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From: Stone-D <REMstoneOVE@link.net.id>
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Subject: {ASSM} RP : Shock - Part VI (M/F, MC, Mild NC, Rom)
Date: Mon, 17 Dec 2001 22:10:07 -0500
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Please refer to and read the header texts included in Part I, concerning
Copyright, Reproduction restrictions and Disclaimer.
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Shock (M/F, MC, Mild NC, Rom)
Copyright (C) by Stone-D 2001



Part VI : Choices

THE WOMEN SAT still after Daniel had finished his tale, looking shocked 
and stunned as they considered the implications. Beyond an occasional 
furtive glance between each other, they remained silent for several 
minutes; speechless in the face of what he had told them.

"So..." Elaine started eventually.

"He's a fuckin' god!" Chaz burst out excitedly.

Both Daniel and Elaine stared at her, confounded by her wild statement.

"Think about it!" she crowed, even as she saw the look on their faces. 
"Oh, come on! Not a 'God' god, but... look, he can do stuff with our 
heads, rewire them and shit. He can make things - MAKE things! And he's 
got us begging for it. Literally! Well, me at least. He's...!" Chaz's 
excited speech trailed off as she failed to fit a description to her 
new deity. Sucking her lower lip in frustration, she flapped her hands 
in defeat then slumped back into the seat with her arms crossed.

"Ummm... Elaine?" Daniel mumbled helplessly, but she barely noticed as 
she continued to stare at Chaz. Daniel sighed. "Look Chaz. I've told 
you, I can't actually 'make' anything. It's an illusion. Oh, it's real 
physically I suppose, but it won't hold up, not for long."

"Whatever. If you can touch it, hold it, see it, then it's real enough 
for me!"

That was true, Daniel thought as he reconsidered. If you think it's 
real, it may as well be real. Though it was a comment he usually 
associated with holograms in low budget science fiction films, he 
briefly pondered the implications behind the words before speaking. 
"Okay, I'll give you that. But, rewiring your brain?" He paused to 
carefully consider his words as he knew he could already do something 
along those lines - then he mentally crossed his fingers, desperately 
hoping that Elaine's memories of the incident with Dr. Farrell were not 
sufficient to make the short, logical jump to mind control. Oh shit, 
shit, shit! How could I possibly have known I would be in this 
situation? "Wellll... maybe. Sometime in the future. But not right now 
at any rate. Besides, I don't want to be able to do that." But I can. 
He carefully glanced at Elaine, watching for signs of trouble.

"Why the hell not?" Chaz asked. Elaine looked up at him, plainly 
wanting to know the answer herself.

"Well, for a start, would you feel comfortable hanging around with a 
guy that can turn you into a zombie sex slave if he felt like it?" 
Daniel snapped out, his voice more rough than he intended as he 
silently panicked.

Both the girls froze, shocked at his blunt words. "Umm..." said Elaine 
eventually after a brief moment of consideration.

"You haven't..." continued Chaz.

"No. NO! Of course not!" retorted Daniel angrily, rising straight in 
his chair. "Don't even think it! Besides," he continued, his voice 
softer as he regained control. "I'd be scared shitless. I'm no 
shrink..." Daniel paused again, remembering with growing disquiet each 
time he had tinkered with his own mind. He had felt no ill effects 
since his 'rewiring' session at the clinic; in actual fact he now felt 
much better than he had for years. No, could be a fluke, Daniel 
thought. Damn, looks like I'll have to swat up on biology after all. 
Shit! This is more trouble than it's worth.

"Oh." Chaz said. "Ah... I'll take your word for it. I think."

Elaine paled slightly and looked away.

Daniel noticed through his mental fog. "You... you don't... you're 
not... what?" He moaned unintelligibly as he collapsed, his head in his 
hands.

After a moment, he looked up again at the both of them with his hands 
clasped in prayer before his mouth and his chin resting on his thumbs. 
"Look, things are getting a bit... well, I..." Daniel muttered weakly. 
Then he took a deep breath and slowly stood up as they both looked at 
him. "I think we need to take a breather, don't you? I'm going to the 
office tomorrow, so I think I'd best call it a night. Besides, I need 
time to deal with everything that's happened today. Sl... err, sleep on 
it."

"Yeah. Good plan," Elaine said with faint relief. Chaz merely glared at 
her. "Need a lift? I didn't see a car outside."

"No, I'll be fine, thanks." He shrugged into his jacket. "I haven't had 
time to sort my license out yet. Besides, I don't have a car."

"Oh. Hang on, wait a minute." Elaine scrabbled momentarily amongst a 
pile of assorted papers next to the phone. "Here, write down your 
number. You've got mine after all."

"Oh! Sure." Accepting the offered pen, he scribbled down both his 
number and address. As an afterthought, he added his work number also. 
"I'll see you... what, tomorrow? That okay?"

"Sure. I'll probably get back around six or sevenish."

Chaz remained silent as she stared at the carpet while nibbling at her 
lower lip.

"Right, then. Uh, bye!" With that, Daniel left the girls and hurried 
out into the night.

"Bye," Elaine said quietly as she looked at Chaz.



By the time Daniel reached his apartment, his mood had lightened 
somewhat and he no longer felt the urgent need for a coma-like 
dreamless sleep. Feeling restive, he considered his options and decided 
to capitalize on his unexpected solitude; he did not know when he would 
next have such a good opportunity. He needed knowledge. He needed 
practice. Urgently.

A precautionary leak and a quick shower later he swept clear a suitably 
large space, arranged a selection of cushions and blankets around a low 
table, then settled himself down. A moment later he sprang back up and 
walked over to the music center, one of the first items he had dusted 
free of dirt and grim cobwebs together with the television. Pursing his 
lips thoughtfully, he finally selected 'Dreamland' by Robert Miles and 
inserted the compact disc into the tray. After turning the volume down 
to a low background level, he returned to the cushions and began to 
clear his mind - an easy task with 'Fable' playing in the background.

He had never had much problem relaxing. Merely the thought of smoking a 
joint was sufficient to leaden his limbs usually despite his long 
period of abstinence, but music always helped whatever the situation. 
Absolute silence can be worse than daytime street sounds. He recalled 
sourly how difficult he had found it as a teenager; every time he tried 
to slip into a trance or even merely relax, his mother almost always 
burst into his room - banging the door off the wall, of course - at 
exactly the wrong moment. That was also the reason he never brought 
girlfriends to his house.

Where to start? Daniel mused silently to himself. Can't really try out 
tel... Daniel grimaced internally and mentally shook his head. Focus, 
Daniel. Focus. 'Remember these, they help protect your privacy', Edward 
had said. So, farspeech is out. Same with... mentat? Mentation? 
Mentalism? Daniel winced. That was lame. Better than running around 
'bending' people though. That sounded perverse. So that left 'lifting' 
and 'creation'. Daniel cringed at the word, recalling how Chaz had 
wildly claimed his status as a Supreme Being and Edward's admonitions 
against any such aspirations. No, he thought to himself. They made a 
bad choice picking on that term. The last thing I need now is to be 
called a Creator. Next thing I know I'll get picked up by the FBI on 
suspicion of starting a cult. Then they'll interrogate Elaine and Chaz, 
probably find out about my ability to put people in a 'religious 
frenzy' and really do a number on me.

After a few minutes of trying to refocus his attention on the here and 
now - a difficult task as any practising meditator will attest to - he 
decided to try his hand on telekines... There I go again, Daniel 
thought sourly. Right, that's it.

He grudgingly climbed to his feet and moved to the music center again. 
Removing the 'Dreamland' cd, he replaced it with Prodigy's 'The Jilted 
Generation' and returned once again to the cushions after switching 
straight to track two. Better, he thought grimly. Kinda trancy but not 
dreamy. Better than their more recent efforts anyway.

It took Daniel much less effort now to concentrate.

Four months previously he had thrown a ballpoint pen onto the table, a 
black one with a transparent plastic body and a removable cap. Coated 
as it was in a thick layer of filth, it had long since dried up and was 
completely useless in its original function; but now it was an ideal 
subject for his experimentation. Concentrating intently, he gazed at 
the pen and willed it to move. Nothing. Not a twitch, not even the 
pathetic tremble Edward had proudly demonstrated on the twig earlier 
that day. Remaining unconvinced, Daniel tried again. And again. And yet 
again. Ten minutes later he gave up, feeling extremely disappointed. 
That would have been really useful, he thought to himself sadly.

Feeling slightly cramped, he stood up and stretched - gazing morosely 
at the pen as it remained obstinately loyal to gravity. He shuffled to 
the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water; for some reason, 
whenever Daniel tried to meditate or relax in any way he always ended 
up with a parched throat. With his enthusiasm severely reduced, he 
returned to the cushions.

Right, he thought bitterly as he looked at the pen. Sod you then. Have 
it your way.

After settling down and relaxing again, Daniel focused his mind 
completely on the object of his ire. Slowly, everything else became 
indistinct, unimportant. Only the pen drew his attention, filling both 
vision and thought. He could 'feel' the texture, the smooth cap and the 
rough grip. The shiny plastic body, transparent like fogged glass. 
Holding all the details firmly in his mind, he then overlaid a fresh 
copy onto his external vision - and there it was, an identical twin in 
every way.

Daniel slowly released his breath after assuring himself he was not 
imagining it. Well, he thought wryly to himself. I am, really. Slowly, 
he reached out and picked up the twin in one hand and the original in 
the other. Bringing them close, he carefully compared the two; almost 
no difference, except that the new twin felt slightly smoother and was 
lacking the layer of grime the original had.

Shaking his head faintly in fascination as he continued to examine the 
two pens, he recalled Edward's astonishment at the spontaneous 
materialization of the twig he had made earlier. Daniel was not a fan 
of Star Trek, but he was familiar with the effect Edward had described. 
However, he was familiar with the more serious discussions in and 
around usenet regarding the mechanics of matter transference, mainly to 
do with how really strong supercomputers would be needed to isolate and 
record every atom of the original. Computers - never mind 
supercomputers - being far superior to human thought in terms of speed, 
the generally accepted theory was that were such an act possible, both 
the encoding and decoding processes would be instantaneous - it would 
have to be, to even have a chance at avoiding the problem of constantly 
shifting atoms.

Removing the caps on both the pens, Daniel carefully examined the 
balled tip, noting with wry self amusement how he had forgotten to add 
the stained and used look to the twin. 'If you can touch it, hold it, 
see it, then it's real enough for me!' Chaz had said earlier. But would 
it hold up to close inspection without the original for comparison? 
Maybe yes, but... but...

Frantically casting his eyes about the room, he finally settled on an 
old copy of the Times and savagely tore out the index. Taking up the 
duplicate with trembling hands, he crouched over and signed his name. 
Nothing! It was dry! Daniel glowered at the pen in his grip - then he 
realized his mistake. Laughing quietly at himself he smacked his palm 
against his forehead as he saw how the 'ink' in the center was merely a 
strip of black coloring. Details, Daniel. Details.

Picturing the pen once again in his mind, he tried to imagine the thin, 
black core of the original; but instead of the solid mass he knew it to 
be, he pictured it as having a supple, more fluid texture. Satisfied, 
he glanced at the table and a moment later a second copy appeared, 
close to the first. Hands still shaking with agitation, he picked up 
version two and attempted once again to sign his name. Yes! It worked! 
Daniel crowed silently. However, as Daniel looked closer at the scrawl 
on the cracked index page, he noticed with faint disappointment how the 
'ink' looked more like chalk than anything else. Faintly greasy to the 
touch, it smeared as he rubbed it gently with his thumb, leaving a wide 
smudge on the paper that improved a tiny headshot of the president.

He leaned back and grinned inanely to himself as his disappointment 
slowly faded, new possibilities revealing themselves to him. Why, 
this... this... His grin widened as he remembered what Edward had said. 
Once he was gone, once he had left the apartment or merely left the 
room, the pen would be gone. Turned to dust as if it had never been. 
And so would the ink. It was like the famous self destructing message 
from Mission Impossible but less violent and more mysterious. If he was 
careful, not even an impression would remain - at least to the naked 
eye. No scientific instrument in the world would find a trace of the 
'ink', he was sure of that.

Feeling profoundly cheerful, he repeated his experiment again and 
again, mildly irritated he had no other writing implements to hand. 
After the original ballpoint was joined by a sixth, then a seventh, he 
forced himself to leave it alone and turn his attention to other 
pursuits besides repeatedly defacing the photographs on the torn index 
sheet.

Damping his excitement down, he sat and surveyed the contents of the 
room before his attention was disrupted by a movement near the lamp 
beside the music center. A small moth was mindlessly battering itself 
futilely against the lampshade, firmly convinced that the bulb within 
was the moon and not a red hot piece of glass. Edward had mentioned the 
'stage magicians' and their doves - why not a moth?

Freshly grinning to himself in anticipation, he slowly inched his way 
closer in an attempt to not frighten the moth away. It was a waste of 
time; obsessed as it was with its fatally false lunar deity, the moth 
cared not a damn about Daniel nor anything else, even pain or imminent 
death.

Once Daniel was close enough to be able to see the moth in detail 
whenever it alighted on the shade, he began to intensely study the tiny 
creature. He saw the wings which he knew to be extremely fragile and 
prone to disintegration when touched; he saw the smooth, furry body 
that he knew to be made of the hard yet brittle chitin; he saw the 
feelers, hairlike and flexible as a whip. Glancing at the glowing bulb, 
he also recalled with faint self disgust the smell when, as a child, he 
had torched a number of them with his father's magnifying glass along 
with an army of unlucky ants.

Firmly holding the image in his mind, he again overlaid a copy over his 
vision, forcing his brain to edit the information coming from his 
eyeballs. A moment later it was there; identical in every way that he 
could see, and perched on the lampshade next to its sibling. Startled, 
the original fluttered up and away, circling the lamp haphazardly in 
surprise and confusion.

With faint glee, Daniel sent the false clone to chase its original, 
remembering with a low chuckle the number of bad B-Movie horror films 
he had seen with a similar plot. It was a thrill unlike any other. 
Daniel could 'feel' the wings blurring in flight, the abdomen flexing 
as it swung back and forth with the effect of a rudder, the antennae 
waving back and forth in false imitation of the original's navigational 
skills. Sending it swooping to and fro in its tireless chase of the 
original, the sight was almost magical and Daniel slowly came to terms 
with his new abilities, his new power. He could see no end to the 
possible uses for this 'creativity'; why, he may even be able to make 
money from it. If he was careful. Edward would probably not approve if 
Daniel jumped onto the stage magician bandwagon.

Half an hour later he abandoned his new toy, snapping out of his 
reverie as he pulled himself back to his original plan. He let the 
false moth fall lifeless and inanimate to the tabletop with a hollow 
thump as he considered his powers. What were his limits? he pondered. 
True, it was disappointing that he had no access to the so-called 
'teekay' ability, but his apparent strength in creativity more than 
made up for that. But how strong am I? he wondered.

Searching the room once again, he tried to find a suitable challenge. 
He hunted for new targets all over; searching the tables, the chairs 
and the sofa. The sofa! Why not? Daniel thought wryly. But, what the 
hell.

Barely a minute into the attempt he was sweating, his temples throbbing 
as he fought to hold all the details of the large sofa in his mind. The 
cushions, the curved side panels, the tassled fringe - all of these and 
more he tried to duplicate in his mind. When it came to the pattern he 
decided to cheat; rather than picturing the fabric as a whole, he chose 
to borrow the technique used in 3D modeling to lay out bitmaps on an 
object's surface by 'storing' only a small piece of the patterned 
fabric in his mind and then replicating it across the entire sofa.

Smiling grimly to himself in his concentration and with beads of 
perspiration trickling down the back of his neck and his forehead, he 
once again lied to his brain and overlaid his memorized sofa onto the 
image his eyeballs were sending him. With a vocal shout of astonished 
glee and self congratulation a new sofa appeared, right where he had 
imagined it.

It was incredible. He had succeeded. Difficult though it had been, 
Daniel could not help but dream of of the possibilities now open to 
him. He had successfully created a new sofa - the largest moveable item 
in the room. He could see no difference between the two; the copy was 
so lifelike he had to refocus as his witlessly gyrating mind 
momentarily forgot which was the original. With nervous trepidation, 
Daniel approached the new sofa - almost expecting it to vanish in a 
blink, back to his fevered imagination from where it had never moved.

Shaking his head firmly to wipe the notion from his mind, he took a 
deep breath and slumped down onto his creation.

A split second later, he was rolling around the floor in a cloud of 
dust, his face screwed in agony as he clutched at his bruised backside. 
"OWWW! SHIT! Shit, shit, shit, FFFFFUCK!" he hissed unintelligibly. 
Long minutes later, he carefully crawled to the cushions and stretched 
himself out, still rubbing his agonized tailbone as he panted and 
gulped at the pain with tears flowing down his cheeks. "You little 
bastard!" he gasped, glaring hatefully at his tormentor. So that's how 
God must feel when we humans buttfuck his pretty planet, Daniel thought 
grimly.

The sofa, while looking very realistic, was anything but. Where Daniel 
had tried to seat himself was a gaping hole, all the way down to 
scuffed area where his beloved glutius maximus had impacted heavily 
against the extremely solid wooden floor. The fake sofa was just that; 
a fake. There was merely a shell, an outline of the original. Where 
there should have been wood, foam and springs imbedded in layered 
fibres there was nothing but air and slowly settling dust. Sitting 
there with a huge, Daniel-sized hole in the middle, it was almost as if 
it was laughing at him. Cursing vehemently, Daniel nursed his assaulted 
rear and wished a number of unlikely fates upon the copy.

"Get a grip," he mumbled to himself eventually. Wincing painfully, he 
stood up and hobbled over to the fake sofa. He kicked at it. His foot 
passed straight through and tore a ragged gash in the side, sending a 
fresh flurry of dust into the still air. Almost nothing had registered 
on his toe as it had passed through the sofa beyond a mild resistance, 
the surprise nearly sending Daniel crashing to the floor again. The 
false sofa's shell had the consistency of paper, tissuelike in 
substance. Structurally, it was sufficiently sound only to maintain the 
illusion; nothing else. Daniel sighed to himself. Oh, well. Can't have 
everything.

Cheering himself up by remembering his success with the moth, he 
drifted back to the cushions and laid down to stare blankly at the 
cracked paint on the ceiling. His mind wandered to the events of the 
day; Edward, Elaine... Chaz. God, he thought to himself as his heart 
skipped a beat. What a mess. If Elaine puts two and two together...

He realized how stupid his 'zombie sex slave' outburst had been; now, 
they were doubtlessly filled with imagined horrors of what Daniel could 
do to them - if not now, then in the future. How the hell am I going to 
get myself out of this? he cried silently to himself, twisting his face 
in chagrin as his wildly thrashing thoughts tried to imagine what the 
two girls were discussing in his absence.

There was no avoiding the fact that he could indeed 'rewire their 
minds' - essentially he had already interfered with Chaz when he forced 
her into a deep sleep; add to that the induced orgasms together with 
what they implied, and Daniel could very well have dug himself a very 
deep hole. Regretting woefully that he had lied to them, Daniel 
realized what he had to do if he wanted peace of mind. He had to tell 
them the truth, before it was too late. All of it. Better that than 
they somehow find out for themselves and accuse him later of deceiving 
them.



'Shock' continues in Part VII : A New Leaf

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