by Corey Furman
The girls were relieved, but it was short lived. Once he had the temps off, he drew their old permanent collars from the other pocket and snapped them in place around their necks before they had fully realized what was happening.
“Dad…?” said Maré.
Joss used the controller to give her a mild pain jolt in her legs. She yelped, more from fear than actual pain. “Get in the living room, both of you.” His voice was shockingly cold. They moved, eyes wide with surprise, but he used the controller to motivate them to hasten their gait.
They were both afraid and crying. “Strip off your blouses and lie on your stomachs.”
Luna opened her mouth. “Dad –”
He held up the controller before her. “Talk if you like, but you’ll be sorry if this turns into a discussion. I swear, I’ll roll over top of you like a pyroclastic flow, Luna.”
Maré was already stripping off her shirt. Luna looked at him past the small device, and whatever she saw made her rush to do as she was told.
“Now lie facing each other. Quickly, girls – I’m losing my patience.”
They did as they were told, stark terror written large on their faces.
Joss tapped at the collar remote to tell their nervous systems to refuse to move, then showed them a stout length of tubing. Dragging it lightly down their backs, it didn’t seem like it would take a whole lot to put them into a fear-induced shock. The whimpering it produced in them was a pretty good start.
“Tell me what happened tonight, girls, and you’d better make me believe it.” Joss was still feeling quite a bit of shock himself, but his old Marine training kicked in and he conducted a very thorough interrogation.
The next day, Joss Breylin was still shaken to his very core.
When he called down to the medical wing for a status update, they told him that Larissa, his queen, had pulled through the night, though they were going to keep her in the induced coma a while yet. He had cried like an infant when the doctor on the other end of the comm told him that she would live. If she hadn’t then his life wouldn’t’ve had meaning any longer. He felt a lot of numbness and relief now, but his heart was shot through with betrayal and grief, and it was still wrapped in a dull shell of stoked rage. He thought back to the previous night, when Maré and Luna had come to a sharp understanding of what he’d felt.
He hadn’t really had to hit them too many times. A few occasional swats – taps, really, no blood at all – had helped shaped the message, but he had used fear and their compassion for each other to get his point across. He didn’t enjoy hurting them, but they needed to be punished and he needed answers; it was just a thing that needed to be done. Action, reaction.
Life had been forever changed for the Breylin’s, and most definitely for their simulants.
The night of the accident, Maré and Luna couldn’t understand why Dad was so angry with them. It was a dark, terrifying side of him that they never knew existed. When whatever had happened to Mom, they had been down at one of the desks, nowhere near her. They had no idea what had caused her to go into that tank, but it wasn’t them. By the time they’d been hustled off to the holding facility, they were as confused as they were frightened, and that was before they’d gotten home and the questions had started.
The first thing they learned that night was the value of holding their tongues until it was requested. Without saying a word, Dad would apply the lash more vigorously whenever they spoke otherwise. It was only the first lesson of the night, though.
He set their collars to allow them to move. Though he left the room, they suspected that he wasn’t done, since he had said very little while he was about punishing them. They were still sobbing a little when he came back in and sat down. As time stretched, they could hear him taking a sip of a drink.
Luna was the first to grow quiet, but she could see that Maré was nearly done crying. The urge to wipe the tears and snot from her face was bad, but she wouldn’t move until he told her she could. Maré seemed to be thinking the same thing; she just laid there trying to calm herself, catching her breath and waiting. Oddly, she became distracted with the way her Chroma’s hair was arranged over her ear.
“Now that I think you understand your position,” he said, as he dropped several coils of a beige rope on the floor between them, “it’s time to get down to business.”
Maré began to whimper, and Luna could tell that she was going to do something to get herself in trouble – unless she interceded. “Be quiet, Maré,” she said, and Maré’s eyes opened wide at her voice, but she clamped her mouth down.
Joss came over to Luna and kneeled down beside her. As he stroked the side of her face he said, “That’s good advice, Luna. Would you like me to let Maré rest a bit? You and I can spend a little time together first.”
It was up to her. She wanted to protect Maré, but it would mean that he would beat her and probably make Maré watch. Not only that – he was going to make her ask for it. She knew what she had to do, but it was an awful choice to have to make. “Yes, Dad – please let her rest.”
“Okay, Luna.” He stroked her cheek with something like tenderness a few more times, but it felt very threatening. “It’s time I take a more hands on approach for the rest of the evening.” With his fingers on her cheek, she couldn’t imagine a more chilling comment. Maré clamped her eyes shut and began to whine in a way that Luna felt more than heard.
When he rose to his feet, he bent down, grabbed her by the back of the neck and forced her into a kneeling position. “I have a rule for you,” he said. “This goes for you too, dear.” Maré twitched as he nudged her with his foot in her side. “Open your eyes and pay attention – terribly important stuff going on over here.” He paused, then spoke very slowly. “If you ever call me Dad again, I’ll really hurt you. I am Mr. Breylin or Sir, and my wife is either Mrs. Breylin or Ma’am. I hope I’ve been clear, because you can’t afford too many corrective lessons, though you can be certain that I’ll give you as many as you require.”
Maré started to whimper a little again, and Luna was losing some of her control on her own fear. She shut her own eyes tight and tried not to breathe so fast.
Dad – Breylin – leaned in close to her, implacable and threatening. He still had his large hand around the back of her neck. He whispered into her ear, “don’t move – understand?”
Luna nodded.
Breylin let her go, bent down again and forced Maré into the same kneeling position she was in. He shoved Maré against her so that their bare chests were pressed together, and then he positioned them so that their faces were touching, cheek to cheek. He grabbed the rope and bound their hands up high in the middle of their backs. As he continued tying the knots, Maré laid her face on her Chroma’s shoulder and cried. The terror was trying to consume Luna too, but she forced herself to be as strong as she could for Maré.
Breylin fed the rope through their arm pits, pulled it taut and tied it off tight. Maré was panting by the time he was done. Lastly, he pulled their slacks and underwear down around their knees, leaving their asses exposed.
“Mr. Breylin? Please, I thought you would let Maré rest?”
He squatted down in close to the two of them. “Quite so, dear,” he said. “She will be the one answering questions first. You’ll answer my questions, won’t you, Maré?”
“Yesss,” she cried pitifully.
“That’s good, very good, Maré,” he said with a quiet menace like a knife gliding through silk. “If you do well, then Luna won’t suffer hardly at all. You don’t want her to suffer, do you, Maré?”
“Nooo,” she cried again.
“Very good.” He let them go and sat back down on the couch. He took his time sipping his drink again.
He gave it a couple of minutes, letting their imaginations torment them, then he jumped up to his feet, startling them. He said, “how about some music?” He walked over to the entertainment center and put on something soft and instrume
ntal. “There, that’s nice,” he said, “I think this is the station you like, Maré.”
As the music played, he sat back down and said, “let’s go over some more rules. The first thing: if you feel like you need to scream or cry, whatever, that’s just fine. This is where we live, girls, and it’s something we can share.” He took another sip, then held his glass up to the light and appeared to consider it. “Next: if you feel hoarse or raspy, please let me know and I will give you some water. There will be lots of discussion, and I want you to be able to talk freely. Do make sure you express your gratitude afterward. A lack of appreciation is very rude. Next: don’t give up hope. You can trust that I’ll be here to help guide you through this difficult thing, okay?”
Maré was sobbing and clearly leaning into Luna. For her part, Luna seemed to be trying to keep her back straight and support Maré, but she was crying by then, too. He made a show of rolling up his sleeves.
“Never give up hope, girls, because there’s always something more you can lose.”
The next thing they learned was that it was best to answer questions quickly and directly.
Joss took his time with them. He asked them many questions, though a lot of of them were similar but reworded. But because he didn’t want to break her, he’d plied Luna’s back and rear with the improvised whip only so much. Since he didn’t want to draw any blood he couldn’t get much more than a grunt from her, and it just wasn’t producing the results he wanted. She was obviously trying to stay strong for Maré, and he couldn’t have that. It was a difficult line to walk. Perhaps it’s a good time to take another brief pause, he thought as he sat down on the couch.
After puzzling it over for a few long moments, he decided to try something different. He took off her sandals and lightly pinched the soles of her feet. “Maré?” he said. “Did you know how soft Luna’s feet are?”
After he began again, he found he could use a much lighter stroke on her feet than the rest of her, yet it was very effective, both in getting her to respond enthusiastically, and to motivate Maré. He knew he’d found the right combination after she’d tried to tuck her feet under her; the only way he could get her to put them back without doing it himself was to threaten Maré.
When it was Maré‘s turn at the whip he’d focused more on terrorizing her. He would flick her with it often – not to cause her any pain, but to let her know it was always near, always available. She was quite weak, and her fear had made Luna particularly eager to answer anything and everything.
Whenever they wanted water, he would pull their heads back by their hair and pour the water from his glass into their open mouths. After a few gulps he would let them go. Luna had been the first to ask, and had been surprised by the delivery method. She coughed more all over herself and Maré than she had drunk. Joss only gave her a few seconds of spluttering, then he harshly flogged her insteps for not thanking him. It wasn’t an issue for either of them after that.
By the time he thought he had a pretty clear picture of their role in what had happened and that they had been punished enough, the two of them were slumped into each other, digging the rope encircling them into their flesh. Joss laid them down on their sides, untied the chest rope, then their hands. He decided to give them a couple of minutes to rest.
As he walked out to the kitchen to get himself another glass of water, he realized that he had nearly sweated through his shirt. He idly wondered, as the glass was filling, if the session had gotten a little out of control. He shrugged it off contemptuously. At least they have their legs, he thought. Not like Larissa.
When he returned to the living room and sat down, he found that Luna had rolled onto her back and was moaning. Maré was trying to murmur, probably something comforting to Luna, but she clammed up when Joss reappeared.
He used a softened tone when he spoke. “Can you two hear me?”
“Yes…”
“I can…”
He chuckled. “I think you both meant to say ‘Sir’, but I’ve had my fill of attitude adjustment for tonight. Consider this your warning.”
Maré said, “thank you, sir.”
“See Luna? Maré gets it. Make sure you follow her lead, dear,” Joss said, but he thought, I hope I didn’t break that one after all. I didn’t even go that hard on her…
He continued again in what he thought was an even, soft tone. “You two probably think I’m a monster. I can understand that. But as you lie in your comfortable bed tonight, I want you to consider that Mrs. Breylin is struggling, right now, for her life, surrounded by strangers and with tubes running in and out of her. She has no legs, and for the rest of her life, someone is going to have to clean her when she defecates on herself. She took the two of you to her work so that you could be there to help, but while that shit was eating the flesh off her bones you two were off fucking around!” He stopped and swallowed before he lost control of his own emotions.
“I’m not sure what happens from here. I don’t know if I’ll be married or widowed tomorrow. What I do know is that the way we were, like a family, is over. I trusted you with the most important thing in the world to me, and you blew it. No more pretend, no more playing house. You two are gabachas, and it’s time you were treated that way. You will do as you are told, and if you screw up there will be consequences, and I think you know what I mean by that. I will feed you and house you, but make no mistake, I don’t owe you anything. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
They were crying again, but they both responded.
“Yes, Sir,” said Maré.
“Yes, Mr. Breylin,” said Luna.
“Now get the hell out of my sight.”
Maré got up first, and she had to help Luna limp into their bedroom.
As they lurched down the short hall towards their bedroom, Joss said, “you may use the bathroom, but no food until tomorrow. And you’d better pray that Mrs. Breylin doesn’t die through the night; if she does, you’ll watch each other die screaming.”
Ever since the accident that had taken her legs, Larissa’s mobility had been severely limited. The Breylin’s health care benefits would have afforded them the opportunity to get prosthetic limbs for her, but Joss simply couldn’t get her to buy into the idea. Simply put, Larissa didn’t want to be seen as a monster.
After Joss brought her home, she mostly withdrew into herself. Though she would sometimes read or listen to music, typically she would spend her days staring out of the picture window in the living room. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get her to draw at all.
At times, she wouldn’t seem to notice Joss in the same room, even when he would talk to her. Other times she would. He figured that when she returned to work things would get better, but unfortunately, the research held no interest either, and Larissa never returned. Joss gave her time to adjust to the changes – it was all he could think to do in the face of her worsening depression.
Joss had taken a week off to reorganize their life – it was all Harry and his superiors would allow. After it was over he returned to his duties out in the subsolar region, leaving the care of his queen to the ministrations of the twins. Though he spoke to them using guarded, quiet words in front of his wife, his tone was pregnant with dire implication, and they agreed that it would be best for everyone if they were quite attentive to her every want or necessity.
By the time he went back to work, Joss had noticed that her demeanor was starting to become expressed physically. First she denied him all but the most casual touches and refused to let him sleep next to her.
Her clothing followed; she refused to wear anything like pants or shorts, so Joss would lay out her sleeping shirts to wear during the day. They covered her well enough, and since it solved a few practical issues, he gave in to her desire to put on nothing else. Anyway, it seemed foolish to him to be concerned about the fact that she would exclusively choose the most shapeless pieces.
Within two weeks he began to notice other things, too, like
her hair; in school she had worn her thick tresses long and loose, since they both enjoyed it when he would cafuné her. Here on Zarmina she had kept the length, though it had been pulled back into a utilitarian ponytail low on the back of her neck. After she had come home from the med center she had demanded it almost all roughly hacked off, and what yet remained was limp and lank, as if the simulants were neglecting to rinse the soap out of it. When he questioned them about it, they told him that Mrs. Breylin had refused to let them clean her.
Inescapably, he realized that something had broken inside her with the accident. He couldn’t protect her in the past, but maybe if he loved her enough her desire to live would grow back in time. His hope was an emaciated thing, but it was all he had to hang on to.
It was about a half a year before Luna’s and Maré‘s tenth inception anniversary, and therefore their imminent expiration. To Joss, it felt suspiciously like a looming storm of which he was becoming more aware.
He hadn’t explained the implications to them when they had been a family – it had been too hard to think about their deaths back then – and after Larissa lost her legs he continued down the path of least resistance. It would have been so easy to keep doing nothing, and he thought about putting it off until some later time, but he knew that the longer he waited the harder it would get. Besides that, he had arranged for their replacements to arrive in another three months, give or take, depending on storm activity. The time had come to get it out of the way, so Breylin sat them down one night after evening chores to make sure that they understood what would be happening to them soon. He was uncomfortable with the task, but if he delayed it would only be worse.
