Sitting in the waiting room, Ralph13 waited for the green light. He was a Red, though athletic enough to be still a match for many a youngster, and he had been a DS agent (widely known as “Sandmen”) for more than a decade, in... different capacities, so to speak. He didn't complain about his current assignments, but he still missed his time with the Assault Squads. Sitting beside him, the person who was the nearest thing to a “partner” he had, was Jason19. He was much younger, barely a late Green, and was a relative newbie in the Corps; he had never been “in the field”, but had always been an Intelligence officer. He was as physically weak as one could be in The City: whitish, poked skin; light frame and small nervous hands he used to rub continually; however, he was good at his... job, and Ralph13, a veteran, had a healthy respect for his professional abilities. Suddenly, the green light lit, signalling the moment that the two Runner girls recently captured in the last raid were ready to be interrogated.

II

The Central Ordinator, or “She”, as it was widely known, had pondered at length about how to gather information about the Runners, especially how to extract it from those who were captured (but what was, in human time, to say “at length”? Nanoseconds?) In the end, when it came to female subjects, She had pronounced against biomechanical methods such as brain scanning, and decided to rely in human intuition. Therefore, She had recruited a special squad out of the DS corps, young men who had... an inclination for the task. As a matter of fact, there were lots of sadists around (She could be certain of that, just by watching –captured in real time- what used to happen from time to time in Pleasure Dome dates), and a few of them, only a few, were skilled, trusty and remorseless enough for the job at hand.

To aid them, She created a device called The Rod, which was a kind of energy probe (some of its technology had unfortunately leaked and it was used by the Runners to design and produce a makeshift melée weapon, akin to a spear) designed to excite the nervous terminals in the skin of humans. It could provoke an extreme discomfiture, similar to pain, of an uncertain quality: sometimes (or to some individuals) it was akin to a burn, sometimes to an electric discharge, sometimes even to a penetration by a hard object or a cut by a sharp edge. Its power could be regulated and, in the hands of an experienced or imaginative operator, could be extremely effective. To support Her agents, sensors attached to the subject's skin could provide some information about his/her reactions (incorporating even a “safety stop”, to prevent collapse from overloading the nervous system), and, of course, the whole operation was under Her real-time watching. But all this was of limited effectiveness; the operators' intuition was paramount.

III

Ralph13 weighed his Rod and looked at his subject. She had been secured to the Chair in the standard position (arms extended to the sides, shoulders and wrists secured; a slight separation of the knees, ankles and knees secured) and was wearing her small string pants. She was an early Orange, of the type most commonly found in The City: medium size, blonde hair (artificially enhanced to a whitish yellow tone), big clear eyes, unmarred skin and some chirurgical improvements in breasts and face (especially the lips; Ralph13 had never liked that, but it was extremely popular). He knew her, of course, from some Pleasure Dome dating and she recognized him at once.

She had been a fun-loving, light hearted girl, like most were in The City in his time, before becoming worried about The Carrousel, though it was at least six good years ahead for her, and joining the Runners. That was her undoing, certainly, as she had been caught by an Assault Squad during an underground meeting. As usual, male members had been eliminated (was it a security necessity, or just a preference of the Squads' officers?), and these two now under questioning had been spared for extracting information. As usual, he started caressing her breasts below the nipple with the dry (inactivated) Rod, to build up tension, and started questioning her.

“Amanda7, we are not here to have fun. What we need is information. Who took you to the meeting?” The girl was starting to get jumpy at the treatment, building up anticipation.

“George8. He’s dead.” That was a good one; the name was on the list of casualties.

“And who were promoting the meeting?”

“They are all dead”. The girl was starting to sweat. She was already failing, but she was not to be blamed. She was not a true militant Runner.

“No-no. The ones who promote the meeting do not actually attend, all together. Tell me who.”

“I can't, Ralph13”. Not always a “subject” called him by his name.

“Amanda7, we have indeed met in the past, but this is different. You know what this is about and what the device I have in my hands is.”

“Don't do this, I cannot tell you anything.”

Ralph13 knew he had time, and that no girl would resist in the end. He also knew the type: this one would pretend being brave at first and then suddenly break, ashamed of her own weakness. But there was no shame in that; no one could resist the treatment for long, not without being extremely brave or particularly thoroughly trained, and Amanda7, like most of the attendants to the Runners’ meetings, was neither. He opened the Rod started releasing its energy sparingly and unexpectedly to the breasts and nipples, and to extend the areas of his attention to the armpits, ribcage, abdomen and hips. After a while, he had the girl squirming in pain, sweating profusely and breathing heavily, but no harm had been caused to her nervous system.

A couple of names had came out of the girl's lips, among sighs, sobbing and short screams, when Ralph13 heard the command from She over his earphone: “Switch!”. It was normal to switch interrogators at some point, to prevent deviations from the procedure. Ralph13, who had usually no objection to this, lamented it on the occasion: he felt he was on the right track, and unconsciously he regretted leaving Amanda7, from whom he had good memories, in the hands of Jason19, a ruthless and psychopathic interrogator. But this was exactly the kind of feeling the switching was designed to prevent.

IV

The other girl was of a different kind. She was of the rarer athletic type, slim and fit. She was also blonde, with a natural looking golden tone, but her body had been perfected by work at the Racks and not in the surgeon’s table: pure muscle and fibre. This kind of girl shunned any surgical improvement, so their breasts were usually rather small (but very firm) and their buttocks, thighs and shoulders almost masculine, while their skin was tanned by the special lightning of the Rack premises. They were seldom seen engaged in Pleasure Dome dating, preferring to mate to their male Rack companions in prearranged dates.

She was almost to the point of breaking (Jason19 had been very effective), covered in sweat, breathing with difficulty and squirming faintly, even though the initial position had not been changed. No need for that for Jason19, who was known to have an aversion for sexual relations and genital body parts (to the point of being the mockery of his comrades in the Corps). The girl looked at him, but she did not recognized him; he, on the contrary, had her figure well on his screen (but hey, that was his job!). He had considered her as a sexual mate a couple of times, but her type was not really of his preference (and, besides, he would have never had a chance!)

He went straight to the point.

“Marina12, we know what's this all about. I need names. You give me names, this stops.”

“Kill me, Sandman.”

“No-no... that's not in the deal. Names are easier.”

“Just kill me, Sandman” -the girl kept saying while grasping for air, and among her screams, when Ralph13, aware this was a difficult one, started caressing her breasts and ribcage and then her abdomen around her buttonhole and hips with the Rod in a medium setting. He realized the girl was rather involved with the Runners, not like Amanda7, who was probably just a bystander, for only those in the inner circle of them used to talk like that, amounting to a kind of bravado.

He gave her a break (her nerves would recover a bit and he would be able to resume the treatment with a better effect). He raised his chin delicately with his fingertips.

“C'mon, Marina12, you are an Orange, you have at least six good years before you start to worry about The Carrousel... why do you prefer being eliminated now?

The girl looked up to him.

“The Carrousel is certain death, Sandman. I have seen many friends die there. You don't have to lecture me about Renewal. I almost prefer being tortured.” Marina12 kept his humour sense, and that was good. Ralph13 didn't need to break his subjects completely; he preferred to... bargain with them, in a way. Besides, he had never assessed anyone Renewed beyond doubt. But he simply did not care; that was the way things were, and he accepted the fact. He started changing the position of the Chair, spreading the legs. The girl showed increased distress. Then he started caressing the inner thighs with the dry Rod. “'Almost' is the key word, Marina12; there is a long way we haven't trodden yet, and I am sure you don't want that.”

“Then kill me, Sandman.”

He opened the Rod and the girl somersaulted, her mouth pointing up, looking for breath.

“You see? Why don't you be reasonable? Just some names, and we won't go there.”

“I can't.”

Setting the Rod at medium power, he started giving short bursts to the thighs and to the lower abdomen, but without getting inside the string pants. The girl contorted and screamed. After a good while of this, he stopped.

“I can't”, still said the girl when she recovered enough her breath, and then: “Kill me, Sandman.”

“This will be difficult”, thought Ralph13, and prepared a move. But first, a firm signal. He opened the Rod a bit more and went to the limits of her triangular pants, getting just under it. Marina12 contorted, somersaulted and screamed to a new level. As was his intention, Ralph13 had just got the outer labia of the girl's sex, if ever so slightly. Then he struck, raising again her face.

“Ok, Marina12, let's make a deal. You don't tell me 'names'; you just tell me who will organize the next meeting.”

“I told you, I cannot do that." Now she was sweating profusely and still shrieking lightly.

“Well, if we continue this road” -the pun was intended- you know you will in the end give at least some of the names... we'll get them and one of them will tell us who. So... why don't you do that, and spare yourself and your comrades of this treatment?”

To her credit, she didn't break; instead of start crying, as most girls would have done, she looked at him with sad, calm resignation. “Not bad,” thought Ralph13.

“Someone called Paula22,” and she looked down. He immediately released the Chair to the First Position, which would decrease her discomfort a great deal, and waited. Soon, her voice came to his earphones: “Well done, agent. Leave her alone”. He lightly touched Marina12's cheek and left.

V

The Assault Squad got Paula22 at the Central Cafeteria, a highly unusual procedure which blew away all the discretion always advocated by Her. She was a Green (“those Greens...” Ralph13's comrades always said. But not him; at least, not after the incident which got him separated from the Squad), so she was ten years or more away from The Carrousel. In his times, Green girls led a careless life of healthy body pleasures and sex, often looking up to older guys for experience; Ralph13 knew that very well. But now, most of them were... as if detached, oblivious to anything, gathering among themselves to comb their long hairs and... talk... drinking just water or herbal infusions, mostly uninterested in body enhancing, partying and sex (mating occasionally with males in their same class out of curiosity, mainly). These were strange times indeed, he thought.

She regarded Paula22 a big fish (fish?), and evidently she deserved all kinds of special treatments. So both Jason19 and he had been called to work on her. She knew Her men very well: She had let Jason19 begin the treatment, but it was he who was expected to get the actual information after the usual “switch”. While he waited to perform his duty, Ralph13 could not prevent thinking about Amanda7. Had he liked her specially? Her fate at the hands of Jason19 –and afterwards- he preferred not to think about.

When the green light turned on and he went in, he immediately recognized who Paula22 was (in spite of the state the girl was). She was a beautiful, tall and slim girl, with small and elegant facial features and honey eyes, firm, small natural breasts and tight hips. Her hair, just covering the neck, was surely dark, but she had dyed it pale yellow, the only concession to fashion she had indulged in. He remembered once having tried to get an approach to her, which she dismissed swiftly and lightly, as if she had hardly noticed him. Jason19 was good, but he had outdone himself with Paula22.

Ralph13 had never seen someone so in the verge of collapsing, a nervous system so overloaded, without the subject fainting or dying of shock. She was still in the First Position (what would have Jason19 done with such a beauty otherwise? The only thing he could possibly think of doing was inflicting pain to her. Ralph13 repressed a feeling of disgust), but she was covered in sweat, breathing with difficulty and still squirming continuously, her face reddened with the effort. As he took his position in front of her, he lightly touched her nipple with a finger (a finger!) and the girl moaned and contorted in pain. Had she recognized him?

“Have mercy, Sandman; my body is burning, Sandman,” she said with difficulty.

“How would be that?”

“Set the Rod to maximum power; then apply it to my temple. Here, here” -she moved her head sideways, showing its side to him- “Have mercy, Sandman.”

Ralph13 realized she was the one She had been looking for.

“That would eliminate you, Paula22, and we do not want that. Let's start a conversation, instead”.

“I usde to talk only to my friends, Sandman. Just do that, I beg you”.

“We cannot do that, Paula22. But if you tell me the dates and places of the next meetings, this will stop”.

“That I cannot do, Sandman, you know that”.

Another difficult one. She was a Green, young and exceedingly beautiful; he would have loved to have something with her; she was a Runner leader. Strange times indeed. The Rod, even at relatively low settings, made the girl squirm and scream when rubbed against the breasts and ribcage, against armpits and neck, against hip and navel; tough as she undoubtedly was, she just couldn't repress it. But that would not loosen her tongue a bit; that was clear. When he gave her a break, she fell down, breathing heavily.

“This could go for hours, Paula22. No one would regard you as a weakling for yielding at this point; no one will say you were not worthy of your cause. Just yield, and let's talk.”

“You enjoy this, Sandman; I know who you are. Remember your stay in the Squad? You didn't like it, you left?” Ralph13 was surprised; the girl was good, too. Did she know about the incident? He had been charged with sexually assaulting an early Green, something almost universally regarded as foolish and unnecessary, and separated from the Corps, to be swiftly recalled, only in a different capacity. But, if she was really the “big fish” She believed her to be, why shouldn't she have some sources of information, too? He knew that his comrades would tell anything to a good cunt in a Pleasure Dome session.

“No, I do not; I would rather do something else with you. It would be the same with any of your friends. Talk to me about them.”

“My friends are safe with me; and many will seek Sanctuary soon, out of your reach,” she said with hate in her eyes.

Ralph13 immediately seized the idea. “Seek Sanctuary”? The capital “S” had been almost audible. Paula22 had not said “refuge”, “safe house”, “safety”, or whatever. She had said “Sanctuary”.

“What is the Sanctuary? Where is the Sanctuary”, he said quickly, and almost at the same time, came Her command: “Explore the “Sanctuary” concept”. Paula22 smiled grimly.

“You'll never know. People like you will never find it”.

So in he went again. Strong measures were called for. As in his former assignment, Ralph13 changed the Position, lowering a bit the back and spreading the legs, again caressing the inner thighs and abdomen between the button hole and the top of the string pant, causing her to squirm in pain; but that was a preliminary move. He took the string pant off (itself an extreme procedure), revealing a neatly shaved area, just a small bush was there to be seen. They looked to each other for a moment (almost the definition of the concept of “anticipation”), then he started working on the girl's sex.

He did so for a long while, changing the settings, the length of the discharges, paying attention to the different sectors and parts, sometimes rubbing, others caressing, others just touching, and others making small and quick penetrations and rotating the Rod for a maximum effect. The girl was tough, but he was good; she contorted, somersaulted, screamed, sobbed, shouted words, yelled. He soon realized that, for all her involvement with the Runners, she did not know any specifics about The Sanctuary; there was no way she wouldn't have talked had she known. And, if she didn't, who? But she wouldn't say either. All the words he could get during the long session were “Remember, Sandman. The temple”. Finally, Her command: “Well done, officer. Leave her alone”.

VI

Ralph13 was not involved in any further investigations regarding The Sanctuary. The proceedings were trusted upon two distinguished members of the Assault Squad. Considering his age, and in recognition for his services, She had him honourably discharged from duty and made an inhabitant of the Inner Tier, the fabled luxurious higher sector of The City. But instead of giving himself to the golden excesses offered to the Inner Tier dwellers, he led a simple life, spending his time in preparation for his soon-to-come Renewal.

But it was not to be. In a highly unusual move, She called him back to service, granted him a whole further year of life, and put him in charge of processing the information which would be gathered during the so-called “Sanctuary Mission”, which was developing at that very moment. Everyone in the Corps knew Ralph13 was the best at that. Therefore, he watched the members of his class, many of them his friends and acquaintances of a lifetime, march to The Carrousel not to be seen again, and the words of Marina12 came back to his mind, and he couldn't prevent feeling sick at the sight.

Jason19, with whom he had never had any conversation outside basic professional issues, went up to him and said: “One whole more year? Looks like ‘Renewed’ to me”. Ralph13 replied, “What do you mean?” Jason19 smiled in his crooked face and said, “That you are not made for The Carrousel. In fact, none of us are”. Ralph13 didn't dare to ask the meaning of that statement, but felt deeply disturbed, and realized he didn't actually know Jason19 as he thought he did, and wondered about what he might know or have found out about life, Renewal and The Carrousel.