People had been disappearing lately, at first no one paid any mind, it was a small dying town, people left. It was one of those typical scenerios where all the young people left, either by foot, by bus, or their own automobile. Past the waving fields of nothing, of plants and crops they no longer wished to name, no longer wishing to be a part of. Reach the right age, and you realize, it’s either the fields, or the central store if you’re lucky. It appeared typical, but it wasn’t, first of all, it was just the men. Second, they were never heard from again, and lastly, there were odd sounds out in the abandoned fields. Too mechanical, too high tech, no, something was definitely not right.
Ben was one of the lucky ones, his hands soft, his hair wasn’t scared by the weather, or the hard work that came every crop season. He simply worked the front of the town’s only general store, and made sure it was stocked for the customers.
Usually, he was the only one working. It wasn’t bad until a day like today, and he had to do inventory. Going over the rows of product, counting what was left, what was needed, numbers swirling constantly, and finally getting everything down on the order package, he was ready to take it to the postoffice.
There was only a need for his light hoodie, pulling it over his head before checking to make sure noone was left in the store before locking up.
The streets were quiet, only one or two cars parked on the road. It was only a block or two to the local postoffice, if he hurried, he could be back before any customers were lining up at the entrance, but most people knew it was inventory day, so they would stay away until later.
As Ben walked, he didn’t take notice of the van idled on the curb only a few houses down from the shop. It’s engine hummed quietly, but inside was a man who was watching Ben closely. This was the moment he was waiting for, grabbing his remote, he stepped out of the car to follow. Quickly catching up to only just a few paces behind Ben, watching the back of his head, and watching his feet lift off the ground one step after another.
They weren’t far from the post office, and it was time to get started if anything was going to get done. He lifted the device, aiming it at the back of Ben’s head, pressing the switch and nothing more.
Ben stopped in his tracks, and simply ran his hand through his black hair, stopping at the base of the skull to scratch as he took a few struggled steps forward. He looked around, but wasn’t really taking anything in. He slapped himself in the forehead, and got moving again.
The man followed, the device still in his hand, already signs looked promising. Seeing Ben stop and stutter, he watched Ben put his hand on the door to his destination before aiming and pressing the button again. This time Ben buckled, holding his head before standing back up straight, simply blank for a moment, maybe entranced by his absent mental state in the windowpane. A few moments passed until Ben was able to shake himself aware, and enter.
Ben’s eyes, body, and mind still groggy as he places his money on the counter, and feebly put the packaged envelope before the clerk.
You ok Ben, he asks. Ben waves him away, rubbing his head, not noticing the man who had been following him enter one more time, aim and fire.
Ben leans over the counter, vertigo taking over, completely overwhelmed.
Swallowing, Ben nods, leaves the exact amount owed on the counter, and follows the man out the door. The door chiming as he exits, he stands outside not sure which way to turn, or what to do next. His headache fading, but still confused, lost.
Before his eyes, he sees snapping fingers…..
Follow….you want to follow…you need to follow
Ben remains speechless, but nods and follows. Ben’s head falls, as he follows the man’s feet back to the van. Following his steps as he leads him further, unable to break from the fugue overtaking him. After a few more steps, his head lifts as the van door slides open, and he enters the darkness
His head lifts again as the engine turns, and does he. Wuh, what….
The device is pointed at him again, and his confusion is taken away. Ben follows the light of the device before falling back, and sleeping. The Van takes off. After a few turns, the driver puts a CD into the slot, and the vehicle is filled with subliminals and mantras.
Ben tosses and turns as they hit his ears, never sitting back up, just rolling a little as the sounds fill….complete…and subdue him. Relax…follow….listen….leak….al you have to do. In the back seat, Ben opens his legs fully accepting of the messages coming, fully accepting of the need to relax, the need to follow, the need to listen, and the need to leak.
On and on, and it goes, and it follows, and it listens, and it leaks.
The van reaches the city limits, and eventually turns at a field that has long been repossessed, taken over, and converted to a new purpose. A quiet bit of farm stretch, and the van burns the dust in the abandoned surroundings. The van’s dust settles on the forgotten crops, and the driver exits the vehicle.
He opens the side door, and snaps his fingers.
Ben sits up, his arms stretching out before him to follow the sound, and he takes a few blunt motions to exit the vehicle. His eyes half closed as he follows this man into the barn. It’s dark inside, but Ben is able to follow as the driver leads him to a lift that has no purpose in being here. A metal barricade, and a circular pad, the lights hum, and Ben’s head throbs a little, but only to make him leak more, not to hurt, and it descends.
The elevator shudders as it drops, Ben already has his head back down, but the it drops, lower and lower. A few seconds go by, and the driver lifts Ben’s head, peeling back his eyes. The walls of the shaft begin to fill with spirals as they continue their descent. Ben shudders, beginning to vibrate all over, and they descend, lower and lower as the spirals penetrate, and they continue to go lower, deeper.
Ben feels his eyes engorge, relax, and open again, continuing to be consumed by the machinations of his trappers. His cock has already begun to leak, staining his khakis with one more forceful leak as the elevator stops and the door opens.
Ben steps out first, and his arms simply life as he waits.
The driver takes his shoulder and leads him down the hallway, and the spirals pick up again. Unable to resist their influence, he continues to leak as they go down the hallway.
The door opening to a dimly lit room, and Ben is simply taken to a chair. The usual follows, but is it necessary to strap the legs and ankles.
The driver looks at the manacles, and wonders. Ben lifts his head, eyes still half close….
Please Sir, strap me to the chair, I am ready.
The manacles take Ben’s head, and lift it up, tightening and forcing it toward to the ceiling. He feels something attach to his eyelids, and they open wider. Something in him triggers, and he struggles to wake, to fight, to become aware again.
A machine in the ceiling comes to life, and a beam begins to emit, coming closer and closer to Ben’s head. From behind, a mechanical arm detaches from the chair, and reaches for his neck, a shiny chip at its tip.
They both come closer as Ben’s eyes open and close to the penetrating light in the ceiling even as his mind struggles to fight. His wrists and ankles lift weakly, but it’s no use.
The chip is pushed into the back of his neck, and the beam hits his head, and it begins. Ben’s eyes open as the brainwashing begins, the beam of light touches his forehead and the skin tightens as it soaks in. Behind his head, the metal arm pierces his flesh to insert the chip, his programming. Feeling nothing as it goes into the flesh of his neck, attaching to his spine, all information received. The microchip is inserted and the arm releases as Ben becomes completely frozen, a shudder receptacle to what comes next.
eyes wide open now, a whole begins to form in his forehead as the beam burns its way in, opening his mind. The process doesn’t take long as the chip in his brain stem branches out, rewiring his mind, and reaching toward the front. Sheathing the lobes of his brain, completely brainwashing him. The beam delivering the message, Drone leak, Drone Cum, Drone obey. The chip continuing to influence and change his mental lobes.
Ben remains frozen in the chair, continuing to leak. The driver comes over and removes his Vans and pants, leaving him in his socks, boxer briefs and hoodie. The driver watches Ben shudder and change, the wetness of his briefs growing. Watching the complete brainwashing of local boy Ben.
The chip has done it’s job, and the metal shards appear. Open and close as the beam enters.
The driver snaps his fingers, and everything shuts off. The beam, the chair, the endless mechanical chatter.
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