Coming Soon

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  Right now, though, she doesn’t care what may or may not be waiting for her. She twists around on the bed, facing away from it, still lying naked on top of the sheets. Why every surface has to be so damned reflective, she has no idea. Even at this angle, she can still see the steady blinking light.

  On.

  Off.

  On.

  Off.

  Over and over and over.

  “Damn it.” Hitomi throws her legs over the side of the bed and stalks over to her computer terminal. When she gets there, she stands, legs wide and braced with hands in fists at her hips, and glares at the screen like her anger will actually accomplish anything. She hadn’t had a plan when she came over here, and now she feels a little foolish.

  The desk is still covered in parts of the micro-repair kit she’d left out from earlier. She could—

  The light flashes again.

  She snatches a flathead screwdriver from the desk and, without thinking, stabs the light. The cover shatters with a satisfying pop, and she is instantly, finally, in darkness.

  “There,” she says, more satisfied than she should be. “That did it.”

  “Captain.” From the speaker on his relay station, ELI’s voice fills the emptiness of her room. “I could have disabled that for you.” His reminder is cautious and gentle, but Hitomi still frowns; she hadn’t actually thought to ask.

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Before ELI can respond, the light attempts to flash one last time, but instead of being good and dead like Hitomi had intended, it sparks, white hot embers scattering on the back of Hitomi’s hand.

  “Fuck!” She shakes off the tiny bits of filament, letting them fall harmlessly to the floor before any serious damage can occur, but she’s too late. She can’t see clearly, but she knows from the blossom of pain that she is going to have some angry red welts.

  When she doesn’t move, ELI speaks up again. “Cutis-Balm will help with those burns.”

  She should get some, she knows she should; the pain would be gone in an instant, but that would require taking the dozen steps down to the med-bay.

  Worse, it would require putting clothes on.

  “I’ll be fine, ELI.” Hitomi is surprised at how defeated she sounds.

  When ELI speaks this time, it sounds inside her head rather than from his relay. It’s always softer when he does that, more intimate. “Would you like me to block the pain?”

  For lack of a better place to direct her gaze, Hitomi stares skeptically at ELI’s relay. “You can do that? Why don’t you do it when I’m actually in pain, like when I’m in combat and taking bullets? How does it even work?”

  “In simple terms, the neurons in your brain are all mapped to nerve endings throughout your body. I can block the signal transduction that translates to pain, or stimulate other neurons that translate to any number of senses. It is an essential part of how I enhance your abilities. However, I would never fully block your pain at the height of combat, as it is such an important factor in your responses and reflexes. I wouldn’t even offer now except . . .” He pauses, however briefly, and Hitomi finds herself surprised at the concern she hears. “You need to rest, and I would like to help in any way I can.”

  “I’m good, ELI.” Which is a lie, and they both know it. “Thanks.” She blows gently across the back of her hand. It will sting like a bitch for a while, but it will fade.

  With a long-suffering sigh, not feeling any more relaxed, Hitomi turns back toward her bed, flipping the forward views-creen on to the lowest setting, and the room is again filled with the soft patterns of space flight. Maybe, she thinks, she should try and get off again. That hasn’t really worked, though. Maybe she needs someone else involved . . .

  God, she needs to sleep.

  Another sigh accompanies what is sure to be the first of many complete and repetitive turns under the blanket. She eventually lies flat on her back, sprawled out, limbs taking up as much space on the bed as possible, and stares blankly at the ceiling. The blanket settles around her, brushing the back of her burned hand. It sends a small, sharp shock of pain up her arm.

  “ELI.”

  “Yes, captain?” His voice is still in her head, a gentle hum of thought and simulated sound.

  “You said you can block neural pathways but also stimulate them. Not just like you did to restart my heart earlier today, but . . .”

  “Stimulating your neural network is a critical process of my core functionality.”

  “Ok, that’s great. So, can you, uh . . . ?” She has no idea how to ask what she wants to, nor is she sure she even should in the first place. “Fuck. Ok, ELI. Devon’s unit had some of his memories blocked once, but could he have erased them if he wanted to?”

  There is another pause—long by ELI standards. “I would prefer not to have memories erased, but it can be done.”

  Perfect.

  “For both of us,” he adds as an afterthought.

  Even better, Hitomi thinks. Because if this goes to hell in a handbasket—even if she gets what she’s after—she’s not 100 percent convinced she’ll want to remember it.

  “All right. Awesome. Perfect. So, can you . . . ?” She’s still unsure, finding her footing. “Can you make it seem like something is there that . . . isn’t?”

  “Such as?”

  Silence stretches again while Hitomi thinks of the best way to breach the subject. She lifts her good hand out and stares at it.

  “Can you make my brain believe there’s a cube in my hand?” Though nothing visible happens, the sensation of something pressing into her hand makes Hitomi’s face light up with a smile. Its edges are sharp and cool to the touch.

  “Okay, make it a sphere.”

  The shape morphs. It has the same weight, but it’s warmer this time. It feels like—

  “Wood?”

  “Yes, that was my intention.”

  “This is really cool, ELI.” And it is, even beyond her original intentions, but now her body is starting to take note, heating up. She can feel herself getting turned on as her possibilities keep expanding.

  “Let’s try something else. How about puddy?”

  Though logically she knows she doesn’t need to, Hitomi cups her hand and closes her eyes.

  “Would you like something thick?” Her hand is suddenly full of a glob of something dry and moldable, but not changing much on its own, like a corrective polymer that hasn’t been cured yet. “Or perhaps something more like Cutis-Balm?” The polymer seems to melt in her hand until she’s got a palm full of cold, tingly, semi-solid liquid. It even rolls in her palm, her skin feeling sticky where it leaves. At this point, she opens her eyes and has to fight the surprise that her hand is, indeed, still empty. To see how much ELI will play along, she shakes out her hand; the sensation doesn’t vanish but rather feels like the balm is shaken away, sticky residue left behind and all. When cool drops of gel seem to splash on her bare stomach, Hitomi lets out a quick burst of laughter.

  “Okay, okay. Next test. Someone grabbing my arm. Not enough to hurt, but enough to really feel the pressure.”

  Without a response, ELI complies. The grip on her bicep is so convincing she looks down, fully expecting to see the skin indented and discolored, but, of course, finds nothing. Now, though, the spark has flared into a flame deep in her gut, and she can feel her heartbeat quicken.

  “Good. Good. Awesome.” Shit, she’s letting the awkwardness creep in. Keep it together, Hitomi. “How about, sandpaper? Just brushing over the skin.”

  Again, the sensation shifts into a coarse surface, barely making contact and sending goosebumps down her arm.

  She swallows, trying to make her next request sound like the logical next step rather than her actual goal from the beginning. “Can you do, you know, maybe . . . I don’t know, a human tongue?”

  ELI does, and it’s warm, soft, and wet. It’s perfect.

  Hitomi sighs, just a small, contented huff of a breath. Her voice lowers, and she points to wh
ere the sensation is slipping across her shoulder. “Now, make it follow my finger.” As she slowly drags her finger along her arm, never really touching herself, she expects the slick, steady slide of a static object, but ELI surprises her. There are lips, too. She closes her eyes and moves her hand, ELI’s tongue and lips following her path, fluttering, almost a kiss on her bare skin, so light and so soft a shiver runs down her spine.

  Her path continues, the flutter of kiss-like sensations along her collarbone feel like the attentions of an actual lover, rather than a simulated sensation by an Artificial Intelligence installed in her brain. A breath catches in her throat. Hitomi starts to lose herself to it, drawing ELI’s attention down her chest, to her already-peaked nipples. This time, it’s more than a kiss, a deliberate flick of tongue and a brush of lips that draws a soft cry of delight.

  “Ah . . .”

  “Hitomi.” ELI’s voice breaks her from her trance, and reality comes crashing back, hard. She hadn’t told him her intentions, hadn’t asked.

  “Shit. Damn it. Shit. Fuck, I’m so sorry, ELI. I didn’t . . . I shouldn’t have—”

  “Please, Hitomi. Do not apologize.” His voice is somewhat quieter than usual, and though on the surface just as artificial as always, there is a hum of something more. “I believe I know what it is you desire.”

  “That transparent, huh?”

  “If you will allow, I can continue with very little direction.”

  Hitomi lays there in silent shock for a moment, frozen in her indecision. It doesn’t last long, however. Maybe it’s nerves. Maybe it’s the fact that she hasn’t slept in thirty-six hours. Maybe she really is that desperate for relief.

  She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

  “Okay, ELI.”

  This time, there are two hands, but they don’t start at her breasts, where the tongue had left off, but at her neck and shoulders. They have a warm, somewhat slick feel to them as if they’re coated in a massaging oil. Strong fingers knead carefully into the muscle at her shoulder, palms rolling across the skin. His simulated hands never pause, working slowly across her chest then down, soft drags of fingers at which she can’t help but smile. He gently squeezes both her breasts, but the ghost of another string of kisses to her collarbone betrays his intentions.

  It sends a cool wave of pleasure through her skin, and she lets out a long, slow breath.

  “ELI, I have one more request.”

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t . . .” ELI’s ministrations pause at her word. “Don’t simulate the orgasm. Okay? Let my body get there on its own.” Everything starts again, a little firmer, a little more intense.

  “Of course.” He doesn’t say anything after that.

  Neither of them do.

  For a long time, she lies there, feeling the blissful effects of a sensual massage that isn’t really happening. It’s surreal and all the more intense for it. Because ELI isn’t bound by physical limitations, she finds herself being massaged down her back, soft, teasing touches that bring sweet shivers down her spine, without even having to roll over. All of this continues while both her breasts are kissed and teased until she’s gasping for air.

  Hitomi is beginning to think she has found heaven.

  Sometimes a movement or sensation will change before Hitomi has even consciously registered that she doesn’t like it. The ones she does like get intensified—harder, softer, firmer— all in the breath of a moment. ELI is reading her like a wide-open book and giving her everything her body craves.

  When the hands on the small of her back begin to dip lower, to gently squeeze at the firm muscles of her ass, Hitomi instinctively spreads her legs despite having nothing physical to make room for. ELI’s invisible hands follow the curve of her body along the soft, sensitive skin of her thighs. It tickles in a way that, were she not burning with desire, would make her laugh uncontrollably. Now, though, a sound escapes her already parted lips that is more desperate than anything else.

  She tilts her hips, opening herself up, silently asking for more.

  But ELI . . . ELI isn’t doing what Hitomi wants. ELI is doing exactly what Hitomi’s body is telling him it needs. The hands continue to glide across her flesh, along her thighs, over her mound, fingers teasing at her soaking lips.

  Her breath quickens, and her heart races with every touch, every tease. The firm press of lips returns, starting at the tender skin of her neck, ghosting down, following lines of muscles and tendons that rise and fall along the curves of her body.

  Though she aches for more, is literally dripping with desire, she finds that her body and her mind are relaxed. Her muscles no longer twitch with an overabundance of energy. Her skin no longer crawls with the tension and irritation of the day that has plagued her for hours. Every knot, every twist has been pushed aside, replaced kiss by kiss, touch by simulated touch, with a feeling of comfort. She is cared for.

  She is safe.

  Hitomi lets out a long, deeply satisfied sigh.

  And then, a spark.

  A jolt of pleasure. Another. It races up her spine and steals her breath. Without warning, something thick and warm flicks against her clit. Again and again, the pressure rolls along the sensitive flesh, and she bites her lip to keep from crying out. She can feel the edge of her release barreling toward her with each lick, every gentle suck and roll of a tongue she knows isn’t really there. Just as her muscles begin to seize up, everything slows, and the pressure and speed die down just enough to keep her on the edge, but not enough to fall over.

  This time, she does cry out, a string of breathy curses and pleas that remain unanswered. Almost as if purposely contrary to her begging, ELI eases her back down.

  Before she can catch her breath and properly demand more, the gentle, sweet pressure of fullness begins to overtake her. It starts at her entrance, almost too big at first but perfect within moments. A slick slide that feels like taut warm skin against her inner walls. She has to fight to keep her eyes closed, to not ruin the illusion, even as she shifts her body to accept the feeling of intrusion.

  It pulls back, then slips in again, deeper each time, a steady buildup of pleasure until something deep within her is stimulated just right, and a new wave of ecstasy washes through her. She clenches the sheets when it happens again, loses her breath on the third one. ELI keeps going, picking up the pace in steady increments, igniting her senses with each deep thrust.

  This pleasure is different from before, not as sharp and

  slower to build, broader, and all-encompassing.

  Hitomi wants this feeling to never end. She hums with appreciation, rocking her hips to meet each thrust, completely forgetting that there’s nothing there to meet.

  The touch of hands returns to her breasts, gentleness gone and grip firm, new spikes of bliss with each sharp pulse. And then, a twist of pressure at her rim. Her eyes shoot open in shock, but before she can cry out in protest, she’s full there, too, and it’s better than she could have imagined.

  In.

  Out.

  Deeper.

  There is no pain, only the indescribable bliss that comes from having every sexual nerve ending come to life at once, fantasies she’s never in her wildest dreams thought she would get to truly experience coming true.

  ELI has complete control over Hitomi’s body—pleasure, pain, all of it—and in that moment, she wouldn’t take it back for anything in the entire universe.

  Her back arches, toes curling into the sheets. She is filled and stretched and fucked at a blissfully bruising pace. Each thrust hits her core from front and back—filled, held, caressed, kissed, everywhere, all at once. A thousand tender kisses set her skin ablaze.

  Hitomi can’t breathe with the overload of sensations: her breasts ache in the best way, her muscles tight and wound up along every inch of her body down to her bones, all ready to snap.

  “E—ELI . . . Please.”

  Everything becomes bright and new when the feeling of a tongue on her clit li
ghts up again, fast and purposeful.

  Another heartbeat.

  Another eternity.

  And she comes.

  Her body clenches as wave after wave of release crashes through her, a bright tingle of electricity racing across her skin. She is wet, bed soaked, thighs slick down to her knees and getting worse with every pulse. ELI’s thrusts continue through every drawn-out second of her orgasm. She rides out the intensity of it until she has nothing left to give and falls back to the bed breathless, boneless.

  A soft, blue light sparks behind her eyes as the Al’s movements slow and another kind of warmth overtakes her.

  It starts in her gut, expanding slowly, filling her with a heavy feeling of comfort. It’s like being gently placed into a warm pool of water, the ripples swirling around the divots in her skin, both inside and out.

  This is . . . this is not from her own pleasure, Hitomi recognizes that much. It’s something else, something more that she hadn’t expected, can’t even put a name to.

  For a while, she lays in the empty silence, breath still shaky, eyes closed, desperately trying to cling to the feeling coursing through her. Though her own orgasm fades, the warmth and comfort—the “other”—remains. Hitomi curls herself into the feeling and smiles, a breathless, almost silent, “thank you” on her lips.

  Hitomi drifts, not quite awake and not quite asleep. ELI’s voice registers in her mind, but she can’t quite make it out through the haze. “Huh?”

  “Would you like me to erase this evening from our memories?”

  Now, she is awake, or at least, awake enough to take stock. She should ache, as hard as she was fucked. There should be blissfully tender bruises, gentle purple spots in stark contrast to her fair skin. But the only physical evidence is the thick pool of warmth between her legs and the lingering afterglow in her memories.

  “Do you want to forget?” she asks him quietly, almost scared of his answer.

  There is a long pause in which she curls into herself a little more.

  “No, I do not.”

  The happiness overwhelms her, enough to bring a tear to her eye. But she blinks it away. “Keep it, ELI. I know I will.”