Fifteen Years
1 — Contact
I still remember the day I claimed my first slave. It didn’t go the way I’d expected, but then I’d never even thought about having a slave before. It’s not like I was a super prude or anything. Well maybe I was, but that wasn’t why I’d never considered keeping a slave to serve my needs. It was years ago, and back then true slavery was neither socially acceptable nor practical. Nobody had even theorised about post-operant superego entrainment, and it would be years later that the famous Dr Queens would discover a way to determine someone’s true name and compel them to helpless obedience. The only way you might be a slave was through dubious means like bribery, bondage, or coercion; things that normal people didn’t even think about in those days.
I was walking home from college when this guy just walked up to me and waved. I slowed down and turned through a gate into the park. I didn’t know who he was, and maybe some people would have stopped to ask what he wanted. But I was a young woman, only weeks past my 18th birthday and looking younger. He was wearing a hoodie and jeans, but the outfit didn’t really suit him. It was like he was dressing up somehow, a costume that didn’t feel natural. Maybe it was the awkwardness in the way he moved, or the price tag still on his shades, but there was something about this guy that discouraged me from talking to him.
He didn’t like being brushed off, though. I glanced back and saw him at the little gate, walking towards me. There were people on the grass, throwing balls or discs for their dogs to catch in the afternoon sun, or taking a shortcut to the new East Meadowside outlet mall. I was pretty confident he wouldn’t do anything with so many people around, and he wasn’t matching my hurried pace.
He called my name, and I stopped for a second. Did I know this guy? He certainly didn’t look familiar. He was a little above average height, which meant he had nearly a foot on me, and had enough muscle on his frame to fill out the tshirt nicely. His hair was short and slicked back with wax, putting me in mind of an overstyled scrubbing brush, or a couple of the current crop of pop stars.
“Do I know you?” I didn’t need to shout, but spoke a bit louder than usual so that my voice would carry to where he was. “I didn’t recognise you.” He strode quickly forward for two seconds before answering, presumably too out of breath to shout again. For someone who was so desperate to meet me, coming out to greet me in the street, his reply was surprisingly short on information. He didn’t tell me who he was, or why he was there. I figured it might be easier to get a straight answer out of him if there weren’t so many people around, but it was hard to think of somewhere at such short notice.
“Let’s go to the old pagoda,” I said eventually. The pagoda had originally been a bandstand or something, or some rich guy’s folly. Now it was a weird little building with white stone pillars supporting a dome, in the middle of a small area of woodland to one side of the park. Kids played in the woods sometimes, but the pagoda didn’t hold their attention much because it was boring. Nobody would overhear our conversation there. It didn’t take us long to get there, but with each turn it became more obvious that we were leaving the main paths. The gravel wasn’t raked, branches grew across where they might catch the head of a taller person. My companion had to duck twice. Eventually we reached the pagoda, and there wasn’t another person in sight. Too late for the kids who’d sprayed their names across the ancient stone, too early for the wheezing old man who used the dome for shelter while he slept.
The building was an odd shape, with low walls between some of the pillars. There were stone benches too, some under the dome and some outside. One of them had been broken by vandals, which I thought was a shame. Nobody cared enough about the structure to repair it. I didn’t see any reason to comment on it, though. I had other fish to fry today.
“So, do I know you?” I asked, “I mean, I think I’d recognise you, so maybe it’s been a long time?”
“In a way,” he seemed a bit nervous, completely different to his confident tone earlier. “I recognise you, and you kind of talked to me at school today, only…”
“You’re one of the teachers, out in disguise? Oh my god, Mr Calvary, I didn’t recognise you!” Mr Calvary had been my Geography teacher right through high school, and the white-haired old codger was so unsteady on his feet that we’d thought he wouldn’t survive our first year. There was no way he could possibly disguise himself as this guy, who I’d guess at being in his thirties or even younger.
“No,” he answered, but a grin at the ridiculous mental image seemed to ease his nerves a bit. “I’m supposed to come here and explain something to you, but it’s only now I got here I realised I don’t have the first clue where to start.”
“Start at the beginning, then. Or better yet, tell me why I don’t just walk off and leave you here, if you can’t give me a straight answer.”
“Because you can’t. Walk away, that is. You’re going to listen to me, and you’re going to believe me.” I didn’t believe him, though. He was wavering between brash and confused, and I guessed he must really think it was important to tell me whatever he was trying to build up to. But there was something more than a little creepy about the way his eyes stayed focused on my legs. Saying I couldn’t go home was an immediate red flag, and I didn’t even dignify it with an answer. I jumped to my feet and ran along the old Millbrook path. I knew which of the stepping stones across the stream were stable, and stepped on those few rather that the stones placed by mischievous youths. If he followed me, he’d end up on his ass.
He didn’t follow, but he shouted to me. I’d thought he might try some kind of explanation. Maybe he’d say it was about my mother, or claim to know where I lived. Maybe he’d have something particularly intriguing with which to hook my attention, though from his confusion before I doubted it. He didn’t say anything interesting though, or even anything I understood.
“Let’s start over,” I said as I brushed the moss off the seat and sat down again, “I couldn’t even make out what you were saying there.”
“You won’t.” He smiled, and finally met my eyes. There was something in his gaze that was even more disturbing. The first word that flashed into my mind was ‘predator’, but I decided to hear him out. I could always run later. “I said your true name,” he explained, “Your brain isn’t capable of understanding it. It’s like the way a computer crashes if you try to run a corrupt module; your true name crashes your critical censor, and you can’t understand anything someone says for a few minutes.”
“Seriously?” I couldn’t even believe he’d come up with such a lame story, “I thought you were going to tell me how you could recognise me, and why I wouldn’t know who you are if we only spoke today. I wasn’t expecting this hardcore-nerd bullshit.”
“I don’t really care if you believe it or not. It’d probably be easier for me if you didn’t, to be honest. But everyone has a True Name, nothing like your regular name, and as soon as someone says it your only choice is to do what you’re told. And because I used it, you’re going to sit here and listen while I tell you why I’m here.”
“Oh, so now you’re a traveller from another world or something. Are you an alien, coming to probe me?” I emphasised the sarcasm in my voice as much as I could, wondering if he somehow hadn’t realised how crazy he sounded. “Or are you some demon or something, to go with the magic words? Seriously, if the next lie that comes out of your mouth is more science fiction crap, I’m leaving right now.”
“I already told you, you can’t leave. And if you want sci-fi, fine. My name’s Steve, and I’ve come from the future to set you up with my younger self. But while you’re being such a brat, maybe I’ll see how much fun I can have with your name first.”