Not that she could complain, when working for Visiotech had scored her a jaunt in an actual time machine. Who would have thought such a thing, when ticking “yes, I do want to fall short of my life’s expectations” on a job application form?
Tem and Aley were nowhere near falling short of anything. They were something, they weren’t like the men of now, they were—
She slipped out of her coffee stained, bus smelling clothes in full view of not-looking Waites, and pulled on the blue trousers, the white shirt.
She was lacing her boots, when Waites finally looked up.
“Aren’t you in the machine, yet? Jesus.”
It was very stressful, being him. Multi-million pound contracts to meet, expectations hovering over him, this dungeon-lab crushing down on him constantly. And there was that whole “I can create a machine that converts water into oil” disaster that he still had to live down.
Plus there was all these women running about his world, and he only had so many hours in the day to berate and belittle them.
“I thought I could go for a little longer, this time.”
She stood and went to the machine, as she spoke. He was always more amenable, if you did as he asked while requesting something. And especially if you didn’t meet his gaze, at the same time.
“Really? You did? Which of us is the inventor of this machine, again?”
Not me. I would have called it The Asscracker, if I had invented it. Instead of something as dull as “the machine”. It’s not even specific! It could make toast, for all anyone knows.
“I know. I just thought—”
“Well don’t. Or I’ll get someone else to do these experiments. Got it?”
It was awful, really, how much panic gripped her at those words. They were just weird future men. Everything was awful, there—no women!
So why this tremendous pull to go back there? The questions, the questions she thought. Then saw Tem’s eyes, behind her closed ones.
“Got it,” she said.
He busied himself, priming the metal scoop that made up the majority of the machine. It looked sort of like a giant rounded shoe, to her, and all she had to do was lay down inside it. Once it was powered, it swung up and put her on the vertical. Which was good, really, considering how she didn’t particularly want to arrive in the future flat on her back.
Not that lying on your back in the future should make any woman uncomfortable. Likely as not, they would just gasp and run away, or poke her with sticks, or debate for an hour about what the things on the front of her chest were. Instead of staring down at her as though she was either a) annoying or b) ready for sex.
She looked up at Waites, and was more than a little alarmed to find a combination of both a) and b) all over his face.
“You look real happy about something,” he said, as he laced the straps around her wrists. She was fairly certain he had no real sexual interest in her—most men didn’t, mainly due to her invisibility. But she still had to picture Tem or Aley above her, just to wash away the nasty taste in her mouth.
And it wasn’t that he was unattractive. Not at all. He had the same dark hair and dark eyes that Tem did, and when he smiled—which he did so infrequently—a slight dimple appeared in his left cheek. It was endearing.
A shame, that in all other ways he was not.
“I’m sending you for two hours, this time. But that was my idea, not yours. It’s logical to extend your stay each time, to ascertain longer term effects.”
He moved down, tightening the straps around her ankles. As always, she thought about what they must look like, when she vanished. Did they remain in the same positions, as though clinging to an imaginary body? Did they sag, waiting for her to return?
“Are you going to bring me some worthwhile information, this time?”
She stared up at him from the innards of the cold metal machine. He really did have a look of Tem. Such a shame, really, that he mostly made her want to punch him in the mouth. A shame that most men in her time made her want to punch them in the mouth.
“I swear, I’ll find out all I can about the mole-people of Blargon 6.”
Somehow, talking crap was much more satisfying than any sort of violence.
“Remember,” he said, as grave as Tem, suddenly. “You need to find if they use sonar. Got that? Sonar.”
For obvious reasons.
* * * *
Every time the future wavered back into view, she was sure there’d be more of a welcome committee. The President of the Department for Illegal Touching, perhaps. A news crew, waiting to film her boobles live and close-up.
But only Tem greeted her, with an expression that singularly refused to be anything but delighted and eager. He immediately clasped her fist in both of his, and shook it up and down. He urged her to sit in the chair. He brought her a drink on a tray—this time with what looked like a cracker beside it.
She couldn’t help noticing that he hadn’t shaved. It wasn’t normal, on him. Like she’d arrived to find him wearing a little pointy party hat. Plus there was all the busying about, and the hand-combing of his hair.
“Are you all right, Tem?”
He stopped, at that. Froze, in fact. Of course she couldn’t read his expression—it was from the future. But best guess: he was feeling somewhat harassed.
“Do I not seem all right?”
“No. You seem like you’re going to have a heart attack.”
He appeared to gather himself a little, at that. His expression closed down a little, tightened itself up. He let his hands drop to his sides.
“Are you really a woman?”
“I promise.”
“Aley wants to tell others—I—” He closed his eyes, briefly. “But I don’t.”
A little tickle of fear spread down her spine.
“Why? What will others do to me?”
A crease appeared between his brows. They were quite thick, really, and glossy looking—as was the hair on his head. In truth, he seemed like the type of man to be very hairy, which made the harassed bristle on his face seem less incongruous.
But not by much.
“They will take you to the Ministry, most likely. You’ll be in newscasts. One hundred years ago a man was born who looked very much like a woman—or at least, that’s what they said. And they made him Supreme Ruler of the Earth. So—and this is just a guess—they’d probably make you President, at the very least.”
Her mind immediately flicked to Waites’ schlock sci-fi, while her body remained on rigid auto-pilot.
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not. Sarcasm doesn’t seem to exist, here.”
“You’re probably right. I’ve never heard of it.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed, as before—though this time, with a touch more despair.
“I think you should just stay in here, with me—with us. For now. Though I imagine you must have a mission, of some type. Does staying here contravene your mission?”
Had Waites even given her mission? Apart from “find out if they use sonar”? He had wanted her to explore, and uncover, and find things out. And it was true that she was curious about what lay beyond the door. And yet—
“Hey—don’t worry. Maybe it’s best if you don’t tell anyone else, you know? Maybe it’s best I stay here, with you. I don’t think I’d make a great Supreme Ruler. I’m the type of person who wants to laugh when you talk about Supreme Rulers. I told my boss that you were mole-people. I can’t be trusted.”
His dark gaze locked on hers, flashing fire.
“I want to be able to trust you. I want to believe this is what you really are.”
She swallowed down the lump that suddenly appeared in her throat—most likely it was just disgust at herself, anyway. Maybe it’s best I stay here with you—Lord.
“I swear to you, Tem, I’m a woman.” And oh no. Was she putting a hand over his? Oh that couldn’t be good. “I’m a woman from the past.”
He looked down at the hand over his
, then even worse—put his right one over the whole lot.
“I couldn’t sleep, last night. I couldn’t go to the renewal centre. Aley is there, for me.”
“What do you do at a renewal centre?”
It seemed to pull him back together, a little, to focus on something mundane.
“We turn urine into sustenance.”
Though obviously, not so mundane to her. She glanced at the cracker-thing.
“Is…that urine?”
“No.”
“Phew!”
“It’s made out of human skin cells.”
She squeezed his hand, nodded.
“Wow. Well. What advances you’ve made.”
It was okay, though. He didn’t understand sarcasm. Never again would she make a terrible blunder, because of her sharp tongue.
“Everything in this room is made out of something else. I suppose it isn’t like that, in your time.”
“Not even a little bit.”
Something like a smile touched his lips, small and soft. She could feel his thumb, stroking over her knuckle.
“Everything was plentiful, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” she said, then felt a little lick of something disturbing, on realising the word she had used. Was. As though the time before was her past, too.
“Of course, we have everything we need, here, now. It isn’t as things were after the great wars and the flame. But there are so few grapes. I wish sometimes for more grapes.”
She felt it wise to keep from him the fruit bowl she threw away, the week before last.
“And there were tall buildings, in your time, weren’t there? I’ve seen the ruins.”
Maybe giant robots had destroyed earth.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so amused and horrified, all at the same time.”
“It isn’t so horrific, here, is it?”
He glanced about the room, as though expecting horror to leap out at him.
“Hey—no. No. It’s just…ruins. And no women. And no sex! I mean—don’t you even have sex with each other?” She pulled her hand from his and stood. This sort of talk required standing. “And I know I maybe shouldn’t get into this. I don’t know why the sex thing is sticking in my head over the urine crackers or the ruins. But come on. Sex is so…fundamental. Especially to men!”
On seeing his face, she kind of wished she hadn’t stood. It gave the whole thing far too much impact. He stammered, through his next words.
“Maybe if you explain sex to me, I can tell you why or how it doesn’t exist anymore.”
He held her gaze. She couldn’t hold his, back. Explain sex—Jesus.
“Well, you know. It’s when…it’s how people used to make children.”
“Yes—inside a woman.”
He seemed elated, to have fumbled on the right answer. But the elation soon poured off his face, when she next spoke.
“Yes, exactly! And the man used to…put the child in there.”
“The…what?”
“The man—”
“I know what you said. But if that’s the case, then how or why would a man have sex with another man?”
There were circles. Circles spinning inside her head.
“You are lying, aren’t you? You’re making this up.”
He stood, and now it was her turn to feel small and confused.
“No—Tem. No, look—it’s not always about putting a child in someone—fuck, this is much harder to explain than it should be.”
“I understand. You’re a liar.”
His already dark face went even further into the black.
“I’m not—listen! Just shut up and listen! Sit down.”
It seemed miraculous that he obeyed her. Though it occurred to her that he just wanted to believe, no matter how much evidence to the contrary.
“Men have sex with other men because they…like each other. And it feels good. Sex feels good. Mostly we just do it because we want to feel pleasure, not to get children. You know, pleasure? It must feel nice when you’re in the shower, washing yourself, maybe you stroke your penis one too many times…”
It was his mouth that told her it had clicked. His lips parted. The light went back on, behind his eyes—the good light, not the darkly flashing I’m-hurt-and-angry light.
“Is sex like…pleasuring?”
She felt like punching the air.
“Yes! Exactly! That’s sex in a nutshell. Unless the guy you’re with’s an asshole.”
“What’s a nutshell? And an asshole?”
“A kind of grape and a selfish person.”
“You do pleasuring inside a grape?”
Sometime in her own future, she would look back and know with a deathly certainty, that this was when she first began to fall in love with Tem. Or at least, she knew it until something else came along, that made him seem even more loveable than the last thing he’d done.
Like asking questions such as—
“So the man actually puts his…what do you call it?”
“Cock.”
Tem chuckled. She wondered if he was thinking about chickens, but didn’t ask.
“He puts the cock inside a woman?”
“Yeah. And then, you know. Moves around until…uh…release.”
They were sat at the side of the bed, now. More relaxed, less about proving things. She had even eaten her urine-skin-cracker—it had tasted of digestive biscuits, but around a hundred times more filling. She hadn’t understood why Tem’s eyes got big when she wolfed it down in two bites, until the thing made her feel as though she’d eaten three meals all at once.
A day’s worth of food, he’d informed her. Though thankfully, they weren’t rationed. Neither Tem nor Aley were going to starve to death because she’d accidentally scarfed their meagre portion.
“Don’t you ever…put your penis in some guy, and move it around? It really seems like all of you should be revelling in a ton of man-love.”
“We do love each other. I love Aley. But I rarely do sex on him.”
“Have sex with him.”
“Apologies. I rarely have sex with him. Sometimes we rub each other, or use our mouths. Do you use your mouths in your time?”
She would definitely answer him. She would, if her tongue hadn’t suddenly cleaved itself to the roof of her mouth.
“Am I asking a sensitive question? Some in this time don’t wish to talk about pleasuring activities, either.”
“No, no. It’s fine. You were saying how you and Aley fondle and lick and suck each other…?”
A look of confusion crossed his features, but thankfully, it didn’t stop him from further talk of the delicious man-love.
“We do. But largely we use the Device.”
Ah, the Device. Of course, the Device!
“The what?”
Again, that chuckle. It would have been irritating, if it didn’t warm her so thoroughly. It lit his face, from the mouth upwards.
“I suppose there are things that you won’t understand or know about us. It’s a sort of…a telecast, that plays in your head. A little like dreaming, but you’re awake.”
“Holy crap—like virtual reality? You have virtual reality?”
She suspected that wasn’t the case, but excitement was gripping too hard not to blurt something out. Besides, “dreaming while awake” sounded pretty close.
“I’m not sure. Images are delivered into your mind, and electrical impulses are sent to the parts of your brain that control the nervous system.”
“That sounds incredibly awesome, and yet also really painful.”
“No—no it’s not painful at all. It provides you with a relea—with pleasure. It’s completely satisfactory—most prefer it to touching or…having sex.”
“You prefer using a device, to touching?”
He shrugged. Just a shrug. But it was the first time she suspected him of not being wholly truthful.
“You prefer it to putting your arms around a real person, and stroking their
bodies, and kissing their mouths?”
Colour crept up his cheeks. It was obvious, even in the low light of his little apartment. When he swallowed, and looked away, she thought of every man she had ever dated, and how completely unlike Tem they had all been.
“I’m not sure…” he said, and such an impulse went through her—she couldn’t check it. It went too deep. It held on too tight.
“You know, kissing,” she said, as though this was just going to be a demonstration. Which it apparently was, because suddenly she found herself leaning forward and—
It lasted no more than a moment. Barely anything at all, really. And yet when she pulled back, she could read the effect it’d had, all over his face. It hummed through him, visibly. His big eyes swallowed her whole.
Though the larger question was definitely why it’d had exactly the same effect on her. She was fairly certain her bones had gone numb. All vital systems ceased functioning. Waites would be so pleased—she seemed to have invented time stoppage, all on her own.
Or maybe he’d just be jealous, and write a paper entitled “Why Kate Connor Is A Bitch”.
“You know,” she said. “Just like that.”
“Ihoissziz,” he replied.
It took some translation, but she finally guessed at “I know what a kiss is”. Which he then confirmed, by snapping forward, to get another one.
It was clumsy. Not intended to be sensuous or exciting. Strange, that it hit both. When he pulled away, breathless and looking somewhat appalled, she could still taste him on her lips—like menthol. Like something excruciatingly real and human.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to eat you.”
She had to ask.
“What??”
Had he just said eat? Oh God, was that what kissing was, here? Did eating go on, and not in the good way?
But then his shoulders dropped, a little, and the frown lost its hold on his forehead, and she couldn’t think of anything else but the wondering expression that crept back over his face. The wondering expression that definitely had nothing to do with eating.
“You’re just so…” he said, then his hand came up, to touch the side of her face. The touch was so cautious, so careful, and nothing like being eaten at all—it sang through every nerve-ending she possessed. How different from the usual! Blundering grabs and squeezes, bored looks.
Past Pleasures Page 3