The dim light stung his eyes, he winced, and his ears rang like tuning forks. Hazy orange and grey shadows came into focus. His body racked with shivers, eye muscles tort, he moved his hands up to shield his aching face.
A voice echoed from across the room.
“Do you know where you are?” The voice was soft and feminine with a hint of strictness.
“Nuh… No….” he stammered a reply. His lips and mouth stung as he tried to mouth the words.
“You are in a safe place, do not be alarmed.” There was no person in the room. The voice seemed to come from a thin grey disk on the far side of the wall. He sank into the light green padded seat and clutched his face in anguish. The voice spoke again; “the reading shows you do not have any weapons but you have no citizen ID. We need to know more about you before we can admit you.” The soft feminine voice never wavered in hesitation, making him wonder if he was really speaking to a human or just a programmed interface. “First; what is your name?”
He clenched his teeth. “Li-Liaann, Sallltterrr…” It was a struggle just to get the words out.
The circle spoke again. “You are currently experiencing symptoms of acute psychosis, including respiratory, cardiac, and derealisation symptoms. Please try to focus on my voice.” The circle seemed to sway in front of him. “We need to know about your medical and personal history before admittance, do we have your permission to ask you about this?”
He nodded, as if he had a choice. The circle seemed to sway in front of him.
“How long have you suffered from your condition?”
His face felt like rubber. “Eeeiiiigghhh... Yuu- yeearrsss…” It sounded like someone else was speaking for him.
“Have you self-admitted to an institution in the past?”
He shivered and shook his head, “noooh.”
“Have you ever self-harmed?”
He nodded “y-yyyeeeesss,” his words were now a barely audible hiss. How much longer would this take? He needed to get inside badly.
“Have you ever attempted suicide?”
Now he couldn’t even shake his head. The floor was swimming in front of him. “Nuuuhhhhh..”
“Have you recently had thoughts about committing suicide?”
He nodded his head slightly and the voice seemed to pause, considering him, his fizzled mind decided it was a human rather than a program at the other end.
“Have you ever experienced a serious trauma?”
He paused, trying to think what would constitute serious, then nodded slightly again. “Y–yesss”, it was getting a little easier for him to focus.
“Have you ever been in an abusive relationship?”
Another nod, “y-yesss.”
“Were you the abuser or the victim?”
The room seemed to ring after the last question, brown and white walls begging while he strained to answer. “B-both,” he muttered slowly.
The circle seemed satisfied. “Have you ever injured anyone during a psychotic episode?”
He stared at the sinking floor and clutched his arms to his chest, quivering. “No… Only myself…”
Silence now filled the room, the circle was now a grey lifeless void and a sense of dread filled him like he had somehow failed the test.
“Thank you, M. Salter,” the voice suddenly spoke, as calm and feminine as ever. “Our facility staff are on their way to escort you inside. Please do not be alarmed and cooperate with them, they are here to help you.
He nodded calmly at the grey circle. “Th-thank you…” his breath now shallower and more focused, he felt better knowing he would not have to wait for long.
“M. Salter,” the voice filled his ears once more. “You have no communication devices with you, is there someone we can call for you in the event of an emergency?”
He looked back at the grey circle, which now seemed to have a concerned expression in its eyes which he now saw were darker audio holes.
“No…” He spoke calmly to the floor. “There’s n-no one.”
Lian stared at the rotating steel disk and watched it go around and around. Beads of light danced across the metallic maw. Silk and yarn tumbled over one another like playing children while the drum churned on. He liked doing his own laundry sometimes, there was something meditative about watching the stains come away.
He looked around the cosy chestnut-coloured laundrette, surveying the rows of shining cylinders and baskets scattered across enamel flooring. Through a glass door, dark figures were conversing under a street light in the evening air. A dreary sun was escaping over the trees, turning them into featureless silhouettes. Lian watched them, wondering why he’d never seen them here before.
Though he could let Seline take care of all his laundry, he liked to venture out sometimes just to see what normal society was really like. You couldn’t trust what you were told in the news, even online where the manipulated algorithms fed you a combination of rage and self-aggrandisement. The only way to know was to see it for yourself.
The youths nearby seemed shabbily dressed, with plastic folded raincoats, bomber jackets, and a baseball cap, something he never saw anyone wear when he was young, probably a result of creeping hip-hop degeneracy. One of them was drinking from a can, probably alcohol and the other two were laughing and pointing at something. Lian thought one was a girl though he couldn’t be sure. Though they were excited and loud, they didn’t seem threatening. He thought about trying to start a conversation with them, just to see what they’d say. He could ask them if they knew of any petrol stations nearby, or if they had a lighter. He wondered if people were more or less friendly than he was at their age, and what he’d have thought at their age if an older man had asked such questions. He could scarcely remember what he even thought about anything back then.
He turned back to the plastic tan interior. Now a tiny TV screen was blaring in the top left, stealing his attention away from the youths. It showed an advert for a gym or yoga class, with young women’s bodies in tight yellow leggings and broad-shouldered men with huge muscles lifting weights. He inwardly snorted at the circus display and wondered if the advertisers knew how little muscle form mattered when it came to catching attention. Regardless of what such advertisements tried to pretend, most seduction has little to do with a person’s physique.
Lian was again confirmed in his superiority over regular people. A society that celebrates sex in its basest form is no more sophisticated than the first apes that ever ventured from the African Savannas, he thought, and no more conscious about its values. Sex has been turned into a consumer item that can be bought at the price of gym memberships and protein shakes, and romantic relationships are a form of self-indulgence no more demanding than a pilates class. Modern culture does everything it can to make people’s life easier, telling people they will be happy if they just remove one more difficulty from their lives, forgetting that difficulties are the point of life, sacrifice and servitude to something is the only way out.
What most people failed to understand was that slavery was in some sense the greatest form of liberation. They imagine the Egyptian pyramid builders as miserable cretins under the whip. Liberal nonsense. In reality, they were the happiest people on earth, because they had the cause of the great deity who they believed in more than anything, their life had meaning. They had more meaning than free men could ever have because they believed in what they were doing. That’s what belief can do to a person, all you need to do is give that to them. Even the African slaves who toiled in the cotton fields learned to love their servitude. He had read it himself in the letters they wrote to their masters. Humans seek slavery wherever they can find it, they are slaves of nature, slaves to their parents, and slaves to those they love. At every turn, they invent deities and ideals so they can be a slave once more. A human is born to be a slave, the only freedom comes in choosing the right kind of slavery, and the right kind of master. That was the great fortune of people like him.
While he was thinking these thoughts the silver and blue clothing continued to tumble when he was interrupted by a creaking sound. He looked to his right and saw fluorescent lights reflected off the surface of the glass door as it swung inwards. A sleek leather leg made its first appearance. Its owner, a fluffy white denim coat, worn by a slender creature with shining onyx hair. Lian stared intently.
A woman.
She was quite pretty, with washed-out mascara littering her puffy eyes, a scarf covering her mouth, and a slightly upturned nose. She looked at Lian for just a few seconds, meeting his stare before looking away as most women would, but her aversion was quick, a little too quick, and towards the floor, a symptom of not wanting to look people in the eye. He looked over her dour expression, her glazed eyes, her limp body. She was a walking suicide victim if he ever saw one, counting the days. A candle burning the last of its wick, yet still warm enough for someone to enjoy the flickering flame before it was finally extinguished.
He went back to watching the spinning garments but kept following her out of the corner of his eye. Her movements were sluggish, suggestive of the depressive trance she was in. Was it a tragedy in her life? An abusive partner? Or simply the stresses and loneliness of modern life getting her down? Endless pixelated entertainment coupled with on-demand fast food and rat-sized apartments, even in the leafy periphery of the shires, winters were long and dark, enough to make anyone feel themselves slipping, but he sensed something more behind her eyes than the daily toils of the modern consumer.
Once again, he thought about trying to talk with her, comment on the seeming unreliability of the washing machines, or offer her his seat, but he knew he would not get through to her, he recognised the trance, it was difficult to reach someone when they were like that. Instead, he resorted to imagining what it would be like to train her, and what Seline had prepared for him back at the house. He felt them on his shoulders sometimes, Sade sitting on his left, Masoch sitting on his right, each one whispering into his ears, which one would win today he wondered as he stared at the woman’s reflection in the black screen. What new ventures did she have in store for him?
The onyx woman was now piling clothes into the nearest machine in the same sluggish manner that she walked, and he again thought about asking her if she needed help but then decided that would be an absurd thing to ask in a laundrette. His eyes wandered to some of the posters scattered around the faux-wooden walls. One of them was an advertisement for an exhibition in London, it was a recreation of the Greek temple of Zeus, based on the recent archaeological discoveries in the Aegean. Lian was intrigued, the exhibition boasted full lifelike recreations of the original sculptures of Phidias. He quickly looked over the date to see if he could make it, and made a mental note to check his timetable. The poster showed a full-scale nude of a figure Lian didn’t recognise but who he assumed must be a God. He looked over the supple body, admiring the elegant dimples, contrapposto stance, rippled skin, and tiny member, sitting atop shrivelled testicles.
Many people misunderstood the Greek sculptor’s love of small penises. The obsession with large penises was something unique to the culture of the 21st century, based on an understanding that women should enjoy sex as much as the male. The Greeks didn’t think that way at all, like the modern Japanese they didn’t care if women enjoyed sex because their opinions were irrelevant, and the only thing that mattered was the man’s enjoyment. Modern women had no idea how lucky they were.
Pondering this, Lian turned once more to the suicidal girl who was now in her own washing machine-induced trance and thought about broaching this as a conversation topic before brushing the thought from his mind.
His load was done, and he slowly swept them into his laundry bag before heading towards the door, leaving the suicidal girl alone with her thoughts. Though not before passing her car and making a note of the number plate on his way home, once again excited about what he might find there.
“You do realise…” the wry voice continued. “We can keep you here as long as we like. We are in no hurry.”
Lian shivered at the sound of her voice, a soft feminine voice that dampened the fluid inside his ears. The way she poured over every syllable like molten silver.
“Of course,” now her shadowy figure moved forward slightly, and he could make out just a few wisps of hair in the faint light. “We know you will eventually tell us everything Lian, what state you are in when you do that, is up to you.”
Lian tugged at the ropes binding his wrists to the arms of the chair and found he could barely move them an inch. His legs were bound tightly with looping lark knots to the wooden legs. Maybe he could knock the chair over and get a leg free but she’d be on him in no time. He began to get slightly uncomfortable at not being able to move in his seat.
His questioner seemed in little hurry to provoke him, content to go on with her monologue, she slowly pulled out what looked like a cigarette from a front jacket pocket though he could barely see from the spotlight shining in his face. Then he heard the click of a DuPont lighter and for a second, long lashes and sallow cheekbones were illuminated. The next thing he knew smoke wafted across his face, stinging his eyes and nostrils.
“Lian Wilhelm Salter…” Thick lips parted and grey whisps unravelled through the soft opening. He heard the crease of hard paper and noticed a file had been placed to the left of the table by the lamp. An elegant beige-coloured hand started to flick through the pages of scribbled notes and typed passages. “A man with many friends both men and women, yet someone who keeps a rather private lifestyle.”
The ropes binding his arms were not tight enough to stop his blood flow, but they were forcing him into quite an uncomfortable posture.
“It is an unfortunate business that you seem to have gotten caught up in. You do keep some strange company.”
The chestnut hand brushed another page of the file open. The bright light stung his eyes but he could just make out a photo of a dark body lying in shadow on a sofa.
“We already know about your friends, Lian, where you meet them, where they live, and what you tell them. We know what you’ve been doing these last few months, we just want to know one thing…”
Her delicate fingers settled on something inside the file and then slid a passport photo from an inside pocket onto the table facing him. It was a woman with straight blonde hair. He didn’t recognise the face.
“How to find this woman.”
A hollow silence stretched out the next few seconds.
“Do you recognise her?”
It took Lian a second to realise he was being asked a question for the first time and blinked. He looked down at the photo, though the restraints made it difficult. The face was of a young woman, probably in her late 20s, she was smiling, with straight bleached hair, and a piercing. Her features were moderately attractive but fairly ordinary looking. He squinted, thinking, he supposed he could have met her and forgotten, but nothing about her looked familiar.
Lian looked back into the dark expectant face covered in shadow.
“No.”
The shadowy figure now leaned in and spoke more quietly.
“You should think about your answers very carefully Mr Salter.” Her words took on a sharper edge. “We will know when you lie, and when you are hiding something, so we advise you to be as forthcoming as possible.”
She reached under the table and placed something on the surface with a thud. He looked down at the gleaming metal. It was a knife. Pointing at him like an arrow aimed at his heart. Beads of sweat started to form under his neck as he watched it there. The voice leaned in.
“I’m going to give you another chance to cooperate.” His eyes were adjusting to the light a little to the point where he could just make out the lines of a face. “Where were you last Friday the 14th of January? Try to be as specific as possible.”
Lian swallowed and realised he was going to have to make something up.
“I was - at a party with my friends, a house party, it was for a friend’s birthday, and there were a lot of people there.”
The dark head nodded. “Start at the beginning.” She spoke softly. “Where it was, who was there and tell me every detail of what happened.”
Lian’s mind raced, trying to conjure imaginary details.
“Like I said, I was there for my friend’s birthday, my friend Daniel. His apartment is up in the Northern Quarter so I rarely go there but I hadn’t seen him in a long time. It was a smart casual kind of party but his friends like to dress up so I bought a mixed suit.”
He tried to remember other parties he’d once been to, to make the details more convincing.
“We brought wine and vodka and played drinking games with some board pieces in the house. There was dancing and smoking, and that was pretty much everything.”
The dark lashes nodded again from behind the floodlight.
“Do you often smoke narcotic substances at parties?”
The cool question caught him off guard.
“Erh - sometimes…”
He wasn’t sure why she cared particularly.
“So when you are indulging in such activities,” her dry tone grew louder. “You might not always remember who you were talking to.”
It wasn’t exactly a question but he thought he should answer.
“Erh - I suppose but I think I remember… everyone.”
His hesitancy made him sound unsure. So what if he met her and didn’t remember?
“And during these times, you could have met a woman like the one in the picture, who may have given you some kind of item. Like a business card, or an envelope. Do you think that’s possible?”
Lian shuffled his feet uncomfortably, he didn’t like where this was going.
“I - I don’t think that happened.” He stammered lamely.
“But you just admitted Mr Salter.” The voice rose sharply. “That your memory is fuzzy on these occasions and you are not sure exactly who you meet.”
Lian simply hung his head in response. Feeling like every answer was making his situation worse.
“But -“ he finally found his voice. “No one ever gave me anything.”
“Is that so Mr Salter?”
The voice seemed to expect his reply. The beige hand quickly returned and placed a curled white paper shaped like a ribbon on the table. It shone in the light and he thought he could see faint glossy words etched on its side.
“Then how do you explain this?”
Lian blinked several times. He’d never seen it before in his life.
“I’ve never seen that before in my life.” He hoped he sounded as convinced as he felt.
“We found it in your wallet Mr Salter.” He thought he sensed the lip curling behind the black facade. “After we… subdued you.”
Blood started to flow away from his stomach and the churns hit him.
“I really can’t explain how it got there.” He stared earnestly at the light, squinting but willing her to believe him. A pitiful tone had entered his throat.
The voice behind the blackness sighed.
“If you can’t explain how it got there. That means you are either very stupid, or you are lying.”
The chair creaked and he heard her rise to her feet. The black lashes vanished but he thought he saw the glint of metal. She took a few steps towards his left but he couldn’t turn his head to see her.
“I’m going to ask you again.” Now the voice was ice behind the black curtain. “Where did you meet the woman?”
He let out a few rattled breaths. His heart was pounding against his ribs. Now the fun was going to start.
“I don’t know who she is.”
Air wooshed past him as she drew her arm back.
“I don’t believe you, Mr Salter.”
Metal flashed and a pair of scissors swam into his view and he gasped. About to scream. The scissors turned down and beige hands grabbed his shirt. The scissors started cutting into the fabric, through the cloth around the parts where he wasn’t tied. He whimpered as she did the same to his trousers and soon his clothes were in tatters. She tore them from his body leaving only a few torn rags behind. He was now almost naked with his back exposed through the chair. He started panting heavily.
He could feel her rubbing something over his back and chest. It was cold, and he could see the outline of her face vaguely against the light. He already knew she was pretty.
“Last chance.” She took a drag of her cigarette. “Where is she?”
Lian shook his head and winced. “I really don’t know.”
Her hand pulled the lit Marlborough from her mouth and pushed the glowing end down onto his shoulder, burning ash into his skin. He screamed as the pain seared over him and rocked his weight against the chair. Try as he might he could barely move it though his body squirmed and pulled. He pathetically whimpered and cried out. Blistering pain shot through his shoulder like a flesh-eating worm was burrowing into his skin. He felt like there must be a hole in his shoulder the size of a grape. Tears streamed from his eyes involuntarily and he screamed.
“The woman, Mr Salter!” His tormenter seemed alive now, her voice more forceful. “We need to know where she is. We do not want to do these things but you force us.”
He shook his head as if trying to delay the next round of pain which he knew was inevitable.
“I never…” he rasped, his voice sounding pleading and desperate. “I never met her… please, you have the wrong man… huhhh”
The blow caught him directly across his back, sending shocks of pain through his shoulders as hardwood smacked against his skin.
He screamed like a cow in an abattoir.
“We know you’re lying!” The voice shrieked. “We know you have already met her Mr Salter. We want you to tell us where she lives.”
He gasped as the pine wood stung his shoulder muscle and seared his flesh.
“She wasn’t at the party!” He screamed, and this time the pain entered his voice. “She wasn’t there! I would have remembered!” He shouted into the darkness, trying to anticipate the next blow, trying to angle his body so it would hurt less.
A few seconds passed. Just when he thought he was safe the wooden rod smacked against his lower thigh, making him yell in surprise and pain.
“You’re still lying Mr Salter.” The voice was almost growing impatient. “We know you met her. Give her up or the pain will continue.”
He squirmed trying to avoid the next blow but nothing came. Every perceived movement or noise in the blackness made him wince. He tried to turn his head again but could see nothing but the spotlight burning a hole in his retinas.
The next sound was far more bone-chilling than the swishing sound of a wooden cane. It was the scraping sound of metal against laminate flooring. A second later a small stool was pushed into the light, with a shallow bucket of water sitting on top, pushed by his mysterious companion.
Lian stared for a few seconds before realisation dawned. Submarino, a classic of South American torture aficionados.
The water sloshed slightly from the movement, reflecting white orbs. The grey jumpsuit emerged for a second and then the beige hand seized him by the hair. A few tugs later he could feel the rope around his shoulders being loosened.
“Wait…” he murmured quietly. “Wait…”
Before he could finish, the hand pushed hard and his head swung down into the bucket. Water splashed around his ears and hair. The coldness stung him and the impact had blinded him momentarily. The pain of the force on his back made him struggle but the hand held him fast. He forced himself not to panic, not to waste the precious air in his lungs. Making his heart rate slow despite the ache in his chest and back. Black wetness surrounded him as he struggled and his ears were filled with a churning fog. His lungs started to strain as the panic set in. How long would she hold him here? What if he couldn’t hold his breath? She had no idea how long it would take him to run out of air, he needed to escape now. He needed to get out. Just as the panic was running through him, the pressure on his head gave in and life-saving air rushed into his lungs with a wrenching gush. He coughed and sputtered to find his lungs working again. His vision swam but he could still make out the dark shape in front of him. The beige hand slapped his face and consciousness once more found its way inside his mind.
“We told you, Mr Salter.” The voice was as calm as if it were delivering a school report card. “We told you what would happen if you weren’t cooperative.” A kind of preening tone had now entered it. “We didn’t want to do these things to you but you forced us.”
Lian coughed and shook his head as the water dripped from his nose. He felt like he’d just drowned and been brought back to life. Tears streamed down his face mixing in with the water.
“I keep telling you I don’t know who she is! I keep telling you… I never met her before…” He no longer had to fake the pleading tone as real fear had now entered his chest at the thought of another plunge. How long could he keep this up? What would happen if he passed out? Would he swallow water? As far as he could see she was the only one in the room, and no medical equipment was on standby.
“We already know you’re lying.” Came the cool response. “Why protect her when we already know where she is? We will find her with or without your help Mr Salter, trust us, you are just here to make things easier.”
He whimpered and recoiled in his chair, the wet ropes now stinging his wrists with their taut ends, and his back ached from the pressure of being pushed downwards. Could he really stand another submersion?
“You have one more chance to cooperate Lian.” She was using his first name now, “or things will only get worse for you, we have much worse tools than this to use on you.”
“No….” he whimpered at the thought of more. “No….”
“We gave you your chance.” The voice menaced, and his head was once more pushed down into the icy glacier.
This time he was a little more prepared but the water still stung his face like a slap, it stung his eyes and lips, trying to eat its way inside. He shook his head and pushed back on the sharp elbow keeping him inside. Bubbles fell from his lips before he realised it was hopeless, and he had no choice but to wait out the torment. Waiting, how long could he wait? It felt like minutes had already passed, hours even, and the panic started to rise in his chest, he wanted to scream and struggle but he knew she would only hold him tighter, then the water would enter his lungs and the real pain would begin. The draining, sinking feeling inside the chest as all the air flows out and the bone-crushing strain grips the diaphragm. That was what she was counting on to break him and he knew it. He just needed to hold out, just needed to hold onto what little air he had. When he finally felt he would burst his lungs, and become a wet-faced corpse, he was freed once more into the waterless world. Newborn babies never sucked oxygen as eagerly as he did at that moment. His eyes bulged from their sockets as it entered his compressed lungs.
“THE WOMAN!” The voice shrieked as blurred white lights flickered through his wet eyes.
“WHERE IS SHE?” The voice was ear-splitting, now shaking the room and for the first time he heard real anger in it. Red fear was pounding through his veins like never before, the fear of being completely helpless in the face of danger.
Before he could speak he was quickly slammed once more back into the water. This time the surface smacked him in the face and sloshed over his back and against his ears. It must have wetted his captor too though he couldn’t see. He’d had no time to prepare and already there was scarcely any air left in his lungs, he once more willed himself to wait, but the panic was too great, the blood pounded through his ears and he felt backness enter his vision. Suddenly he started to lurch, to kick out, the panic was in him. He had to get out at all costs. He was squirming and kicking while his hands bulged against the ropes and his legs started to go numb, but the two arms held him fast and mercilessly. Even as he pushed with all his strength against her, he barely had any strength left in him. The pain was cutting through his ribcage, up into his stomach, and he felt the consciousness slipping away from him. He was drowning, he knew it now, he had no way out, he either gave up the woman or he died in this room, this was the only way out. He pleaded mentally with his captor to let him up, he would make something up he told himself, anything to escape this, he just needed to get free. But the moment still did not come, the pain grew so great he thought his lungs would burst, but slowly it grew calmer and his movements weaker. The blackness was all around him now, no light was able to come near him. He said a silent prayer to everyone he’d ever loved, was he really going to die here like this? It was -
Suddenly whiteness burst against Lian’s eyes and he realised he was alive once more, he had not drowned but was somehow alive. This time water erupted from his lungs and gushed all over his knees and the chair, soaking him, his captor still held him but gentler this time, seeming to realise she’d gone too far. He spluttered and coughed, gasping grateful lungfuls into his body.
The voice waited a long time, then cleared its throat. It spoke for the first time sounding hesitant. “Mr Salt-.”
“Keel Haul!” He shouted out to the white spotlight in front of him. “You win! You win!” He laughed now, cold sharp laughter chattered from his teeth. “Keel haul! I give up, that’s enough.”
He waited and the voice breathed a deep sigh of relief.
“Jesuuuusssss Lian, I thought you were going to make me put you in the hospital. Are you fucking alright?”
Lian sputtered with laughter. “You were great Seline! You were just amazing.” He gave a throaty chuckle as she undid the restraints on his arms and legs and tried to wipe his face with the towel.
“You take it easy for a while ok!” She snapped like a school mom. “Now come to the bed, let’s get you cleaned up.”