A Soft Reboot: Pt. 01

I'm in a dark room. I don't remember how I ended up in the room, only what happened before.

I was at a club downtown. It was that time of night when they open up the basement venue and start letting people in through the back. Anyone could skip the line by paying double. Two of my mates, who'd come along for some fun and moral support, had already left to grab a six-pack before the beer store closed.

Not only that, but they complained every time I brought out my phone. Just to post videos and crack little jokes for my followers. I don't have a lot of followers, but with nothing else going on, maybe I could make something out of it.

Cheaper to drink at home, without the wait, they said. And they left. I thought I heard them muttering something about trying to be an "influencer."

But tonight wasn't just about drinking or the followers. I needed to get laid.

My dry spell lasted months, since I lost my job. Mass layoffs -- not my fault, but it still felt personal. My girlfriend brought up a "break" around the same time. It was probably related. That bit of shame clung to me, dragging down my confidence with talking to women. Every job search ended in a dead end, most of the offers were scams.

I hauled my friends out with me, hoping they'd prop me up while I dulled my edges for just one night of fun, just enough to forget about what was wrong and focus on what could be. But they had gone, and I had no one left to stop me.

At first, I told myself it was therapeutic to get a little buzzed. It worked. I felt lighter. I was smiling. The music got louder, and the place filled until it was almost impossible to move on the dance floor without bumping against someone, and soon I was doing it on purpose.

I'm a good-looking guy, a little softened by circumstance, but still tight. I dress well. I've got a face that looks good on TikTok.

A woman passing through the dance floor stopped to give me the full up-and-down, shamelessly. It was too loud to talk, so I mouthed, "You like what you see?" flashing a grin.

With the dark and the strobing lights, she still looked fantastic. Her skin was poreless, perfectly, almost uncannily symmetrical. That beautiful creature had a long, lithe torso and strong, lean legs. Her fine body was wrapped neck to ankle in tight, black fabric--shiny leggings and a skin-tight mesh top that hinted, just barely, that she wasn't wearing a bra.

I could tell by the way she looked at me; She was mine.

I took her gently by the hip, pulling her close so I could feel her move with the music. My head was full of noise. Time slipped. The beats bled together. Once second she was there, and the next, she was slipping away, already off the dance floor, glancing back at me.

I pushed through the crowd to follow her, needing her. Surely she was thinking the same thing? I made it to the back hallway just in time to see the door shut, then bolted after her, loving the game. I was clumsy on my feet as the world spun. I stumbled out the back door and into an alley tinged with the blue light of the early morning.

"Hey sweetie. I liked what I saw."

Her voice was perfect.

I felt a pinch at my neck, and then my limbs gave out.

Now, I'm blinking in the cool, dark space, somewhere. There are shapes I can barely make out. The walls are glossy, white, or maybe gray. They're lined with deep black rectangles: Screens. And in the middle... is that a fancy dentist's chair?

The lights come on slowly. I brace for harsh, sterile white, but they're soft instead. Gentle. The room, whatever it is, feels warmer than I expected.

It is some kind of dentist's chair. I think. I push myself upright, a little unsteady, and immediately reach for my pockets. Wallet gone. No keys either.

A screen lights up, the glow drawing me over. It's the only thing moving in the still room, besides me. My muscles ache as I step closer, but my head is surprisingly clear. Maybe I drank too much? Maybe I ended up in a hospital and they ran out of real rooms? If that were true, how long had I been there?

The screen shows a loading symbol, then cuts to video.

Me. In this room.

I glance toward where a camera should be, but can't see anything except the seams between the glossy panels of the wall.

Then, a chat window pops up over the feed. Lines of text begin to flood in as users join the stream.

"heeeeere we go!"

" ???? the last guy - hope this twinks good!"

"wakey wakey????????"

"finally! it's on!"

"Andi we ???? you!!!!!"

I shake my head. Maybe I'm still drunk, having some kind of fever dream. Did I take something?

That's when I feel her.

Soft, strong hands wrap around me from behind.

"I hope they like what they see, too."

I jolt at her voice and spin around.

It's her. From the club. But... different.

"What's going on?" A fair question, considering I'm trying to figure out what the hell she is.

She's wearing less now, a sleek white tank top and tight shorts. Her arms and legs are glossy with thin seems along the joints. She doesn't have skin; she's made of panels and polished alloy. But her face--her face is real. Or close. Uncanny. Too perfect. Her hair, a black bob, is immaculate.

I try to back away, but she's stronger than she looks. Her grip digs into my shoulders, firm enough to hurt as she steers me toward the chair. I should run, twist free, fight! But I don't. I'm stunned by her, by the room.

She presses me down into the chair. I try to rise. Snap. The restraints lock tight around my wrists and ankles.

"???? show us what hes got!