Chapter 11: Unbound

2 October 2025

Jenny tapped the transcription app so she could go over the notes she had been dictating over the previous seventy-two hours.

Journal entry for Subject 05. 30 September 2025. 14:30.

Whoever said that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar may have been on to something. Rebecca’s insight of finding out what intrinsically motivated Sarah was genius. The two things she missed more than anything else were her paintings, and the outdoors.

Bringing her to the main lab, and allowing her to see the outside again, lit up her face. More importantly, it lit up chemical reactions throughout her brain, and sparking energy flows through her nervous system. The virus continues to surprise and confound me.

She selected the next entry as she took a bite from her Fudged Up Grenade bar, which passed for her lunch on most occasions.

Journal entry for Subject 05. 1 October 2025. 01:05.

I just tucked Sarah into bed. She is sleeping peacefully for the first time all week. I dare say she may have crossed the threshold into acceptance tonight.

I brought her to my flat after dark, and showed her the easel, canvas, and paints I ordered for her. She was vibrating with excitement, but she still looked to me before she went to them. She has craved my approval, and I gave her permission to go to them. After that, she was on them like a kid on Christmas morning.

Thankfully, Sarah has grown used to the biometric monitors, and having her bloods done. It took only a moment for the pin-prick, and she was back to work.

By the time the session was done, she actually thanked me for letting her get her hands dirty again.

Jenny sighed as she recalled the session noted in the last entry.

Journal entry for Subject 05. 1 October 2025. 21:49.

The positive reinforcement only got us so far. Being allowed outside, and being allowed to paint, must have triggered something unexpected in Sarah’s psyche.

I was driving us back to Greenwich, and Sarah seemed calm and content as she stared out the window. But as we drove through the Trafalgar Way Roundabout towards the Greenwich crossing, she suddenly seized up and began crying inconsolably. For a few moments, I worried that she had suffered a breakdown.

As quickly as I was able, I got out of traffic, parked the car, and turned to examine her. I’m sure I must have gasped. Her colour was pale, and all the light from her eyes was gone. Instead of the amber glow, her irises were ashen and cold.

I did the only thing that I could think of to calm her. I pulled out my tablet, and ran the colour sequences for her, with extra emphasis on the green. Thankfully, this seemed to help, although her eyes remained troublingly dark.

Jenny put down her mobile, and padded over to her stove. She turned on the gas, and waited for the burner to light. Then she put her kettle on the hob to heat the water. On a day like today, this English girl needs a spot of Earl Grey, she thought to herself.

She had two mugs prepared with stainless steel infuser pods, each packed with just the right amount of loose leaf tea. For Jenny, this was another scientific ritual. The old way of heating the kettle on an open flame was the only way for her. Then just the right amount of tea, and just the right heat, and of course it had to be imbibed while still piping hot so she could inhale the fragrance of the bergamot oil.

The high-pitched whistle of the kettle broke her from her thoughts. She clicked off the burner, and immediately poured the water into the ceramic mugs. She wasn’t sure whether the noise would have awakened Sarah, but if it didn’t, then Jenny would at least be able to give her a proper start to the day.

Jenny fetched the infusers from the mugs, and gave hers a sip. Just right.

She cradled the mug and savoured the taste and the scent. For a moment, she was just Jenny again.

The moment was short-lived.

“WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK!”

Jenny hurried to the bedroom. She had given up her bed for Sarah for a second night. The first night, it had been a wonderful peaceful gift. Last night, Sarah collapsed like a puppet with her strings cut, but she also slept fitfully. Jenny heard her tossing and turning, and occasionally making noises. Whether they were from dreams or consciousness, Jenny could only guess.

But this was clearly a rude awakening.

Sarah was sitting up in the bed, her knees pulled to her chest, and clutching the sheet with white knuckles. Her eyes were wide, and the amber glow was almost intermittent. If Sarah were an electrical circuit, Jenny surmised that she had suffered some sort of short circuit.

Jenny sat next to her on the bed and wrapped her arms around Sarah. She gently kissed Sarah on the forehead, and then held her into her chest and rocked her.

“Tell me what happened, little one.”

Sarah shivered at the kiss, and calmed as Jenny held her.

“I don’t know,” Sarah said tentatively. “ I remember that we were driving here last night. Then we got to the roundabout, and I saw the Traffic Light Tree. I was staring at it and I couldn’t look away. The next thing I remember, it was like everything was so loud again.”

“Fuck,” Jenny exclaimed.

“What? What’s wrong, ma’am?”

“The Tree. That explains the timing of your reaction. You must have seen something.”

“I don’t understand. Can you please explain?”

Jenny shook her head. “Not yet. But I’ll figure it out. The flashing lights must have cascaded with just the right colours and patterns to trigger the virus in some unexplained way.” Jenny sent a text to Rebecca, before she got up from the bed and hurried to pack her tablet and journal in her courier bag.

“Get dressed, Subject 05. We’re heading back to the lab.”

***

The unexpected episode put Jenny’s research on parallel tracks. She had to take whatever steps were necessary to stabilize Sarah’s programming, given whatever the light flashes did to her the night before. And she had to find out why the lights of the Tree triggered her like they did.

Jenny sequestered Sarah back in the auxiliary office. She hadn’t had any further outbursts, and she seemed soothed by being allowed to paint again. Jenny remained in the office with her, which helped calm Sarah further.

While Jenny programmed simulations of viral behavior while exposed to seemingly random combinations of the red, yellow and green colours on her tablet, Rebecca was continuing her double-agent role in the campus. The investors still expected their compliance reports, and the human resources requirements hadn’t gone away in the days since she was infected

Thankfully, she thought, the virus had increased her capabilities. As long as she was performing in accordance with the plan, Rebecca’s endurance and focus were off the charts compared to her former self. And she was convinced that solving the twin mysteries was part of that plan. He wanted her to figure this out, so that none of his women are ever put at risk like this.

Solving the traffic light problem was a scientific task. At this point in her professional life, that wasn’t Rebecca’s forte. But perhaps she could decipher Sarah.

After sending her written reports to management, Rebecca began her rounds through the building. This week, she would start at the bottom, and work her way up. She had developed the habit of alternating her trip through the campus. Since it was the first Thursday of the month, she would begin on the ground floor.

She boarded the lift. Her finger hovered briefly over the button for the basement, but there was no value in that destination. The building’s computer networking equipment was housed down there, along with the plant rooms, and some storage. Rebecca knew that there was one woman who maintained what passed for an office in an IT anteroom, but she avoided talking with Marjorie. There was something off about that girl.

During the ninety or so minutes of sweeping through the corridors of each level on her way to the fourth floor, Rebecca maintained her mask of considerate interest in the goings-on of the various researchers. There was some promising work in botany on the second floor, and an interesting artificial intelligence experiment being explored by a couple of women on the third floor. Morgan and Isabelle would be fun subjects for Jenny someday, if she got the balls to poach them.

But Rebecca’s actual focus remained on Sarah. She had an idea for breaking through the surprising resistance which Subject 05 had been exhibiting. Letting Sarah paint again had been the first step of opening her up. But what Sarah should do, Rebecca thought, is focus her creative talent on finding Master inside her.

Rebecca’s watch showed 19:53 when she reached the last office on the top floor - the auxiliary office. She tapped in her security code, and the magnetic log disengaged with a satisfying click.

“All hail the Queen,” Rebecca said mischievously as she strode into the room.

Jenny didn’t even bother to turn. “Only if the Queen brought some booze.”

She must really be rattled, Rebecca thought to herself.

“What’s wrong now?”

Jenny pointed across the room, her eyes still focused on her tablet.

Rebecca turned, and saw Sarah. She wasn’t standing and painting, which was what Rebecca expected to see. Rather, she was on the floor. Kneeling. And…

“Is she touching herself?”

“That is exactly what she’s doing. And what she’s been doing for about an hour now. She’s played with her tits, toyed with her clit, edged, wanked, stuffed. And when she climaxes, she wails like a bloody banshee.”

Rebecca focused on Sarah’s eyes. She was staring up at her painting, and her eyes were pulsing the bright amber glow once more.

The canvas portrayed a man. There was nothing identifiable about his features, but he was clearly masculine. Dressed neatly, with appropriate musculature. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Just a man.

But surrounding the man was a kaleidoscopic halo of reds and yellows and greens. It was as if the man were coming out of the lights. Or perhaps he was generating the lights.

“I see,” Rebecca said. “Any idea why she’s… like this?”

“Not a clue. One minute she was painting. She started with the black outlines. And then she started adding in the colours. She was inspired. She sped up, and grabbed one brush and then another and then another. I swear, if she had another arm, she probably would have been using all three colours at the same time. She was just flying around. And then she just stopped.”

Jenny put her tablet down, and turned in her chair to face Rebecca.

“I mean, literally stopped. As you can see, she dropped the brushes. She yanked the straps down from her dungaree shorts and started pawing at her tits. Then she fell to her knees, and said ‘yes Master’ and ‘I obey, Master,’ and then she was off like a rocket.”

Rebecca moved next to Sarah, and knelt down by her side.

“Sarah, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Rebecca, I hear you,” she answered dreamily, her fingers still stroking her sensitive folds.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because the Master desires me to be his vessel. I am not supposed to think. I am supposed to obey. Pleasure makes me obey.”

Sarah smiled calmly. Then she turned her head, and faced Rebecca.

“Pleasure makes you obey too, doesn’t it, Rebecca?”

“Yes, Sarah, it does.”

"I breathe to please the Master," Sarah said. “I paint to please the Master. I exist to please the Master.”

Rebecca nodded to her.

Sarah reached out and caressed Rebecca’s cheek.

“Thank you, Rebecca, for bringing me to Master. I can’t wait for us to serve him together.”