Abandoned World: The Awakening

— Uh… You know… I was going to ask. " He was about to say, "why people can hurt

themselves in the minutes before they end their lives," but he couldn't finish. The creeping sensation of it entering him from the left side of his head, the side where Sierra had just stroked him, had become so palpable that he felt as if someone were holding his left hemisphere of his brain in hands that could crush it to a pulp. Haddock was instantly terrified, breathing hard, and huddled close to his woman.

— What's wrong with you? — Sierra asked in surprise. — Did I do something wrong?

— No, no " Haddock changed his mind about what he wanted to ask, and immediately felt an

invisible force release him. — I was wondering what you thought if we had more than one station. Would that have any effect on the Council of Elders?

— Oh, that's it…" Sierra smiled. — I'm sure it would. I don't doubt it You see, even my

employees, who know that I can appear at any moment, I can hardly keep them in check, so that they don't do nothing. Just give them a free will, just turn away, and they start doing something of their own, extraneous … And I can appear at any moment And now imagine that not at any

moment, but they will know about it in advance. You can still see from the outside that I'm heading towards them, that I still have to dock. While I'm still going through the docking bays. And then I'll be at their place. They'll just leave one on guard, and they'll sleep while I'm gone. That's in case you

asked how to manage all this… I'll have to go to a completely different level….

She continued stroking his head, and at that moment he began to realize that she was already sitting his knees out. She continued to stroke his head, and at that moment he began to realize that she was already sitting on his knees.

— Sierra, I'm getting a little heavy," Heddock said, and she immediately moved to a nearby

chair.

— Oh, yeah… Didn't do any time for you?

— It's all right. — Heddock prostrated himself a little and looked at her with interest. She really

had made a good point. He hadn't thought of that at all… When he'd considered the pros and cons, it hadn't occurred to him that people might want something else. He was accustomed to twisting the elders as he wished, and through them to twist people. But that was about the mind, not the result. The result was already a matter of gain, and its achievement was the need for a good accounting of all that was and wasn't there… People really wouldn't want to only work during working hours, and not much else. Those elders, who are now under his thumb, wouldn't necessarily want to behave the same way if they were in a different position… Sierra didn't tell him this thought, and it's understandable, since she doesn't know the ins and outs of his position. But in reality, that was what he would be most concerned about — how much the Elder, left in charge of such a separate station, would continue to be loyal to him. He didn't give a damn about how long everyone worked there. As long as they stayed under his command. And, in fact, while it is impossible to guarantee this… After all, we will either have to rely on specific people, and here it is very easy for him to make a mistake. Or to invent new methods of control, which he does not have. Moreover, now he controlled many processes personally, and the power itself was also based on this — he himself made decisions on many private issues. In the situation of individual stations, this will not be the case, and in this case, it is worth considering whether these stations are so necessary. Wouldn't it be better to be content with what we have now… However, no. No. It won't last forever. And he needed a backup… He really needed a backup in case this suicidal psychosis went over the edge… And this strange feeling was already starting to pass. It seemed to be completely gone… He could ask her about it now. What she thinks about people's capacity for self-destruction.

— Darling, I have one more question for you…" he began, and then his right hand reached out on its own to his left hand and began to press the soft tissue at the base of his thumb with his finger, and then pressed the nail into the wound there. At that moment he noticed it and quickly pulled his hand away.

— Charlie, what are you doing?! — Sierra shouted, and moved closer to him, peering at his palm, which was bleeding just a little bit. — What's the matter with you? Are you nervous?

He couldn't say a word. Just then his sanity turned upside down and then back again in a matter of moments. Some blood on his palm, Sierra looking at him so surprised just a moment ago, already running to get some medical supplies. And now this darkness that was so apparent to him just a second ago, suddenly left him completely, coming out from the left side of his head. Where a woman had stroked him not so long ago.

Heddock sighed, then blotted it out and looked at his palm — he'd really done this to himself, without feeling any pain. He didn't remember any of it, but just as the cut was visible on his left palm, so too was there a piece of skin and a trace of blood under the nail of his right thumb. Oni looked at it and tried to realize that he had just done this to himself. Tried, but it didn't work. He didn't remember it. Only some inky blackness that was now in some distant past.

Sierra had already come running back with absorbent cotton, hydrogen peroxide and band- aids. She's a wonderful woman, though. So caring and concerned about him. It would be a shame if she couldn't have children after all.

— Honey, tell me… Why can't we make babies? — Heddock asked her as she was putting the band-aid on. — We've fucked enough.

— It's strange to hear that from someone who is in charge of the education section. — Sierra replied a little ironically. — I don't know what you want to teach everyone. What kind of education to give them. And for what purpose. But there are some things you can neither hide nor reveal on purpose… There are periods. Every woman has one. They recur periodically. About once a month. That means a woman can get pregnant. And then when a woman gets older, like me, she stops having periods. And that means she can't get pregnant. Like me.

Elder

Peyton Cross was as proud of nothing and no one as he was of himself. And he started every day in front of a mirror. That was how he considered the beginning of his day. Even upon waking up, the first thought that dragged him out of bed was the need to see himself in front of the mirror. He would walk over and begin to give a tirade about how right "his" next decision was. Whether it was recent or old didn't matter. He just needed to talk. Every day. And only then could it be considered that the day had begun.

And every day had to be for a reason. Because in front of the mirror he only practiced. First in front of the mirror, then he walked around his spacious room, sometimes stopping at some place, and continued. He would continue to argue and certainly win with the arguments of his imaginary interlocutors. Along the way he would find counterarguments, starting them with the words "you can say that it is so-and-so, but", where under "so-and-so" there could be a separate monologue for several minutes, and then after "but" followed a series of unambiguous formidable arguments in his favor. Surprisingly, most of the arguments came literally on the fly. He didn't sit and make them up, somehow separately configuring or calibrating something in them. They appeared by themselves in the process of this dispute. And each time they became more and more precise.

This he knew for sure — the best things only come with quantity. You can measure something all you want to do once, but if you do it all the time, the best results will inevitably come. Words are air. And air needs to be light and free. It needs movement. And then it will be in the right condition, the right proportion, then it will be perfect. And that meant practicing it day in and day out.

And beyond that. He understood why he was doing this. To keep the greatest secret of all, that they were on the Moon and not on Earth. After all, if everyone had this information, they would go crazy. Only experienced, seasoned people can possess this secret. Only they are able to keep themselves sane, keep their cool, and move on to the goal. The rest of us would be killed by this secret. The rest of us can't control ourselves. And that's why we need someone who can explain everything necessary, picking out from the general mass of information only what the general mass of people should know.

He liked the last configuration very much at all. The general mass of information should be properly prepared for the general mass of people. He had already thought of that for himself. After all, one should praise oneself too. No one else is able to do it correctly: if there is full agreement, no one will thank you once again, and when there are many dissatisfied people, all victories in disputes end only with the silence of the losers.

It's his lot in life to be the eternal conduit of truth. And being unappreciated by society in the process. Of course he thought he was. Yes, he's an elder. Yes, he was eventually agreed upon. Yes, he had everything he wanted, and no one even dared to cross him. But still. It wasn't like people gathered just to thank him. To thank him for how much he had done for them. For their good. For their peace of mind. For their future.

No, still no, no one more underestimated on Apollo 24 than he was. And that's despite the fact that he gave them the answers to absolutely every question. Every question they had. And he even gave them the answer to why the station was called that. Why Apollo, and what the number 24 means. And he even gave them an answer to that. As I recall, it was instantaneous.

The letter "A" is the first letter in our alphabet. And it is the most beautiful god that has a name that begins with that letter. And it is this god that represents the beauty that was once on Earth, and that we must always remember if we want to bring it back. Because by bringing back that beauty, we will be able to live on Earth as we once did. The first letter is one goal — the goal is beauty.

And everybody agreed with that. No one argued. They just silently agreed. And if they agreed, it was not difficult to explain that the number "24" means twenty-four verified steps to achieve this goal, which only the Council of Elders knows.

Of course, there were no 24 steps back then. And nobody thought about them until Peyton started telling everybody what it meant. And how important it is to realize that it is not accidental… In the end they all had to get together, all the elders, and determine, at first for themselves, what exactly these steps were. The first meeting was enough for 7 steps: the first — to wake up, the second

— to realize themselves, the third — to unite, the fourth — to divide into sections, the fifth — to choose the Council of Elders, the sixth — to realize themselves in this reality of society, the seventh — to outline plans of action.

Even at the seventh step, the elders' brains were definitely beginning to creak, because they had to use not so much memory as imagination, which was not much. It remained to invent 17 steps, so that Cross's theory at least somehow converged with the case, but given that there were no concrete ideas, and something in any case had to be left in reserve. After all, it is impossible to think of all the steps that can still be performed. From their fulfillment the Moon will not grow grass, and oceans with water will not appear on it. So, the steps should be well thought out and put up on the fly when they are needed.

Therefore, the eighth step was the regolith converted into helium-3. This really important discovery was a colorful part of the overall concept, because the new step should have been announced by now. It had been twenty-two years since everyone had woken up… Natalie's discovery was just in time. And then a new request was formed: a fusion reactor. Compact and much more powerful than the nuclear reactor used on Apollo 24. This would be step nine.

Peyton couldn't be pleased with his achievements in controlling the mass consciousness. It was beginning to work for himself. He didn't have to invent anything — everything went on as usual. And why? Because he had once invented the 24 steps. He invented it, not someone else. And he came up with it when he needed an explanation. It's not random. Everything works by design. His design. And that's why everything works. It works, it doesn't fall apart. Without him, this world would be chaos. Uncontrollable, destructive chaos. Who wants that? No one… And yet he was the only one who could resist it… Create his own theory. A world to believe in and be sure you're doing it right. He's the one who gave them that world.

Peyton paced the room once more and thought that there was someone he was missing here right now. Usually, though, that someone was needed in the evening, and she consistently showed up when he wanted her to, but now he really wanted to see her without waiting for something. He wasn't a young man after all, and he might not always have the strength that gave him such strength. Strength to argue, strength to prove things, strength to be himself in this ambiguous world.

He walked over to his desk, picked up the phone and dialed a number:

— Delhi, will you come to my place?

He liked to ask. Everything he wanted from her, he liked to ask, not to order. To him, the orderly manner seemed flawed, showing at once the weakness of his position. After all, this is the position of brute force, that is, the force when you already know that you will not be refused. They won't want to refuse you. They won't dare to refuse. What is the advantage of speaking from this position?

But with a kind question, you can show that you appreciate the other person's position. Even if that position doesn't exist. You still show that you value it as if it were there. And that gets respect. People want to do things, not be forced to do them. After all, they have a visible opportunity to say no… But they don't. They agree, and thereby show the voluntariness of the action… No, only fools would openly coerce in a situation where some freedom can be shown.

And the Delaney he called. Yes, of course, she no longer had any choice. She was about twenty years younger than him, and slept with him when he wanted her to. And she slept the way he wanted her to. And his tastes sometimes changed. And each time he asked if she wanted to try something new. Something new. New sensations. A new experience. Something that she could remember with interest and not blame herself for being indecisive in her time. After all, he's only suggesting. He's not forcing her, he's asking her permission. Permission to do anything.

To have her when he wants her, not her. He asks her permission. To have her in his mouth every time. And that's what he asks. And he asks it every time. And he asks it very delicately. With the phrase "do you want to give me a blowjob in the beginning?". Peyton has never broken his rule. When he wanted to cum in her mouth, he'd ask her, "You're not gonna stop, are you?" And when he didn't want to, he'd ask her, "Can you stop for a minute?"

And every time, it was just the way he wanted it. She either kept going or stopped. Just the way he wanted it. And then she'd get into the positions he liked. And then she'd do it just the way he liked it. And everything was achieved with only questions, which could be answered the way she wanted, not him. But she always answered exactly the way he wanted her to.

That's where the power is. When they want to do what you want them to do. Even if they have a choice, they still want to do what you want. And they might even beg you to do it. That's what happened to Delaney. She started begging me to start with a blow job once. And she was begging for it. Maybe it was because he didn't know how he wanted it at the time. Maybe it was that. Or maybe it was the fact that in those days he started to think about looking for someone else… He had someone else in mind. He didn't yet understand how ready she was for something frank, or how she would do it, so he hesitated… Apparently so hesitant that Delaney noticed it. I guess she got worried. And so she started talking him into it that time. And it worked, didn't it? Once she did, he forgot all about the other candidate. That's where the voluntary choice comes in. Where you can lose something. That's where it proves how valuable the right choice is. The same one they made all those previous times.

Some might say that people get used to it. That people are afraid. But no. That's ridiculous.

People want to make the choices that have been made for them. We can argue a lot about the reasons for that. But the result is the same: people choose what was chosen for them more readily than what they chose for themselves. Peyton realized this rule a long time ago. Back when he was just starting to be a guide to this inane crowd, who wanted answers more than they wanted to be rich in something. And when they got those answers, they demanded explanations. Then explanations of explanations, and so many times, feeding with time only on this.

Finally, Delaney appeared. Long red hair, braided into a pigtail. Tall, slender. Dressed not in a tight jumpsuit like most of her peers, but in a short red skirt and a similarly colored blouse with a neckline. She knows how to dress. And to make her breasts look nice when she gives him a blowjob while kneeling in front of him. She knows why she's here.

She carefully closed the door behind her and walked over to the elder, hiding her gaze slightly somewhere downward:

— Missed me, huh?

— I missed you, of course… I thought about you all night… You locked the door behind you, didn't you?

— Of course I locked up Peyte…

Delaney was already kneeling in front of him, slowly running her hand from the inside of his thighs to his crotch:

— Something's locked, something needs to be unlocked.

She unzipped the fly of his pants and then reached inside with the palm of her hand, fumbling for his hardening cock:

— You don't mind if we start with that, do you?

— No, I don't mind at all, Delhi…..

He was amazed at his own abilities. She herself had begun to ask such valid questions concerning herself. This was truly a new level. Not just answering his questions correctly. But asking the right questions of her own. Basically, begging him to do what he needed to do. This is very typical of people who have found their footing in a world where they so desperately need other people's solutions. This thought made Peyton even more excited, and after a couple of moments he felt as if he was ready to start exploding….

As she gave her blowjob, he thought about how he wouldn't mind finding some backup after all. She did it too well, though. So good that if something happened to her opinion, if she happened to say no, he might lose his temper and go along with it. That's very dangerous. Therefore, it's still

necessary to find some kind of replacement for this case. The new candidate might not do so well, but at least it would be something until Delaney came back.

It was amazing still, what inferences Peyton sometimes came up with. He could see how great he was with her, and that was why he was so desperate to think of backup options. In his mind, that was called a pretty high survivability. You couldn't sink a guy like him.

I mean, it sounds ridiculous right now. You will. Where can you sink anything here, when all available water at the station is saved so that urine is recycled. They recycle everything just to give the water another new cycle. Water. Not him. He doesn't and can't have any cycles. He's eternal. He can do anything, and more.

In these moments, his mind began to work strangely. At first he thought he was having an orgasm, but it was nothing to do with that. It was as if something on the left side of his head began to penetrate him, and then it squeezed strangely inside. Right in his brain.

Peyton put his right hand on Delaney's head, which was making occasional forward movements, and squeezed it a little at first, and then harder once, and then again once more and much harder, completely unaware of what was happening around and to him.

The girl shrieked and quickly recoiled from him:

— Patey, what are you doing?!

— Oh, I'm sorry, baby… I overexerted myself " Peyton didn't realize what he'd just done. He

felt like it wasn't him, knowing it was his hand. And that no one else could have done it…

But it didn't turn out to be anything scary, for Delaney only smiled with one side of her lips and waggled her eyebrow intriguingly:

— You like it so much that you can't even control yourself. Well, let's see how you can

control it….

She started on his cock with renewed effort, turning her head from side to side and helping herself with both hands. He really began to feel like he had stars in his head from the excitement. He groaned with pleasure and leaned back in his chair slightly. How cool it was to have a woman willing to give you such pleasure. When you will sit in your chair, and she will only bow to you and caress your manhood. He was about to say, "You're not going to stop, are you?" but then she took her eyes off her work and asked softly:

— I should keep going, right?

Peyton could only barely answer, "Yes," without lifting his head, and then moaned in pleasure, anticipating an orgasm. She'd learned to ask those questions herself, too. How capable of a student, already doing everything herself. Just say yes to her. Already only pick the fruit from her…

But it did not come to this right away. In the beginning it was necessary to tell her for a long time about the weight of respect, about the necessity of understanding, about the system-forming importance of hierarchy in society. And how she did not fully understand all these things then, trying to say something of her own. Not to mention the very beginning of their relationship, when she

looked at him with her eyes still bulging, trying to perceive, as she then said "heresy" from his lips. She told him about his age, about the inadmissibility of such an attitude towards her. And yet, after a couple of weeks, first she let him give her gifts, then she let him touch her, then she let him manage her time, then she let him not work like everyone else, then she let him work only for her, and finally she let him do only what he wanted to do with her.

It's all a long road, and Peyton knew all the right and wrong steps in it. Especially the wrong ones. He'd told himself several times that he shouldn't be in a hurry, that he should be more patient and smarter. And it was only the desire to possess her that drove him to his goal. These constant training in the morning, persuasive speeches in front of the mirror, which each time became more and more concise and reasoned. Until he reached the ideal. The ideal that convinced her of the inevitability of her defeat in front of him. And it was better sooner than later, and voluntarily than forcibly… Of course, he also told her about it separately, long before it was necessary to reconcile his various arguments with this state of affairs in the world.

And now this. She's giving him a blowjob. With pleasure. Just the way he wants it. And she's also guessing what he wants correctly. What do you call that? Perfection. And this is the perfection to which he had brought her… Well, something, but we should take care of it now, since it all came to him so hard.

His right hand slapped the girl with a wide swing. The palm of his hand clattered against her cheek, and she fell on her side. Peyton felt the pain in his right palm, and realized that his hand had now done it. He did. Just hit with all his might his own woman who was kneeling in front of him and fondling his cock. He did it because he saw that it was possible. And that it would be the most vivid thing he could do in this situation. Those thoughts were racing from side to side in his head.

What does it mean to be the brightest? Is it the most impossible? Is it infinite power, to do the most impossible at the most inopportune moment? Or is it madness? And where are the boundaries of insanity and achieving the impossible? Yes, I hit her. Because I could. I could have done it without hindrance. And in a situation that wasn't suitable for it… She'd almost brought him to orgasm. He almost came the way he wanted. He should be pleased with her, grateful, feeling her closer to him… Why suddenly treat her like this? Why suddenly hit her? And at a time like this? What was the point of that action in the first place?

Just because it seemed impossible. Unreal. But he did it. He could do the impossible. And now, as she stood up slightly, leaning on one arm and holding her bruised cheek with the other, staring at him with frantic eyes and unable to even utter a word, he began to realize how well he was right. How much more right than he'd ever been in his life he'd done now. And how lucky, too — his right hand against her left cheek. The world literally flooded with color in Peyton's eyes. He felt as if the stars themselves were now lighting his way, the stars themselves showing him how to live. How to act. How to be the best for himself first of all.

Delaney's nose began to bleed, and she began to sniff her nose. Now she looked like a victim. She had just been so vibrant and full of color, but now she was starting to become insignificant and unnecessary. Though her figure was still perfectly fine, and her breasts still protruded from her blouse in beautiful curves, Delaney herself, her face and eyes, were beginning to fade. First of all, in Peyton's gaze.

It seemed to him that he had perfected her, and then he was cleaning her up from that perfection as well. There was no need to lose her — she wanted to be discarded. After all, he himself had just now, just fifteen minutes ago, been thinking that if she happened to refuse him, he might not be able to resist and go along with her. He'd go along with her! That's what it looked like. The perfection he had created with his own mind, with his own strength. This perfection would not serve him, but would drive him around like a mutt… Did she want to control him herself? That's what she

wanted. That's what she wanted from the beginning. She wanted to screw it up from the start. But she didn't. He knew how to do it. How to make it work for him.

Peyton smiled at the new interesting thoughts that were hovering around him so coherently and clearly. His right hand grasped the large glass and brought it closer to his mouth, then made a motion to take a drink. It was almost empty inside, literally a single drop of whiskey at the very bottom that rolled down the rim of the glass and flew inside. The acrid taste settled on his tongue, and Peyton looked at the girl once more — sexy, sexy even in this battered position. Still, the effort hadn't been in vain….

She tried to rise, but the Elder's right hand with the tightly clenched fingers of a large square cup came down on her forehead. There was a resounding thud and she sprawled out on the floor.

That turned Peyton on even more, and his cock strained to the limit, and then he cum spurted straight up. His fingers dropped the glass and he bounced to the side. He'd never felt as good as he did now. From those right concise and natural actions he was doing, as if he were playing to the notes of the music they only had on record No one on the whole station could play to the notes,

but Peyton could… And how. That the whole world felt. Everything on their own station, on a moon

that only a select few know exists.