omnipresent twinkle confronted Michael. “Your purchase made him a millionaire, you know.”
The older man cleared his throat. “He’s interested in, you might say, the intimate communication between man and machine – the neural interface between non-automated robotic systems and their operators.”
Michael worked to visualize the words, “Something like bionics?”
“I don’t think he’s interested in implanting robotic systems – though obviously his research has profound implications for the evolution of implant technologies. He just wants to know how many degrees of information refinement a human operator can utilize. His research consists of passing information through the robot to the operator and evaluating the effect. In other words,” Doud smirked at what Michael sensed was a company joke, “he wants to know how much the robot can manipulate the man.”
For some unrecognized reason, an image of Karen rose in Michael’s mind. He ignored it but it triggered an insistent series of ideas that he acknowledged and set aside for later evaluation.
“It’s his research that generated the government grant.”
Doud’s eyes twinkled again. He leaned conspiratorially toward Michael. “You might not think it to look at him but he has quite a way with the ladies. We don’t have too many here but next time we have a general meeting you need to watch them. They hover around him with uneasy fascination, close but not too close, always seeking his approval but not wanting to attract his attention. It’s almost like he has them hypnotized.”
Doud sounded puzzled but gratified. “They also seem to wear more makeup after being around him for awhile.”
Chapter Three
He could make her forget her discomfort with only a smile. At those times when he told her how beautiful she would be, she was redeemed, exalted, happier than she’d ever been. The next minute, though, his criticism would plunge her into anxiety and depression.
She’d blushed deep pink when he’d first told her he loved her. Then he’d led her to one of the suite’s closets and shown her the most beautiful wedding gown she’d ever seen. It was white silk as fluid as a negligee, cut into deep Vs over the bust and back, narrow to the knees and full and round to the floor. He told her they’d be married as soon as she fit into it and she’d frowned. The dress seemed so small.
So she struggled to do everything he wanted. She’d had her hair cut and returned to its natural pale brown. She wore only clothes he provided – clothes that were all uncomfortably tight and much too expensive and sophisticated to ever wear with her friends. But then she no longer saw her friends, not even Delia. And she rarely saw her parents – only the few times when he’d invited them to join her for dinner. She’d left school and now spent her days in the suite at the Saint Paul with Emeline, a tutor and a trainer, studying his curriculum, following the diet and exercise he mandated.
Yet he frequently expressed his displeasure with her progress. One day after Emeline had weighed her and found she’d gained a half pound, Michael rebuked her particularly harshly. She looked into his corrosive countenance and burst into uncontrolled sobs. She sank to the luxurious carpet and curled into a ball, her knees pulled to her chest.
The too small dress constricted her ribcage, alarmingly repressing her breathing and even more alarmingly threatening to burst apart. She could not imagine what he’d do to her if that abomination happened, couldn’t even contemplate it at this moment. “I want to go home,” she wept. The words burst from her mouth in convulsive gasps.
“You can’t,” he said, “unless you want your father to go to jail.” He described to her in ignominious detail how her father had stolen from the company and sold the goods illegally. He concluded, “Your father has given you to me as payment.”
She was devastated. In horror, her head
Ruth Wind, Barbara Samuel