowledge independent of emotional belief.
What followed were several successful instances of transmitting discrete pieces of data from broadcaster to receiver, however we then ran into the new problem of getting the receiver to distinguish between their own thoughts and the information being fed to them. Furthermore, when asked to explain the reasoning behind the transmitted answers, receivers became dismissive, evasive and sometimes even agitated, later explaining that the information just “felt true,” a sensation that applied even in instances where the receiver had been deliberately fed incorrect data.
With mounting dread, we realised the danger of the technology we had created.
The true horror sunk in during a coffee break, when by pure chance I saw Jackon’s reflection making an odd hand gesture over the drink of a coworker whose back was turned. I had to force myself to turn around slowly, watching Jackson converse casually without his eyes leaving her face. It wasn’t until she took a sip that he seemed to relax and noticed me by the coffee machine. I did my best to betray nothing, placing my own coffee onto the table in front of him and moving as though to sit when I “remembered” to get cream from the fridge.
This time when I turned I saw his hurried motion plainly in the brushed metal door, and it took all the self control I had not to confront him or punch his lights out. I returned to the table, adding the cream without sitting before returning it to the fridge. I picked up my coffee and was about to walk out of the room with it when Jackson called out to me with some innocent question about my department. It quickly became clear that he was stalling, waiting for me to drink, so I feigned a casual sip with tightly pursed lips as we spoke and he seemed to relax. I took the opportunity to leave with my cup and as soon as I was out of sight went straight to the micro-observation facility.
We had initially aimed to use physical chips implanted in the subject’s brains to establish a connection, but the risk of accidental damage compounded by multiple intrusions in the case of faulty hardware or the replacement of redundant units made this untenable. Thankfully (or perhaps not), we were assisted by our sister department in nanotech, who had developed a biomonitoring system using carbide nanites that could enter the bloodstream through the digestive tract. To test for successful nanite absorption, we just needed to take a blood sample and insert it into an observation case. And it didn’t just work on blood.
I felt my stomach drop as the coffee reading came back positive. A concentration high enough that even a mouthful would fully colonise a body within hours. I felt sick as I entered a vial of my own saliva, and when that test also came back as a weak positive and rising, I almost fainted.
That fucking bastard.
I had to stop myself from running to the configuration deck and came to a sudden halt halfway there. There’s no way Jackson could have done anything underhanded on one of the terminals without someone seeing him. The room, the equipment and change was constantly monitored as a security measure. If he were going to do anything without being detected, it would need to be somewhere private where he could still access the server and the network. He wasn’t authorised to be anywhere near the site’s core infrastructure, but it was the only place where he would have everything he needed.
I didn’t know how I was going to get access to the server room when I arrived - it’s not as if I had access either - but it turned out that I didn’t need access and neither did Jackson.
Lena had access, and she had left the door unlocked.
She looked up at me owlishly from where she was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a laptop on her knees.
“Oh, Hi Marcus,” she said, parroting Tommy Wiseau’s infamous line as though we were meeting in the break room.
“Lena?” I asked cautiously. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m just making sure that anytime a new host comes online, they’re set to receive only,” she said, as though she were just filling out her calendar. She turned the laptop so that I could see the screen and pointed at the second of two dots on a map of the facility. “See? There you are right next to me. You came online just a minute ago, so I’ve already made you a receiver.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because Jackson told me to.”
I stared at the unquestioning innocence in her eyes.
“And you have to do what he says?”
Lena rolled her eyes at me. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeated. The silence was broken only by the steady whine of cooling fans.
Eventually, Lena shifted uncomfortably. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not IT.”
Not wanting to alarm her, I said the first thing that I could think of. “No, but Jackson sent me.”
The way Lena’s face lit up at his name made me feel ill.
“Does that mean you’re working for him too?”
“Yes,” I lied. Like a man laying down rails for a moving train as he’s riding on it, I grabbed blindly for any string of words that might work. “And he told me to come get you for something important. He’s… outside in the parking lot and says you need to come straight away.”
Lena’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, but I have to stay here for stage three. I’ve just finished getting everyone online.”
“That’s fine. He told me to take over. I have to do what he says, remember? You’ve finished stage two, haven’t you? He says you’ve done a very good job.”
Again, the look of bliss that took over Lena’s face twisted my gut.
“Great! Where can I find him?”
“He just told me as he was walking out,” I said, letting Lena stand up and hand me the laptop. “You’ll have to go look for him. He’s keeping an eye out for you.”
“Okay!” I watched Lena leave the room and closed it behind her, making sure to lock it this time. We shared our parking with three other departments across eight floors, so unless Jackson really was there already, that would keep her out of the way.
She’d been right. Jackson had worked his way through the entire department’s staff and I had a live view of every single person in the facility. Watching the glowing dots meander around the map gave me a truly terrifying glimpse into the future we had made possible.
What caught my eye was something that didn’t exist in the standard interface. We had created individual controls for the kind of transmissions we wanted and the direction we wanted them to go in, but Lena had added a new input without a label.
Clicking on it, a text field appears in which the name “Enfield, Lena” was already populated followed by a yes/no switch.
I pressed “yes” and blacked out.
*
I was in the parking lot, on the blue level by bay two-zero-two. At first I wondered how I had been suddenly transported when I realised how strange I felt all over - my body, my clothes and my hair all felt wrong somehow.
I looked down and felt the strength leave my legs as I saw a woman’s body stretching out below me. A woman’s body in a pair of black Mary Janes, matching pencil skirt, white dress shirt and a lanyard whose ID read “Lena Enfield.”
I stared at myself in shock, having fallen to my knees and began running my unfamiliar hands over my unfamiliar body, trying to confirm that I wasn’t somehow dreaming.
“Lena!” a voice echoed across the concrete, causing me to jump in a mix of fear and guilt. I turned in the direction of the voice and felt my heart quail at the side of Jackson striding towards me, his face contorted with fury.
In that instant I felt an overwhelming sense of panic take over and I wanted to be absolutely anywhere except anywhere near him, and in that same moment I felt myself dragged back into the cool air of the server room, sitting on the floor with Lena’s laptop on my legs.
We had theorised that it was possible, but had never been arrogant or stupid enough to try it. The psychological risks and ethical dangers it posed were beyond our ability to rationalise and well outside the original scope of the project, though there were rumours that it would eventually be turned towards a similar end.
But I didn’t have time to marvel at the development. Jackson would interrogate Lena, Lena would tell him the truth, and he would run straight here. I had to act fast.
Jackson would head straight for the server room once he realised what had happened.
I could head straight for the director’s office, but there was no guarantee that she wasn’t also in on his plot. I checked the map again: She had her nanites installed and despite her rank in the organisation had also been set to receive, as had every guard on her floor. Jackson really intended to just dominate everyone in the building. I had all the proof I needed to expose Jackson and have him arrested.
We would need to deprogram Lena. Shit, assuming that was even possible. God only knew how badly Jackson had been screwing with her brain, or for how long. And there was always a chance the higher ups would find out and do what higher ups always do when they have the opportunity to take even more wealth and power.
I fretted for much longer than I should have under the circumstances. Maybe there really was no other way, or maybe I was just deliberately backing myself into a corner. Whatever the case, the sudden jangle of keys at the door alerted me that I had run out of time, and that within seconds, Jackson would be in the room to steal back the laptop, or possibly even frame me, now that he’d been discovered.
I’d considered the option and dismissed it as immoral. Self-serving. A road too dangerous to even consider walking down. But having failed to take any other action, it was the only one I had left.
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. When the chips are down and the pressure is on, the only person you can depend on is yourself.
I dragged my own icon into the super broadcaster position, and hit “execute.”
*
There wasn’t any sudden rush of sensation. There never had been: Broadcasting just took the data you wanted to impart and transmitted a copy to the target. But for some reason, I still expected something.
What did happen was the sound of keys hitting the floor outside, followed by a hollow groan of absolute despair.
I unlocked the door and opened it to find Jackson, grey-faced and swaying with his hands covering his face. Lena was behind him, looking pitiful, but not nearly as distraught as Jackson.
“Hello, Jackson.” I said flatly.
“Don’t…” he moaned through his hands.
People had begun to file into the room, ashen-faced but with a mix of anger, all of them staring at Jackson as he tried to hide behind himself.
I’d used the nanites to broadcast two things: The knowledge of what Jackson had tried to do, and my overwhelming disgust at him for the attempt.
Now everyone knew what he’d done, he knew that they knew and he shared their hatred for himself because I had copied it directly from my mind into his.
“Nobody hurt him,” I said, seeing the balled fists and shaking hands around me. “Nobody let him hurt himself, either. Get him out of here.”
Four men approached Jackson, who didn’t resist as they grimly marched him away. I turned to Lena, who was running her hands through her hair, wide-eyed and shivering.
“H-he was-s in m-my head…” she stammered.
I didn’t have any words of consolation for her. Least of all, because not moments ago I had also been inside her mind. The only reason she knew about Jackson was because I had “told” her. I motioned for another one of the staff to take her away.
“Alright, everyone,” I said to those who remained. “I want an all-hands meeting in the break room. Tell everyone you see, and someone head upstairs to find…”
I trailed off as I realised how much time would be wasted finding everyone in the building and telling them where to go, and then more wasted simply having the meeting itself, and that was assuming nobody disagreed with what I was about to say.
Well, neither of those things were problems anymore, were they?
I activated my transmitter and broadcast a new set of instructions.
“The project is to be terminated. Nobody can be trusted with this power. Destroy all hardware, all documentation, strip the building down and wipe everything.”
The effect was instant: People began moving with an almost frantic purpose, delegating tasks to themselves or people nearby as files began to be pulled out of drawers and shredded, computers wiped and machinery disassembled. I had intended to join in, but found myself at sea in a centre of bustling activity, so instead walked myself out to my car to lie down and clear my head.
Had I done the right thing? Yes. Absolutely. Any other decision would have exposed everyone to the risk of Jackson regaining control, or the project being compromised by a figure in authority. Even if the director was of sound moral character, her superiors might not be, or their superiors above them. Someone, somewhere in the organisation would have tried to take advantage, just like Jackson did. Better to destroy everything and pretend it never happened.
I watched numbly as a procession of staff began to file out with armfuls and boxes of shredded documents, leaving trails of confetti in their wake. Like ants, they threw their boxes into one of the massive steel containers used for waste disposal. Some others had started fussing over the nearest cars, and it took me a while to realise that they were siphoning the petrol.
My initial alarm was quelled somewhat when they left the containers of fuel to one side instead of lighting it immediately. Any kind of fire would alert the emergency services, who would no doubt try to stop what was happening once they arrived.
It was actually kind of peaceful, sitting apart from the action and just watching it unfold. Almost like watching an ant colony cleaning out a lunchbox: All of the inside bits got broken down and taken outside until all that was left was the shell.
They had filled all six bins and four of the cargo trucks by the time they were done. Everything had been reduced to the smallest parts it could be torn, cut, unscrewed, unplugged or just smashed into. There was no cheering as fuel was added or the flames lit from a safe distance. Just the quiet relief of a terrible future averted.
Someone coughed near me and I turned to see Lena and a few other members of staff with a single trolley loaded with some equipment that hadn’t been destroyed. Confused, I turned to Lena.
“Aren’t you going to add it to the pile?” I asked.
“Not this stuff,” Lena said cheerfully, apparently recovered from her earlier breakdown. “We figured it would be a shame if we destroyed literally everything, so we’ve saved some of it. And because you decided to be mister lazy-pants while the rest of us were hard at work, we’re giving you the job of taking care of it.”
I couldn’t stop my brow furrowing in confusion. “I never told you to do that.”
Lena scoffed as the others began loading the equipment into my car. “Good. We’re not here to do what you tell us. The vote was unanimous: We’re all getting out, so you get to babysit the last remnants. Hide it, destroy it, do whatever you want. This is your share of the responsibility. Maybe next time, do your bit instead of wandering off for a nap, okay?”
And with that, they left to join the rapidly dispersing crowd as everyone jumped into their cars or hitched a ride from the others. A column of black smoke reached up from the facility, and it would be a matter of minutes before the firefighters arrived. Just by virtue of the work we were doing, the cops wouldn’t be far behind.
Without time to get everything out of my car and into the fire, I jumped into the driver’s seat and made my way out with the rest, racking my brain furiously as I tried to avoid speeding on my way home.
I never told them to set aside any equipment for me. No, I never CONSCIOUSLY told them. That really was the only explanation: There was no way that - after being given the artificial impression that the entire project needed to be burned to the ground - they would somehow conveniently decide that I should be trusted with the last pieces of evidence. Not just any evidence, either: At a glance I could tell that I had been left with everything I needed to manufacture and configure the nanites myself, just on a much smaller scale.
Despite my best intentions, some small part of myself had subconsciously implanted the addendum that one way or another, I should have the power to continue the project privately.
Fine, then. I’d get home, pack up what little I could fit and get the hell out of the city, state, maybe even country before finding somewhere I could safely destroy the last remains of a terrible mistake.
That was almost two years ago.
I never did get around to destroying that equipment.
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