Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
I carry her to the car, settling her into the passenger seat, which is about as easy as trying to put a wildcat into a wet sack. She doesn’t quite know where she is, or what is happening to her. I activate the exterior lock before I shut the door so she can’t open it while we’re moving. That solves one problem, but she’s still next to me as I attempt to drive away.
Almost instantly, her hands are all over me, pawing at me in a most unladylike manner.
“I want to fuck you,” she says.
“You’re under the influence of drugs, young lady. You are going to go to bed.”
Even as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re pointless. She won’t sleep tonight. She probably won’t sleep tomorrow. Right now her mind is as wide as the ocean, and her energy levels are as high as they have ever been. An unethical sort would consider this a prime opportunity to program her.
I have never been an ethical man, though I do tend to be an honorable one.
I know where I can take her. Somewhere nobody will bother us. Somewhere her boundless energy will not prove a problem.
“I didn’t think I would like it here because it’s all so different, but actually everybody is very nice,” she babbles as we drive out of the city. “I thought you would be boring, and then I thought you were terrible. But you’re okay. I like sex. Do you like sex?”
“Yes,” I answer, a slight smirk on my lips. This is very wrong, but it is also quite amusing.
“I didn’t know what it was. I never asked before. Maraline used to make references sometimes, but she’d never dare tell me. Now I know more than her. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what it is like, I bet.”
She tells me all of her thoughts about sex, and how good it feels, and how much she likes it all the way out of town. I have to admit it is a rather gratifying conversation. I know for a fact she would not dare say any of these things if she were to be in her normal frame of mind.
Finally, she realizes that the terrain has changed significantly.
“Where are we?”
“Outside the city,” I explain. “Come on. Get out of the car.”
It’s safe enough to let her roam out here. I have no doubt that I’ll be able to hunt her down, and Lydia and some of the guard have followed us out so there’s backup if somehow she proves to be faster than I anticipate.
My bride is absolutely unaware of how very well protected she is from everything, including herself. Of course, she is far too high to be aware of such things. I keep a surprisingly indulgent eye on her as she steps out of the vehicle with a rapturous expression.
“It’s a desert! It’s all dust and nothing, and it goes forever!” She runs off into the dunes. I let her go, knowing I can easily run her down if I need to, and knowing that it will be better for her to burn off some of the energy coursing through her right now.
It is a desert, though not a natural one. The sand here is not made from rock, but from broken-down cement and brick structures that once stood here, covering hundreds of miles. There are remnants of ruins here and there, particularly large buildings that still stoically resist the forces of weather and time. They stand against the horizon, bent and broken, but not yet gone.
My bride runs about in the soft sand, her glittering dress flowing in the wind. I can take my shades off here and simply watch her. There isn’t enough light to bother my eyes, but there is more than enough to make her look like a glowing, flitting beauty against a backdrop of decay. In this dead place, she is the epitome of life itself.
Finally, she returns to me, beaming with happiness. I am going to have to discipline her for this eventually, but for now, all I want to do is indulge this sweetness and openness. I can’t start to question my value judgments around Soma. That would be a step too far, but I can set it to the back of my mind for a bit.
“I found bits of old road, I think, over there,” she says, holding a chunk of asphalt in her hands as she collapses next to me, curling up against me like a semi-feral kitten proud of its insensate prey.
“This is what is left of the world as it was,” I start to explain. “New Boston was built after the war, absorbing all of the citizens from the cities on the East Coast. It began as a city of refugees, each with their own loyalties and leaders. The city almost fell into civil war after it was founded, but then the Artifice was raised to the position of the highest authority. Unlike any of the other leaders, it had no agenda but to make the decisions that would lead to the most happiness, stability, and safety for those who lived in New Boston.”