A Man of His Time
By NFalc
6
Raymond
I'm in a vast open space, completely flat and empty except for a small playground in front of me. Three kids are sitting on the swings. They are bawling. Their screams echo around the emptiness.
There's a thunderous sound from above. I look up to see the sky opening. I want to run, but my feet have become magnetized, stuck to the ground, and I cannot remove them. The children's cries have become shrieking, animalistic, inhuman.
I look up to see the gigantic sole of a bare foot. The same foot that crushed the failure. What was his number? I can't remember. The sole is lowering...
I look around wildly, trying to find someone, anyone, who can save me. Then I see a group of men, standing a few hundred yards away. They stare, silently, pointing at us. Me and the kids. Who are going to die.
I call out to them, shout and rant, but they do nothing. The vast foot descends on us, blocking out the light. There's panic running through my every nerve, and I know that this is the end...
But it's been the end before, and just before she finally crushes me, I sit up. The coarse blanket and scratchy sheets are bunched at the end of the cot. My heart is pounding like it wants to escape my chest. I swing my legs over the side of the cot, and sit there, waiting for myself to calm down. More than ever, I want to have a good, solid night of sleep. I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before I fell into the nightmare. And now I'm awake. Looking out the small, grubby window cut into the featureless wall, I can see that it's still dark outside.
I get up anyway, and pull on my uniform. Looking outside, I look around the corridor. Four rooms, bare walls, plain white floor. At the back of the hall there's a large black panel. I wonder what it's for. I try my best to be silent as I sneak through the corridor, hearing the snores of some of my fellow groupmates. A board creaks beneath my foot as I pass by Jude's room. I make it the rest of the way soundlessly, and step out into the darkness.
Night here feels wrong. The air should be crisp, not stale, the temperature chill, not lukewarm. The only thing that's a little like the real outdoors is the sky, and even that has stars that are larger than life, which actually twinkle. Real stars don't twinkle. I stand outside, and feel a growing unease at where I've found myself. I'm trying to find a way out - that's my goal here, I have to stay focused - but what if I never escape? Stuck here for an eternity, until I'm wiped out by one of their sadistic training exercises. The thought chills me.
I hear a noise behind me, and turn quickly to see Jude behind me. "Hey, 718," he says casually. There's still something odd about his friendliness. Maybe it's the fact that no one else here has it.
"Hey," I respond, then pause. Suddenly, I think of a good question to ask. "Jude, why don't you have a number?"
"I do," Jude answers slowly. "I'm 231. But Jude's been my nickname for a couple of years now. You get old enough, maybe you'll get a name too."
"If I survive," I say cautiously.
"If you survive," he replies amiably. "It's not that hard to do, once you learn the ropes. You're already on your way - the first day's the hardest."
"Tell me about it," I say. "I didn't even know that was going to happen - at the entrance test, I mean - I really wasn't prepared. All of that death..."
Jude chuckles, and I stare at him. "Hey, no need to look at me funny," he says indignantly. "Those deaths are necessary. Part of the culling process. They wouldn't have survived in the long run anyway. If they ever got an owner, they'd be dead in a day, and would have been totally worthless. Besides, what does one death matter, when they can simply create more to replace him?"
I was almost going to ask him what he meant by "owners", or "creating more" but I stop myself. I don't trust Jude, not at all, and because of that I can't trust his answers. I'll have to find another way of discovering the truth.
There's the sound of pealing horns all around. "Well, that's revile," says Jude. "Better get a move on, so we can get to the assembly area on time."
"Today is individual assignment day," the fake female voice says. "All individual assignments will be displayed on the screens in the back of each group housing. Please proceed to your house to find your assignment."
We troop back to our bunk, and I find that the black panel in the hallway was the "screen" the voice was talking about. I look down the list to find my number. At the very bottom, it says: "718: Observation." I wondered who would be observing who.
"Lucky," says Jude, giving me a nudge. "First day observation. This means you just have to look around and see what the rest of us are doing. It's their way of giving you the day off." Or spying on me, I added mentally.
The men leave the cabin gradually. I look down the list of things they have to do. It's very basic for the most part, stuff like "scrub mess hall" or "wash Group Alpha housing windows". A couple strike me as somewhat more ominous, ones like "behavior readjustment" or "submissiveness training". I wonder why the men accept the system, and then it suddenly strikes me that I'm not sure I want to know. Let the horrors stay beneath the surface, and keep your mind at ease.
I wander outside, idly watching the men do their chores, which admittedly aren't terribly entertaining. I'd much rather be watching Kyra as she went about her business. I understand though, that it was never meant for me to stay with her: either I would have been caught by her or Sable, or I would have struck off on my own. I did have a mission.
My mission. I could put this "observation" time I had right now to good use, and look for an escape route. I'd have to get out of here at some point, and I'd rather it be sooner instead of later. But how could I escape? There had to be some system in place behind the scenes, supplying food and water and air. I could use that to my advantage... sewers or vent shafts, I'd find some way to get out.
I decided to start my search in the mess hall, where I'd seen several vent grilles in the ceiling. If I could find a way of getting one open without being spotted, I could make my way out. But I'd worry about the details later. Now I'd just have to see if they could be opened at all.
I'm almost to the mess hall when I see a large group of men clustered around a very small building. The mechanical voice is droning about breaking up and getting back to work, but it is clear that for once, nobody is paying much mind. The building they are staring at is about the size of an elevator, and its door is open, although the only thing visible inside is darkness.
Suddenly, something runs, screaming, out of the hole. I get a glimpse of twisted features and a bloody gash before the thing runs by me yelling, and into the crowd, who catch it and lift it back up.
It's Jude. He has a huge slash down the side of his face, and it is bleeding all over his white clothes. His expression is full of rage and horror. "That madman - I can't - he's crazy - I can't do it!" he sputters. Then he whirls and points at me. "You. Newbie. 718. You handle this." He stalks off, gingerly poking his wound.
The others nudge me forward, into the darkness. I have no choice in the matter. They push me in, and shut the door behind me.
I am alone. In the dark. With a man who is violent and probably insane. This is just great.
I walk uncertainly into the blackness, my hands out in front of me in case I slam into something. I feel like I'm walking down a pretty steep slope, but I can't see anything. The ground below me levels off. Then, there ahead of me, piercing the darkness, is a single spotlight of white.
There's a face in it, pointed upwards directly into the light. There's a smile that is somehow slanted to the wrong angle, pasted on the face. The man's eyes are bulging. He has a ragged beard, and thinning hair. He keeps staring into the light.
Then he looks down, directly at me, and laughs. A horrible, spine-tingling laugh. "Stay away!" he shouts hoarsely. "You won't touch me! Stay away!"
I walk slowly towards him. "I'm not going to touch you. I just want to talk," I say, putting my hands in the air in front of me, and keeping the same measured pace.
"Get away!" he snarls, waving his hands in the air around him like he's having a seizure. His nails are long and sharp, and I figure I know what gave Jude his gash. "I know what you want!"
"I only want to talk," I repeat, still walking. You can't let him scare you off. Just keep walking. "Trust me."
I'm only a few feet away. The man begins to howl, fierce animal cries, like something wounded. The same noises the cats made when I fought them off, back in the junkyard. As I move towards him he seems to collapse inwards, the cries descending into whimpers. Then I am right in front of him. He stares up at me, in wonderment. "Is it... Is it you?"
"I am me," I reply. "But I don't think I'm the one you mean."
"No," he says, crumpling slightly, but a light in his eyes. "But at least you aren't like the others."
It takes some minutes for him to speak, but finally he does. "My name is Raymond Phillips," the man says, extending his gnarled hand.
"Adam," I say, shaking it. "I don't remember my last name."
"Doesn't matter. You have a name. That means you're not Plant-born. You know the outside. You think independently."
"I was just put in here yesterday," I reply. "Before that, I lived on the outside. But I've come here..." I was almost ready to talk about my mission, but not quite. Better he not know yet. I had to be sure I knew him.
"See, no wonder you're not like the others. Not like that traitor Jude. You know who he works for, right?" He cocks his thumb at the ceiling. "The ones up there."
"I knew something was wrong about him." I say, then pause. "You seem like you know more about this place than I do."
"Yes," he says, rubbing his head. "I've been in this - this isolation chamber for two weeks now, and I was in the plant for a week before that. And before that..." He trails off. I notice how gaunt he looks, and hungry. There's this lost look in his eyes, the look of a man who's seen suffering. "...But my story is a long one, and I wouldn't force you to hear it."
"We have time," I say calmly. "Start at the beginning. Maybe it'll help you. Make you feel better."
"That I doubt." He says. "But if you want to hear it, I'll tell it."
I used to live out in the settlements, just like you did. My settlement, however, was... destroyed. Many of them were, by natural causes or otherwise. I'm guessing yours was too. They all wound up that way eventually. But I digress.
They moved me into another town, closer to their city. They were consolidating them, the last survivors, into more concentrated areas. Then, one day, three giant women came at once, and told us to assemble outside. We all went out to the central area, and there they were, the three of them, towering above us. They put this huge container in front of us, filled with seats, and they told us to get on.
Some of us did it right away, unquestioningly. Others, like myself, waited, hesitant. Then the one in the middle, this young girl with blond hair, she slipped off her shoe. She held her bare foot in the air above us, let us smell her sweat. Then she said, very calmly, that if we didn't get on, she and her associates would crush us all under their bare feet.
We had no choice. We got on, and the blond girl picked us up. Our whole town, there in her arms. She nodded to her friends, and as we watched, they destroyed our city. First they stomped on it, their boots destroying the buildings, then they pummeled it with their fists, and then finally they lay on top of it, until there was nothing but wreckage left. All this, while we watched. They looked like they enjoyed it.
The blond girl carried us back to their vehicle, and put us down. Then she covered the exit of the box with one hand, and with the other, she misted us with some strange-smelling stuff. Next thing I knew, I was unconscious.
When I woke up, I was in a completely strange place. I immediately realized that my legs felt different: they had been injured badly when my first settlement was destroyed, but it appeared they had been fixed, somewhat. Now I was able to walk, although with a limp.
I looked to my left only to see a giant face next to mine. It was a young, pretty one: that of a twelve year old girl. Her name was Amy, I soon found out. Her mother, Lauren, was my owner. They were clearly very rich: their house had all the finest styles, the most expensive furniture, the swankiest surroundings. It was the most luxurious prison I'd ever seen. I suspected that their wealth was why I had been given to them.
The day would go like this: I would be woken in the morning by Lauren, who I slept with more often than not, although occasionally she would leave me to spend the night with her daughter. As she brushed her teeth, I would do her nails, or she would place me on her shoulder and instruct me to do her perfume.
On one particularly terrifying occasion, she placed me on top of her head and told me to arrange her hair. I slipped and nearly fell to my death, grabbing onto her hair and pulling it in the process. She immediately grasped me so hard my ribs hurt and I lost my breath, held me directly in front of her face, and proceeded to furiously shout at me, the sound deafening, the wind blowing like a mighty storm. There's nothing quite like being yelled at by a giant member of the opposite sex to make you subservient.
But even that incident pales in comparison to what would happen to me during the day. Then, I was left alone with her daughter Amy. This child appeared to be cute, and sweet, and innocent. Cute she was, but when left alone she was inhumanly sadistic. She appeared not to understand that I was an intelligent, living being, and thus felt free to play with me any way she pleased, poking and prodding, once even lightly stepping on me. Day in, day out, I did what I could to try and survive her ferocious play, knowing that if I so much as gave her a scratch, she or her mother could kill me.
Worst were the nights I was forced to sleep with Amy. She held me to her chest all night, smothering me against her. I could hear her monstrous breathing and heartbeat behind me, and I constantly worried that she would roll over and crush me beneath her massive body weight. I never got any sleep when I was with her, and the next day I would be incompetent, causing Lauren to get upset with me.
Finally, one day I had had enough. I snuck out of the house along with Lauren, carefully placing myself in her handbag. When I judged the time was right, I leapt out of the handbag, only to be seen instantly by a member of the Establishment. She quickly swept me up and used a strange gas on me. Once again, I was knocked out.
I woke up here, in the Plant. This was back when the first Plant-born were being produced. There were a number who I suspected were like me, born outside the system, but they behaved as sluggishly as those around them. I resolved to try and find out what was making them behave this way.
I had my answer that first day at the mess hall. I took two bites of the food I was given, and waited. All of a sudden, I began to feel lethargic, slow, stupid. I was able to self-diagnose as being in an almost hypnotically drowsy state, easily suggestible. From that day forward I didn't eat anything I was served, always trading with someone I knew had been in the system for a while. You see, after the first week of being served the drugged meals, the body begins to naturally synthesize the doping chemicals. The person is permanently affected, whether they eat the treated food or not.
I kept below the radar for three days, trading my meals with others to avoid being afflicted. Then, they caught on. They assigned that bastard Jude to watch over me, making sure I ate my own food, and that no one traded with me. So I starved myself instead. I began to act out publicly, refusing to go along with their "training exercises" or "individual assignments". I was hoping that they'd punish me, make me an example. Frankly, I was sick of living as a slave. I couldn't take it, I was too independent.
Instead of killing me, however, they simply shoved me in here. Solitary confinement. Sensory deprivation. These were all terms I was familiar with, as a student of experimental psychology back in the days where there were still universities for our kind. Instead of breaking, like they expected me to, I decided to adapt.
I formed an identity for myself, as a deranged, out of control lunatic. I would attack anyone they sent to try and persuade me. I refused any food they offered me. I said I would drink water only if they gave it to me in sealed, purified bottles, the exact same brand that they gave us in the settlements. When they tried to give me fakes, I would refuse them. I drank only what I knew was authentic, and what I needed to survive.
Their visits became less and less frequent. And gradually, that identity I made for myself was no longer a lie. The mask I wore became my true face. I went truly insane, here in the darkness. I heard voices. I muttered to myself, and I began to have paranoid delusions. The worst thing was that even as I decayed, some separate part of me was always watching my own downfall, analyzing my descent into madness. Then you arrived, and I began, slowly, to remember...
"...And that brings me to the present." Raymond finishes, looking worn and exhausted.
I stayed silent for a minute, looking at the man. I thought I had suffered. Yet here was a living example of a man who had endured much worse than I had. "Thank you for telling me," I say solemnly. "I know it must've been hard for you."
"It was," Raymond says through gritted teeth. "But it really did help. I think the madness is leaving me. It helps greatly to have someone to actually talk to."
"You're telling me," I reply. "I was starting to lose it myself. Everyone else is silent except Jude, and then he's even worse..."
"That pig," says Raymond with casual malice. "I'm betting he gets it easy for the job he does for them. Probably has an agreement to keep them from hurting him."
We fall silent then for a minute or two, then I get an idea.
"You know, maybe you should give living topside another shot," I say. His look is full of disgust, so I quickly continue, "Maybe you'd be able to keep your sanity if we talked to each other. We could help each other survive. I could smuggle you food. We could plan an escape. The two of us."
Raymond stares at me for a second, then lowers his eyes, slowly shaking his head. "It'd never work. We'd be too obvious. It's better for me to remain here."
I look at him with disbelief. "You know, you really seemed strong, for a second there. But you're really going to allow them to crush your spirit? You're just going to give up?"
He looks up at me, and there's this strange look in his eyes, almost pleading. "Just leave me here. Go on your own. It's better this way."
Instead, I take his hand. "Together, we can make it out of here."
I firmly tug at him, dragging him along for a foot or two. Then he slowly comes to a standing position. "Well, what the hell. If I die out there... Well then, at least I'll have tried."
I let go of his hand, and we walk back out into the light.
Giantess World
