Ch 28: Trespass

~
(David)

As I wait to hear who is at the door, the strangest feeling of calm takes over. I’m resigned to this.

I wait almost eagerly for the voices of the Secur-Intel officers shouting commands. Get on the floor. Hands behind your head. Black bag over the head maybe. I don’t know how it’s done exactly. Let’s just get this over with.

“Hello, it’s your laundry, sir.”

My laundry? What the hell? Oh yes, I did send some laundry out. I normally do it myself, to save credits. But I recall now that I resolved to wear cleaned and pressed clothing ever since the episode at the cafe.

I answer through the intercom. “Oh! Uh, yeah ok, should I come down and get it then?”

“I’ll bring it up, sir. Could you open the door, please?”

“Oh, right, yes of course.” I press the button on my display to allow entry. I have never sent laundry out like this before. I don’t know how it works.

But I know it’s Secur-Intel. They’ve been watching me the whole time. This is how they do it. They come under the guise of a delivery, and they take you quietly. Probably with a giant bodyguard to carry me away to the torture palace or wherever it is they take heretics and criminals. I don’t even know. I can’t imagine what they do to you there. Now I’m scared.

I stand up to get ready.

Fuck!

I remember there’s a feed to the door camera! I try to hit the button on my display, my hand shakes and I miss it. Try again, hit it. But all I see is the door swinging shut and the empty lobby. Whoever they are, they’re moving quickly.

Stop panicking, David, it’s just the bloody laundry.

I lean quickly into the bathroom and look in the mirror. I don’t look too bad. I don’t look crazy. Why would I look crazy? I’m not crazy. I’m not doing anything wrong.

A polite knock at the door. They’re here. My heart is racing. I look at the atrium window and some animal part of my mind briefly thinks of jumping through it.

No, stupid, that’s crazy. Ridiculous.

Walking toward the door, I stop and look back at my display. It’s the T-1499 text. Legal to possess, for me. But illegal to show to anyone unauthorized. I walk to my display and swipe it shut. Now the display is blank except for the scrolling news feed. No. That would look suspicious, like I’m hiding something. There should be something on the display. I fire up a random music project on the NSC, not the new SRI – beta-tester access, too weird to show. There. That looks fine. I was innocently working on music, one of my authorized hobbies.

The door knocks again. Louder this time.

I walk over to the door, try to adopt a facial expression of light amusement, and open it.

And what I see soothes my burning eyes. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I know she’s the most beautiful. I’ve seen her many times before.

“Oh, hi Mr. Stephen! It’s you! Hi!”

It’s Anwen, and she’s smiling at me. I’ve seen her delivering laundry around this complex many times over the past couple of years. It’s the kind of job that is assigned to the most capable BuilderHelpers once they’re into their 20s. We’ve seen each other so many times that we recognize each other and say hi. She’s one of the beautiful, athletic yet delicate types.

Anwen is so stunningly beautiful and sexually alluring that it actually hurts me to look at her. It somehow hurts me emotionally. Her body. Her face, her eyes, her hair, everything. Just her hands are the most beautiful things. She is the rare type of woman — I don’t know if this is normal or what — the type who makes me instantly distracted by thoughts of raw physical sex. Just looking at her feels illicit and erotic. Is that embarrassing? Probably, I don’t know. But I’m certain that anyone who looks at Anwen must experience this, or at least know about it. She exudes pure sexuality, but with grace and refinement, not in a wanton or gaudy manner. Every time I’ve seen her it has been a blissful, painful experience. I know that these feelings, which I suppose are embarrassing to think about, are improper, and must be contained and hidden.

One time, perhaps a few months ago, we said “hi” down in in the lobby and she asked me how my day was going. I was surprised and flustered and stumbled on my words but was happy to engage in conversation. Because she is so beautiful, and the way she was looking at me — and she was actually talking to me — I couldn’t help instinctively, delusionally fantasizing that it was a flirtatious interaction. I don’t understand how women feel about sexual attraction, if I’m being honest. I can’t even be sure about how other men feel about these things. Does every man have this experience? These are thoughts and feelings I obviously keep to myself. I can’t think of any man who would openly say these things, especially to the woman herself. It would be at best rude, and at worst taboo-breaking or criminal behaviour.

I know with certainty that as far as Anwen and I am concerned, any hint of sexual interest, much less any overt innuendo, is strictly forbidden and is technically illegal. Infotechs do not interact sexually with BuilderHelpers. It is strictly taboo even to think about it.

Infotechs may pursue other Infotechs (short of public, open pair-bonding of course) and that’s the way it ought to be, in my view. I agree with the taboo against sexual interest in BuilderHelpers. I agree with it very strongly. It is wrong to be sexually interested in this beautiful, sexual, exquisitely shaped, subtly curvy and very friendly young woman now standing in my apartment doorway smiling at me, making me want to behave like a wild, grunting, drooling animal.

God, I decree you will cleanse my mind of these thoughts.

But just so beautiful. Amazing. I’ve never been this close, maintained eye contact with her for this long. Skin so beautiful. Lips so beautiful. I feel like I could just—

“How are you Mr. Stephen, hi!”

“Oh, uh yes, hi there Anwen. It’s just David, remember, call me David. Sorry, I was just thinking about uh work stuff. It’s good to see you. What can I do for you?”

“I have your laundry! Where should I put it? May I come in?”

I reply automatically. “Oh, uh yes of course, come in.”