Brockman stared into space for a second. Then I felt the heaviness, the sinking sensation of losing control again. Brockman inhabited me. I felt that awful, violated feeling of having him move my body as he made me turn so I could not see the woman or the cards she was about to pick.
“Now, if you’ll be so kind as to choose one card and show it to the audience,” Brockman said. “Good choice, thank you.”
My arm jutted forward and waved over the objects. There were at least twenty. My hand lowered on an ugly pink stuffed bear. I lifted it high. The audience reacted with oohs and aahs and then applauded.
This continued for several more objects, and then he had the woman return to her seat.
“Now, who would like to make her move?” Brockman asked.
Half of them raised their hands. But one very old Ender with flowing silver hair and wearing green robes volunteered himself by coming up onstage. Brockman fitted him with the same almost-invisible headset that he wore.
“We’ll just outfit you with this, and she’s all yours,” Brockman said. “Remember what I said earlier, and concentrate.”
Brockman must have given them a little training session before I arrived. I felt Brockman release his control, but only for a moment. Too soon, this green-robed Ender began to work his way into my body. What was strange was that I could feel a difference. I couldn’t explain it, but I sensed a different person inside.
The green-robed Ender made me look at the audience and wave my hand.
“Very good,” Brockman said. “You got it right away. See how easy this is?”
He then made me walk across the stage as if it were a catwalk, making my hips jut out in that exaggerated way. I stopped, smiled at the audience, and turned around to sashay back. He had me stop with my back still to the audience. Now what? That creep had me wiggle my butt. Everyone laughed. It was awful.
He made me turn and face the audience. I felt my mouth open. He’s not going to make me talk! But he did.
“I’m so pretty” came out of my lips.
The voice didn’t sound exactly like me, but it didn’t sound like him either.
“Excellent,” Brockman said. “Look how fast you got the hang of it.”
Now every male hand rose to volunteer. Some of them were shouting in their native language. One man in a tux leapt up onstage as the green-robed man removed his headset and handed it to Brockman. I felt my control come back, but it was getting blurrier now, this moving back and forth so quickly. I didn’t feel completely in control, but more in a state of limbo.
I glanced at Hyden. His face was red: he was livid. A guard restrained him by the arms.
This new Ender volunteer had a tan, short white hair, and a huge diamond ring.
Brockman put the headset on him and he concentrated for a moment. Nothing was happening. The audience shifted in their seats. Someone coughed. Then I felt my hand raise and move to the top of my shirt.
It went to my top button. And undid it.
No. He wasn’t going to … but he was. My hands unbuttoned my shirt; my hips swayed as if I were some cheap stripper. He closed my eyes and tossed back my head as if I were in ecstasy over this. My hands undid the last button, revealing my camisole underneath. I was grateful for this underlayer, but how far would he go?
I sensed everyone holding their breath, including me. He had me take off the shirt, twirl it over my head, and toss it at the audience. A man in African robes caught it and waved it triumphantly.
The jacker made me tease the audience by lifting up the bottom edge of my cami, pulling it out from side to side. Then he had me lift it up all the way, exposing my bra. My hands pulled the cami over my head and tossed that into the audience, to the delight of another creepy Ender.
The jacker then had me look at him, on the stage, and slowly walk toward him. What was he going to make me do? With every step, my imagination came up with worse scenarios.
“Stop this!” It was Hyden’s voice.
I was able to look in his direction. My jacker had lost his concentration. Hyden was being held back by two guards.
“That’s enough,” Brockman said. “We have a spectacular demonstration for you now that will show the full power of this technology. It is something you will never see anywhere else, and something you’ll never forget.”
One of the guards handed me my shirt, and I quickly put it back on. I glared at the man with the diamond ring.
“You are a perv,” I hissed.
“Let us begin,” Brockman said.
One of the doors toward the right of the stage opened, and they rolled in a man standing up, strapped at his wrists and ankles to a board larger than a door. It was like a dangerous circus act. He had dark hair and a beard, a Middle.