Late nights were a routine for Cheryl Lane, at this point. Her contract for her work with Conform Inc. told her she’d only be working a 10 AM to 4 PM shift, but alas, things weren’t that easy when you’re an absurdly talented programmer working towards a goal... on a deadline of a month. A month was a pretty short deadline for Cheryl, even for as quick as she usually worked — she was actually able to negotiate a higher payment for putting her on such a tight schedule. At least the CEO of the company and all the other executives were pretty nice to her... usually, if they weren’t barking orders down at her to keep working.

It was a project that would guarantee her six figures just in that month. Who wouldn’t work for that? More suffering now meant a better life in the month and years after. Maybe Cheryl could finally start saving for retirement. After all, as a contract worker, she wasn’t getting a 401K anytime soon. In fact, she wasn’t getting any benefits soon, so health insurance and whatnot would be good to save up for as well.

In the event that she’d have another accident where she’d electrocute herself into the ER. But that was years ago, and she would occasionally wonder why she had yet to let it go and forget about it.

Cheryl snapped herself out of her thoughts. There was no time to think. It was only a week into her contract, and she was already behind schedule — even with her working 8am to 9pm along with working more from home. She debated asking for more money, but she didn’t want to stretch her luck. She didn’t even know the big details of what the project she was working on was... for. It was all an enigma. And she wasn’t even sure what Conform Inc.’s purpose for existence or mission statement was as well. Were they some massive data entry company? Maybe an insurance company? Or a retail chain? Though, Cheryl had never heard of them before. They were, once again, an enigma.

Cheryl wasn’t picky about her employers, though. As long as they were paying well and not being terrible... she didn’t have much to worry about.

The project she was working on for them... she knew only a little about it. It was some helmet that called upon hypnosis therapy to soothe the employee’s stresses away, and make them more productive after having nothing to worry about. Sounded super creepy, but it wasn’t outside of Cheryl’s skill range in the slightest. Maybe it was some sort of brainwashing machine she was working on, and she had no idea. Cheryl chuckled at the thought as she worked on the basic code. That might not actually be too far from the truth. But, a job was a job. And it was a nice, cozy job at that — if not a little time-pressured.

“You’re working pretty hard there,” a voice came from behind Cheryl. Cheryl whipped around in the worker’s chair, her eyes a bit wide from being startled.

Standing in front of her was her contract supervisor, a lady slightly shorter than Cheryl. Her hair was red with brown, orange, and yellow hues, curly and down to her shoulders — almost like an Afro that couldn’t keep its weight up. Her suit was clad with latex and leather, an unusual decision for an executive at a lucrative, hyper-capitalist company. This was Kimberly Pollock, who had been working at Conform Inc. for at least 5 years, apparently. In her few interactions with Kimberly, Cheryl found her to be unwilling to relent on any needs or wants she had; not only that, but Cheryl also learned that she wasn’t easily affected by her emotions, let alone others’ emotions. It was as if she had no emotional brain and her mind was consumed by logic.

“Yeah, uh, it’s going pretty well.” Cheryl decided not to bring up her potential lateness in meeting the deadline. “Y’know, just, on track. Going well. Going slowly, but going well.”

“Hm. I expect you to get back on track and pick up the pace, then,” Kimberly said in her normally unaffected voice, and all Cheryl could think was ‘yeah okay, boss,’ sarcastically. “I do want you to slightly divert your attention in the project, though, if it’s possible.”

“Uh... as long as it’s in the contract, then I can work with it.” Cheryl blinked, suddenly now paying more attention. Cheryl internally hit herself for losing her place in the code. “What do you want me to do?”

“I notice you’ve been working on the code for the files a ton. Which is great, admittedly. However, I want you to begin shifting gears and focus on the headset a little.”

Cheryl bit her lip, trying to hide her frustration. If the code wasn’t done, then it was going to be hard to work on anything else, let alone the helmet. But maybe they just wanted the structure of the helmet to be done? Cheryl had some experience with metal work, in addition to other engineering type projects... but it’d still be difficult.

“Of course,” Kimberly continued, “if you can’t do that, then it might be that you’re not the programmer you’re looking for.”

“I can do it,” Cheryl answered. She sure as hell was not willing to give up that six figure contract. “It might slow down my progress a bit, but... I can do it.”

“If needed, we can revisit your contract and look at the length of time and money involved, and make any necessary changes.” Kimberly mentioned in her monotone voice. “Thank you for your cooperation. Your work is quite useful.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Cheryl said, trying to hide the bitterness in her voice. “I’ll get it done ASAP.”

“Good.” Kimberly said that one word and then walked away, not even thanking Cheryl for staying late. Heck, it was already 8pm — four hours past the time she was supposed to be done. These people really weren’t grateful in the slightest, huh.

It was almost... drone-like. They had no emotions, no hobbies or anything that Cheryl had heard of. It was all work, work, work. Keeping their mind on maximum profits and maximum efficiency. It really was a capitalist hell hole. If Cheryl didn’t have to take the contract, she’d much rather work at a non profit for a fraction of the cost.

‘Oh well. These workers can have their drone hive mind,’ Cheryl laughed to herself. ‘I’m gonna go home and eat two pints of ice cream.’

Grabbing her bags, signing off, and heading home, that is exactly what Cheryl resolved to do. Eat ice cream, watch trashy romantic comedies, and forget about selling herself to the world of never ending labor.

* * *

The next week, Cheryl followed that exact schedule. And yet, somehow, she wasn’t working fast enough. It was almost like Kimberly was staring at her over her shoulder every second she was sitting there — and entirely because Cheryl managed to find surveillance cameras hidden around her office. (She wanted to confront Kimberly about it and tell her all the legalities of recording employees, but being as non-confrontational and secretly bitter as Cheryl was, she elected not to.)

It was only getting worse with every passing day. Every passing hour. As if Kimberly was silently rushing Cheryl to go faster, quicker, more efficiently. Whatever shred of decency that was in Kimberly was slowly dissipating over time.

Cheryl managed to convince Kimberly, at one point, to take a day and work on the helmet from home. At least at home, she wouldn’t be being recorded, and she could use all the loud tools she wanted to design the prototype of the helmet. That, and she had all her wires and whatnot to connect the file to the helmet, connect the animation of the file and whatnot. It was coming out pretty hypnotic, as a good sign. The spiral Cheryl made on Procreate was quite gorgeous and hypnotic, so much so that she could stare into it all day. And the file was so relaxing, too. At least, it would have been if Cheryl didn’t record it herself — like most people, she hated the sound of her own voice with a burning passion.

The helmet wasn’t super comfortable, so Cheryl resolved to find some foam and put them around the sides — at least that way, it wouldn’t clamp down on people’s temples so hard. The screen came in front of Cheryl’s face as soon as she put it on, flashing the spiral. Fortunately, Cheryl programmed some buttons in so that she could turn off the spiral, or the file, or just get the helmet or screen off. Hopefully they’d work over time, and not get stuck or anything. That’d be real bad.

Of course, while Cheryl worked from home, she watched her usual romantic comedies. Her favorite pastime was laughing at how stupid the couples were, and how bad people usually communicated. What was really saccharine for her was watching love triangles where no one had any chemistry for anyone, ever. She would pray that Kimberly wasn’t somehow secretly watching her; not necessarily so Kimberly could get on her case for not working 24/7, but more so because she didn’t want anyone knowing about her strange TV habits. Especially when she’d watch reality TV.

Speak of the devil, Cheryl thought as her phone went off. She picked it up to check who it was. Unsurprisingly, as Cheryl had no friends or love life and was on not great terms with her family, it was Kimberly asking her how her progress was going.

“Please send me a picture of the helmet and how it’s turning out so far”, the text read almost robotically like Kimberly’s voice.

Cheryl sighed, and took a few pictures of the helmet at various angles and with the visor both up and down. She sent it over to Kimberly with a simple message of “here you go, let me know if you want anything different.” (As soon as that text sent, though, Cheryl internally regretted saying that last part.)

Cheryl tried to go back to work, focusing on the end goal — which was of course a butt load of money — until Kimberly texted her again twice.

“OK,” the first text read. “I will want you to install multiple files on it, so please prepare to do that.”

Seriously? Cheryl was only told to add one! She groaned and began her work altering the helmet to allow for multiple files and file selection buttons. She didn’t even respond to the text and began her word revamping the wires and programming in the helmet. Soon enough, it would be done. If she would be on schedule for the next two weeks, then she would be free! FREE, finally!

At least, she hoped.

* * *

Cheryl found herself back at the office the next week. The helmet was mostly finalized, and the file was finished as well — at least, the new one. Kimberly instructed Cheryl to add a new, different file to the headset with her voice and words instead.

Cheryl didn’t listen to it — she didn’t want to listen to Kimberly’s voice anymore. She just wanted to finish up the project and get home and never speak about it again, ever, and also to roll in the vast amount of dough she’d have made.

She would have to, eventually, of course just to prototype the helmet and see if it really was completed. But she resolved just to keep it on her head for a minute, then push it to the side and watch trashy comedies as it’d play out.

There was about a week left to the project deadline, though thankfully Cheryl was almost done. In fact, if she was lucky, she might even finish early, which would be absolutely a first for her. It’d be a nice portfolio piece as well, especially if she wanted to hypnotize people into hiring her. Then again, she did sign a non-disclosure agreement, so there really was nothing more to it than the money and experience.

With a few final pushes of the buttons, and some readjusting of the wires, Cheryl was finally ready to test it out for herself. It was a long journey, filled with many frustrations, long hours, and too much sleep deprivation, but she was near the end. All that was left was tweaking it, and running the final product by Kimberly.

So she put the helmet on, sinking into the nice foam she chose for the sides. Buckling the strap under her neck, she turned on the file Kimberly gave her for the first time.

Kimberly’s voice was oddly hypnotic, surprisingly enough. Her voice was like smooth silk that rested lightly on Cheryl’s skin, on her mind and ears. But what was more interesting was what Kimberly was saying.

“As you hear my voice, you will begin to relax into what I’m saying, and find yourself more suggestible to my words,” the file started, going right into the hypnotic elements. Cheryl wasn’t super easily suggestible, but she certainly did find herself getting tranced by her own file a few times.

“Feel your body relaxing, soothing. Sinking into the chair as you take a nice comfortable position — whatever position you can keep and stay in for as long as possible is fine. If you find your breathing slowing down just a tad, that’s alright — of course, whatever you’re feeling is perfectly okay, just so long as you can hear my voice and find yourself more and more suggestible to it. Just hearing my suggestions, letting them sink into your mind... that’s all you need to do right now.”

The helmet was working, for sure; Cheryl could hear the file as clear as day, and the audio quality was not bad in the slightest either. So she could call it a day, show Kimberly the prototype, take into consideration any suggestions (and work on some of them, ugh,) and finish it up. Cheryl’s work was done for now... and all Cheryl wanted to do was go home and rest and eat ice cream while watching dramatized terrible romance movies.

So why wasn’t Cheryl taking off the helmet? She wanted to see, to be honest; part of Cheryl wanted to see just what all the hubbub was about with hypnosis, with this company. Maybe this file would tell her something? It was just information gathering, right? Whether Cheryl wanted to admit it or not, though, she was very, very relaxed by how the voice in the file spoke to her. It was so soothing, so comforting; and that voice... that soft, nice voice... Cheryl wanted to hear it over and over again as she let the vibrations sink into her brain. Maybe just a few minutes of listening to it wouldn’t hurt? Maybe Cheryl could let go a little and offer more input into the file, if she could offer it.

So relaxing. Cheryl definitely needed that kind of relaxation, after weeks of hard work and sleepless nights.

The file continued, and Cheryl found herself resting her head on the desk as her eyes closed. “Just relax... that’s right... very good, my precious worker. You’re so valued and loved here that all we want is for you to take a break from thinking, a break from working. After all, when you don’t have to think, you can work more efficiently. More quickly, more lovingly. More devoted to Conform Inc., more devoted to the things we do. Giving more and more of yourself to us by turning off your mind... by going mindless...”

As the file went on, it sounded more and more wrong. She wanted to take the helmet off and call it a day, leaving whatever weird cult-like file this was behind... but she couldn’t. A part of her was stopping her. Cheryl was so relaxed, so comfortable in this position, that her body was unable to move. Her mind didn’t want to take off the helmet; the voice was so nice... it was just what Cheryl needed to hear...

“And as you think about how much you love working at Conform Inc. and how selflessly devoted you are to your work, you can begin to think about turning off your mind and going into a deep place we call trance. A place in your mind where no thoughts linger and where you can just sit in total mindlessness, total comfort, total darkness. A place where my words really take shape in your brain, and where I can alter and change the strings in your brain as I please...”

No, that didn’t sound right. Cheryl needed to stop listening. Whatever this company was doing was their business, even though Cheryl helped them; but the scientist wanted no part of it. Cheryl had other things to do than be a mindless drone. She couldn’t throw all those ambitions away! So why? Why couldn’t she move? Why did she not want to take off the straight up brainwashing helmet...?

“And on the count of five, you’re going to go deep into that place, not being aware of anything around you or how my voice is affecting you. A place where I will have complete access to your mind, to change it, to make it better. You want this. You want to be a drone for Conform Inc.”

No... no, no, no! Cheryl had to go. The countdown in Kimberly’s voice started, starting with five and going down to four. Cheryl found the courage in her to lift her hands up, searching for the helmet so she could unlock it and take it off. Where were the buttons again?

As the count reached three, the numbers started going slower and slower, also simultaneously slowing down Cheryl’s mind. No! She had to get this off, she had to get the hell out of here!

“Two........”

Cheryl found the buttons. She haphazardly tried to press them. Why wasn’t the visor going up? Why wasn’t the file ending? She thought she was pressing the buttons... was her body just too relaxed to even be able to do that?

It was over. The file spoke, “one, and drop,” and Cheryl found herself sinking into that deep trancey place. Deeper and deeper, she fell into the void as she internally screamed out for it to stop. But the voice dimmed out, and her mind dropped. She was in trance. She couldn’t do anything about that.

She was at the mercy of the file — and the mercy of her supervisor, now.

* * *

Cheryl must have come to a few hours later. She noted the time on the computer — it was almost 1am. Was she really asleep for that long? The last thing she knew, it was 9pm and she was listening to... something. She couldn’t quite remember what. She was testing out the helmet, right? So why did she go to sleep? Her head was all foggy; she really couldn’t remember anything...

Cheryl silently prayed that Kimberly wasn’t still in the office so Cheryl could sneak out and run home. This was getting way too creepy; Cheryl was never one to sleep on the job, nor was she the type of person to get so entranced by her own projects. Come to think of it, the helmet she made was nowhere to be seen... Maybe she left it in one of the drawers.

Cheryl didn’t care right now. All she wanted was to get home. She probably missed the last train home... her mind silently cursed to itself as she realized this.

Fuck. This was too wild. At least that six figure payment was in sight. Why didn’t they just pay her upfront?

Cheryl decided not to think about it; right now her job was just getting out of this labyrinth and rushing home or to a taxi. Where was the exit again? Was it a right or left turn...?

She guessed and took a left. Unfortunately, that was not the way to the exit; but Cheryl stopped in her tracks when she heard something much, much more interesting than leaving.

It was a worker’s voice — a female worker she had spoken to before, but whose name Cheryl did manage to grab. Her voice sounded shaky and scared, based on what Cheryl could hear from the open door to the room in front of her. Cheryl might have been emotionally unaffected sometimes, but she wasn’t callous by any means. Maybe she should check...

Opening the door slightly, but not too loudly as to draw attention, Cheryl did a double take at what she saw. Said worker was strapped to a chair, in what Cheryl swore was a straightjacket. There were shackles to her ankles and wrists, and a machine holding her head in place. She was begging for her captor to let her go. Cheryl slid in just a little bit, and was even more horrified (yet oddly unsurprised) to see Kimberly towering over her, holding none other than Cheryl’s invention. She really did make a fucking brain washing helmet, huh?

“P-please, don’t do this — I’ll be more productive, I promise, I’ll stop taking my fifteen minutes, just... just please don’t erase my mind,” the girl was begging, sobbing as she spoke with tears streaming down her eyes. There was nothing but fear in her expression, and she struggled in the chair as Kimberly advanced towards her with the helmet in hands.

“No! No, stop, please! I’m... I’m begging you!”

“The time for reform has passed,” Kimberly spoke in her usual robotic voice — in this situation, it was about ten times creepier than it usually was. “You will submit to Conform Inc. as a mindless drone, working for us for the rest of your life.”

“No! No, no no no!” the girl sobbed, and Cheryl watched with wide, aghast eyes as Kimberly forced Cheryl’s brainwashing helmet over her. The girl sobbed and gasped for air until Kimberly pressed the start button at top. The girl froze, staring blankly for a minute and gasping out, before dropping into a slumped state. The same exact way Cheryl did when she listened to the file.

Cheryl watched and stared for what was a good five minutes. Kimberly crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. Checking her pocket watch every thirty seconds, Kimberly finally sighed and unlocked the helmet. The girl was no longer sobbing. She was voiceless, motionless, soundless.

“What is your designation?” Kimberly asked.

“Drone #0507,” the girl mindlessly responded in a monotone, unaffected tone.

“Who does this unit serve?”

“This unit serves Conform Inc. obediently and mindlessly.”

“What is obedience to you?”

“Obedience is pleasure.”

Fuck. Cheryl wasn’t sure about what she made, but she definitely felt like some mad scientist. She just straight up gave brainwashing devices to these... these monsters! These awful CEO capitalists! Cheryl felt alarms going off in her head as she debated what to do. What was she going to do? Destroy her contract and say that her work with them is obsolete? Should she go to the police — would they even help? How did the brainwashing helmet even work in five minutes? Was that even possible?

“Very good, #0507. You may return to your station,” Kimberly said.

“Affirmative.”

Cheryl stepped away out of sight, to the side as the dronified girl walked out of the room. The only thing Cheryl could see was her mindless, empty eyes. That was all she needed to see to know she made a big, big mistake.

Cheryl began to walk and run away, before she heard a voice stop her.

“Cheryl,” Kimberly called out softly. “It’s strange that someone as smart as you would think that I wouldn’t know you’re over there.”

Her breath stopped. If Cheryl wasn’t scared shitless before, she certainly was now. And now, she had to respond to her supervisor — no, her enemy.

She walked in, her eyes glaring daggers at Kimberly — and yet, her eyes were fill of terror and shock. “What the hell did you do?” Cheryl demanded.

“I altered your headset a bit to make it more functional for our purposes,” Kimberly answered as if she had just done a totally normal thing. “It seems I have done a good job.”

“A good j— you fucking brainwashed someone!” Cheryl exclaimed in fury. “How could you— first of all, that was my project, and that wasn’t in the contract! Second of all, you... how in the hell did you... why?!”

“So many questions,” Kimberly sighed as she shook her head, blinking heavily. “So many questions that you don’t need the answers to. All you need to do is finalize this project for us, and we’ll give you the payment.”

“What the hell? I don’t need the payment!” That was a lie, but Cheryl was deep into her anger and not thinking about that. “I just need you to, oh I don’t know, not brainwash people!”

Kimberly sighed again. “You’re being quite loud. How about you quiet down a bit?”

“Of course not, you—“

“Order given: speak to me in a level voice without insults or aggravation,” Kimberly suddenly spoke. Immediately, Cheryl felt her ability to feel anger or fury go away, and she lost the ability to scream at Kimberly and insult her.

Cheryl opened her mouth to do so, but she found herself only being able to say, “I’m very sorry,” in a cool voice. She held her breath. What the hell was going on...? Was she secretly somehow brainwashed too?

“I see you listened to the file I gave you,” Kimberly’s face grew into a slight, uncharacteristic smirk. “Very good, drone.”

Cheryl wanted to scream. And yet, she couldn’t now. Her body and her mind was betraying her. “I’m... I’m not a drone.”

“Are you sure?” Kimberly gave a light chuckle. “Order given: Admit you are a drone.”

The words came immediately to Cheryl, without being able to stop her big mouth from speaking. “I’m a drone.”

Cheryl clasped her hands over her mouth as the words came to her. What in the world was she talking about? She wasn’t a drone! Wait... her passing out earlier at her desk... did Kimberly do something to fuck with her? The blood in Cheryl’s veins boiled, and fight or flight kicked in — she was ready to deck this woman in the face, and then make a run for it. But she couldn’t — she was ordered not to. And thus, neither her body nor mind would let her fight back.

“What did you do to me?” Cheryl asked, in as demanding of a tone as she could go for. “I... you... did you brainwash me?”

“Brainwash would mean that you would absolutely have no thoughts of your own. I didn’t brainwash you... yet.” The way Kimberly said that last word sent chills down Cheryl’s spine, and Cheryl gulped down her fear. “I just conditioned you a bit, so it’d make it a bit easier for me to brainwash you eventually.”

Cheryl bit her lip. Finally, she got the courage in herself to speak. “You can’t do this. This... this is wrong.”

“Is it?” Kimberly asked, crossing her arms and staring with an amused expression at Cheryl. “This way, Conform Inc.’s productivity will reach record levels. If drones don’t need to take breaks, then that’s more time they can use to devote to our company. And if they can’t be distracted — if all that’s on their mind is work — well, what’s the problem?”

Cheryl didn’t even know where to start with responding to that. These people were crazy — no, they were downright evil! This was something that she’d watch a stereotypical villain say in those sci-fi movies she would rarely watch. It was too morally gray; why were they doing this?

“Order given: come to me.” Cheryl, of course with however much conditioning she went through, walked over to Kimberly. Her legs shook and she felt like jelly, about to collapse on the ground in fear. “Very good, drone. Order given: Sit down in the chair.”

Cheryl complied. She knew what was coming. And yet, obedience felt too good. Obeying Kimberly’s orders... it was like heroin to her. She needed to do it more and more. Cheryl felt something well up in her eyes — tears — as the reality of the situation began to hit her.

She found it in her to struggle as Kimberly walked towards her, holding what was almost certainly an altered version of the helmet Cheryl worked so hard on. “P-please, don’t do this. I’ll leave you alone. You don’t even have to pay me... I’ll leave you alone, don’t do this...”

“Why not? You’ll be such a great asset to us, drone. You’re smart and talented, and an excellent programmer. We have a ton of ideas for dronification gear we could use your mindless help for.”

“No! I’ll... I’ll never help you!”

“Mhmm,” Kimberly hummed in faux agreement as she began to set the shackles and headgear in place. Cheryl kept struggling as Kimberly lowered the helmet onto her, thrashing her head around. She didn’t want this. No. No. No.

“What are you going to do to me?” Cheryl asked. There was no fight in her voice — only sheer terror.

“Obviously, we’re going to make you a drone for our usage,” Kimberly said, with a hint of irritation shining through her voice. “You’ll be a good drone for Conform Inc. But you’ll also make a nice addition as one of my mindless playthings.”

“W-what?!”

“Oh, you didn’t think that I would just use you for work, did you?” Kimberly asked. “No, no. I’m quite stressed myself. I’ll need to use you for stress relief, every now and then. I have needs myself.”

“No! Please, don’t—“

“Good night, drone.” Kimberly interrupted Cheryl’s shrieking and thrashing, pressing a button on the helmet. Suddenly, a spiral flashed on the visor for Cheryl, playing a very, very addictive file. The dronification file. The brainwashing file. Cheryl was going to be a mindless drone for Conform Inc., slaving away for them — and for Kimberly — for the rest of her life.

But god. It felt so, so good. And as she became more and more powerless, losing more and more of herself... Cheryl felt a tinge of pride. Pride that she contributed such a worthwhile creation to Conform, Inc.