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Subject: {ASSM} RP: the Michael Collins Anthology (ASFR, ScFi, act, rom, adv) [2/26]
Date: Wed,  4 Jul 2001 08:10:03 -0400
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2. Revelations

     Imagine if you would that up until this point everything you knew
     about reality was tossed out the window.

     Grass, the sky, the warmth of the sun's rays hitting your face.

     You've thought, until this point, that your life was in order.
     Everything was the way it was supposed to be. [\( 2+2=4 \)], grass
     is green, the sky is predominantly blue. Red means stop, and green
     means go. If you're living in Atlanta, or Los Angeles, then yellow
     probably means go very fast.

     Think back to your childhood. It was a good one. You probably
     remember at least one loving and caring parent. You remember going
     to school, learning how to ride a bike, dating, and possibly your
     first sexual experience.

     Life was good. But was it? What are memories? Nothing more than a
     complex chemical and electrical reaction in our brains. That being
     said, how can we know for certain that what we experienced in our
     past was, in fact, real?

     ------------------------------------------------------------------

When he awoke, he was in the basement of their house, laying naked on his
workbench. He saw Julie asleep at her keyboard, sitting at the adjoining
table.

``What happened?'' he said.

``Oh!'' she said, jumping up. ``You startled me.''

He tried to get up, but found he was paralyzed. He couldn't move any muscles
below his neck.

``Julie,'' he said more sternly, ``what's going on?''

She gave him a look of discontent, and abruptly stood up and walked over.

``What's going on?'' she asked rhetorically. ``Why don't you tell me what
the fuck is going on.'' she ordered as she reached down and slapped him
across the face.

``Uh,'' he muttered. ``Uh, I, I don't know. What time is it?''

``5:20PM,'' she said. ``On January third!''

He sighed. He tried to remember what happened, what was going on.

``I honestly don't know,'' he said. ``The last thing I remember we were
making love on New Year's Eve.''

``Go on,'' she said; her back to him as she sat back down at her computer.

``Well, it turned midnight,'' he continued. ``You were coming, I was coming,
and then I blacked out.''

She tapped away at her keyboard some more, literally pounding on the keys.
She then paused for a moment, pushed herself away from table, and rolled
herself over.

``Then let me fill in the blanks,'' she said sarcastically. ``You're
right,'' she continued. ``We were both coming.''

She went on to tell him that as they were both saying, ``Happy New Year!''
to each-other, he didn't stop: didn't stop speaking, or coming for that
matter. ``Your voice became very distorted,'' she told him.

``What do you mean I didn't stop coming,'' he questioned.

``That was the most fucked up part,'' she went on. ``You didn't stop coming
for like 10 minutes!''

She reached over and picked up his head to look down at his body laying on
the table. Unbeknownst to him, his cock was still rock hard at this point,
in fact he thought it was a little bigger!

``The sheets are ruined,'' she said. ``And I think I sponged up close to a
cup's worth of cum from you!''

He closed his eyes. All he wanted to do was cry, but couldn't bring himself
to form any tears.

``I thought you had died,'' she told him. ``After I composed myself, I was
just about to call the cops, 911, or somebody when I heard a strange beeping
coming from your chest.''

He thought it strange that she heard beeping, but didn't interrupt her.

``When I put my ear to your chest, I heard whirring and beeping. I knew you
weren't dead,'' she consoled; ``but I also knew you weren't alive, either.''

She went on to tell him how she dragged him down the flights of stairs to
the basement, and set him up here.

She told him how she got the video camera, and set it up to record. She had
the TV from the guest-bedroom sitting on the table next to her. He watched
it as she played the tape.

He wouldn't have believed what he saw the next thirty minutes if it weren't
on tape!

On the tape, he saw her brushing away tears as she examined him there.
Laying on the table, she glided her hands slowly across his chest, feeling
all around his lifeless body. She next moved her hands to the side of his
chest. ``Interesting,'' she said on the tape. ``I hadn't noticed this
before!''

``Between your second and third ribs,'' she told him while they continued to
watch the tape.

``What?'' he asked. She didn't say anything, as she motioned for him to
watch.

The next thing he saw truly amazed him! His chest split open and flanged
out!

``Fuck me!'' she said on the tape.

He could see her on the tape walking over to the camera and picking it up.
She carried the camera over to record what she was seeing. What he next saw
almost blew his mind away.

As she focused the camera into his chest, in the upper right-hand side of
this ... cavity ... there were rows and rows of tiny lights and switches.

Spread elsewhere were jacks. Cables and tubes ran through and into the rest
of his body.

``Amazing,'' he said aloud while watching the tape.

Julie paused the videotape and walked over to him.

``You mean you didn't know?'' she said as she brushed his cheek with her
hand.

``No,'' he said, looking up. ``Hey Jules, why can't I move anything?''

``Oops!'' she exclaimed. ``Let me take care of that for you.''

She walked back to her keyboard, and typed away at the keyboard. Walking
back over, she secured a cable in her mouth as she pressed on both sides of
his ribs. A ``click'' followed by a ``whoosh'' sound was heard as his chest
opened up like a box-top.

``Fuckin'A,'' he mumbled, looking down at his chest open up before his eyes.

Just then, the doorbell rang upstairs.

``Fuck,'' he mumbled aloud.

``Don't worry, babe,'' Julie said, patting him on the head. ``It's just
Arnie.''

``Fuck!'' he exclaimed. ``Arnie doesn't know, does he?''

Arnie Phillips. Major geek. Major prick. Major pain in Michael's ass.

Arnie's his coworker at Dataronics. Michael hated his personality, but
respected his coding abilities immensely.

``Arnie fixed you,'' she said.

Before Julie could make it to the stairs to walk back up, the door to the
basement flung opened and heavy footsteps descended.

``Julie?'' Arnie yelled as he walked downward.

``Down here,'' they both said, in unison.

Arnie turned the corner where Michael was laying and stopped dead in his
tracks.

``Dudes!'' he exclaimed. ``The robo cock is alive!'' he said.

``Fuck you,'' Michael yelled.

Arnie giggled as he walked over to him. ``More like you've been programmed
to fuck Julie it looks to me,'' he said.

Julie threw the cable she'd been holding down, turned around and slapped
Arnie right across the face. ``That was uncalled for,'' she said.

``Ouch!'' he said as he took a step back protecting himself. Michael just
glared.

``So, when did he reboot,'' he asked. Julie turned back towards Michael and
screwed the connections from the cable into his chest.

``About 30 minutes ago,'' she replied.

``Cool,'' he said.

She sat herself down, and rolled back over to her keyboard, and entered a
few more commands.

``Try to move your arms,'' she asked him.

Like she requested, Michael tried moving his hands and arms which moved just
as easily as before.

``Good,'' she said; as she continued to type. ``Now try lifting your legs,''
she asked.

Just as before, he tried moving his legs and feet. Things appeared to be
back to normal. Well, almost.

Michael swung his legs over the table where he could finally sit up.

``Jules, would you get his boxers for me,'' he asked.

She smiled back at him. ``Sure thing, be right back.''

When she had walked upstairs, he took the opportunity to sucker-punch Arnie.
With moderate force, Michael's fist met up with Arnie's cheek.

``Ouch!'' Arnie said falling back. ``What did you do that for?'' he said,
brushing a tear from his eye.

``That's for the robo cock comment earlier,'' he said.

``But jeeze, man,'' he said. ``That fucking hurt! I can't help it if your
cock is programmable!''

``What do you mean?'' he replied.

``Dude! You are fucking amazing,'' he explained.

Arnie went on to explain how Michael must have been developed for the CIA or
some bullshit reason. He explained how Michael had a very, very, tiny
nuclear reactor which provided his body with electricity. ``Very
efficient,'' Arnie's remarks were about it.

He went on to explain how Michael was created with a compartmentalized
systemic operating system, essentially running an operating system called
``OS/9''.

He explained how each of his systems and subsystems were controlled by their
own autonomous CPUs all controlled by a series of 8 Motorola 68080 CPUs. One
or more Motorola 68020 CPUs controlled each of his subsystems.

Arnie found the system console jack inside Michael's chest and helped Julie
wire up a communications cable from her linux box so she could use minicom
to communicate with his main processors and operating system.

``So what happened to me the other night,'' Michael asked, to noone in
particular as Julie re-entered the room.

Arnie couldn't help but bust out laughing as he started to explain. ``You
weren't,'' he said; his laughter getting stronger. ``You weren't Y2K
compliant!'' he finished, resting his hand on Michael's shoulder. ``Your
memory management subroutines rolled back to epoch (January 1, 1970,
00:00:00) but since you weren't created then, there were no files to access
- your kernel panicked.''

``Oh and by the way, dude,'' he went on, muting his previous laughter in the
process. ``I'd stay away from any past-life regression therapy if I were
you! You'd probably flip out.''

Michael knew all about kernel panics, and Unix in general - he was a Unix
developer now. This whole scenario probably explained why he's attracted to
the operating system so much.

Julie tossed Michael his sweat pants and he quickly put them on.

``Anything we can do about this,'' he motioned to the prevalent hard-on
sticking out through his pants. Michael tried pushing his still erect cock
down into his pants leg, but it seemed to make the problem only more
visible.

``Uh,'' Julie began to say; her giggles impairing her speech. ``That system
is, pardon the pun - hung,'' she continued - breaking out into hard
laughter. ``I need to remove it and reset it,'' she continued, composing
herself in the process. ``But we can deal with that, later.''

She removed the communications cable which she had inserted into his chest
earlier and closed it up.

``Let's all go upstairs,'' Julie suggested. ``It's too cold down here.''

Jules and Arnie motioned for Michael to go ahead of them up the stairs. He
found this quite odd; usually he let Julie lead. Was she afraid of him, or
were they afraid he might fall down so they could catch him?

He quickly headed for the bar in the living room to fix himself a shot of
tequila. As he placed the shotglass on the counter and began pouring; Arnie
was standing next to Julie and cleared his throat.

``What?'' Michael asked.

Arnie looked down at the shotglass and then up at him. ``You don't need
that,'' he said.

``Yeah, I guess it's kinda moot at this point, huh?'' Michael replied.

He walked upstairs to their bedroom to get a shirt on. Android, or no
android; Julie had set the thermostat way low and he was cold. He found his
robe and put it on. At the very least, it covered the embarrassing
predicament he was currently carrying.

As he walked down the stairs, he could see Arnie was quietly talking to
Julie about something. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying; but
whatever it was, it was obvious they didn't want him to hear.

Walking into the family room, he sat down in his chair and picked up a
magazine to skim through. Arnie and Julie soon followed, together.

Uneasy about Arnie's presence, and his knowledge of who, and what he was, he
tried to come up with an excuse to get him to leave. ``Arnie,'' he said,
setting the magazine down and sitting up in the chair. ``I appreciate
everything you've done for me the past several days but I think Julie and I
can handle it from here.''

He got up, and approached him. ``Thanks again, for all your help,'' he said,
not giving him a chance to interject anything. ``I'll see you at the office
tomorrow,'' escorting him to the door. ``Oh, and Arnie? Not a word of this
to anybody. If I find out you've told anyone about this house's little
secret; I'll be forced to let everyone know how you've been embezzling money
from the company.''

Arnie stood there for a second, his mouth partly opened and paused. Gently,
Michael reached up to close his mouth and perhaps Arnie thought Michael was
going to hit him again or something, since he stepped away, turned around,
and walked to his car.

When Michael saw him get into his car, he closed the front-door, and locked
it. As he turned around, he saw Julie standing in the hall; her arms folded
across her chest.

``That was rude,'' she said.

``I don't want to hear it, Jules. Not now.''

``He's only trying to help!'' she continued. ``What if you break, again?''

``I don't trust him, Jules.''

She stopped him as he walked past her, and threw him around to face her.
``Do you trust me,'' she asked?

Pausing for a moment - and now, thinking back, it was probably a millisecond
too long, he replied with, ``Of course.''

``Hrumph,'' was all she said as she let him go.

He sat down in his chair and turned on the TV. Family Matters was on TBS. It
was the episode where Urkel was putting the finishing touches on his
Urkel-Bot. He hated Family Matters, including Urkel.

Julie was in the kitchen fixing herself a drink.

``Talk about a fake!'' he exclaimed out loud, looking at the 'Urkel-Bot',
which looked like a cross between the tin-man and Michael Jackson.

Julie smiled and walked over to him and sat in his lap, setting her Coke
down on the end table.

``You're the real thing,'' she said; reaching up to kiss him. She began
stroking his cock with her hand. ``Does Mr. Happy want to play?'' she asked.

``Not right now,'' he replied.

``Mmm,'' she moaned. ``Your mouth says `No' but Mr. Happy says `Yes','' she
said.

``No it's not,'' he said; slapping his hand against the side of the chair.
``Remember?''

She moved her hand away from his cock and caressed his face. ``I'm sorry,
baby,'' she said. ``I forgot.''

``I don't know what I'm gonna do about it,'' he said, sighing. ``I can't go
into work with a raging hard-on.'' He began to feel like an animated
commercial for Viagara, or something.

``Who said anything about going into work tomorrow?'' she questioned.

At this point he was becoming a little annoyed with her. ``Who's going to
pay the mortgage?'' he returned.

She stopped caressing his cheek for a moment, and looked him in his eyes.
``Good point.''

She stayed there in his lap for the next several hours while they watched
TV. He knew she was horny; and he didn't say anything, but she couldn't keep
her hands out out from under his robe as she was stroking his cock back and
forth. By the end of it all, he had to admit; he was getting a little turned
on himself.

``What did you do,'' she asked him.

``What do you mean?''

``I think you're getting turned on,'' she continued. She pulled her hand out
of his robe; which has been in there for the past hour or so. Her fingers
were dripping with his synthetic juices.

``Yeah, I think you're right,'' he said; a sly grin plastered across his
face.

Something Arnie said earlier though was sticking in his mind. Did he truly
love Julie (and for that matter, love fucking her) or was he simply
programmed to fuck her?

She jumped up off his chair, and grabbed his hand to follow her. Throwing
off her blouse as she made it to the hall, he wasn't far behind her. She
raced up the stairs to their bedroom. He found her shorts on the floor at
the middle of the flight. As they entered their bedroom; she was spread out
naked on their bed.

He hopped up on top of her, with his pants still on. She wrapped her arms
around his shoulders, and pulled him down so she could kiss him.

``Android or not,'' she told him. ``I still love you,'' she said.

``As do I, you,'' he replied; kissing the tip of her nose.

``Granted,'' she said, interrupting. ``I love your cock better,'' she said,
laughing; picking her feet up to grab the belt of his robe with her toes.

``Well,'' he quickly replied, ``I'll try not to let it let you down.''

``I don't think you could at it's current state,'' she finished giggling.

Gently, he guided his cock into her with his hand as she wrapped her legs
around his waist.

``Ouch!'' she said unexpectedly.

``What?''

``I'm just not used to your RoboCock Version 2.0'' she said smiling.

``Remind me to ask you what and how you did that when we're finished,'' he
whispered to her.

Julie adjusted herself to a more comfortable position and pulled him closer
so he went deep inside her.

She moaned with delight.

The next 2 hours, they fucked. Missionary, sixty-nine, doggy, riding the
pony. She even asked him to fuck her in the ass! She never asked him to do
that before.

Michael counted close to 20 orgasms throughout their marathon love-making
session. He could tell she was beginning to get tired, so he decided they'd
finish where they'd started.

About this time, she asked him why he hadn't come yet. He told her I was
waiting for her first. She asked him to come, so he withdrew from her and
finished off by spewing onto her stomach.

They layed together for a few moments before she got up to go take a shower.
On her way there, she threw him a towel to wipe himself as she closed the
door.

He layed back onto the bed and smoked a cigarette.

``Guess I don't need to worry about these killing me anymore,'' he thought
to himself; flipping on the TV.

As he finished his second smoke, she emerged from the shower naked and damp.
He leaned over to kiss her, then got up to take a shower, himself.

When he got into the bathroom, he stared at his naked body in the mirror for
a little bit, and wondered if he would short out as he entered the shower.
Quickly, he dispelled this notion since he's taken thousands of showers
before with no problems.

Facing himsself, he took his thumbs and depressed where Julie had depressed
earlier that evening. Sure enough; just as before, his chest opened up!

He straddled the toilet next to the shower - it was closer to the full
length mirror since it didn't have the sink in the way. He couldn't help but
take a closer look.

One of the things Michael immediately noticed were two rows of 8 pin DIP
switches towards the center. All switches were on with the exception of the
last. He was curious as to what these did! Reaching into the drawer to grab
the tweezers, he gently pushed the last one up.

Immediately after doing this, he felt strange. His eyes went black, and he
couldn't move. Strange enough, he still was conscious; at least he thought
he was.

A few seconds later, he was still standing in that same position; his hand
still holding the tweezers in the exact same position. Only this time;
things looked a little strange!

Closing his left eyelid, his field of view was divided into four quadrants.
He could see four panes of the same picture: One was labeled ``IR'', one was
labeled ``UV'', one was labeled ``STD'' and one was labeled ``REP/PREV''.

He reopened his left eyelid.

Next, he closed his right eyelid. Again, the field of view in that eye was
divided into quadrants.

This eye, however, was laid out a little different than the others: One
screen was labeled ``CON'', and had green text on a black background. There
was a flashing cursor, but the text was too small for him to make out.

The next screen was labeled ``STAT''. It had a graphical menu, with a
wire-framed outline of what looked like his body.

The other screen, marked ``PROG'' was itself divided into two more
equidistant panes. The top pane had code scrolling by so rapidly it was
blurred. The bottom had a flashing cursor.

Last, the fourth pane was labeled ``DIAG''. It had a more general picture
outlined picture of himself.

He reopened his right eyelid.

Again he paused, looking straight ahead. he realized that whatever he did to
himself, that this was going to make it a little more difficult to
concentrate on what he was doing, or seeing.

``I wish things were somewhat back to normal,'' he thought to himself.

Almost immediately after finishing the thought; his eyes became somewhat
normal again! Both fields of view were occupied again by a color image. The
three other images in his left eye minimized down to very tiny icons toward
the bottom; and the four ``consoles'' which were occupying his right eye 10
seconds ago, were reduced as well.

``This is cool,'' he thought.

Just then, he could hear Julie yelling to him, ``Hurry up in there!'' she
said.

He felt like a kid with a new toy.

He took his hands and closed his chest back up and examined it in the
mirror.

Not a seam was visible! He had to find out more about himself, and who
created him; but all that could wait for another time.

Starting the shower, he proceeded to step in and bathe.

``114 deg. F'' appeared in his consciousness. Instead of just feeling if
something was too hot or too cold before; he actually knew the temperature
now! ``This was cool.'' he thought.

As he moved down past his waist to wash his groin; he noticed that his cock
was no longer hard. It was hanging down to the left like it normally did,
and it was definitely bigger.

``What a relief,'' he thought to himself. He had already decided that he
would telecommute tomorrow if it was still a visible problem in the morning.

Michael finished showering, and dried off. When he walked out of the
bathroom, Julie was in her night-shirt under the covers.

``What were you doing in there,'' she asked?

Climbing into bed - he always slept naked - he explained to her how I was
examining himself a little more.

She reached down to feel his cock and moved the flaccid pole from one side
to the other.

``Aww,'' she said. ``You got rid of Mr. Happy.''

``It went away while I was showering,'' he cajoled her.

``Hopefully not for good,'' she continued, moving her hand up his body to
caress his cheek. She told him good-night and kissed his other cheek as she
drifted off into sleep.

That night, he couldn't sleep. It wasn't like he needed to, at this point.

He spent the next 7 hours exploring his consciousness.

Michael soon learned the ``textttIR'' camera was extremely cool; it
converted infra-red into visible light. He could now see in the dark and
tell if someone was running a fever; all in one fell swoop.

The ``UV'' camera was a little more obscure. It converted ultra-violet into
visible light. He wasn't sure where or how he would use this new gift but
none the less, he couldn't wait for the sun to come up and test it out.

The main camera was marked ``STD''. Michael assumed it stood for standard.
The only other thing he could come up with is that maybe it was a camera for
seeing if people had any sexually transmitted diseases. He dismissed that
latter thought almost immediately.

The camera marked ``REP/PREV'' wasn't actually a camera he soon realized. It
was more of a VCR. He thought about the shower just a few minutes ago, and
the scenes were replaying in the window. As soon as he wished the screen was
bigger, it maximized to occupy his entire field of view.

``So I just think what I want and it happens,'' he thought to himself.

``Go, go, gadget legs!'' he said softly.

He tried thinking back to him laying on the workbench down in the basement.
As soon as he finished his thought, the images of himself staring over at
Julie working at her keyboard appeared. He could even hear the sound of the
furnace.

Next, Michael thought back to New Year's Eve. He replayed he and Julie both
climaxing as the clock struck midnight over about 50 times. Each time, as
his 'self' crashed, the screen became all garbled and distorted, and then
black.

He thought back to last week. Arnie was telling the same stupid joke about
the difference between geeks and lawyers.

He thought back to last month. Julie and he had went out to T.G.I. Friday's
for dinner. He remembered clearly now how the waiter sucked, and he didn't
tip him very well. The taste of the steak and beer from that dinner though
was as strong as if he'd just ate there 2 hours ago.

He tried to remember as far back as he possibly could. The first images were
of him driving to the grocery store to get some guavas.

``This is odd,'' he thought. ``I wonder if this thing just had a rewind.''

``Just rewind,'' he thought outloud.

Like pressing rewind on a DVD player; faster and faster, strange images
appeared. He tried to keep up with them, but couldn't.

Images that looked like combat exercises. Images of him, holding machine
guns, shooting at targets; and at people. Images of him in an operating
room, or possibly a lab.

Men, women.

Strange men, and women. People he didn't know before. Army, Navy, Air Force,
and Marine uniforms. All ranks. Men in lab coats.

More images of himself.

Unassembled.

``Pause,'' he thought.

The timestamp read February 1, 1997, 18:11 GMT. There was his head, sitting
on a workbench, supported by a stand. A rather stout man sitting next to him
with a beard, was working at a keyboard.

Arms were to the left of him, his legs were to the right.

His hand, on the other side of him; was attached to a robot arm, not unlike
the kind you'd see in an automobile assembly plant (though much smaller).

``Play,'' he thought again.

The images rolled forward. There was no audio.

A woman was behind the man who was sitting next to his head. She was working
at another table. Her back was to him so he couldn't see exactly what she
was doing until she moved. Then he realized.

There in front of his eyes was his lower torso; rather his hips, supported
on the table by another harness. Out in front, sticking straight up in the
air, was his cock!

She walked over to him, or rather to the stout man sitting next to him and
the two went over to it. Next, she got a tray sitting next to her and held
it out in front of his cock. Last. she reached over to her keyboard and
pressed a few more buttons.

He came.

God, did he feel embarrassed at this point, looking at himself.

She was jumping up and down with joy, and the stout man was patting her on
the back.

A moment later, several other people entered the area, and she pressed the
button again.

He came, again.

One woman pressed a few more buttons and his cock spewed jism extremely
rapidly. The woman who was sitting there before gently pushed the other
woman away, pressed a few more buttons, and it stopped.

Michael's cock went limp, and the woman set the tray underneath it to catch
the drainage.

He had to stop this; he was getting too depressed, and looked at the clock
next to the bed which said midnight.

``Why is everyone so fascinated with my cock,'' he wondered.

He spent the rest of the night exploring different parts of his new gifts.
Putting on his robe, he went downstairs to the basement and watched the rest
of the videotape which Julie had recorded New Years.

It looks like she called Arnie over quite soon after she started recording.
He was there in about an hour, and did help her with him. He also helped
himself to him, too; which Michael wished he never saw!

Several hours into the tape, you could tell Julie was quite tired. Arnie
suggested to her to go to bed. She agreed, and walked up the stairs.

Arnie didn't notice the camera propped up on the shelf recording the whole
incident.

A few minutes after Julie left, he approached Michael, whose legs were
dangling off the long end of the table.

``You're an ASFR's fan dream come true,'' he said aloud.

``ASFR?! What the hell is ASFR,'' Michael thought to himself.

The next several minutes shocked and angered him immensely. Arnie proceeded
to violate his limp body there on the table.

Not once, but twice; he thrust his cock deep into his ass, picking his legs
up over his shoulders beforehand so he could 'get in'. When he was finished
fucking him, he grabbed his cock in his hands and proceeded to give him a
blowjob.

Michael was now pissed. He was furious! He wanted to drive over to Arnie's
apartment right now and beat the living shit out of him.

He felt hurt, abused, and violated.

Michael knew he had to come up with a way to get even with him, somehow. It
wasn't like he could go to the cops with any of this.

The rest of the tape was pretty benign. Arnie didn't violate him anymore -
that he could tell. He finished watching the tape around 3am, took it out of
the player and destroyed it.

Michael next looked over Julie's notes a bit. She apparently explored him a
little more than Arnie did. She, he didn't mind! She made detailed drawings
of the inside of his chest, arms, torso, back, etc.

It was really quite fascinating to him.

Michael was absorbing all of her notes when he didn't notice the time until
he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

``Honey,'' Julie said as she peeked around the corner. ``There you are!''
she said.

She came over to him and gave me a big hug. ``I got worried about you when I
woke up and you weren't in the bed,'' she said.

``I was doing some introspection,'' he told her.

She picked up the crumpled videotape sitting on the floor. ``What's this?''
she asked. ``Why did you destroy the tape?''

``There was nothing on there worth watching.''

``Fuck you, then,'' she yelled. ``I wanted to keep it for posterity!''

Trying to contain himself, he explained to her how if the tape fell into the
wrong hands, that they both could be in deep shit.

``You're right, as usual,'' she said; reaching up to kiss him.

She took his hand and guided him back up the stairs.

When the two got up to the main floor of the house, Julie proceeded to begin
fixing breakfast. Michael refastened his robe, and walked outside to pick up
the paper. The sun was just about to come up.

As he opened the door, he thought of turning on the UV camera and magically
his entire field of view was transformed. Beautiful hues of blue, violet,
red, and magenta emanated in waves from behind the landscape.

Everything else was kind of eerie looking. He could make out the grass and
windows in his neighbors' house - but everything else was black. The wood,
and concrete didn't reflect the UV rays hardly at all.

He thought of what the outside would look like in infrared. Just like
before, immediately after he finished his thought the view changed.

Michael found that this was even more beautiful than the last! Shades of red
to white filled the sky. Magenta streaks laid upon the asphalt from Mr.
River's car tires next door, who worked nights at a meat-packing plant and
always came home in the early morning hours.

He saw the heat from a squirrel, sleeping up in the tree.

``Fucking amazing,'' he said out loud.

Michael picked up the morning's Atlanta Journal Constitution, turned around,
and walked back inside. Julie set down some coffee for him at the table, and
he opened the paper.

As soon as he read the front-page, something deep inside me told me to turn
the page. He did; and 500 milliseconds later, he was finished looking at the
next page.

This continued for about 2 minutes. He finished all the sections of the
paper and set it down for Julie.

``Nothing interesting worth reading,'' she asked him; glancing at the paper
as he pushed it to her.

``Very,'' Michael told her. ``I finished reading it!''

Picking up the paper for herself, she looked at him from behind the pages,
``You couldn't do that before,'' she said.

``I couldn't do a lot of things before,'' he told her. ``The coffee you and
I are drinking; it's exactly 132 degrees Fahrenheit in temperature.'' He
went on, ``The toast, it's 103 deg. F. It's 71 deg. F in this room, with a
42% relative humidity.''

She laughed as she set her paper down. ``My boyfriend has been turned into a
walking meteorological station.''

Michael finished the toast and went upstairs to get dressed. He put on his
briefs and socks, picked a suitable shirt out of the closet, and put on his
jeans and belt.

While looking at himself in the mirror, he noticed the new `bulge' in his
pants. Julie had given him another 3 inches to his man-hood, and it was now
visible in his jeans. He debated untucking his shirt but figured he'd leave
it as it is. Untucked shirts were against the corporate climate of his
office.

Michael came downstairs, kissed her good-bye, and got into his car and
headed to work.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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