FIRST CHAPTER OF ESCAPE TO SEX
love & death
Love was on my mind as I finalized my plan
to kill them all.
fascinated by the juxtaposition of the two phenomena: the ultimate positive emotion and the ultimate negative one.
I had once proclaimed emotion to be the treasure of my soul as I had ascertained the meaning
of life, at least to me. And now I was going to tax my emotional treasury and extract a deadly mixture to lay waste
to my enemies
But that was man, I mused, as
I shifted on a bed as the clingy bio-sheets moved flawlessly to assume the new position of my body. The GDS mattress
did too, as it lifted me every so slightly above the base of the bed, creating a soft foundation that fit my frame. The hum
of the engine in the bedframe was like a sweet mechanical song, which faded into the background of my slumbering mind.
Ironically, I find it heartless to think of murder in the same voice as
love and yet it makes sense in this world we live in, this utopia where all of the nightmares of pre-informational man have
gone away, only to be replaced by new ones, which are not thought of as nightmares because they are bound by intellect.
I turn slightly and I hear the GDS make an adjustment and I know in rooms
far off from this one, machines and monitors change their glowing numbers, reporting my every movement.
My name is Joe and I am the man they all whisper about; the person who
doesn’t exist; the one the government says killed, and then disappeared like a ghost. None of it is true, except
the killing part. I did do that, but I had to.
I was in love.
I am one of two people to feel
the sensations of real sex in the last century and a half. The condition is called CMB, or Chronic Metabolic Breakdown
and this affliction will kill you unless you engage in sexual activity four to five times daily.
The world changed after the disease hit. We had a war, called the
Kank War and almost deleted all of mankind. But we were saved by our intellect. We now live in a world where information
and intellect are prized beyond all else.
There is no crime, no hunger
sickness or despair. You might have sex with anyone but they will never know anything about you, not even your name.
And it means little. It is maintenance.
much sex each day would not be the most awful thing if you could actually feel the pleasurable sensations associated with
sex. You can’t. There is no passion, no joy, and an orgasm that feels like a shudder. It affects everyone
in the world and the mandate is clear: copulate or die.
But this was not the case when I met Vella Collins, a remarkable woman who had a real sex experience with me, an sensation
so intense that we both passed out after having the first recorded orgasms in a hundred fifty years.
We dared to try to embrace it, keep it and to avoid the government, her
husband (who I pushed to his death) and my friends. We wanted to possess the miracle for ourselves. We failed.
We met secretly for a while and had glorious and
unbridled sex in an old museum, playing wonderful games and exploring the tender connections between sex, emotion and sensation.
It is among my fondest memories, right up there with getting my first PCI (Personal Computer Interface) and graduating from
college with a philosophy degree.
and I were discovered and we had to run but not before a few deaths occurred. We tried to get away but we were apprehended
and now we are both incarcerated in a CMB test facility in Seattle where we must copulate with strangers for the sake of all
mankind–– and for the rest of our lives.
time I have been here, I’ve acquired a new philosophy of life, death and sex. Life is the beginning of existence
and death the end and in the middle; there is sex, a renewable fuel source for the mind body and spirit. Sex is
road of life and the pathway to death at the same time.
We let sex rule out lives for millions of years because we knew no way to stop it. But then it turned against us, disrupting
our minds and laying waste to our bodies. Sex had become so fused to our intellect that we literally started to
die without it.
But I knew better than to allow
a biological function to enslave me now. I was a prisoner but it was men who were my jailers. I was the master
of sex. This was something none of my captors understood. I was a super-man in this regard and nothing would stop
me from escaping this place.
still each night, thinking about the cameras and other devices monitoring and watching me. The men and women who do
nothing but read the data kept on me would need t be subdued. There are others who kept and maintained and guarded the
facility. And others still who watch the outside of the place and regulate all the things needed to keep the prison
going, a prison with only three inmates.
I dream of getting up in the night, setting off alarms and facing them. I am naked as they approach with their weapons,
and restraining devices. I am not afraid for my life. You see, they cannot harm me because I am valuable.
But each of them is expendable.
charge into my room and I attack, tearing and ripping their flesh as fluids spray into the air and I utter primal screams.
I dispatch them all then rush into the adjacent wing and free my family, stopping only to inflict more damage on the innocent.
I do not feel guilt as I kill them but I do not want to. Sadly, this
is the only thing they understand and the only way I can be free.
I gather my family and go to the five-foot thick outer door. I place my hand on it and push. The floor
rumbles as the door pushes from its foundation. The walls crack and then the door falls like another victim to my power.
We walk to freedom and none dare to come after us.
is a fine fantasy and one that as sustained me now for two years. I don’t remember being brought into the facility
and since being here, I have not been allowed to leave.
At first I fought each day. I was uncooperative and unruly. I refused to have sex with the women they
brought each day and many times I had to be restrained as the women mounted me and bounced and gyrated to no end. I
didn’t care. If they wanted to kill me then I wanted to give them a faster way to get it done. I was a philosopher
and death was just another avenue to me, another way to escape.
After the baby was born, I gave in, became more cooperative. You see now
they had a bargaining chip, the ultimate one and I knew when I was beaten.
They never said they would kill him but they didn’t have to. I knew they would, or they
would kill me and use him in their research when he came of age.
So, while they did their experiments and exacted their mutations on my family, and me, I planned. I knew getting out
would be hard and no man had ever escaped anything without a blueprint for it.
God created the world in seven days. I decided that I lonely needed three to escape.
If I was diligent about it, I could do it in two but my timing had said three and so I stuck with that number.
I assess these thoughts as calmly as I can for I know that at least one
machine monitors my brain and counts alpha and beta wave patterns. Once when I was in a particularly stressful game
of chess, alarms went off and guards came in on my opponent and me. I didn’t find out until much later that my
brain scan had been the culprit.
so I am in a prison within a prison you could say. Physically contained and contained again by technology. But
I still have the ultimate secret weapon, one that they will never understand and by this means I will free myself and the
fools will never see it coming.
together many scenarios by which I could get out and all of them required me to kill those around me. I made my peace
with this easily and tried to pick a plan that required the fewest amount of death.
Somehow, I think I will fail.
I begin to move a little now. I am slowing waking, giving space to
the things and people who claim my body and mind each day. But for once I welcome the new day. Deep inside, this
is the day I have been waiting for.