A Necessary Travel

I was born on Planet Earth, the Planet Earth, Earth One if you must have things that way. Back in the days when non-metaphorically everyone was born on Earth. First decade of XXI century of Old Calendar, Gregorian Callendar we called it back them. The Twentian Asgardians look us down since ever, despite the fact that they are just a few years or decades older than us. Nonsense!

That’s how we are, I suppose, humanity of humans lead us to those tiny petty distinctions sometimes. So, fine! I am a Twenty-Onian, not a Twentian, for a small margin of difference.

When the Alexandrine Death Line came in effect at year 25 before Expansion Age, 75 years after the Consensus in Egypt, I was not sure if this distinction between humans and subhumans should be taken seriously. Or if the limit of 300 years for the life of legal humans would hold. That only became evident 300 years later, in the year 2075 of Expansion, when people started to actually die.

Die from old age, or ratter by the end of an arbitrarily defined limit of time, programmed in their DNA. Something easily removable by genetic medicine, but stablished by law.

Didn’t affected us, anyone born before the Alexandrine Death Line could choose to keep the biological immortality and full legal rights as human. Every body born between the decade of 1950 who was still alive, and 25 years before the start of Expansion age.

The oldest people to get the benefit of biological immortality were born in 1950. Once age manipulation evolved, every human being became able to look any age they pleased. Usually between 20 years old and 50 years old.

That means everybody born during Baby Steps Age, except for the last 25 years of it. And us, the Pre-Baby Steps generations. Twentians and Twanty-Onians, plus a those borns in the first decades or first century of XXII century of Old Callendar, depending on the Historian you choose to take under consideration.

You must already know that, but most people born during the Baby Steps made the choice to give up their immortality and adhere to the time limit of 300 years. Because, they felt anything else would make them hypocrites. Something they did not wished to be.

Closer you came from the Alexandrine Death Line, lower is the percentage of people who decided to keep the legal right of being humans, and stay biologically immortal.

While almost all Pre-Baby Steps people made the sensible choice of ignore the Alexandrine nonsense as much as possible. Stay immortal, eternally young, and enjoy full rights of personality under Alexandrine Law.

I am revising this information, despite it being public knowledge, only to stablish the frame of the events that came next. I know you knew all that already.

So, I was a history teacher on Earth, before retirement. Then, when the readaptation laws came, because biological immortality was more and more evidently real, and genetic medicine had evolved effective de-aging therapies. I followed the habitual 85 years mandatory limit for professional careers, with 15 years for vacancies and acquisition of a new profession. Then another, then another.

Nowadays few people know that detail about the first years after genetic medicine develop genetic immortality. No one knew how to deal with that change, up to this point humanity could only dream with timeless existence.

We assumed that allow individuals to remain in the same profession indefinitely would be unhealthy. Both for the individuals and for the societies.

Then, most countries in the Solar System adopted similar laws limiting how much time each person cold stay in the same field.

On the same time, we had AIs evolving fast and becoming superior to humans in practically every activity necessary to keep civilization running. What meant that field had to be left open for human professionals intentionally. By design.

Of course, that was still before the huge jump in AI architecture that came short before Alexandria. After that, AI intelligence became godlike. Fortunately for us those are chained deities, slaves of humanity. Humanity itself. Not bind to any political agenda, nation or individual in particular. Only dedicated to keep the unity and the expansion of human species, as defined by Alexandrine Law.

In any case, the 300 years limit stablished for human life solved the issue of limiting the time people can dedicate to a same activity.

With that being the reality for the majority of humans in existence, since few decades after 375 of Expansion, no one bothered to set mandatory rules only for us, the Asgardians.

I was living on Planet Earth for all this time. Never had bothered to move from the city where I was born as a matter of fact. Only left it half dozen times and never for more than five years.

However, in Year 375E I inscribed myself in a selection to move beyond the Solar System. What caused that change of hearth, I myself cannot explain. Up to that moment I had resisted the collective fanaticism in media and in my closest circles of friends. This “Expansion” of humanity, first to all the Solar System, and then beyond the Solar System to the rest of our galaxy. Was an obsession of most people since the third or fourth century of Baby Steps Age, at very least.

I had dismissed it as a silly notion.

Now, my neighbourhood was starting to look so alien and absurd to me that I decided that was the time for a drastic change.

Enter a Seeding Vessel in the docks at the Fringe of Solar System. Travel for a thousand years or more inside it. With travel companions born in this vessel, who expected to die inside this vessel. Before the next Stellar System was reached. Leaving children who would do the same, perhaps. That was the idea, I was curious about how would turn out that experience.

In the end, was more difficult than I had imagined. So, I left Earth the morning after Christmas of year 375E. After a travel of about 40 years, half dozen connections along the way, I should have reached the Fringes. Six years of preparation, following the program of one of the Projects, inside the general rules set by the Expansion Commission for Solar System, and I should have my apartment in one of the Seeding Vessels.

Original intent was the Pioneer, a vessel designed for a population of 16 billion human beings, that should leave the docks with about 500 million. In order to give the initial generations time to adapt to the reproductive restrictions that came with inter-stellar travel. It was a big vessel for the standards of that period, the largest in a fleet of 11 space-ships.

Due to changes in local regulation, accidents and a crisis caused by a terrorist attack with bioweapons, my 40 years travel took me 73 years.

Was an interesting period of my life. For someone without significant experience travelling, by on the road for that long. Sleeping in pensions and motels. Was interesting. I had the registration in the Expansion Program. My daily expenses were paid by that as long as I kept trying to reach my intended destination as fast as reasonably possible.

Unfortunately, when I finally found myself where I was supposed to be, the Seeding Vessel I had in mind was gone. The Pioneer had left the Fringes 4 years before.

Even less convenient to me was the fact that my contacts in the Commission had changed profession or had entered themselves in a Seeding Vessel, by them. In the nation of the Fringe where I was going to be trained there as an increasing feeling of rejection to the idea of grant people like me the chance to be part of the Expansion Effort directly.

Be in a Seeding Vessel is by definition a rare privilege. Those thousands of trillions of people who leave the Fringes of a typical populated Stellar System are a drop in the ocean of the population living in that system. And the Expansion Effort is the most prestigious activity humans can take part in.

Is a difficult debate. In principle, feels unfair to allow someone who has the privilege of being an immortal human, by law. Allow us the chance to be in one of those vessels.

Feelings change over time. This was the year 448E, January of 449E, when I got the chance to actually start my training.

The training for the program was a tool for narrow the number of candidates. There was psychological valuation, survival training, preparation for self-defence, mediation, meditation, conflict resolution. Basic medial and scientific training. A lot of nice things.

Since the development of High AIs, previous to the Alexandrine Consensus, AIs do not deal with law enforcement or military. Because they cannot do any task that would force them to pick sides between different groups of humans. A basic fact of History is that those who are criminal groups today may in the next generation be the rulers of society and represent a new moral consensus.

AIs never work with subhumans, will take human side in any conflict against subhumans. However, when different humans are involved, AIs keep secrets. Look in another direction. Ignore judicial and legal commands to act. They don’t take the side of criminals, but they remain equidistant between them and the law enforcement.

Same applies to conflicts between human nations.

That means we always have at least one job reserved for humans only. Only humans can be police and military. Well, some nations allow subhumans in those functions too, but it creates the need for human partners to deal with the AI connections.

Except for Earth all planets and “natural reserves” in space-stations and inter-stellar vessels are engineered. Terraformed and populated with genetic engineered animals, plants, and other living organisms. Still, planets can be dangerous, vast areas inside space stations can be dangerous as well.

We never lost the hope, and fear, that alien species could be somewhere in this galaxy. Possibly hostile civilizations of extra-terrestrial predators with taste for human flesh. Or something more sinister even.

In 511E I was still in that dock in the Fringes. Insisting in sharp my skills and prove myself.

Every year I would almost give up and leave. Travel back to Earth. Get myself a job cooking for a fancy restaurant in some moon of Saturn. Something.

Then I met this lassie. Esmeralda, Asgardian like myself.

She as a Twentian, born in 1969. We were both over one and a half thousand years old, funny how so much of our conversations ended in jokes about those few decades of difference in our age. Of course, we knew how ridiculous it was, and that was the joke.

Esmeralda was a professional singer for the best part of her life, piano player and composer. However, in the recent 600 years she had been involved with administration of logistic and finances for the Expansion Effort. Diplomatic dance with sentient AIs most the time, some human autocrats along the way. Our thing was sexual more than anything else, she was a bit cold and resentful at first, in every other area.

Had ended a frustrating relationship with a fellow. Doctor, surgeon, fanatic for cyborg-implants.

After 5 years of relationship, she managed to get me the chance to escape the anti-Asgardian informal blockade. By moving to another sector of the Fringes. With my name already pre-approved to go into a ship. I had to do again some version of that training, but there was no trick this time. Was a mere formality.

I suspected she was finally starting to feel some connection beyond the mutual sexual attraction. Help me was her way to end that connection preventively. I would be gone, she would be alone again and go back to casual sex, which is the only safe sex. Emotionally safe.

I got my place, an apartment larger and more luxurious than I ever imagined possible. In the Great Smaug. A seeding vessel designed for a population of up to 1 billion people only.

We leaved as part of a fleet of 30 vessels. However, after little more than 700 years we would separate, in a Stellar System, and take our way alone to a specific system another 1 thousand years ahead.

The Smaug was a thematic vessel. Some very rich people had joined forces and influence to get a Stellar System entirely dedicated to their vision of genetic engineering.

They wanted a System of planets and moons entirely populated by dinosaurs, species from the time when dinosaurs lived on Earth. And some more imaginative variations of reptilian inspiration. Projects like that were not rare. The genetic engineering of subhuman slaves for countless purposes was already a big business by the second century of Expansion Age, and it kept growing in size and in eccentricity.

I could try a transfer to a different vessel along the way, and I was planning to. Since the idea of being part of an experiment to create Argonian Sex-Slaves in real life was less attractive to me than if may sound to you.

I has an opposition of principle against genetic engineer living, intelligent, people. For the sake of use them all their lives. As slaves.

You would not understand that objection if I tried to explain it to you. It is out of fashion nowadays in most places, least in this Stellar System and closest neighbours.

Fact is that, the Smaug changed orientation along the way. We kept the reptilian theme, the dinosaurs and correlated species. Among other reasons, because the portfolio of DNA available in our databank was oriented in that direction. There was legal contracts we could not just drop and forget. However, we managed to take the talking lizards for the list of products to be exported from our Stellar System. All nations in the system started with legal rights for subhumans, close to those granted to humans. If not identical.

30 years before we arrive in Pangea VII, our Stellar System, I met Beatrix. Bea was a specialist in animal behaviour and a veterinarian. Working mostly with dinosaurs, of course.

She was a 45 years old Alexandrine human, therefore, not an Asgardian.

We had a relationship that was not as intense as the one between me and Esmeralda in the sexual ground. Beatrix was obsessed by control, power play, and rules. Being born as part of the generation that would finally reach the destination and start building the System infrastructure she had a huge weight dropped on her shoulders since she was able to understand her first words.

Happens with everybody in those last periods of an inter-stellar travel. Specially after a long journey of many generations. Each individual deals with the stress in its own way.

She decided to not take part in the reproductive efforts to populate the system. Keep the low or no natality policy of inter-stellar travel. Despite having arrived in the Stellar System. Where high natality is the first priority.

She had only 300 years to live, as any Alexandrine human. We expended 90 of those years as lovers.

I think my influence during this time was partially responsible for her decision when she was about to reach 300 years. After this long, productive and honest life, she decided to sign her humanity away. In exchange for biological immortality.

AIs hate when a human does that, but they cannot do much to prevent it.

Of course, she would no longer be a person in the eyes of Alexandrine Law. Our nation recognized rights of subhumans, but that was nothing more than a regional decision, in the scale of alliances between nations. Ultimately, the dominant position in our growing Stellar System. Nevertheless, subjected to revision by future political opinions and cultural changes.

Because of that, she was worried. Would be safer if she had a owner, registered in the Universal Data Bank recognized by High AIs. Asgardians are the natural choice for that, and I was the only Asgardian she knew in person.

I accepted to register Beatrix as my personal property, and forgot all about that.

Our lives continued normally.

That financial initiative that pays all Asgardians born in pre-Baby Steps Age every year. Because they think we are a sort of living treasure of humanity. Walking, talking, museums I suppose. Well, over time it started accumulating and I found myself rich. Like other Asgardians in the same condition almost inevitably end up finding themselves.

In the following 6.000 years Beatrix looked for me a few times, asking for that same favour again. To some of her friends.

I ended with a couple dozen of slaves, in theory, legally speaking. Who I barely had met, and didn’t knew more than superficially. Didn’t affected my life in any way, during this time.

Then came the war. An alliance of Stellar Systems decided to invade us and conquer our resources. Go back to the originally intended laws of slavery for all subhumans. Make more money selling reptilian people.

I had tried military life during Baby Steps Age, as one of those temporary professions. I had trained for it again in the fringes. And worked as police agent in the Smaug. I was not interested in being conscripted to fight that war. Among other things because anyone sane could see how bad our chances were.

If there was any inter-stellar yacht available in reach I had the money to buy it. Unfortunately there was no such product nearby and I could not wait for delivery.

So, I started looking for a ship, any ship, leaving our system to somewhere beyond the reach to that war.

Beatrix and some of my “slaves” showed up at my door while I was trying to find myself that way out. Before the recruitment effort could find and catch me.

I found a way out, and I was willingly to pay extra for my own ticket and for the ticket of all my legal slaves. There was a problem in that plan, however.

The ship I managed to get us that passage was a freighter. A ferry sort of ship that would only go up to a commercial station in an isolated rock, 50 years away from our Stellar System, or any other. One way to describe this place would be as a “Tortuga Island”, what suggests a safe port dedicate to piracy. In reality it was mostly free enterprise smugglers, only a small percentage of professionals of extortion through violent means and implicit threat of violence.

That was not the problem, per se.

Problem was the regulations in this freighter and smuggler paradise island. I had to take non-humans as cargo.

They would go in a cargo compartment, and looking the specific rules for living sentient cargo all the boys and most the girls decided that they would ratter stay. Fight and take their chances in this war. I don’t blame them, I would have done the same.

There was no box with holes for air, exactly. Their limbs would have to be cut of them, legs and arms. They would be fed automatically, some extra could be paid for drugs to take their conscience and make this trip less uncomfortable. However, in this smuggler port the legislation didn’t allowed subhumans in public places. They would have to stay in this situation for who knows how long, until I manage to get us transport to a more reasonable nation.

Naturally, once we reached some place where that was legal, would be no problem to fix their bodies. To clone arm and legs takes couple months, attach them to the body less than one minute. Then, in couple more weeks of exercise you are good as new. With living limbs, identical to those you lost.

Alternatively, cyborg limbs can replace biological ones. Those who choose to enter the cyborg subculture replace their entire skeleton for cybernetic bones. Arms and legs by this point are fully replaced by cyborg implants too. Makes zero sense to keep and organic muscles in them, go without saying. However, those who are not cyborgs and had the chance to be, usually do not want to have any cyborg implants they can live without.

Everybody knows the advantages of cyborg organs over organic ones. Objectively speaking. I, myself, remain 100% organic. Despite my long time living in the Fringes, a region where at the time artificial gravity was something we could not take for granted or trust entirely. Most Alexandrine Humans in those places choose to go cyborg for convenience and to reduce the risk of accidental death by structural failure of some large structure.

Only Bea and 8 of her friends decided to risk that adventure.

Beatrix insisted that I would not leave her in the cargo container one minute longer than the absolute necessary.

“Even if it means stay awaken without arms and legs, with you, in your apartment in this Tortuga Island! You will pay any necessary extra taxes and bribery! You must promise me!! We may stay together for those years in this shady place, and look for a new home. AIs do not talk to me anymore, but I am sure we can find a way to make that work, regardless.”

She was, as always, driven by the need to be in control. As much as possible.

Easy to understand why. This, in any case, was not a hard promise to make. I could see no reason to not wish to keep it.

On the contrary. I would appreciate having some living person to talk to, after those 50 years travelling among strangers in a vessel mostly designed for transport cargo.

Everything when well.

My suite in this ferry was little more than a wardrobe with a small bathroom in it. No windows, a small fridge. Electric stove and microwave. Reminded me my days of student on Earth, actually, before extended longevity became a topic for debate outside science fiction.

Was in the year 2070, give or take, that it started. We had them a significant number of people reaching the age of 120. They where weak, physically, and about everyone was suffering from senile dementia in some degree. However, there was no reason to expect them to die from natural causes in the foreseeable future;

As a matter of fact, 100 years later, in 2170 many of those people were still alive. By this moment I had joined them. One more in a growing population of invalid, senile people, needing health-care 24/7. With no hope to improve, and no perspective of dying.

Until the genetic medicine moved beyond the next curve and the de-aging treatments started really delivering significant results. Some decades after that.

There was about 50 thousand passengers in the ship. More a crew of 25 individuals. A small city.

In real life, in our universe, there is only one way to make fake gravity. Fortunately, is very simple. Every child learn how to do the trick with a string and a small rock or piece of toy. It’s friends call it “centrifuge force” the force that makes everything want to flee from the centre when you spin it around that centre. It is simple, what it is not is cost-free.

To have it in a ship you need to design the entire ship for it, and then you know you will only get the gravity you want in one internal surface. Usually, for practicality, you make vessels that are supposed to carry people as long cylinders, surround the spinning cylinder wither people live by a shell for extra protection. The shell does not spin, because there is no need to have artificial gravity there.

However, our freighter was shaped like a deck of cards. A parallelepipedal shape. It was made for transport cargo, and not delicate cargo.

Usually, places like that are not recommended for humans. They are not recommended for the average living person. Not for more than a few weeks, anyway. Medical complications are bond to happen. That is why all the crew that work in places like that takes the cyborg surgery.

Since I didn’t want to take that step, the alternative was to use an exoskeleton armour most the time, even for sleep. And submit to a daily regime of heavy exercises. Even then, medical problems where to be expected, painkillers would be my best friends from years after those 5 decades. I knew all that, though I could live with it.

After all, why not? I would have little else to do in that trip. Daily exercises should keep my mind sharp. Along with my body.

After little less than 3 years I could not keep going.

I liked to believe that I am a disciplined person, perhaps I am above average in that department even for people of my age. I know this was not impossible, however, but I realized that would take a special kind of Taoist Monk to endure this daily practice for 50 years. Asgardian or not.

So, I was losing my mind. Given the short list of medical services in the ship I was considering have myself locked in a box and make the rest of the travel as cargo.

Until a fellow in the crew let escape that they had a doctor on board. On of the passengers, was actually an Asgardian surgeon. She had her equipment and a sweeter deal than mine, exchanging her services for transport. Living in one of the apartments reserved for the crew. The guy could not tell me anything else about this fellow, of course, but he could mention my case and give my contact to this person. With my authorisation.

“Maybe you get some other option?”

Hours after that conversation, the message came with an address. In a feel more minutes I met this cyborg surgeon in a recreation room open to passengers. Her body was very different, visibly cyborg skin, intentionally conspicuous cyborg implants replaced the ears. Still, the smile and the face around it where impossible to not recognise.

“I though you hated cyborg implants”

“Feelings change over time. Besides, I never really hated the implants themselves. I just had a negative opinion about the typical sort of people who choose to seek those implants for no good reason” Esmeralda answered.

She was a doctor now, specialist in cyborg tech. Also, a cyborg herself. Her brain was 75% organic, with some nano-fibres to speed up talking processes and provide extra shielding against extreme impact, radiation, things like that. Everything else was cyborg. She had a fully functional artificial uterus inside her body, fully functional reproductive system. Capable to generate and give birth to a child as natural and legally human as any Asgardian women would be able to generate.

Her body was intentionally not a convincing imitation of natural human body, but her sense of touch, smell and taste were as precise and refined as anything the human body is capable of.

“The sensorial world is always made of electric impulses in the brain, you are fully aware of that. I can actually regulate the intensity of my sensations and make them a lot more, intense, than what was possible before. I can instead turn off any sensation I choose to. In every sense, this is the path for personal freedom”

“What about the need for maintenance?”

“You are completely organic still, right? Are you not looking for me exactly because your body needs some maintenance?”

“Yes, but the cost to take care of organic parts is trivial compared to this. Cyborg technology, even nowadays, is something restrict to a very small subculture. Fringe, underground, at very best haute culture.”

“I know the unspoken nightmares behind your considerations here. Just to remind you, I am older than you, a few decades.

I have read those same books, watched the same movies. Played the videogames. All those cyberpunk dystopias where mega-corporations without sense of Ethic are the real power, making rules for themselves that no one can force them to obey. Keeping the poor people slaves of endless debt traps, terrorised for the risk of losing their cyborg kidneys, corneas and hearths.

Rationally, you know that is not the world we got.

AIs are everywhere, you can ask your personal assistant AI legal advice at any moment. Little chance of any legal trap escape that.

Standard cyborg contracts stablish upfront payment. No chance of anyone lose the cyborg implants for lack of payment. And, in any case, as an Alexandrine Human you must get your organic parts back in case the cyborg implant needs to be removed. Free of cost to you.

Granted, vast majority of the cyborg implants is designed to last less than 300 years, for the obvious reason that Alexandrine humans usually only live up to 300 years. Only subhumans and Asgardians are biologically immortal. I have to work with materials designed for highly specialized, elite, subhumans. That is the only way to get cyborg organs designed to last hundreds of thousands of years, instead of a few centuries.

Even then, those things are not tested yet, in their longevity. Simply because no cyborg existed 100 thousand years ago. Naturally, no Asgardian existed that long ago either.

Anyway. You know your options, if you reject this solution.

You could travel as cargo. However, that do not protect your body completely either. You would be sleeping, and would not feel anything. And probably any damage can be fixed later. Still, you would be losing muscular mass, bone density. Things you would need to deal with later.

As a cyborg, you walk out this ship conscient. And start your life in our destination without need to recovery.”

“Do you have the necessary equipment for a surgery like that, here?”

“Your list of options would be larger if we were in more ideal circumstances. I have more than enough to solve the immediate problem of give you a skeleton and internal organs that ignore the lack of gravity. I can give you something that will last for the best half of eternity, but the cheapest possible alternative is good for 250 years.

Honestly? I know you have the money, we are Asgardians from pre-Baby Steps. We all have more money than we can expend without being unreasonably whimsical. And you are not whimsical at all. If anything, you are too inclined to play safe and avoid exaggeration.”

I had to consider this for a moment more.

“Came with me to my apartment. I show you what options I have, from the most basic to the extra-fancy. I remember being in a situation similar to yours. You have one advantage, I didn’t knew the surgeon, you know me. Still, I want to give you the one argument that ultimately changed my mind about becoming a cyborg.”

“Which is?”

“In the current level of technology, every cyborg implant is reversible. Some procedures imply a risk of minor memory loss, but I don’t have any intention to suggest you one of those. Even the most extreme options I have available to you here are fully reversible. This body you are seeing, I could change it for a purely biological one if I wanted. Would take me months to get my old shape, and years to get used to it, but is possible.”

I followed her home, and somehow we, ended in her bed. I had never made sex with a cyborg before. Much less one with so little biology left.

Was an interesting, pleasant, experience. Less because of the exotic robot body, more because of the woman who was somehow in that body. Sex was always the strongest element in our relationship.

In the end I got the surgery. My human appearance was preserved. She had a military grade tech, used by special forces and spies, that can completely isolate itself from any computer network. Look exactly like organic body to most sensors. I choose that one. Got more than I originally imagined I could want. Darkvision and infrared are just too nice to not have, when they cost so little. Few small things like that.

The rest of this travel was far more pleasant. I had a friend and lover. No need for exercises to stay in shape. And I had discovered a new interest I wanted to study: cyborg medicine.

I had been a doctor some time before, during Baby Steps, but by then the cyborg implants are hardly a think. Certainly nothing comparable to the complete replacement of human skeleton that is necessary to any serious cyborg improvement.

When we reached our destination, Esmeralda had to take care of the transference of her equipment in person. She was leaving in another ship in a few months, would stay in a hotel.

I was prepared to stay for a longer time. Didn’t knew for sure when would be possible for me to leave, depended of many things. Esmeralda gave me some advice, and introduced me to some of her contacts.

The 99Club, nickname for the underground cyborg subculture, opens many doors in a place like that.

What was I good thing. Clearly, this was not the sort of society I was familiar with. Smugglers and pirates like to do business face-to-face, sometimes. Absolutely refuse to do so, sometimes. And are generally less reasonable than most people. Either that, or they follow a reason that only those who share their professional experiences can decipher.

I had invited Esmeralda to stay in my home, and it was only fair since I had managed to get a much better home thanks to her contacts.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to welcome her in person, because a prospect of possible transport to a stellar system closer to Solar took me to a different sector of that station for a couple weeks.

I had not yet visited my own house.

The conversation with that ship captain didn’t end in any satisfactory deal. I lost my time.

When I arrived home, Esmeralda and Beatrix had met each other. I didn’t though about that, but I had left instruction for Bea to be transported direct to my new home as soon as I had one. The other girls would stay in induced coma in a deposit, but not her. She had insisted about that.

Beatrix arrived without arms or legs, beaten for those 50 years travelling as cargo. Esmeralda took care of her.

By the time when I arrived they had stablished a relationship between themselves. Something I would not have imagined, and probably would have prevented if I was there. Esmeralda had decided to turn Beatrix into a “pillow girl”. Since Bea was a subhuman, according to Alexandrine Law, and local laws didn’t provided her any rights of protections either, Esmeralda could do anything she wanted with the other woman.

Knowing my feelings about Beatrix, Esmeralda didn’t used any invasive intervention that could not be reversed. However, almost everything can be reversed nowadays.

Esmeralda took all dignity and capacity of self-control from the defenceless woman. Reshaped her into a receptive, needy, constantly horny, living pillow. Ready to eat from her hand, lick her fingers and anything else Esmeralda wanted licked.

Beatrix’s memory and intellect where intact, but her emotions and sensations had been completely tamed by the Asgardian woman.

I really didn’t knew what to do or what to say about that.