Rebirth free porn video

Rebirth (Author's note: This is a sequel to 'Laura's Ladies', and will make more sense if that is read first, but this can be read without doing so.) *** At the far edge of my vision, one of the big windows is shattered. The rest are streaked and dusty in the bright sunlight. That disturbs me. How can people see me when the windows are not clean? I can't see my reflection. My thoughts drift like warm honey. I stand in my pose, as I always have. I'm wearing black, strappy high heels, and a bare shouldered, green summer frock. It is cute, and cut revealingly. It sets off my long, slim legs nicely. A treacle of memory of a matching emerald clutch purse in my left hand troubles me. It isn't there now, and I see dust on my slightly curled fingers. I wonder when someone will come to change my outfit. Dreamily I consider that no one is passing by in the street outside. Thinking about it makes me focus, at least the little that I can, on the car in the street outside. It's rear is crumpled in, and the driver's door gapes open. It too is streaked with dust, with leaves caught on its windshield wipers. I am almost sure that is wrong. Then a large rat skitters into sight, and dives underneath the car. I watch unblinking, but with little interest. It too seems wrong, but I am not alarmed. I stand, as I have stood forever, on my pole, in my pretty dress. Plastic, slim, lovely, and desirable in my window. The sky goes dark and I can see nothing. Were there lights in the dark before? I am still wondering that when the sky lightens again. It is raining. Hard rain washes the windows somewhat, and at the far edge of my vision I see a little rivulet making its way across the floor, coming from the broken window. By the beginning of the dark time it has made its way around the knee high black leather boots of my companion, posed on her pole. The water pools there. Her boots are dull, and cracked. She and I stand apart. Why do I shy away from thinking about her pole? The dark happens, and I stop thinking. It's light, and I dreamily consider that it seems like so long since anyone came to change my outfit. I would like that to happen. I need to be at my prettiest always. No one passes by in the street outside? Wondering about that makes me focus, at least the little that I can, on the car in the street outside. It's rear is crumpled in, and the driver's door gapes open. That seems wrong, somehow. My thoughts slide to a slick upon the floor around my fellow mannequin's boots. Why is it there? *** With the window glass set to opaque the room was dim. A trio sat around the conference table; intent, shadow figures in the gloom, ignoring the opulent furnishings. The view from the recently completed 164th ring of the New Seattle arcology would have been stunning, had the windows been set to transparent, but the three would have ignored it. On the table a sleek EM jammer hummed. Bars of green lights glowed steadily on its panel. They glanced at that occasionally, but mostly ignored it. The first of them, a woman of remarkable beauty, looked at the other two and began to speak. "As you know, subjects Alpha and Bravo, recovered eight months ago in Boston, have both been revived. One is confirmed to not be our primary target, while efforts to determine if Bravo might be it are still underway. We believe that to be unlikely at this point. Their revival was flawed, as expected. Bravo is in a persistent vegetative state, and is of no further use to us." Her voice was soft and lovely, but devoid of emotion. "Alpha has impaired cognitive function. Still, had she been our target she could have been controlled successfully for our purposes. As she was in stasis for nearly 13 years, this does imply that the project has at least a partial chance of success." She brushed her silken midnight bangs out of her eyes, and turned to the larger of the two men who shared the table with her. "What progress from our tracking endeavors, Mr. Fox?" "I am pleased to report that we have good news in that department, Mz. Kyle." The man was young appearing, fit, and dark skinned. "Our operatives are narrowing in on two more of the missing principals. They appear to be somewhere in Portland, Maine. This information came from a cache of corporate shipping and inventory records we recently discovered. Confidence is high that one of them is our target. Portland was not as badly damaged as many of the Northeastern cities. When, if, they are located and recovered, revival procedures will immediately begin. When we know more, I will arrange another meeting. We are continuing the search for the final principal, but with no success to date." He turned to the third figure. "Mr. Wayne?" The third figure was a large, classically handsome man with craggy features. He spoke in a quiet baritone. "Financing is progressing. Significant, but unassuming positions in the Company have now been finalized for 11 different off-shore shell companies. They are, so far, attracting no attention. Three more will maximize our capability. Beyond that, there is not enough stock in play to make a difference. Cover trading between the shells has already commenced, so that no change in the usual market activity will tip our hand. Once our sought- for target is also in play, her proxies and the 14 shell corps will control enough to carry the project through to success. As the funds become available the last three will be activated over the next 9 months." He paused to sip from a water glass. "We have confirmed the commitment of 4 board members now, but have run into an unexpected stumbling block with Mr. 'R'. It appears our initial assessment that he could be turned to our side was inherently flawed. There is very little chance of that occurring now. He was on your contacts list Mz. Kyle, so recommendations,?" The other two considered the information in silence for a moment. The woman leaned back and crossed her long legs, revealed partially by her designer dress's side slit. "We should verify there is truly no chance of his coming on board. Make one last approach, offer the maximum we can, with all the pressure we can apply. If that is rejected, I suggest that an accident be arranged. Indications are his replacement may be more amenable. We should have some time for contingency plans, even if that prospect fails to fall into line." Mr. Fox nodded in assent. "I concur with that course. If you do not object, Mr. Wayne, please put the necessary pieces into motion." Mr. Wayne nodded, "I will. The proceedings of this meeting will be forwarded to Mr. Kent, as per usual." He stood, bulking huge in the dim room. The other two stood as well. Both appeared small in comparison, though the woman was 5' 10" in her heels, and Fox was another two inches taller than that. Mr. Fox leaned over and killed the power to the jammer. Without another word the three filed out. *** Light fills my eyes; vague shapes moved and changed shape before me. A voice comes from far away. I swim towards it through sweet-smelling cerise clouds. "Laura! Laura? If you can hear me, Laura, try to move. Take your time, but please move your right hand's index finger." 'Move?' I think dimly. I don't move. I just stand in my window. I am admired. I ... don't move? But the voice was warm, soothing, and insistent. A desire to help it, to try to do what it wanted me to do wells up from within me. Then another thought swims out of the pretty clouds, and into focus. I have a name? I am Laura? I don't really remember, but... I hope so. It... it means something special to me. It's a pretty name. I like it. It sounds so familiar, it must be. Laura... I'm glad it's my name. My thoughts drift again. The voice brings me back. "Your right index finger, Laura, please." I considered that, and wondered if I had a right index finger? Were they good to have? An awful feeling intrudes into my dream. Something awful had happened to my fingers. I think about fingers. And then a strange thing happens. I feel something. I feel a quiver, a 'feeling' on my right hand. I can feel things? I don't remember that. I try to focus on it. "Her finger moved, doctor!" someone said. "Excellent," says the deep, soothing voice. "Laura, listen to me carefully. You are waking up now. You feel relaxed and happy. You want to help as much as possible. Is that right?" I try to agree; to say 'yes', but all that comes out is a long sigh, sort of like "Yhhhhhhhh". "So very good, Laura. You are being such a good girl. Just a little more and you can rest again. We need to be sure you are... who we hope. Tell me what your middle name is. Take your time," says deep, soothing voice. I have more names? So wonderful. But what is the other one? My mind floats about in the cloud, and things swim into my consciousness. One of them is 'Lynn'. It feels right, somehow, following 'Laura'. It has a familiarity to it; it stirs vague memories. I think it might make the soothing voice happy. I breathe out, shaping my breath into "Lhhhyyyyyyyyynn". I hear an excited gasp, and a different voice whispers loudly, "It's HER! It must be her! We've found her!" Then the deep, warm voice speaks to me again. "That's so good Laura. We're so happy you are back. You've been such a good girl. Now you can go back to sleep for a little while. I'm going to count down to 1, and when I next say 'one', you will fall into a restful sleep again. Five, Four..." My eyelids flicker open, and the pink cloud dissolves into dim light. I see vague shapes moving around me. I had spoken?! I feel something touch me. I FEEL! The 'feeling' overwhelms my thoughts. "Three, Two..." "Doctor, her heart rate is spiking!" I feel a bed under me. It had been so long. Long? So very long since I 'felt' anything! 'How long had it been?! Then it was way too much 'feeling' for me to take. It comes crashing in from all directions, and I flee from it. "One." Comforting darkness floods through me, and all the feeling goes away. *** It was a different room, but still dim. The window was again charged to total reflection, ensuring the room was dark, save for a single lamp in one corner. On the newly completed 170th floor of the arcology, the same three people considered each other over another EM jammer. "It's been a long year. But now Mr. Kent believes it's time to launch operation QuickChange," began Mr. Wayne, in his deep voice. "On my end the financing is as good as we can achieve. All 14 shell positions are ready and trading back and forth, to keep the daily volume in normal ranges. Is there anything that might throw that assumption into question?" Mz Kyle smiled coldly. The smile ended at her perfect lips, never reaching her expertly made up eyes. "Subject Delta has significant mental trauma, but is responding well to treatment and is expected to make a full recovery eventually. Subject Charlie, now designated subject Omega, has been revived, and is definitively confirmed as our target. Revival took much longer than expected, apparently due to DNA and chromosomal damage. This no longer a concern, but was likely due to the 23 year duration in stasis, the primitive stasis techniques used at the time, and of course the trauma of the victimization. Her mental state is fragile and somewhat limited currently, but in far better shape than we had any real hope of. That said, Omega is progressing well, and it is predicted she will be in the desired state of mental control within three days. She is already in an encouragingly compliant state." She stopped, looking at Mr. Fox. He cleared his throat, and began. "Now that we have confirmed Omega is our target, and is performing as desired, we have closed the tracking operation down. Subject Echo, the husband, remains yet unfound, but is of no use to us anyway. As he hasn't been recovered, his shares pass to her anyway once her identity is verified. All legal assets are in place, and we expect to reveal her on Friday. The PR operation is awaiting launch. I see no impediments to launching QuickChange simultaneously. The Chair's squandering of our assets in her 'do- gooder' efforts to save what's left of old California will soon end." Mr. Wayne took over again. "I will give the go-ahead for the financial attack to begin. All shells will start acquiring their maximally enhanced positions later today, beginning with low-key buying in the EU markets. The activity is sure to increase the stock price soon, and when the news of Quickchange breaks, will spike. So personal... improvements to our own portfolios can begin immediately. Mr. Kent will be informed of the readiness, and initiation of the overseas maneuvering. My friends," he said with a smile, "We are beginning! Prepare to be richer than God by this time next week." The three perfect appearing humans flashed pearly shark smiles at each other, and then quietly left the room. *** The nurse holds the mirror up for me to see. Instead of a traditional hospital gown, I am wearing a tailored, shimmery, golden silk gown that shines in the bright overheads. It comes demurely down to my knees; clinging loosely to my waist and hips, and enhancing my bust without exposing my boobs at all. I love it. The look is beautiful. I am beautiful. I look... so young, no more than 20. I, I remember being much older... being 30 or more once, but when? Now I am completely bald, and have no makeup on. The latter concerns me. It shouldn't be. I am used to being beautifully painted. The nurse notices my wince. "We can get you a wig if you like, honey? Your body's hair hasn't had a chance to grow since we brought you up to normal metabolism levels. We think that will start up soon, perhaps within a week even, so don't fret, it isn't permanent." I think about it for a moment. My thoughts have been unusually precise today. Vague memories of longer than shoulder-length tresses swim into my mind. I know I'll be much more comfortable with that look, though being bald doesn't disturb me. I nod acceptance. "Something long, and auburn please, if you can, I've always liked that color," I whisper. "Maybe some lipstick and stuff too, I... need some. Please?" I ask. "I feel naked without it." As she nods assent and turns to leave, I go on, "Also, this is such a lovely gown. I've never seen anything like it in a hospital before." She turns back. "Honey, bringing you back has turned you into a living miracle; and our star attraction right now. You can have anything you want. But just wait till the media gets at you. You may regret all the attention then." She smiled gently, and I know she's being kind, but also warning me. Still, the thought of the attention appeals. I liked being looked at. Her smile runs away from her face. "Then the big brains will be descending on you, to try to figure out why you've come back from, from having all 'that' done to you, and then having been in stasis for over two decades. That's some kind of record, you know. And they're desperate to figure out how you've come through it all still sane. That might not be much fun. Talking about it, I mean." Then she grins. "Oh, and the gown, that's just part of the premium package for our top tier clients. Being as rich as you are, honey, you can have the best wigs, makeup, and all the perks you can think of. We'll get a couple of experts in to help you with the current trends in makeup right away." She smiles again, and waves as she leaves. The door whooshes quietly out of the wall, closing in her wake. I sink back into my pillow and for a brief moment, as my tiredness turns into sleep, I wonder about being rich. *** With a sudden start I am aware of being touched. I'm standing in front of the painting of a forest river, with tall blue and white mountains in the background. I had been blindly looking at it, yes, but how had I missed a man walking up beside me? His hand is on my shoulder, and I hadn't even noticed anyone come in! Then he speaks, and I know him. Dr. Domus. Relief fills me. Greg talked to me many times before. He's my so handsome doctor. With his neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard, good build, and full, wavy, mahogany brown hair he is so dreamy. His eyes are an emerald green that I could just drown in. I had sometimes actually dreamed about him over the last few days. He is always kind to me. Many of the others were not. He looks into my eyes with concern. A smile flickers on his face, and my room somehow seems brighter. But how had he appeared...? A male nurse is also moving quietly about my room. I glance at him. He peers at me sideways, then quickly looks away. But he says nothing until Greg speaks to him. "Matthew, how long has Mz. Langston been standing here?" "She was there when I came in, Doctor, about 20 minutes ago. Still as a post. Kinda weird if you ask me." He began to prepare a hypo-spray. My mind is slow, foggy, but I don't think I've been staring at the picture for more than a few seconds. Am I losing what sanity I had, or could he be lying? But I hadn't noticed Greg till he touched me. I knew I'd slept, and awakened, and people had asked me things, and that had all happened many times now. I was still in the hospital, and I was getting better. I could walk about again. But my mind wasn't always there. "Hello Laura," Greg says cheerfully, as he glances at the wall of screens reporting what the remote monitoring saw happening in me. I can hear the concern in his voice. "Are you feeling better today?" He pulls a little pen light out, and flashes it in each of my eyes in turn, studying me. I nod, and smile back. The mental fog in my head suddenly thickens, and I have to struggle to think again. It comes and goes like that, and makes it hard to get the right words out. I knew everyone was so disappointed when I didn't. The right words were so important to them, and I just have to make them happy. The words are always there, but like schools of little shiny fish they often dash away in a cloud of silver when I reach for them. Today they are slower, and for once I easily catch the ones I seek. "Absolutely, Dr. Greg." I whisper after a few seconds, smiling again. "Has this... fugue state happened before this?" He gazes at me worriedly. "I, I'm not sure. Maybe. Sometimes the hours just jump by. So I guess so. Is it bad?" I realize I am worried, though of what I'm not certain. "Mmmm, could be a sort of Dissociative Fugue state, albeit an unbelievably extreme one. I'll need to look into it; to check your telemetry vitals for the last couple of days," he says gently. "But right now someone will be in shortly to talk to you. Are you up for that at this time, Laura?" I nod yes, slowly. He turns to the nurse. "Matthew, delay the daily shot till after she talks to the board rep." "Yes 'sir'" Matthew replies in an unctuous voice. I don't like him. He is not nice most of the time, and treats me like, like a thing, not a person. Greg turns back to me. "You are much improved over a few weeks ago, lucky lady. You're quite a feather in my cap. There was a time when we really doubted if we could put you back together, let alone that you'd be aware of us." He gazes levelly at me. "Do you remember what we talked about before?" The mind fog is fading away. I quietly reply, "At ... least some of it, I think, Doctor Greg". "Well, it can't hurt to go over it again. The rep will expect you to understand what has been done to... for you." He pulled over a chair and sat on the edge, leaning forward so he was comfortably close. "You were the victim of an awful crime, Laura. You were subjected to what was an experimental procedure back then, and placed into a sort of biological stasis." I find it hard to think about that. It scares me. He must have seen the fear in my eyes, and starts over. "A very bad person named Brad changed your body against your will. He hurt you, even mutilated you, turned you into... a statue of sorts and hid you in plain sight for so very long, as a ... sort of a trophy. He did it to steal your wealth, Laura." Memories of what Brad had done to me start to fill my mind and I whimper in rising panic. Dr. Domus reaches for my hand and holds it in his, comfortingly, making soothing sounds until my breathing steadies again. "It's okay now, Laura. He died over twelve years ago. You're safe... with me, I promise." He thought for a moment. "You were in stasis, on disp... frozen, for a long time. Almost twenty four years in total, and so much has changed. Almost everything really. The world is not as you knew it. But that's not important, right now." He shifts, and lets go of my hand, patting it as he does so. I close my eyes for a moment to savor the comforting feeling of his hand touching mine. Then he continues. "It was luck, being able to find out about his crimes, to bring you back, really. Some recordings he'd made long ago, sort of a digital gloating journal apparently. They surfaced three years ago during a reporter's research for a story on this company, Pytheas, its origins." I wanted to ask him for more about that, but he went on before I could get the words out. "From them they learned what he had done to you and your husband, and in later years, others - to three more women who were in relationships with him. He was a very sick man. Once the truth came out they started looking for all of you. It was sensational, and good PR, but mostly they want to study the effects of your ordeal on you, and the others. It is helping the space program." His voice dropped low. "They may desire more of you... soon," he trailed off, glancing at Matthew, who didn't appear to have been paying attention. Dr. Greg lets go of my hand and gently brushes a lock of my wig out of my eyes. "They found two of the later victims about two years ago. They've also been revived, but didn't respond as well as you. They found you and the third woman last year. They're still looking for your husband. World events have made the searches very hard. Many records were lost after the Big One hit us in '29. We're still coming back from that, and The Collapse, and the Long Depression are still crippling what's left of the world." He looks at me kindly. "Let me know if you need a sip of water, Laura, or a little break, anytime." I nod. "What really matters for you though, is that among the things that have changed are great medical advances, helped by a massive breakthrough in computer capability. Quantum computers hit the market around the same time you were... hurt. Your being in stasis meant we could repair everything done to you slowly enough to do it perfectly, and while much tissue and even some organs were destroyed, the trauma was limited only to the specific areas he had damaged, and those we were able to completely replace and repair." His demeanor got visibly prouder as he continued. "We used nanotech and our 3rd gen Q-processor autodocs to reassemble you, literally at the cellular level and outwards. Using stem cell techniques we were able to print new organs, skin, and even hands and feet for you with our 3D med printers, based on your own DNA. One problem was the autodocs reported a pervasive corruption in your DNA from the expected baselines for a woman of your age. They were oddly uncertain about treatment. We had to force an override. Anyway, then stem cells were delivered to precise loci by nanotech carriers, the newly grown replacements were attached, and the Q-comp autodocs oversaw integrating you seamlessly back together." For all I understood of what he was saying, he needn't have bothered. It was just witchcraft to me. But like almost all doctors he was tremendously proud of how he helped people. He continued, satisfaction in his voice. "I have to admit your case was much harder than the others. We think the prototype form of the stasis, and his inexperience with the technique is what damaged your DNA, especially your skin. Fortunately we were able to correct the errors that had crept in to it, but at the cost months of reconstruction. But your body is now whole again, even the missing organs from where he... did massive damage to your pubes, have been replaced and are functioning perfectly." He smiled encouragingly. I worry over what that means, licking my lips, and he sees my uncertainty. "It doesn't matter, Laura, the important thing is you're healthy and completely better." He passes me the glass of water, and I sip gratefully, leaving a lipstick smear on the rim. I smile at it. It is a mark of my being alive again. Of being human. He pats my hand again. "When they find your husband, we'll fix him too, as we did for you. At least physically. Unfortunately one of the first woman we recovered, well, her mind didn't survive at all, so we can't promise anything more. We still can't build new brains for people. Pieces, sometimes, but the brain's delicate functions, such as awareness and memory are still mostly beyond our capabilities." He went silent, his eyes gazed at the painting. He touched his temple for a moment, his lips moving, and then glanced at a shiny square embedded in the back of his hand. "Whoops, I have to go now. An emergency has just come in and they need me. I'll see you later, Laura, and the Corporation rep will be here very shortly." He smiles briefly, glances at Matthew again, and then in a serious, almost stilted voice says "They are very eager to talk to you, so you be good and try to help them as much as possible." With that he waved a little goodbye, and left. Matthew checks the screens, ushers me into my bed again, and places a small device over my arm. It stiings for a moment, then clings without further pain, and he busies himself on a tablet. An odd cool sensation spreads through me, and the taste of rubbing alcohol somehow comes to me, but my mind suddenly clears. I settle back to think about everything I'd just heard. I'm calm, and yet feel worried at the same time. I knew I had already been told much of what Greg had just said, but it was like a sort of reverse deja-vu. I'd known it, but had been unable to recall it till I heard it again. Even more worrying for me - they all thought I should be very concerned for my husband, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't remember what he looked like, or how he sounded, or anything about him. It was like my mind had blocked him completely out. I hope I remember him soon. I must have loved him once. *** The rep breezed in a few minutes later. She was dressed in an designer outfit that screamed 'I have money!', with the most exquisite makeup I'd ever seen. She made me feel raggedy and frumpy in my gold-silk gown and my 'expert' makeup. Her experts were obviously better than mine. Propped up in my bed, I nervously arranged my auburn wig's fall onto my shoulders, and surreptitiously finger-combed it. "Hello Mz. Langston. I'm Melanie Budreau, head of the Pytheas Corporation Legal division. May I call you Laura?" Even her voice was soft, and beautiful, like golden honey. I feel so out of my league. "Of course, Mz. Budreau," I almost whispered back. Her smile was warm, but somehow almost mechanical. "Oh, please call me Melanie, Laura. I hope we become good friends, so first names are a good start." "I'm here to fill you in on some very important matters, Laura. But basically, we need your help. Let me explain." I nod, and she sits down in the chair the nurse had deferentially placed behind her. "First, Laura, who are we to need your help? Pytheas is the largest bio-tech company in the world, plus we have a major stake in D-WaveTM now, the Q-Comp leaders. We're the 4th highest valued company left in the world, based on applications of our artificial skin, stasis, and cellular regeneration patents, and our D-WaveTM holdings." I started to glaze over, but she doesn't notice, and plows on. "Much of that was even used to resurrect you. But beyond just healing accident victims, using nanotech and stem cell tech to cure many of the endemic cancers that ravage our world now, and our government contracts for 120 billion TC in humanitarian relief support, we can make the old look and feel young again! The poor can be healed, and the rich can be anything they want. Especially, they can be ageless in appearance. And we do that far better than any of our competitors. People pay a great deal for that, as you can imagine. You are a great example. You have an apparent age of 20 now. Our records indicate you were 32 at the time of your... incident. You will look like this until the day your cells lose the ability to self repair, and you ... pass on." My eyes widen at the thought of that. Making people... making me young again?! Then my mind registers something else and I ask, "TC?" "Oh, yes, sorry. Trade-Credits, TCs for short. All the still functioning governments use them now for international trade. Many use them internally too. Brazil's bankruptcy, and the resulting world financial collapse greased the skids for that. But of course, you're not aware of recent history yet." She settled herself. "So why do we need your help, Laura? I'll try to bring you up to speed quickly. You need to know what a mess the world is these days. You are going to play an important role in the next two days. But I warn you, it is long and the stuff of despair." I nod, and she begins. It takes her a long time, and it was a horrible story. Economic collapse (**1), mass famines and plagues, catastrophic disasters, even nuclear war (**2). I was crying by the end of it. The greatest disaster in human history had passed over me while I stood, unknowing, trapped within a madman's twisted revenge. When she was done, she paused, took a deep breath, looked at me, and concluded. "And now you know how bad it is. But you CAN help us help the whole world." I just stare at her hopefully, through my many tears. Melanie stops, mutters into her wrist, and like magic the windows go from mirrors to transparent. In the distance I suddenly see a tall mountain, the top third white capped, majestic and towering over lesser mountains around it. Mount Ranier is still there, still so beautiful. The Earth, our planet, is still here. It makes me believe we can make things better again. "Laura, we are on the 160th floor of the New Seattle Arcology. Over the last decade it has risen from the ruins of Seattle to become the crown jewel of the Confederation of Columbia, which now controls what used to be the Pacific Northwest of the USA and Canada." My breath caatches in my throat. There are clouds BELOW our vantage point. It's breathtakingly gorgeous! "And finally," she goes on, "how can you help us, Laura? Now that the New Seattle Arc is getting close to being finished, we want to lead the way in putting more of the devastated lands of North America back under the rule of law again, and under a government that considers the welfare of its people as its first priority." She looks at me levelly, and I feel a swell of emotion. "Laura, you own a big block of stock in Pytheas. A very big block." I gulp as that sinks in. I'm a major shareholder in the 4th richest company in the world? Melanie smiles, and it really was a warm one now. "In fact, you're one of the richest women..., richest people in the world today." I blink in surprise. "If nothing else, your ex-partner was a very good businessman. He grew your stores to be the biggest retail fashion chain in the old USA, with around a billion in annual sales, then saw or sensed the end coming, and made a deal with us to buy up your chain before the worst hit." She sounded very admiring. My thoughts about him were much, much darker. After all, he'd turned me into a mannequin, and put me in his store windows for decades! I hoped he was roasting in Hell! "Your old partnership devolved all assets on you when your partner died. Over the years he had reinvested most of the profits of your Lady Laura's into Pytheas as his initial stake in it became more and more valuable. When Pytheas bought out Lady Laura's, all its shares converted into Pytheas stock. It's all been waiting for you. It's all yours now. That's why we looked so hard for you." Her eyes bore into me. "There is a grave decision to be made in only a few days. We want to oust the current Chair of Pytheas, who up till now controlled your block as an absentee stockholder. She has fought hard to prevent you from being declared dead, just for that reason. Normally your stock would have gone to the state, as no other heirs are known. But with the world a shambles, the records were lost, and it wasn't proven you were dead, she was able to... keep you in limbo, and control your stock. It has kept her in power in spite of..." She licked her lips. "Regardless, her policies are selfish, and wasteful. It's time to help the people again! Not just build monuments to Chair Sato. We could be doing so much more than just making more money. We know you are a very caring woman, and we know you want to help." I nod, feeling wonderful again. "Well with your help, we can help millions upon millions live better lives!" I feel so proud to be able to do that for them. The world seemed to need all the help it can get, and these people had rescued me. I owed them. So I nod, and whisper "I will. I'll do whatever you need, Melanie. If we have so much, we can help so many." Melanie flashed a tight smile, and jumped excitedly to her feet, her perfect boobs bouncing in her daringly cut blue silk blouse, and chic diamond earrings swinging. "I knew you'd help us, Laura. We fast- tracked the paperwork to establish your rights to the shares. It's already approved. Now that you've agreed, I'll get a notary and witnesses, and you can sign the proxy papers. We can start the movement to bring civilization back to millions who are just struggling to survive now." I was so happy, but suddenly very tired now. She must have seen that, because after hugging me fiercely, she makes the windows darken again to block out the sun, streaming in as it hangs a hands breadth above the horizon. Then Melanie quickly leaves me to sleep. The door closes behind her. My wrist stings again for a moment, under the little arch. As cold floods through me, dragging me down, I glimpse Matthew moving towards me with an odd, disquietingly excited look on his face. My eyes flutter closed and unquiet darkness takes me. I dream of the world ending in chaos and fire. Of the Arc collapsing around me, and of being crushed under debris. More wreckage piles on and the pressure increases, then wanes, again and again. My body aches from it, and I struggle so hard to scream for help, but I can't do anything but moan. *** Fire burns through me. My eyes shock open from the pain. The room is still lit by the just setting sun, so it has only been a few minutes, in spite of the horrible dream that seemed to last forever. A hard, grim faced man dressed in hospital blues stands by my bed looking down at me, a hypo-spray in his hand. I feel the fire flowing through my body. It burns away the cobwebs muffling my mind. Looking at the stranger I suddenly feel fear, as well as pain. "Laura," he hisses quietly. "You're in great danger, you have to come with me, now!" "Who... go away, right away; I'll call a nurse!" I croak through burning lips. "You mean like Matthew here," he says, gesturing down at a crumpled body on the floor. I gasp in terror, and shrink back into my bed. "The sick bastard was raping you, Laura. Look!" He points. I want to cringe away further, but can't make myself not lean over slightly to peer down again. Matthew is nude from the waist down. His cock is still engorged, and the sun gleams off the fluid on it... then I realize my gown is tangled and bunched up around my shoulders! "Oh God!" I moan. I lift my arms. There are livid finger marks on them. I realize my boobs are exposed, and that they share the same finger welts. My shoulders hurt. I lift my head to look down. There was slime around my sex and inner thighs. "Oh god" I repeat. "He was raping me... the dream... it was him on top of me." Concern flickers across his face. "It's not likely the first time, Laura. They've been drugging you to make you compliant. He's probably been taking advantage of that when no one was looking." I start to moan, but he hisses with frustration. "Laura, it's okay now. I've ... that's the last time he'll ever get it off. But you have to face the future now. I know that you've been through 20 years of ... I don't even know what to call it. And that right now you are really confused, but we have to go right away! You're not safe here. Matthew was just a harbinger of what's coming for you." I shrink away as he leans over me, sucking in breath to scream, but he just gently tugs my gown down, over my breasts, covering me somewhat, then turns slightly away. It was a telling gesture, and I feel some of the fear recede. "Who are you... who sent you?" I still feel the fire tracing through me, but it had receded a little, and I concentrate on my rescuer. "Why do I feel like I'm burning?" I moan. "Call me Seth, and get up! Clean yourself up, you'll feel better, but quickly! We have little time, so hurry. And Greg sent me. The burning is the drug I just gave you. It counteracts the cocktail of sedatives and suggestibility drugs you've been on for days. At least for a while. Now move! They'll be coming soon." With that he turns back and hauls me off the bed, pushing me towards the bathroom. "Get clean, NOW!" I felt so unclean, I want to shower for days, to scrub myself raw... to scream and kick the bastard on the floor. But, with tears streaming down my face, all I can do is use the sink to wet a towel to clean myself with, and its rough touch just makes the burning worse. "Dr. Greg?", I sob at Seth. But I feel hope rising in me, over the confusion and fear, as I swab the soaking towel at myself viciously, trying to wipe all of Matthew's cum off my legs and pussy. "YES! He set this up. He swore the oath to do no harm, and takes it seriously. But now he's seen orders for what's planned for you after this, and asked me to help you. He won't be a part of their plans anymore. We didn't have time, so what we have may be half baked at best, but it all depends on us being gone from here in less than five minutes." While speaking, he reaches down, heaves my rapist onto the bed, and arranges him under the covers, as if it were me sleeping under them. Matthew's neck is canted at a very acute angle, and his head dangles limply. Suddenly I understand. He's dead, and at that a savage joy surges through me. But that sight, and realization distracts. I hesitate again, trying to remember what Seth just said. He turns back to me, "Last chance, Laura. Greg's thinks you'll face a short life as a compliant, lobotomized figurehead if you stay. Once they have your proxy you'll be so pumped full of drugs you won't even know who you are. You're just a tool to them, and they'll likely find uses for you after they've taken control of your wealth. We are not dealing with nice people! You have a LOT to lose, lady," he says urgently. That galvanizes me. I throw away the fouled towel, and snug my gown all the way down. Seth sees my skeptical look at Matthew-as-me, as he finishes arranging the covers. "Hey," he says. "It might fool someone who glances in from the door, and it can't hurt." In a few strides he moves a silent gurney to my side, and helps me climb onto it. "Put this on now," he says, handing me a caramel-streaked, blonde, page-boy cut wig. "But...," I say, touching my long reddish brown wig, dangling my bare feet over the side of the mobile bed. He shushs me. "Just do it, Laura, it's part of our plan. He's briefed me on your background and what's at stake. Someone might recognize you at a distance in that hair, but not in this wig." So I do as he asks, and he tucks my lovely auburn wig onto Matthew's head. With his head turned away from the door the illusion that he was a sleeping me gets much better. Then Seth stuffs my paltry belongings onto a shelf under the gurney. "What...", I start to say, only to have him lay a finger on my lips. "Lie back, Laura. Close your eyes, and pretend we are just taking you to Imaging for some tests. Don't say anything to anyone, if you can avoid it." He pulls a blanket over me, up to my neck, and we're moving through the door and into the hallway. Just another patient on a gurney, being pushed by a blue coated orderly; sharing a journey from somewhere to another place. Nobody even looks twice at us. *** Ten minutes later we arrive at a waiting area for CT Scans. I'm feeling numb about what's just happened. It's as if it's been someone else who had suffered the horror of fifteen minutes ago. Seth hands me a bag with new clothes, and I look at him gratefully as I take it. He'd saved me, and I've begun to feel a need to make him understand how much I appreciate it. I use one of the changing stations to slip into a white bra, panties, sleeveless tan dress with a hem only halfway down my thighs. Knee high brown suede boots with 2" heels complete my outfit. Stuffing my gown deep down in the already full used-gown bin in the stall, I step out, and present myself for my handsome rescuer's inspection. I must have looked okay, because he gives me a big smile, and says "You clean up real pretty, lady." I smile back, and twirl for him. My bare legs look good wearing the boots, and the dress is snug on my narrow waist, and firm boobs. The neckline is modest, and my pageboy wig bounces casually above my shoulders; the outfit's color complementing it beautifully. I transfer my little makeup kit from under the gurney to my belt pouch. Seth's lost the blue hospital scrubs, and is wearing tight purple jeans, a loose tunic style shirt, and ankle boots. The tunic style thing must be a current fashion, along with much bolder colors than I was used to, I thought, as I'd noticed several others on our walk here. Fashions change with the years, and I had sure missed a few. He'd also come up with a large airplane style rolling bag from somewhere. I couldn't help but notice how well his musculature filled the tunic. "What now, Seth?" I ask, trying not to stare. The sight of him was making me feel fluttery. I felt a little odd too. It was getting harder to concentrate, in spite of the adrenaline rush of our escape. "Now we get you out of sight for a while. We're arranging for you to eventually meet the Chair's personal aide. We're not sure what's going on, but she, the Chair I mean, is very well respected, and may be able to help. Greg's found out a little, and it's very worrying info. Something big and nasty is coming, and coming fast. Something worth billions, or more. With that much money on the line, lives are cheap, and blood is in the water. And you're neck deep in it. I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment, wondering what I'd ever done... and then suddenly I feel a wave of tiredness wash over me. Seth sees and steps up to give me a steadying arm. "What's the matter?" He asks with gentle concern. I sag on his arm before straightening again. "Just tired. Mentally I mean, so foggy. Physically I feel okay. I can do this, Seth, I won't let you down." That's when the interface square on his hand flashes red twice, and I guess tingles, because he immediately pays attention to it. I'd learned that those implants, plus the Uplink connector in his temple had replaced smart phones for everyone who can afford them. From the look on his face, I knew it wasn't good news. "Fuck, they've already discovered you're missing. They're alerting the hospital guards. Just five minutes more, gods damn it and we'd...! Aacchh! Never mind, Laura. Even disguised, we won't get you through now." He made another disgusted grunt, and continued. "And they'll start paying attention to the DownWays, and lock 'em up as much as they can. The last thing they'll want is us getting to the CoC peace patrol, or the Pytheas executive offices." Then grins wryly at me. "Alright, no plan survives contact with the enemy, so plan number B. We go up instead. There isn't much UpWays from here anyway, but it's still a better bet, and will buy us time." Hand on my arm for support, he hustles me down lesser traveled corridors, and the ubiquitous hospital smell fades away. Then we're in a maintenance area. There, tucked in an out of the way corner, is a huge freight elevator. He waves his interface square at its security panel, and the doors slide open. I stumble in with him. As the doors close the elevator lurches, and slowly starts grumbling upwards. A rising fog in my head seems to parallel our progress till I can't think anymore. I just want sleep. laura... laura? A distant, tinny voice suddenly explodes in my ears as fire sweeps through my body again, "LAURA!" The fog burns out of my mind and pain rushes in. "Ahhhhhhh, shit that hurts," I hiss. Shaking, I look around. I'm still standing in the elevator, in the same place, but we aren't moving anymore, and the doors are open. Seth's putting away a hypo-spray. Behind him, out the elevator's opening, a wide, high corridor stretchs away to the right and left. Doors line the opposite wall at regular intervals, and empty plastic pallets are piled high beside several of them. He looks relieved that I just talked, and am now staring at him. "Not good, Laura. We expected that first shot to last much longer, not barely one lousy hour. Greg thought each would be good for 3-5 hours. They must have been giving you more stuff than he knew." "Unh, what happened, why did the fog come back?" I ask, gesturing at the hypo-spray. He snapped it away in his belt pouch. "This agent counteracts the shit they've had you on for weeks. But it is going to take perhaps a couple of days before that crap finally clears your system completely, and till then, when this wears off, back down you go." "So what do we do?" I ask. I'm scared now. Having just come back from 20 some years of Brad the Mad's mannequin-stasis trap, I don't want to be somebody's meat puppet for the rest of my life. I'd rather die first. I want to live MY life, and help the world get better. I step close to Seth, and lean against his chest, seeking safety. "This Is Not Good At All." He says, biting the words off one at a time. "Our plans, A, B, and C, relied on you being clear for at least a few hours at a time. We'll need at least 3 hours with you able to think and act to sneak you to a safe ring, downways, what with security on high alert. And I only brought 3 doses. So only one left now." He falls silent, trying to come up with ideas. "Can we hide?" I quietly ask. "No, we haven't the resources to hide for the days it will take for those drugs in your system to break down. Anyway, they'll start searching, and I can't think of anywhere we could hide that they wouldn't find us ... us...?" He trails off, staring past a pile of pallets. Then he swings and looks at me, hard. He touches his temple, and I see his lips moving slightly. The implant must be set for sub- vocal I think. Checking the corridor again to make sure we were alone, he speaks over his shoulder to me. "Okay, pretty lady. I just thought up Plan D, and it is the maddest thing I have ever conceived of. Can you handle some more weird, pretty lady?" Wondering what he had up his sleeve, aside from those attractively big biceps, I nod. "Yes, I don't want to go back. Even if Dr. Greg kept me pumped up on those drugs, I still trust him more than Melanie. What do we do?" "Who's Melanie," he asks, then shakes his head. "Never mind, doesn't matter. Greg was following orders; orders that didn't seem questionable initially, but later... anyway, he's burned those bridges now." He holds up his hand, and peers at a detailed map that appears on his interface square. "This way, fast as we can," he says, leading me out. My heels clack and echo in the lonely, stale smelling corridor as we hustle along. The doors all have odd circles of blotchy color. Some kind of new QR code I wonder? A few have printed names as well. A hundred yards further on, we stopped at a huge door, printed with the name 'Solis'. He waves his hand, and mutters. His hand beeps, and the door snicks open. I look at him questioningly. "I have a security override hack on my Interface, at least until they figure it out and cancel it," he whispers as he leads us in. "Good enough for simple commercial doors like this." Inside a big, dim lit area, I gasp as I see someone. Seth stiffens too, but then we see it's just a mannequin. We're in the back storage area of a large store, with sealed and open boxes of stock, racks of clothes, a few mannequins, and lots of piles of large boxes stuffed with products and excess packing material. "Excellent!" Seth hisses quietly. "Quick, before anyone comes in, we hide over there, behind those big boxes of old packing. If, when people come in, don't make a sound." As we hurry over he goes on, "Ok, we hide out till after hours. Security's going to concentrate Downways first, till they're sure we aren't going that way. Not until then will they start looking up here. We'll have lots of time." "OK, but won't the security guys will find us; they'll look behind this packing," I whisper to him, as we slid in behind the stacks. "So how is this going to help for very long, Seth? We only... I only have a half hour or so, plus the last shot before I go into that trance state again." "Exactly, Laura. Except I'm not giving you the last shot. Once this one wears off, we're going to use that trance like side effect you've been experiencing. I'm going to hide you in plain sight!" He looked at me questioningly. "Do you think you can do it? Again? I know it must be scary, given your history, but I promise it won't be for long. I won't let anything bad happen, like before. Plus they won't likely have briefed the guards on your history, or condition, so they won't be looking for anything like that." He looks at me hopefully. "Put me in stasis again? NO, I, I can't..." He hushes me as my voice begins to rise. "It's okay, I wouldn't, I can't. Greg said you fall into that trance sometimes, and stand unmoving, completely still for long periods. Over three hours once, he said, before a nurse shook you out of it. But you are NOT in stasis when you do. And I saw you do it in the elevator. You went still for three minutes. I couldn't even see you breathing. It was ... eirie," he says huskily. "That's why I gave you the shot. That's all I am thinking of. We just let what is happening anyway go ahead. Really, we can't stop it, only put it off for an hour more, then I have to keep waking you. But instead, you pretend to be... to be just a part of the store displays out there, but you'll still be alive." He squats down on his haunches. "I know it is asking a lot, and it's a bad plan, but I'm out of plans, and ideas. Do you have any that might be better?" I squeeze my eyes closed, and try to concentrate on ideas, but all I can think of is Melanie coming back to get me to sign everything they wanted, and what might happen to me afterward. As I thought, I realized I trusted Seth deeply. I would trust him with my life. "No, Seth." I sigh. "No. Nothing. But you can't... do... what I do, can you? They'll catch you, and I'll be alone, and they'll have me again! I can't stand that. thought" He grins mirthlessly. "No, but I won't have hide like you. They don't know me. I have a cream on my face that turns it into a blank, bright glare on monitors, so they have no images of me, and can't tell anyone who to look for. And like I said, I've been inserted into their system as a roaming security sergeant. The rank and file won't question me, and the big wigs won't notice me, unless they need an errand run. Then... Shhhhh!" he whispers. A door had opened, and someone came in. We huddle there, behind our pile for several minutes as the person moved about, doing things. They were joined by another a short while later. The two load an electric cart and drive it out, leaving us alone. They'd never come close to us. I slump with release. Seth silently gets to his feet, and peers out. "Coast is clear again," he says quietly. "Anyway, where was I?" "You were saying they can't find you." I remind him. "Oh, right. So, plan number D. Things quiet down here after the store closes. That's not too long now. We get you set up. I sneak out, and get away. There's a base jumping outfit on the core, up two rings. That was plan C, but it takes a couple of hours of instruction and prep for it, and while you can't do that now, I still can. Just in case they set up stride monitors, or just start frisking everyone with my build. Anyway, they'll search and come up empty, we hope, I get some more counter-agent charges for the hypo, and then I come back. I get you, and we get out. I'll engineer a way to get past security between now and tomorrow night, while they're searching, and prepare it. Sound good?" I didn't want to. I was scared. But I knew Seth wouldn't let me down, and he had to know I trusted him, so I put on my brave face and nodded. "Okay, girl, fix your makeup. Make yourself as pretty a mannequin face as you can." I nod again, and get my little makeup kit from my belt pouch. Then we look at each other. We had nothing more to say, so we just waited more or less silently. Seth was on his interface and link a lot, but I couldn't tell what he was doing. I huddled against him, feeling the solidness of his body, and taking comfort from it. I daydreamed of what it would be like to have him in love with me. It made me breathe a little faster, and feel good deep inside. The 'clear' shot wore off 50 minutes later. My last non-foggy thought was it had lasted a little longer than the first one, and that was a good thing. After that time just glided by. I didn't really notice it. At some point, Seth tells me the store is closed, and it's time. In my daydream I wait while he goes out, then returns some while later. "Laura, it's time. I've looped their surveillance for the moment. Come this way." And he leads me out into the mostly dark store. Docilely, I obediently follow. We reach an area featuring woman's fashions, and stop beside a display mannequin. I look at it, and feel an odd, fuzzy kinship with it. Seth strains for a moment to lift it off the pedestal, but it resists even his best efforts. He stops, looks about at its base, and with a muttered "Ah!", bends down and presses a flush button. There's a faint click. He grabs the mannequin's waist and tries again. It lifts off the stand without resistance. He turns and easily sets it down beside me, balancing it. "Laura, look at the mannequin." Incurious, I do as told. It's like all mannequins, a slim and pretty looking woman, but in a too-shiny and stiff way. "Copy its pose, please." It feels good to do what he asks. I want to please him. It feels good to do what I am told. I know that's the drugs in me, but it doesn't stop me from feeling it. "Now, remember that pose, okay Laura?" I nod a tiny amount. "Take off your clothes, while I get them off this thing. Fold yours and place them on the floor here," he says, pointing downwards at a tarp from the storeroom. I take off my belt pouch and belt, unzip my dress, and let it drop. After folding it, and placing it as requested, I take off my panties, bra, and finally boots; carefully I stack them with my dress. Seth studies me for a moment. He seems to like what he sees, and smiles at me. While I had stripped for him, he'd taken apart the mannequin, removing its outfit, and stacking its parts on the tarp. "Now take off your wig, Laura. Give it here." I do so, silently handing him the blonde hair piece. Placing that with the pile on the tarp, he hands me the shiny, white dress the mannequin had been wearing. I slip it on over my head, guide it down over my firm, naked breasts, until it is properly draped on my hips. It's a little tight at my waist, but it fits. It's styled almost like a tunic, but the neckline is a steep V, plunging down halfway to my belly button, enticingly exposing the outer curves of my breasts. My flaccid nipples make little bumps in the fabric. The hem falls to just above my knees, but it's slit up the sides midway up my curvy thighs. It has no sleeves, but the fabric flares out loosely, and drops a few inches down my shoulders. It is a nice design. I admire my figure in it. It was pretty. It feels good to wear it. Then Seth clears his throat and I became aware of him, and time, again. "Not yet, Laura. Still a little more to do, okay kiddo?" I nod happily. He passes over long white-silver gloves. I slip them on my arms, and snug them onto my fingers. The next piece of the ensemble is a delicate silver necklace that he gently arranges around my throat. Then he puts the mannequin's wig on me, and finger styles the long fall of silver- blue hair over my shoulders. Finally he helps me slip on the silver and white satin, high heels. I stand still, waiting for his next command. He steps around me, eyeing me critically. "You'll easily pass, Laura. If you can stand still for long enough. Anyway, no other options at this point," he says a little sadly. "OK, time to get up on the pedestal." I step over to it, my heels clacking metallically, but when I try to step up onto the 16" tall pedestal, I find the dress too restrictive. Seth helps, lifting me from behind with his strong hands on my torso, under my arms, his biceps bunch from the strain. Having him hold me is nice. He sets me carefully upon the stand. With Seth's guidance I move my feet to mimic the positions the mannequin's had been in. Then, at his direction, I assume its pose as well. He corrects the angle of one of my arms, tilts my head to the right just a tiny bit, and has me put more weight on my right hip. Finally, he changed the positions of my fingers slightly. "OK Laura, don't move, and breathe as slowly and shallowly as you possibly can." I freeze in position. Seth walks around me twice, checking from all angles. He seems to be breathing harder himself, but doesn't adjust me further, other than to say "Look over there, Laura. Towards the front of the store floor, at the windows to the open arcade outside. But don't look at it, or anything else. Just gaze into the distance." I do so. He bends down, out of my vision now, and there is a 'snik'. My silver high heels magnetically set themselves solidly, clamping to the surface, preventing my feet from shifting even the tiniest amount. He stares up at me for a long time. Finally, he reaches up to gently lay his hand on one of my breasts, and slides it gently down the sheer fabric to my hip. I don't even quiver, though it feels so good. In a quiet, soothing voice he begins to talk to me. "Laura, pretty lady, you will be here a while. Don't move, don't blink, don't even think. Just stand there, you will not notice time passing. You are a still, plastic woman, just a statue of a pretty lady. Shoppers will look at your outfit, but never really see you. You will not look at them. You can't." His voice gets quieter. "You will not feel hungry, thirsty, tired, or anything else. You will not pay any attention to anything that happens around you while you stand here. No matter what happens, even if you are touched, you will not react in any way. You will remain in that pose, frozen. You do not bend. You will not. You are a rigid, plastic girl, incapable of anything but being a clothes display for shoppers." He takes a deep breath, and pauses for a moment. His voice drops to a whisper, and I float on it, filled with his purpose. "You are the Goddess of Stillness. Immobile. Beautiful. Detached. In this world, but not of it. You will feel nothing, say nothing, do nothing but stand still while the world swirls and parts around you. You will not even think." I drift on his whisper, serene, trusting, and content to do exactly what he asks. I think I hear him say he'll return soon, but I could be imagining it. His voice is so soft now, and I have drifted away from all thought. My eyes focus on nothing, staring across the room. Then he and the tarp, with my old outfit and the mannequin parts, are gone. Seemingly from a great distance, I barely register the lights brighten, people moving jerkily about, like stop motion film, shifting too fast for me to follow even if I had been allowed to do so. When they come near, sometimes there are high pitched buzzing sounds. Still, to me they are nothing. I stand alone in my silence, content to just be. The room grows dim again, then bright, and a pair of women zip up to stand in front of me. They buzz excitedly, briefly examining my dress. Admiring it; admiring the way it fits me; its elegant lines. That sparks something inside me. This has happened before. A grey memory rises up from the depths, like a leviathan of the sea, slowly swimming upwards, till it begins to breach the starlit surface of the tranquil ocean of my mnd. 'giggling, cindy slides me down on my pole, till i lock in place. janice combs my long brown wig till it falls like silk over my shoulders. they laugh at brad being dead. they didn't know about me and laura, about what we were, why we were, or who we once were. no one did.' I thought that should be important, but I wasn't supposed to think. Seth didn't want me to, but the memory won't go away. The couple admiring me do, the lights dim again, but the memory goes on. 'i wasn't afraid, I was only a mannequin displayed in a store, I felt nothing; they place a plastic rose so that my stiff fingers loosely wrap around it. cindy wonders if laura will come back to take over the stores. janice puts a black velvet choker on me, and says laura was taken far away. but laura is beside me, sad, and sitting so still; as forever still as I am, frozen by brad... laura.' I know I shouldn't think, Seth said Laura was not to think, but Brad was dead, and I didn't care. But I did. Why? No. Don't think. Stop remembering! But I can't. People begin to swirl and eddy around me again. I ignore them as I am supposed to, but once again I remember. Is remembering thinking? When the lights go dim, the distant windows sometimes become mirror-like. I can see myself, a beautiful illusion of a woman, but not real. Not thinking, but, still remembering. 'my reflection is stunning. the silk stockings make my legs shine. my nipple bumps gently tent the black silk of my teddy, i'm so sexy, happy to be dressed this way. beside me, janice tugs a sweater off my twin, leaving her perky plastic breasts bare. cindy pulls a denim miniskirt off her. i stand, solid on my pole. laura sits, she has no pole. i like my pole. sometimes I wonder if it's what a man inside me would be like.' The lights dim, people vanish. I can't feel my pole. I... could never ..feel.. anything. But now I can feel my dress? I can feel... sore? No! No thinking. Not about hurting, I don't hurt. Not about my pole; but poor Laura didn't have one. Don't think! But I do anyway. My pole, but no pole for laura... am I not Laura? But they say I am, but I can't be. I have... had a pole. Laura doesn't. I, I... must be... then, who? A distant memory, a sunbeam hits a barnacle on the leviathan. Samantha. Am I Samantha?! I am Sam...antha. Sam... I am Sam? Oh Laura? What did he do to us. Laura! Where are you, Laura. Dull fire burns gently through my veins. LAURA! "LAURA! Wake UP!" Dreams morph into sound. The world begins to return. "It's time, Laura, past time, so late. You can wake up now, Please wake up, Laura! I'm back!" I feel Seth's hands on my waist, shaking me gently. I'm in the store, on my pedestal. I've been a mannequin. Again. Hiding in the open. I manage a slow blink, and my eyes hurt, as though they're rusty glass. Seth doesn't notice. He sounds so frantic. He hugs me tightly. "I'm so sorry Laura, so sorry, please forgive me. I didn't know this would happen." My eyes feel like broken marbles. I am everywhere so sore. Inside I'm empty. So empty. My throat is dry sand. But I can feel these things. "Se...thhh?" I whisper. He stands in front of me, with a hypo-sp