Visor — Discretion
Everyone knew about the Visors by now; at least everyone liked to think they did. Everyone had at least seen the things, and a few people knew a little about what they did, but the people who were proudest and happiest to share their knowledge were the ones who knew nothing at all.
For the first round of human testing, the institute had insisted on a press blackout. There were no news reports on this new technology, and no advertising even subtly. But secrecy had been lost when some disgruntled lab tech released the schematics on the internet. Censoring Youtube how-to’s was annoying, removing content from Wikipedia was almost impossible, and there was no ‘almost’ when it came to removing the designs from torrent sites.
So now there were thousands of bootleg Visors available to unscreened members of the general public; one in every style, to suit any woman’s fashion sense. Whether it was the over-the-top, overtly electronic visors of the punks, or imitations of some character’s head gear from a cute geek girl’s favourite science fiction show, there was a Visor for you. Even slim wraparound shades could include the small bundle of electronics necessary to broadcast an asynchronous strobe signal calibrated to the frequency of chi-rhythms, and recalibrate the brain’s normal bioelectrical patterns.
In the courtyard outside the building, right now, a few employees were blasting their sensory cortices with euphoric bursts of light. A businesswoman with a smart jacket and short skirt sat with her mouth hanging open in an unthinking grin, hands resting by her sides and legs casually spread. Her gaze was fixed on the inside of her shades, oblivious to anything but the flickering, pulsing show of colours.
By the entrance to the Turner building, a pretty intern who couldn’t have been more than eighteen had a bulkier visor that looked like nothing more than a wide strip of black insulating tape looped around her head. She was wearing a skimpy crop top, showing off how evenly her body was tanned, and tiny, tight shorts that left nothing to the imagination with her legs spread so wide. Her hands were in her lap, absent-mindedly stroking herself through a damp patch in the thin cotton. Most companies would prohibit such lewd behaviour, but recent high-profile news stories were challenging the ideals of the more religious corporate cultures: Miss Featherstone, of Montana, was the important test case. She had filed a lawsuit against Bank Of America LLC, on the grounds that she could not be held accountable for her behaviour while sleepwalking. So here, like many larger business campuses across the country, women were merely advised to remain in a private area if using a Visor for their comfort breaks.
This building, and those around it, were run by a company known as Isochron International Investments Incorporated. Most people found that a mouthful, so the research team was “The Lab”, and employees in the administrative departments were called “Barcodes” after the company logo on their paperwork. Doctor Clough, looking out of the window at the two unthinking women outside, bridged the gap between management and research, and was a respected and feared figure on both sides. It didn’t hurt her reputation in the slightest that she was one of the Lilith Team that had first captured Eve in the jungle; that she had worked closely with Doctor Bridgeport on isolating the nature of chi-waves; that she had been the first test subject for his prototype Visor; or that she was one of very few users who had been able to break addiction to the device by willpower alone.
She took care to keep track of who was using the Visor in her little flock. The women outside, right now at least, were from other departments, so she didn’t have to worry about their emotional wellbeing. She knew more than most, though, that their invention wasn’t the panacea they had hoped. Or it was, but at a price. Adding chi-rhythms to the human brain’s normal smorgasbord of alpha, beta, and delta caused massive neurological and metabolic changes throughout the body. It was a wonder drug, with an incredible number of beneficial effects. Some people even said that it had entirely removed their need for sleep, reversed aging, and cured cancer. But still, Doctor Clough wasn’t sure it was worth the cost.
“Doctor!” she turned at the excited greeting and saw one of the junior researchers, Doctor Perivalle, running towards her. Almost skipping, in fact, with a delighted grin on her face. She was probably a perfect example of what you could get from a deal with the devil. Clough knew that Allison Perivalle was celebrating her 40th birthday next month, but it was hard to believe now that she wasn’t fresh out of college. Her soft brown hair hung in an unruly cascade almost down to her knees, with only the band of her lurid pink headphones keeping it out of her face when she worked. All blemishes on her skin had visibly faded, and she didn’t even need the wire-rimmed glasses any more. She only wore them because her mother’s religion disapproved of contacts for some reason, and she was a little ashamed of the things she might have to tell them if her family found out her congenital long sightedness had suddenly been cured.
She’d become incredibly motivated in the last few months, though her face showed no lines to let you know she had worked through the night at least four times this week. She’d decided to stop smoking and just stopped; instead using every break time she was entitled to either sitting in her office staring blissfully at an array of shifting colours, or masturbating furiously.
That was an image that would bring a smile to any man’s face. Perivalle was tall and slim, youthful looking. Her ass was perfectly rounded, her thigh muscles toned enough to keep going for a marathon, without being excessively muscular. She was slightly heavier than most women of her build, but the only sign of any padding on her body was her abundant breasts. Her new addiction would have been a wet dream for any guy, but she was at least smart enough to ensure her privacy. She always locked the office door before she put on the Visor, and Doctor Clough had covered for her by ensuring that nobody else had access to the live feed from the office CCTV camera.
“Doctor Clough! I’ve got something to show you, you’ll love this!” The excitement in Allison’s voice was almost as appealing as her perfect body. She seemed to be almost ready to jump up and down with glee, like an overexcited kid on a sugar rush. It was adorable, but it took a conscious effort for Doctor Clough to remember that beneath the bubbly, naïve mannerisms was hiding the mind of a technical genius, maybe even her own equal. It wouldn’t do to underestimate this girl.
Clough smiled, which seemed to delight Allison even more. “Show me, then,” and they headed to the well-appointed corner office. The blinds on the internal windows were drawn, as always, and free-standing bookcases in front of them meant nobody could look in now in any case. The main workbench was covered with scraps of micro-electronics, what looked like some kind of laser system, and twisted wires.
“Well, you know those cases on the subway last month…” she blushed now, and paused as if waiting for an answer.
“You mean those girls who were ordered to strip and sexually pleasure men while using their Visors?” Allison nodded, her face going redder. Her lips parted in a slight smile, and she probably didn’t even notice how much she was fidgeting as she pressed her thighs together. “I still say we need a safety mechanism if people are going to use the damn things in public.” Was Allison aware of just how obvious her arousal was? Was this just the increased libido of someone who’d recently had a light show, or was the girl’s submissive streak strong enough for her to fantasise about being abused by strangers on a train?
“Yeah. The biologists tell me they can’t separate the chi-rhythm binaural from the one that overloads the critical censor, which was my first thought. Maybe we can make people’s brains open to the healing frequencies without being open to… to everything, well, you know.” What if I said I didn’t know?, Clough wondered, What would she say? Open to any instruction? Open to feeling whatever someone tells you to feel? Every woman who uses the Visor knows that you can’t resist any order while coloured in, but so many of them still do it in public. Could it be that they – maybe even Allison – secretly want to be taken advantage of?
That was easy enough to believe. The junior scientist moaned softly as the thought crossed her mind, her lips barely open with a sound you couldn’t have spotted if you weren’t looking for it. Just how recently has she been using, to let her inhibitions slip like that? Clough wondered, as Allison took a presumed discrete moment to press her crotch against the edge of her desk.
“But if you go too long between colouring, you end up in the receptive state anyway, and that could be even worse.” This time, Doctor Clough didn’t think so much about Allison’s loss of self control as she thought more about her own humiliating experiences; staring into space at a camp table, and a spiteful ex-coworker telling her she was now a lesbian. Spacing out without warning was the real danger, and the reason they hadn’t just destroyed the prototypes.
“Yeah, but you said you had a solution?”
“Its lateral thinking, I guess. If you mix the strobe in with a normal visual field, you could accept cycle programming without having to space out. It would be slower, sure, but you could leave the Visor running for hours while you do other stuff. Think about the miniature glasses-mounted versions. With a low intensity projection, is there any reason they have to be dark glasses?”
“Well, you…” Clough started to consider the possibility out loud, but Allison had found her stride with the monologue now and plunged on, a voice like a babbling brook that wasn’t too forceful but just didn’t stop.
“And at the same time, strangers on the train won’t be able to tell if you’re even using it, if you can walk and talk normally. With the reduced intensity it would probably have to be a firm, direct command to have any effect; and an abuser’s not going to risk that if he’s not sure whether he’ll be met with obedience or outraged violence.”
“It would be that discreet?”
“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Doctor Clough thought it was amazing just to see Allison so enthusiastic, so happy. “Let me show you my prototype, I’ve used fibre optics to carry a laser from the electronics box, and an internally reflecting crystal to project the light show directly onto my retina, nobody else can even see colour bleed around the edge!” Doctor Clough turned to the workshop table, looking for anything that could be a prototype, then realised the other scientist wasn’t with her. She turned back to see Allison lifting her incredibly long hair to show off her creation. It was a plastic box with tiny screws on the side, only slightly larger than a pack of gum, and mounted just behind her ear on the end of her glasses. Even when you knew what you were looking for, you had to be pretty close to see the fine length of fibre connecting the box to a tiny crystal glued onto the top of the glasses’ frame.
“You’re coloured in right now?” she stared in disbelief, “What if someone commands you to… to do whatever they want?”
“Nobody can tell, though. And I can run it whenever, so I won’t space out. It’s incredible!”
“But…” there was no escaping it. Doctor Clough cared too much about Allison – about Doctor Perivalle. She couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else abusing that beautiful, nubile body. If the only way to convince Allison of the danger was to show her, then…
She hesitated, but only for a moment.
“Strip naked, Visor slut.” Doctor Clough made her voice as hard as she could, knowing this was going to push their friendship to the limits whether it worked or not. Allison didn’t blink, her eyes full of the endless display of colours now. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted slightly with a gasp of surprise, but not of disapproval. Her arms raised slowly as if they were being lifted by balloons, and she unfastened three buttons without question before shrugging her jacket onto the ground. A second later her crisply-pressed shirt followed, revealing a simple white bra decorated only by a couple of tiny, pastel pink hearts in the middle. Allison’s hands went behind her back now, and unfastened the clasp. As she continued to follow the command, she expression never changed from that horny, delighted smile.
“You wanted this?” Doctor Clough asked, “You did, didn’t you? You’re so excited by the thought of helpless, Visor-controlled sex that you’d do whatever you can to get into that situation.” She was trying hard to be appalled, but she couldn’t deny to herself that she was breathing a little harder too, remembering just how amazing it had felt to be used during her time in the jungle.
Allison gasped happily, and dropped her panties to the floor on top of everything else.
“Yes, Mistress!”