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Description

[Another story involving a male “slave” (voluntary servitude, through choice) waking up in 3019. Will he still be useful?]

I woke up groaning. Where I wanted to ask, what happened but when you’ve served as a slave for more than forty years you don’t talk out of turn. My head hurt.

“Male ninety-six. Adjplete.” The voice was neither male nor female: mechanical. “Jekdn. Psyjust.”

It was as if I was hearing every third syllable. But then my head started to clear. With it, the need to pee went away and I no longer felt hungry. I slept some more.

*

“How are you feeling?” The young man in the white coat didn’t seem threatening at all. “Try talking. What’s your name?”

“I… I don’t have one, sir.”

“Hmm. Can I give you one?”

“If you like, sir.” It was coming back to me: my Mistress at the time had been driving with me in the back. And then, suddenly, we weren’t. I had dim memories of ambulances.

“I’m going to call you Early, because of your condition. Now, are you hungry?”

“Early? Condition? Hungry—no sir, I don’t seem to be.”

“Good. System makes food appear directly in the stomach, but we weren’t sure it’d work for you. When you nearly died they froze your body. We found the hospital under the ice and repaired you. Maybe you’ll have skills we need; we’re pretty desperate.”

“Under the ice, sir?”

“You don’t have to call me sir. I’m Ian. It’s 3019 and we’re well into the ice age.”

Ian must have seen my confusion; he sat on the edge of the bed, curly brown hair, brown eyes, light brown ski, broad smile, all making me trust him, want to please him. “We didn’t find your records and there was no-one else with you. I’m sorry. You need time alone? I’ll return.”

He left; I looked around. I was naked on a bed with no covers in a plain white circular room with a domed ceiling. There were huge thick pillars around the edge of the room: it reminded me of a chapel a Master had taken me to once that was a copy of a Roman temple or something. So Mistress had died in the crash. Or maybe Mistress had had me frozen for when they could revive me. But now she was gone, burned, buried, dust.

After some time the voice said, “male ninety-six. Tissue repair complete. Injections complete.” I could understand it now.

Ian returned; under his lab coat he appeared to be naked. “I wore this in case nakedness bothered you. I’m sure you must have questions. You can get up if you like.”

I hadn’t been told to speak so remained silent; I got down and knelt in Ready Position.

“Early, you can talk. Are you scared?”

I shook my head, No. I felt safe, but confused.

“We’ve been trying to learn… before System… how did people eat? How did you reproduce?”

“System? Ian, I cooked for Mistress, ate what I was fed; I couldn’t reproduce.”

“You’re Early to be like us with no genitals. System clones us, mixing genes. You’ve an orifice for elimination?”

He might as well have asked if I breathed air! “Yes, sir.”

“Here, sustenance is teleported and wastes removed. No orifices.”

I giggled.

“Yes? Speak freely, it’s fine.”

“What if you need a suppository?”

There was a pause: Ian was asking System.

“Medicine is implanted directly. Here, I’ll show you around. We’re under the ice but it’s warm. Do you mind if I undress? Hey, what was your specialization, before?”

Ian rambled on, but stopped short when I answered,

“I was a personal body-slave, sir. I specialized in providing sexual gratification.”

Description

[Another story involving a male “slave” (voluntary servitude, through choice) waking up in 3019. Will he still be useful?]

I woke up groaning. Where I wanted to ask, what happened but when you’ve served as a slave for more than forty years you don’t talk out of turn. My head hurt.

“Male ninety-six. Adjplete.” The voice was neither male nor female: mechanical. “Jekdn. Psyjust.”

It was as if I was hearing every third syllable. But then my head started to clear. With it, the need to pee went away and I no longer felt hungry. I slept some more.

*

“How are you feeling?” The young man in the white coat didn’t seem threatening at all. “Try talking. What’s your name?”

“I… I don’t have one, sir.”

“Hmm. Can I give you one?”

“If you like, sir.” It was coming back to me: my Mistress at the time had been driving with me in the back. And then, suddenly, we weren’t. I had dim memories of ambulances.

“I’m going to call you Early, because of your condition. Now, are you hungry?”

“Early? Condition? Hungry—no sir, I don’t seem to be.”

“Good. System makes food appear directly in the stomach, but we weren’t sure it’d work for you. When you nearly died they froze your body. We found the hospital under the ice and repaired you. Maybe you’ll have skills we need; we’re pretty desperate.”

“Under the ice, sir?”

“You don’t have to call me sir. I’m Ian. It’s 3019 and we’re well into the ice age.”

Ian must have seen my confusion; he sat on the edge of the bed, curly brown hair, brown eyes, light brown ski, broad smile, all making me trust him, want to please him. “We didn’t find your records and there was no-one else with you. I’m sorry. You need time alone? I’ll return.”

He left; I looked around. I was naked on a bed with no covers in a plain white circular room with a domed ceiling. There were huge thick pillars around the edge of the room: it reminded me of a chapel a Master had taken me to once that was a copy of a Roman temple or something. So Mistress had died in the crash. Or maybe Mistress had had me frozen for when they could revive me. But now she was gone, burned, buried, dust.

After some time the voice said, “male ninety-six. Tissue repair complete. Injections complete.” I could understand it now.

Ian returned; under his lab coat he appeared to be naked. “I wore this in case nakedness bothered you. I’m sure you must have questions. You can get up if you like.”

I hadn’t been told to speak so remained silent; I got down and knelt in Ready Position.

“Early, you can talk. Are you scared?”

I shook my head, No. I felt safe, but confused.

“We’ve been trying to learn… before System… how did people eat? How did you reproduce?”

“System? Ian, I cooked for Mistress, ate what I was fed; I couldn’t reproduce.”

“You’re Early to be like us with no genitals. System clones us, mixing genes. You’ve an orifice for elimination?”

He might as well have asked if I breathed air! “Yes, sir.”

“Here, sustenance is teleported and wastes removed. No orifices.”

I giggled.

“Yes? Speak freely, it’s fine.”

“What if you need a suppository?”

There was a pause: Ian was asking System.

“Medicine is implanted directly. Here, I’ll show you around. We’re under the ice but it’s warm. Do you mind if I undress? Hey, what was your specialization, before?”

Ian rambled on, but stopped short when I answered,

“I was a personal body-slave, sir. I specialized in providing sexual gratification.”