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Authors: John Norman

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BOOK: Prize of Gor
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“Perhaps you would like to have a drink with us?” he asked.

“Oh, that would be lovely,” she said. “But perhaps your friend would mind?” She had supposed that the blonde would indeed mind, of course, but that she would have no choice but, in the situation, to acquiesce with the pretense of graciousness. This gave the older woman no little pleasure.

“You don’t mind, do you?” asked the young man of his companion.

“Certainly not,” she assured them.

She had not seemed as dismayed as the older woman had hoped she would be.

Outside the theater the young man, not entering the waiting limousine, spoke briefly with the waiting chauffeur, and it drew quietly away from the curb.

In a secluded, upholstered booth, rather toward the back of a nearby, small restaurant, convenient to the theater, the young man ordered. He ordered a Manhattan, a sweet Manhattan, for the older woman and a Scotch for himself. “You will have water,” he told his companion. She looked down, toward the table. The older woman assumed that she might have some medical condition, or perhaps an allergy to alcohol. In any event she was to be given water. The older woman was surprised, too, when the young man had simply ordered for her, too, without asking her what she might prefer. But she did not question him. It was he, after all, who was the host. She might have preferred a tiny glass of white wine, as she scarcely ever drank, but she did not object to his choice. She found that she desperately wanted to please him. Too, she sensed in him a kind of power, and will, which might brook no question or test. Although he seemed to be gentle, thoughtful, and courteous, she was not sure that this was truly he. She wondered if such things were natural to him. She wondered if he might not, perhaps in the interest of some cause, be merely concerned to project a semblance of solicitude. There seemed something frightening about him, something powerful and uncompromising about him. She could imagine herself naked before him, frightened, on her belly, he with a whip in his hand. In retrospect she had supposed that he had ordered the dark, sweet drink for her in order that the traces of any unusual ingredient it might contain would be concealed. But that now seems unlikely to her. Tassa powder, which was presumably used, as it commonly is in such situations, though doubtless most frequently with younger women, is tasteless, and, dissolved in liquid, colorless. She now believes that he ordered that drink for her for different reasons, first, to simply impose his will upon her, and that she might, on some level, understand that it was so imposed, and, secondly, that he might, in his amusement, cause her senses to swirl, thus producing a calculated, intended effect within her, and putting her thusly more in his power. He knew many things about her, many things, she now realizes, and among them he doubtless knew that she drank seldom, if ever, and thus his joke of having her, of her own will, imbibe, to please him, for he knew she desired to please him, for nothing could have been more obvious, a drink much too strong for her.

“Are you well?” he had inquired.

“Yes, yes,” she had smiled.

“I have been thinking,” he said, “about your interest in, your question concerning, my supposed resemblance to someone you once knew.”

“Yes?” she said. She smiled. She felt unsteady.

“I may be able to shed some light on that matter,” he said. “Indeed, perhaps I can introduce you to the individual you have in mind.”

“I knew — knew — it!” she said. “You must be the son, or a cousin, some nephew, something, some relative!”

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“I think I can introduce you to him,” he said.

“Oh, I would not want to meet him,” she said. “I was only curious. I was just asking.”

“Are you afraid of him?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “Of course not!”

“Perhaps you should be,” he said.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said.

“I will introduce you to him,” he said.

“No, no,” she smiled. Then she felt him lift her to her feet, and draw her from behind the table, and away from the booth. She had no intention of resisting and, in any event, it seemed she could not do so. She recalled the waiter asking after her. “She is all right,” said the young man. “We have the car waiting.” She recalled seeing a bill, of large denomination, several times the amount of the bill, left on the table. Then she was aware of being helped outside, and, a bit later, she felt herself being placed gently, solicitously, into a long, dark car, the limousine, which had apparently been waiting in the vicinity. She remembered little more after that, until she awakened, considerably later it seemed, in a strange bed, clad in what seemed to be a hospital or examination gown, and wearing, on her left ankle, a locked steel ring.

****

“Do you feel well enough for me to continue?” asked the young man.

“Yes,” she said.

“Perhaps a little to eat, and some strong coffee?” said the young man. “You must be very hungry.”

She held her legs closely together, turned a bit away from him. She drew the gown more closely about her. She was pathetic, frightened.

“Tutina!” said the young man.

Swiftly Tutina rose to her feet and hurried from the room.

“Doubtless, as an informed, intelligent person,” said the young man, “you are aware of the existence of many worlds, and the overwhelming statistical probability that many of these, indeed, given the numbers involved, millions of them, are suitable for life as we know it, and that, further, given the nature of chemical evolution, and organic evolution, and natural selections, and such, that there is an overwhelming statistical probability that not only life, but rational life, would exist on many of these worlds, indeed, once again, given the numbers involved, on millions of them.”

She nodded.

“I ask you to believe nothing now,” he said. “But consider the possibility of alien life forms and exotic, alternative technologies, life forms of incredible intelligence, say, far beyond that of the human, with, at their disposal, enormous powers, the power even to influence, and manipulate, gravity. With this power, they could, for example, move their planet from star to star, as it seemed appropriate to them, and, when they wished, if they wished, they might conceal its presence gravitationally, by affecting certain fields involved. Do you understand this, at least as a logical possibility?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Suppose then that human beings might exist, too, on such a planet, perhaps originally brought there for scientific purposes, say, as specimens, or perhaps as curiosities, or perhaps merely in the interests of aesthetics, much as one might plant a garden, putting one flower here and another there, or perhaps as one might stock an aquarium, such things. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said.

“But this seems quite fantastic to you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“On such a planet,” he said, “presumably the dominant life forms would supervise, to some extent, the technology of human beings.”

“I suppose so,” she said.

“They would not wish, for example, to allow human beings to develop a weaponry which might threaten them, or to develop in such a way as to impair the viability of the planet for organic life, such things.”

“I suppose not,” she whispered.

At this point Tutina, carrying a tray, in her brief silk, and anklet, followed by one of the two men who had been outside, entered the room. The man behind her carried a small table, which he put down, before the older woman. Tutina, then, placed the tray on the table. On the tray, tastefully arranged, with napkins, was a plate of small pastries, a saucer and cup, some sugars and creams, some spoons, and a small pot of coffee.

The man who had brought the table withdrew.

Tutina regarded the older woman with hatred, unseen by the young man, as her back was to him.

The older woman returned her stare, coldly.

Tutina, of course, must await the consent, the signal, of the older woman.

The older woman made her wait, for several seconds. Then she said, sweetly, “Yes, please.”

Tutina then poured the coffee, carefully, and then replaced the small container on the tray.

Then Tutina waited.

“Thank you,” said the older woman, politely dismissing her.

Tutina then backed away, gracefully, her head down, humbly. She knew that she was under the eye of the young man. The older woman smiled inwardly. She suspected that that serving, and humble withdrawal, had cost Tutina much. Tutina then knelt again, as she had before, at the side of the desk. The older woman did not neglect to look down at Tutina where she knelt, and smile upon her, sweetly.

“One does not know the full nature or extent of the technology at the disposal of the alien life forms on such a world,” said the young man, “but it is doubtless not only powerful but sophisticated and widely ranging. For example, they may have, we might suppose, unusual, though it seems not perfect, surveillance capabilities. Should they detect a breach of one of their ordinances, say, one forbidding certain varieties of weapons to humans, it seems they are capable of imposing swift, unmistakable and effective sanctions.”

“I do not understand any of this,” said the older woman.

“You understand it on some level, surely,” said the young man.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“On such a world what do you conjecture would be the nature of human culture?” he inquired.

“I do not know,” she whispered.

“Please eat something,” he said.

She looked at the plate before her. Her lower lip trembled.

“It is perfectly all right,” he said. “It is not poisoned. It is not drugged. When we wish to drug you in the future, it will usually be done with your full awareness. A syringe will be used.”

“Let me go,” she begged.

“We did not bring you here to release you,” he said. “Too, you are now ours, literally ours, in a sense far fuller, far deeper, and far more perfect, than you can even begin at present to comprehend.”

Her dismay was obvious.

“Please,” he said.

Under his gaze she obediently lifted one of the small pastries to her mouth, and began to eat. Then she sipped the coffee. Then, in a moment, so hungry, she began to eat voraciously. Angrily she noted Tutina regarding her, and smiling. To be sure, the desperation, the eagerness, with which she ate seemed scarcely compatible with the dignity of a Ph.D., particularly in one with a degree in gender studies.

“On such a world,” continued the young man, “being subjected to externally imposed limitations, those of the alien life forms, for example, various limitations on weaponry, transportation and communication, human cultures would exist, and develop, and express themselves rather differently, at least in some respects, than they have on this world, the one with which you are familiar. For example, on such a world, on this supposed other world, instead of adjudicating differences with, say, bombs and bullets, or thermonuclear weaponry, destroying life indiscriminately, irradiating soil, poisoning atmospheres, and such, points at issue might be adjudicated rather with the fire of torches, the bronze of spearheads, the steel of unsheathed swords.”

“It would be so primitive,” said the older woman.

“In some respects, yes, in others, not,” said the young man.

She continued to eat greedily. She now realizes that much of her earlier malaise, her headache, and such, if not associated with the alcohol she had imbibed, which seems unlikely, was presumably associated with her lack of nourishment. To be sure, her age might have had something to do with her condition. Tassa powder, which she later learned was used on her, allegedly has few, if any, lingering aftereffects, or at least, she was assured, on younger women. And it is on such women, of course, considerably younger women, that it is most often used.

“With respect to understanding the cultures of such a world,” he said, “it is helpful to keep various considerations in mind. First, human beings were apparently brought to such a world from many different areas and over a period of many hundreds, indeed, presumably even thousands, of years. Accordingly they would have brought with them certain native customs and cultures. Thus it is natural to suppose that on such a world many cultures would bear obvious signs of their origins. The languages of this world, too, would be expected to exhibit similar traces of their antecedents. Secondly, it is useful to keep in mind that the cultures of this supposed world have not been affected by the development of certain vast, far-reaching, centralizing, reductive, dehumanizing, mechanistic technologies; they have not been affected by, for example, global industrialization, socially engineered mass conditioning programs, and gigantic nation states, removing freedoms and powers, one by one, bit by bit, from their victims, hastening to disarm their populaces lest they resist, retaining for themselves alone the means, and tools, of coercion and violence, reducing their supposed citizenries to implicit serfdom. Accordingly, in many respects, not being afflicted by these processes, the human beings of our supposed world, that on which I am inviting you to conjecture, might tend in many ways to be healthier and happier, and to find their lives more rewarding and meaningful, more worth living, than many of their numerous, aimless, confused, unhappy, reduced counterparts on the world with which you are most familiar. The supposed world is then, one supposes, given the evolutionary heritage of the human animal, likely, on the whole, at least, to be much more congenial to human nature, and its fulfillment, than the world with which you are most familiar.”

She wiped her lips with a napkin.

“Would you like more?” he asked. “I can have Tutina fetch you more, or something else.”

The older woman enjoyed seeing Tutina, as she knelt, stiffen slightly, in anger. Was that almost a slight hint of resistance? But when the young man turned to Tutina, her manner underwent an instant transformation, and she shrank down a little, making herself smaller, and, trembling, averted her eyes, not daring to meet his. It pleased the older woman to see the sensuous, hated, beautiful blonde so much in his power.

BOOK: Prize of Gor
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