The Time War Ch. 40

Chapter 40: The Ordeal

It was supposed to be a routine scouting mission.

"Barack Obama? What an odd name! Who is that?" Calle asked.

"A politician who ran for President of the United States in the year 2008," said Sarah. "He campaigned on a promise of socializing health care. If elected, he would have started down the road of outlawing private medical care."

"So?" said Calle.

"Our timeline indicates that he lost the election," said Sarah. She pointed to a holomonitor. "But this seems to indicate that he won."

"Seems to?"

"This one says he did," she said pointing to one holomonitor. "But this and this and this says he didn't," said Sarah, pointing to other monitors. "John, we so hate anomalies like this here at the Continuity Service. Could you be a dear and dash back to the past and find out who won the election of 2008? I'll even cook dinner for you, if you get back in time."

They both smiled at each other knowingly.

********

Barack Obama campaign headquarters was like a morgue on election night. Everyone was depressed as the results started pouring in. Obama wasn't just losing, he was losing in a landslide. Everyone looked glum.

Except for one woman who smiled at Calle, looking very pleased.

"You look happy," Calle commented.

"I am, John Calle," She said, raising a compression pistol.

********

Heat.

That was the first thing Calle felt as consciousness slowly leeched back into his brain. The feeling of the intense light of the sun beating down on him.

"Time to wake up, John Calle."

Calle stirred on the hot desert sands. He blinked and opened his eyes. It was bright. As his eyes focused, he saw blue. An ocean. He looked around.

He was on a tiny island, perhaps 40 feet long and thirty feet wide. There were exactly five coconut trees on this island, and nothing else.

Nothing except a tall bearded man with a compression pistol, smiling at him.

"Welcome back, John Calle," said the man.

Calle slowly got up. "Who are you?"

"My name is Maria Jefferson," said the man.

Calle's eyebrows shot up.

"Ah, you've heard of me."

"You're the leader of the Temporal Social Justice Warriors," said Calle slowly.

"Quite a mouthful, isn't it? We're much better at dispensing justice than logos and branding, I'm afraid."

Calle nodded, not really listening. Suddenly he looked down, and noticed he wasn't wearing any pants. Or underwear. What's more, he was now wearing some kind of metal basket around his waist. It shone in the bright sun. "What is this?" he asked, running his hands along it. It seemed smooth, except at the bottom, where there were tiny holes. It covered his groin in front, and attached in back with a metal strap. It was quite solid, and quite firmly attached to him.

"That will become self evident in time," said Maria. He looked out at the ocean. "Lovely view, isn't it?"

Calle looked out at the ocean. "Nice."

"Peaceful," said Maria. "I often wished I had the time to just kick back and go to a deserted island and lie in the sun. I envy you, John Calle, because you are about to live my fondest fantasy."

Calle had a sinking feeling in his stomach. "What do you want?"

"What does anyone want, John? Justice and equality for everyone."

"Those words mean different things to different people," said Calle, his eyes narrowing.

"They can only mean one thing to those who truly seek social justice," said Maria. "I want justice, John Calle. Justice for blacks. Justice for Spanish people. Justice for Superior Americans, for Laquintans, for women, for lesbians, for trisexuals, for every category of oppressed persons on the planet Earth."

"It sounds like you've got your work cut out for you. I wish you luck with all that," said Calle warily.

"Oh, you're going to do more than wish us luck, John Calle. You're going to help us. You're going to work for us."

"I don't think so," said Calle.

"Not yet, anyway," said Maria. He gave Calle an odd smile, and activated a gateway. He stepped through it, and disappeared.

*********

Calle tried to hide under the shadow of the bushiest coconut tree. Without pants, his legs would burn easily in the sun. Unfortunately the shade kept moving. He tried to sleep, but woke up with the sun on him, and he constantly had to move.

It didn't take him long to find the packet of food and water. He looked at it suspiciously for a long moment, and then realized he had little choice.

The food was sandwiches and water, nothing special. But after he ate and drank, Calle started to feel... different. Agitated. Aroused, even.

Packets of food and water mysteriously appeared once a day, enough for two meals, not a tremendous amount of food, but enough to keep him alive. But as Calle ate more and more, his sexual arousal only increased. Soon it was at an intolerable level. He had to get release.

He tried to touch himself, but he couldn't. The metal cage around his waist wouldn't allow him access. He could urinate through the small holes in the bottom, but that was all. He tried in vain to get the device off him, but it was too tight. He felt combination cylinders on the back of it, and spinned them fruitlessly, but couldn't get it to unlock.

Calle's penis was erect all the time now, pressing painfully against the inner walls of the metal cage. Calle thought about sex day and night now. He desperately needed release. He tried rubbing his cage against the desert sands, hoping to get some desperately needed friction, but it did no good.

And that's how Marion found him, two days later.

********

"Well, look at the fine mess you've gotten yourself into."

Calle blinked. He had been alone for almost two and a half days. He turned his head slowly and saw her.

Marion.

He gasped. "Marion? Is that you?"

"Who else would it be, my love?" She sauntered over to him, wiggling her hips. Calle slowly and painfully stood up and embraced her. She hugged him back. He tried to kiss her, but she pulled back. "I see you've gotten yourself into a little difficulty, my love," she laughed, touching the outlines of his metal cage.

"Marion?" Calle's mind felt confused. The drugs that were causing his arousal were also doing something else to him, he sensed. Something which didn't let him think clearly. But he tried anyway. "Marion, you died."

"Yes, dear," said Marion. "I died. Past tense. These wonderful people saved me. They pulled me out of the car right before the crash, so I could live again. To be with you." She leaned forward to give Calle a kiss. Calle leaned forward to meet her, but then fell on his face when Marion pulled back at the last minute.

"Oh, dear," She laughed, getting down her knees to help him sit upright. "What a fine mess you've gotten into!"

"Marion... why are you here?"

"To help you, dearest, of course," said Marion.

"Help me?" Calle blinked. "To escape?"

"Eventually," Marion nodded. "Once you admit your crimes."

"My... crimes?"

"Of racism. Sexism. Assophobia," said Marion.

Calle shook his head. "I'm not guilty of any of those things."

"Of course you are," said Marion. She smiled at him. She had the same beautiful high cheekbones, the same thick dark hair, the same sexy green eyes. "Let's start with something simple, John. Tell me you're a racist."

"I... no," said Calle.

"John," Marion said, in a warning voice, as she rubbed the outside of his crotch cage. "If you want to be released, tell me you're a racist."

"I...." Calle's mouth dropped open. Then his resolve hardened. "No! I am not a racist."

Marion sighed, getting up and brushing sand off her pants. "I didn't want it to be like this, dear. I really didn't. But you seem to demand everything be done the hard way." She pressed the recall device in her hand, and a gateway appeared.

"Marion, no!" Calle cried struggling to get up.

Marion blew him a kiss, and was gone.

********

Calle's level of sexual arousal only increased further, if that were possible. His balls, which were brimming with unreleased sperm, were positively painful. He had been stimulated for four days and hadn't been allowed any kind of release. He desperately, futilely scrabbled against the cage imprisoning his rigid shaft.

He heard the sounds of feminine laughter. "That won't help, dear."

He turned to see Marion again. She looked so sexy in a white shirt and tight white pants. Every outline, every contour was visible.

She walked to him slowly, wiggling her ass with every step. In Calle's crazed mind, every wiggle of the hips, every flirtatious look was a sexual provocation. Marion put her hands on his shoulder. "How have you been, my dear?"

"I've... I've been better," said Calle, in a hoarse voice.

"I'll bet," Marion said, smiling at him seductively. "Are you ready to admit you're a racist?"

Calle shook his head. "Why would I be a racist? I have never oppressed anyone."

Marion caressed him with her hands. "But it's in your DNA, dear. For untold centuries white people have oppressed black, brown, yellow and pink people. It's what their DNA programmed them to do. You share the same DNA as your ancestral oppressors." He felt her hand rubbing his arms. It felt so good. Her lips were so thick, so red.

"But I don't feel racist."

Marion shook her head. "You don't have to. It's unconscious racism. You don't even realize it."

"Then how do I know I have it?" said Calle.

Marion laughed as she ran her hands along his back. "Because you're white, dear."

"No," said Calle. He shook his head. "No. I'm not a racist because I'm white. If I were a racist, I'd know it."

"Would you?" She smiled at him.

Calle's penis was aching. "Please, Marion, I need your help."

"And I want to give it to you, my darling," She said, her eyebrows lifting compassionately. "But first, you have to at least give me something. Say you're a racist. Come on, just say it."

"No!" said Calle.

"Say it." He felt her hot breath on his ear, and he shuddered. She whispered, "You don't even have to mean it. Just say it. No one will know. No one will care."

Calle looked at Marion. She was as beautiful as the day he met her. He felt such desperate need. His lips trembled.

"That's right, my love, you can do it," said Marion with a smile.

That smile. He would do anything for that smile.

"I... I...."

"Yes, yes?" She seemed excited.

"I... I am a racist," said Calle.

"Oh how wonderful!" Marion exclaimed. For the first time she pressed her lips against his. Calle grinded eagerly against her plush lips, wrapping his arms around her. He unconsciously began to rub his metal cage against her groin, up, and down, up, and down.

And then Marion pulled back.

"Please, get this thing off me," Calle said, with a note of desperation as he ran his hands frantically against the metal cage around his aching organ.

"Oh ho ho, not so fast, my love," said Marion. "You've only just begun."

********

Thus began a pattern. Marion would visit him every day. His arousal kept building and building. Marion would kiss and fondle him, but wouldn't allow him release, not yet, not until she was satisfied.

"What more do you want me to say?" Calle asked, frustrated. "I'm a racist! I'm a racist I'm a racist I'm a racist!"

Marion giggled and gave a brilliant smile. "That's only the beginning, my love. Tell me, why are you a racist?"

That stopped Calle cold. Since he wasn't a racist, he had no idea why he would be one.

"Because...." He started. Then he stopped. He really didn't know why.

Marion looked into his eyes. "Because you only like people with white colored skin."

"Yes," said Calle reluctantly. "I only like people with white colored skin. Can we have sex now?" He pressed against her. She kissed him as a reward, laughingly, then pushed him back again.

Marion pressed him to say it again, in different variations.

"White skinned people. I only like white skinned people," said Calle. "People of other races, I don't like them."

"And why don't you like them, darling?" said Marion, smiling and fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Because... they have different color skins," said Calle dully. It sounded hollow and insincere, even to his own ears.

But then Marion smiled and laughed and Calle knew he was on the right track. But the track to where?

Soon Calle found himself incriminating himself more and more. "I am a racist, I have negative thoughts about people of other races, all because they have different color skins," said Calle.

Suddenly he notice Marion had put her hand in her panties. She was openly diddling herself to Calle's confession. "Go on, dear," she implored him.

"I do not like black, I do not like brown, I do not like yellow or pink. White, only white skinned people are the ones I like." Calle felt like he were reciting a script, almost a poem or a song, even.

"Ooohh," Marion groaned, as she fondled herself. "Keep going, darling, you're almost there, I can feel it."

"Skin color is the most important thing in the world to me," said Calle. "I hate diversity!"

"Oh!" Marion cried, as she diddled her clitoris in tight circles.

"I love prejudice!"

"Ah!" she cried, her body trembling.

"I love racial inequality!"

"Aaaaaaah!" Marion gasped, and suddenly she flew into Calle's arms. She smothered him with kisses and hugs. And then he felt her, reaching behind him, turning him around, adjusting the tumblers on the lock. And then with a joyous click, it opened!

Calle's jaw dropped in shock as the metal cage fell to the island sands.

He didn't remember taking off the rest of his clothes. He didn't remember taking off Marion's clothes. His mind was so desperate with need, a need which had been artificially nurtured, stroked, and heightened for days. Suddenly he found himself between her legs, pounding into her.

It only took a matter of seconds. He exploded inside of her. But that was not the end, far from it. He pounded into Marion again and again, having multiple orgasms within the space of several minutes. Then he must have passed out.

********

Click!

Calle vaguely came back to consciousness. He found Marion, standing above him, fully dressed.

And his metal cage was in place once again.

"What are you doing? Where are you going?"

"It's time for me to leave, dear," said Marion, brushing the sand off of her pants.

"Don't leave me!" said Calle pitifully.

"Oh, you'll be coming with me, when you're ready."

"When will that be?" Calle asked.

"We still have some more work to do here," said Marion, smiling slyly at him.

"What more do you want? I said I was a racist!"

"That's just the beginning, John," said Marion. "Only the beginning." She pressed a button, and a gateway formed. She stepped into it. John got up and tried to run after her, but the gateway immediately vanished behind her.

********

Calle felt strong sexual urges the following day. The drugs in his food saw to that. He had no choice. Hunger compelled him to drug himself. It felt as if he hadn't had sex the previous day. When Marion appeared, he immediately hugged her and said, "I'm a racist! I'm a racist I'm a racist I'm a racist!"

"That's good to know," Marion said laughingly, as she gently pushed him back.

"Well?" said Calle, biting his lip and hopping up and down on one foot.

"I'm afraid that won't be enough, my love," said Marion.

"Not enough? I told you I'm a racist. What more do you want?" Calle demanded desperately.

She leaned close, so he could see her gorgeous green eyes. "You must convince me you truly believe it."

********

Thus began a nightmare that seemed to go on for days. Calle tried every combination of words and tones he could imagine. Marion smiled and nodded with each performance, but he could see she was not fully satisfied.

"I'm a racist!" Calle cried. "I think bad things about people with different skin colors! Skin color is the most important thing in the world to me!"

"That's nice of you to admit, my love," said Marion. "But I am still not convinced. Do you really believe that?"

"Yes, yes I do!" said Calle. His penis was throbbing with need. His balls were so tight that they were like painful orbs, about to explode inside his genitals. The discomfort, the need to ejaculate, to get the burning liquid out of his body, was so intense. He needed release, and needed it so badly.

"Marion, I hate diversity! I hate it!" Calle cried. "I hate diversity! I love prejudice!"

"You love prejudice?" said Marion skeptically.

"Yes! Yes! I love prejudice, with every bone in my body!" Calle cried. "I.. I...."

She looked at him expectantly. Calle grasped for the right combination, the right phrases. Suddenly, inspiration struck him. "I... I don't know what I possibly could have done to be racist, but I must be guilty of something!" he cried out.

Marion looked startled and gave an enormously satisfied laugh. She reached out and started hugging and kissing him furiously. Calle felt his pulse racing as she worked on the metal cylinders on his metal cage.

**********

Once again, Calle was so much in need that he barely remembered the sex. Only the release. But as he lay next to Marion afterwards, he started to notice things. Little things. Her breasts looked different from how he remembered them. Marion had long, teardrop shaped breasts. But now her breasts looked more compact, more pear shaped. And her hips... Marion had wide, child bearing hips and long muscular legs. But now her body looked... leaner.

Calle's confused mind noticed these changes without really understanding them. All he knew was that he was with Marion again.

But when Marion got up and handed him the metal cage, he whispered. "No."

"You must put it on. It is part of your obedience training."

"No," Calle said again.

"If you do not put it on, my love, you will never see me again," Marion said softly, caressing his hair gently.

Calle was practically whimpering as he slid the metal cage between his legs. Marion guided him with her voice. "That's right, that's it, my love, you're doing fine..." And then Marion reached around him and suddenly there was a click. Calle jumped slightly, and Marion smiled. She caressed his cheek. "You're making such excellent progress, my love."

*********

Calle thought that this torture must be at an end, or almost at an end. After all, he had convinced Marion that he believed he was a racist. But Marion wanted more. Marion always wanted more.

"Are you a sexist, John?" Marion asked.

Calle stiffened at this new line of attack. He knew immediately what Marion wanted.

"Yes," he said softly, bowing his head.

"What was that?"

"Yes," said Calle, looking up at her unhappily.

"You think women are merely objects to be used, don't you?" said Marion."To be fucked. To be sex slaves, objects for your sexual pleasure. Isn't that right, John?"

"Yes," he said again.

Marion moved even closer to him. "You think of me that way, don't you, John? Just a cow, to be pounded and fucked. Don't you, John? Don't you?"

Calle gritted his teeth. To him, this was more of a betrayal than branding himself a racist. He wasn't just betraying himself, he was betraying his love for her. And Marion knew it. He looked into her brilliant green eyes. His tired, drugged mind couldn't resist. "Yes," he half sobbed. "You're just an object, to be fucked and used and degraded."

And then suddenly his metal cage had dropped the ground, and Marion was pressing her body against him, and in moments they were lying on the sands, having sex again.

But this time Marion prompted him to say things, even while he thrusted within her. He may have been on top, but from her commanding eyes, from her tone, it was clear that she was in charge. She was in command, and this entire operation could stop in an instant if she felt the slightest inclination to do so.

Marion's eyes shone brightly as Calle pounded into her. "You think of me as nothing more than a sex toy, isn't that right, John?"

"Yes," Calle sobbed, as he continued to frantically rub himself inside of her. His need was so great, his fear that it might end at any moment was tremendous, and he just couldn't stop.

Marion smiled knowingly. "You just want to use me, to use my body, to get off sexually and fill me with your seed. That's all you care about John, isn't it? Isn't it?"

"Yes!" he cried.

"You don't really love me, you don't love my mind, I'm just a set of tits and ass and a cunt for you to fuck. Admit it!"

Marion was demanding and firm, and he was weak and out of his mind and desperate for release. She was demanding the ultimate betrayal. And because his need was so great, he gave her everything she wanted.

"Isn't that right, John? You don't love me as a person, only as a cunt, a cunt to be fucked! Admit it! Admit or I'm stopping right now!" she shouted.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Calle cried out, shaking as his shaft and balls tightened so painfully. And then he fired into her, releasing powerful spurts with enormous strength that caused his organ to pulsate and throb wildly.

********

He must have blacked out, because the next thing he remembered was Marion getting up, fully dressed, and he found his metal cage was in place again.

"How much more?" Calle groaned. "Please, Marion, no more!"

She gave him an enigmatic smile. "You're getting closer, John. I can feel it."

She waved goodbye as she entered the gateway. Calle was too exhausted to try and get up before the gateway vanished, which it quickly did.

********

The conditioning continued the following day.

"Sex in the ass, John," said Marion.

"What?" said Calle. His mind was in a perpetual fog now. He didn't know if they were increasing the dose of the drugs, or if it were the cumulative effect of them, but he constantly felt half asleep, even as he was still sexually aroused.

"You hate it when men have sex in the ass with each other," said Marion. "You're assophobic, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Calle. He had been broken. He would repeat anything she said now, agreed to anything she asked, like a mindless parrot. The only barrier was convincing her that he believed what he said. But Calle was so confused that he didn't know what he believed anymore.

"I'm assophobic! I fear it when men have sex in the ass! I always have!" said Calle. He looked anxiously at her for approval. She nodded, but said, "Go on."

Go on?

Calle frantically wracked his tired brain for something, anything that would please her and take away his burning need. "The asshole... I have always had this prejudiced thought that it should be a one way street," said Calle. "Things going in and out of the ass... I fear it, I really do. It gives me nightmares. I'm prejudiced! I'm analphobic!" He reached for her, hoping she was satisfied, but Marion held out a blocking hand and took a step back.

"And what about two women kissing, John?" she stared at him intently. "Two naked women, rubbing their breasts together?"

"I hate it!" Calle screamed.

"Two naked women, sucking each other's tits?" said Marion.

"Awful! It's the worst thing I can imagine! Worse than nuclear war!" said Calle.

"Think of it!" Marion said, her eyes ablaze. "Two sexually mature women, playing with each other's hot, sweaty bodies, each with big, fleshy breasts, smiling knowingly at each other while entering each other with big, black, wide strap ons!"

"I hate it!" said Calle promptly. "My mind is full of prejudice and lack of acceptance! I'm... I'm...."

"What are you, John?"

He struggled for the right words. "I'm... straponophobic!" Calle cried.

He cried out for real as Marion hugged him and kissed him, and his heart thudded with excitement as he felt her unlocking his cage.

"You're getting close, my love, you're almost there," she whispered in his ear.

*********

Calle was exhausted. He had totally lost track of time. He seemed to have lost weight, and he had grown a beard, and he was physically and mentally weak. How long had he been on this tiny island? Days? Weeks? Months? It was impossible to know.

He sensed an end was coming, though. Marion had hinted at it more than once. And then, finally, the day came.

Marion appeared, but this time she was wearing a tight bikini. It showed the sexy lines of her body. She was ready to be fucked.

Calle reached out to grab her, but, predictably, she pushed him back.

"What is it now?" Calle pleaded, his voice a rasp. He could only imagine how terrible he looked, how completely worn out he felt. "I told you I'm racist. I told you I'm sexist. I told you I'm assophobic, and I hate naked girls kissing each other. What else can I possibly say that will satisfy you?"

"Only one more thing," said Marion, looking supremely smug. "That you are ready to pay for your sins."

"My... sins?"

She reached around him, and undid the lock on his metal cage. It went crashing to the island sands.

"You must agree to help us," said Marion. "To right all the wrongs you have done over your lifetime."

"My wrongs?" said Calle, staring at her body.

Marion slowly removed her bikini top. Her pear shaped breasts, which really should have been bell shaped, looked gorgeous.

"The wrongs you have committed, all the wrongs white males have committed throughout the history of womenkind," said Marion. She smiled as she saw she had his full attention, and then she slowly lowered her bikini bottom. Calle's mouth actually watered as he saw her thick pubic triangle, and his penis got hard just looking at her erect nippled tits.

Marion smiled and nodded slightly. Calle flew into her arms, kissing her while feverishly rubbing his erect organ against her pubic hair.

In seconds Marion was on the beach on her back, and Calle was between her legs. He joyfully thrusted into her... and then stopped, as Marion pushed him back. He tried to thrust into her again, but Marion angled her body so he could only move an inch inwards. Calle tried to go deeper into her, but Marion frustrated all his efforts.

"Say you'll do it," she said, her eyes shining.

Calle grit his teeth as the head of his organ moved a grand total of one inch in and out of her. The feeling of the head of his organ rubbing against her nether lips was golden. But he needed more, much more. His organ ached for it.

"Say you'll do it!" Marion said again. Her eyes, her voice, all were insisting. "Say you'll help us change time, to pay for all the crimes of whitemankind, and I'll let you finish. Say it, John. This is your final exam. Say it, and you can fuck me as much as you like, whenever you like."

Calle's face was screwed up in agony. He knew what she was asking for, and knew the price attached to it.

He had to have it. He had to have release. He had to have her, right now. He would say anything and everything to get it.

His mouth opened, of its own accord. He felt his lips starting to form the words. He saw the excitement forming in Marion's eyes.

And then-

There was familiar sound. The sound of a gateway forming.

And suddenly, Calle saw legs, running on the sandy beach. And then there arms, pulling him off Marion.

"No!" Marion screamed, saying exactly what Calle felt.

Marion reached for her recall device, but other hands were quicker.

"I'll take that," said Major Castleman.

"John!" a feminine voice cried.

Suddenly Sarah was there. Her eyes took in everything--Marion, nude on the beach, Calle, also nude, his penis erect, the head still glistening with Marion's vaginal juices. Sarah's jaw dropped as she looked at him unbelievingly.

"No!" Marion cried, as someone pulled her up.

"Let her go!" Calle yelled, in a hoarse voice.

"Take it easy, John," said Karin Mulhbaum.

Calle was about to say something else, when he felt something sharp against his neck, and heard a hiss, and all went black.

********

"How are you feeling, John?"

Calle opened his eyes. He was in the medical section at the Continuity Service Main Base. He saw Sarah and Doctor Vladek looking anxiously at him.

"Tired," said Calle, in a rusty voice.

"That's to be expected," said Doctor Vladek. "Drink this," he said, handing him a cup.

Calle drank, and coughed.

"Slowly," Vladek chided. "Your system has been deliberately degraded. You must build up your strength again."

"How..." he struggled to speak.

"How long?" said Sarah. "23 days."

"23 days?" said Calle. "How did you find me?"

"Remember the vision you told me about, John?" Sarah asked. "Of you and Marion on a tiny desert island?"

Calle nodded.

"I found it," said Sarah. "I would have found it much more quickly, though, if you had been more accurate about the measurements. I was looking for an island only 40 feet long. The island you were on was 52 feet long, at low tide."

"Sorry," said Calle.

"Sarah worked day and night for three weeks to find you," said Doctor Vladek. "You would be very proud of her."

"I am very proud of her," said Calle, looking into her eyes. He knew he had hurt her, unintentionally, when she found him and Marion in the middle of... what they were doing. He remembered how Sarah had stared at his penis, still glistening with Marion's nether juices. Sarah looked like she had been hit by high voltage. Her jaw had dropped, and her eyes had been filled with confusion and pain.

Now, in the quiet confines of the sickbay, Calle looked at her searchingly, but Sarah's eyes, like her face, were a complete blank.

"What happened to me?" Calle asked.

"It was a trap," said Sarah slowly. "That anomaly I spotted, concerning the election of 2008? That was set up by the Temporal Social Justice Warriors."

"Why?"

"Apparently, to capture you," said Sarah.

Calle felt a wave of fatigue sink into his head like a heavy blanket. "I feel so tired," Calle said.

"Your system was full of mind altering drugs," said Vladek. "But you will recover, in time."

"And... Marion?"

"You refer to the woman with you?" Vladek asked.

"Yes," said Calle.

"We captured her, alive. Her real name is Mary Wentworth."

"What?" said Calle.

"She was not your Marion," said Sarah.

"She was not anyone's Marion," said Vladek. "They found someone with your former fiancée's general body build and voice type, then gave her atomic facial surgery to make her exactly like your former lover."

"Not exactly," said Calle, remembering the pear shaped breasts. Not Marion. "Where is she now?"

"Being questioned," said Vladek. "She's being most cooperative."

Calle could only imagine.

"John, do you feel well enough to answer a few questions?" said Vladek.

Calle nodded.

"Sarah, if you'll excuse us?" said Vladek.

Sarah got up, slowly releasing Calle's hand. Calle looked at her longingly. Was she angry with him? Would she forgive him?

Sarah gave him a look filled with concern, a gentle smile, and then turned and left.

"She's a most extraordinary woman," said Vladek.

Somehow, hearing Vladek saying that annoyed Calle. But he responded. "Yes, she is."

Vladek turned to Calle. "So then. Let us begin."

********

"What do you see?"

Calle peered at the holoimage. "I see... two white men, a white woman, and a Spanish man."

Vladek frowned. The correct answer was "four people." He refrained from commenting and loaded another image. "And now?"

Calle looked at the new holoimage. "A white man, a Spanish woman and... a yellow man. I think he's Oriental... God forgive me! I mean, Chinese."

Vladek frowned again. The correct answer was "three people". Calle was parsing information on terms of race and gender obsessively. Something was definitely wrong here. He loaded another image. "What do you see here, John?"

"I see a white man, a black man, and a white woman talking."

"What else?"

"They are smiling, laughing."

"What can you tell about the people from the image?"

"The white woman... she's the smart one of the group. The natural leader," said Calle.

"And the others?"

"The black man... he's the friendliest. Everyone likes him."

"And the white man?"

Calle frowned. "He's a fool, an idiot."

"Really?" Doctor Vladek asked.

"He thinks racist things about the black man. And he constantly pesters the white woman for sex." Calle frowned as he said it.

"Does he?" Doctor Vladek said.

"He doesn't respect her as a woman. He only sees her as a sex object."

"I see," said Vladek. He paused. "Tell me, John, are white people racist?"

Calle's head jerked slightly.

"John, I asked you a question."

"I... I don't know... I... I suppose some of them must be," said Calle. He looked pained, as if he were wrestling with himself.

"Some of them," said Vladek, studying Calle's facial expressions. "And what about men, John. Are men sexist?"

"Yes! I mean, some of them are, sometimes," said Calle. He started to sweat, as if he were fighting a battle in his own mind.

"Interesting," said Vladek. "Tell me, John, can white people ever be the victim of racism?"

"No!" said Calle promptly. "White people can only be racists, never the victims! Saying that white people are victims is itself racist!"

"I see," said Vladek. "And men, can men be victims of sexism?"

Calle strained visibly now.

"Can they, John?"

"No... I don't think so... they can only be... sexist," said Calle, in a tight voice.

"I see," said Vladek, nodding. And he did.

********

"Well?" said Colonel Strayker, glaring at Vladek.

"Captain Calle has been subjected to an extremely sophisticated form of drug induced brainwashing, made exponentially more effective by the use of stimuli he was uniquely vulnerable to."

"His wife," said Strayker grimly.

"Yes," said Vladek.

"What would you recommend?"

Vladek sighed. "If it were anyone else, I would recommend immediate retirement."

Strayker glared at him. "Is it that bad?"

"I... I don't know," said Vladek, rubbing his head as he paced back and forth. "Emotionally, Captain Calle has been conditioned to believe that white men are villains and everyone else are victims. But intellectually, he realizes that he has been conditioned that way and rejects it."

"Doctor, this is not a man I can easily replace," said Strayker. "It's not like John Collier. This man is the last of his line."

"I know, I know," said Vladek, rubbing his head again.

"Can we trust him?"

"I think... he may have it under control," said Vladek. "We all have conflicting impulses, deep within us. I think Captain Calle feels the guilt that was implanted in his brain, but I think intellectually he may have it under control."

"He'd better," said Strayker. "Because we still need him. You realize what's been happening, don't you? First we lose four men in an artificial black hole, and now our most valuable asset was kidnapped and almost turned against us. What does that tell you?"

"That we have a traitor in our midst," said Vladek.

Strayker nodded slowly, puffing away at a nuclear cigarette. "Two of them, at the very least."

********

"It's so nice of you to come by," said Calle.

Sergeant Karin Muhlbaum had just paid him a visit. She was so nice and friendly. Calle really liked having a lesbian on the team. It made everyone else on the team so much more virtuous, to be seen associating with a sexual minority.

Calle shook his head abruptly. Suddenly he felt confused. Did he like Karin Muhlbaum, the person, or Karin Muhlbaum, the lesbian? Logically Calle thought that he should like Karin because of her personality, because of who she was, not what she was. But emotionally he felt great joy at associating with a lesbian, for the virtue it conferred on him. What was wrong with him? He felt so confused.

Calle stared into a holographic mirror. His eyes were bloodshot and tired. "What have they done?" he cried. "What have they done to me?"

Suddenly, he felt that he had to get up. He had to get up and get out of there, right now. To walk somewhere, anywhere.

Calle got dressed and made his way to the control room. But he wasn't prepared for what he would find there.

Marion, or at least the woman who looked like Marion, was tied to the Time Shaft. Doctor Vladek and Colonel Strayker were interrogating her.

"John, you may not want to be here for this," said Sarah, trying to push him towards the exit.

Calle brushed past her.

He saw "Marion" scream as a time wave rippled through her body.

"What's going on here?" he asked, in a rough voice.

"What does it look like?" Strayker asked. He glanced at Calle. "Should you be out of bed, Captain?"

Calle looked at Marion, whoever she was. She matched eyes with him. The mockery, the smugness, they were all gone now, all replaced by pleading. It was as if their positions had been suddenly reversed.

"Give her another lash, Doctor," said Strayker.

"I thought she was cooperating," said Calle. He jumped as Marion screamed while another time wave coursed through her body.

"She is," said Strayker. "She told us all she knew. But she won't tell us her point of origin, the location of their main base. Another lash, doctor."

"No!" Marion cried. Then she shrieked in pain again as the wave hit her.

"Don't you have her recall device?" Calle asked.

"Yes," said Strayker. "We tried it, but it seems to have been deactivated." He didn't say what he was really thinking, that someone in the Continuity Service had warned their adversaries, who had deactivated the recall device remotely.

Marion screamed again as the Time Lash coursed through her body.

"And you think she knows the location of their main base?"

"No," said Strayker. "She's clearly an independent contractor, hired for this one specific purpose. I'm sure she's been to their main base, but I imagine they've never let her find out where it was. It's a reasonable security measure."

Marion cried out again as she felt another lash of the Time Whip.

"Then why are you doing that to her?"

Strayker shrugged. "It never hurts to be sure."

It never hurts him.

Calle looked up at the captive. She really did look like Marion, even if her body was a bit thinner. But the face was pure Marion. She caught his gaze.

"Please, John. Please, help me," Marion cried.

Her body went stiff and she cried out as another Time Lash struck her body.

"How long are you going to keep doing that?" Calle cried.

"As long as she lasts," said Strayker. "You never know what else she might reveal." He saw Calle's disapproval. "In case you've forgotten, Captain, this is a war we're fighting. The most important war mankind ever has or ever will fight. We have to use all the resources at our disposal."

Marion cried out again as the lash hit her. "John, help me pleeeeeease!"

Calle stiffened. He couldn't stand anymore. Strayker looked at him with a total lack of concern, watching, waiting to see what Calle would do, completely full of confidence that he, Colonel Ted Strayker, held all the power in this situation and John Calle had none.

Calle gritted his teeth and took a step towards the Commander, and for the first time, a line of concern showed on Strayker's forehead.

And then suddenly Sarah was between them, pulling Calle by the arm, propelling him out of the control room. He heard one last scream before they hit the door.

"Don't be here, John," she whispered. "Be somewhere else. Anywhere else."

"Where should I go?" Calle asked, feeling lost.

Sarah said nothing, but pulled him by the arm to the elevator.