Katherine Alexander was admitted to the Gotham University Hospital with a laundry list of injuries. Muscles were torn all across the sole of her right foot. Each of the twelve tiny red circles on her left leg were second-degree burns. She had multiple hernias in her back, which was so wracked with spasms that her torso arched off of the gurney. She had torn ligaments in her neck. Her dehydration was in a state that a doctor described to Marisa as “alarming.” She was so incoherent upon admission that the desk nurse wrote PSYCH CONSULT on the chart in large slashes of red ink.

Kat was sedated most of the first day. Marisa spent most of the second talking to the police and the media. On the third day, Marisa was able to go into Kat’s room and see her lover, awake and somewhat alert.

They stared at each other for a silent minute, the longest minute in either of their lives. Finally Marisa could take no more, and said, “Hey baby.”

“Print Voice,” Kat said, her voice still weak from dehydration and Hallam’s tortures.

“Under arrest,” Marisa said. “I don’t remember the exact wording on the charges, but the ADA told me it amounts to kidnapping and assault. They’ve got him by the balls. The ADA said his apartment was ‘an orgy of evidence.’”

The use of the word orgy was a little too inappropriate for either of them at that moment. Another awkward silence followed.

“He can talk his way out of it,” Kat said at last.

“Not with his jaw broken in six places,” Marisa said. “I used your softball bat.”

And all this time I told myself I would have to hit him with the bat, Kat thought.

“They tell me his mouth will be wired shut for months,” Marisa said.

Kat said, “He did it before.”

“Before is exactly why he’s screwed,” Marisa said. “I know about Ashley, and I got the word out. It’s all over the tabloids and NY1. The university is panicking because Fox and CNN are sniffing around. The evil-hypnotist trope is irresistible.”

Kat reacted to that, shifting slightly in the bed and making a pained groan. Marisa looked at the floor. “I didn’t mean you,” she said quietly.

“Never mind that,” Kat said. Her voice was strained; she was putting everything she had into this conversation. “The music.”

“His demo. The tabloids are calling it The System. I guess that’s what he called it in his notes.”

“That music is all I can think about,” Kat whispered. “I dream about it. The base of my Batgirl statue is hollow. I hid the thumb drive there. Destroy it.”

She sighed heavily, thoroughly exhausted. Marisa nodded. “I will, babe. Rest up. It’s over. We won.”

As Marisa opened the door to leave, Kat stage-whispered after her. “Ris.”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Maybe save the demo,” Kat said. “We might need it. It’s evidence.”

Marisa had the same feeling she’d had in Hallam’s brainwashing room. If you don’t make this call yourself, you’re going to end up just like her. “Nope,” she said, and left before Kat could say any more.

“Good girl,” Kat said to the empty room.

Later that day, Marisa returned to the Audiovoid offices. She laid her work phone and her laptop on the desk, but did not bother to plug either one into a charger.

“Marisa,” Brad called from his desk. She had called on the first day and told him that her girlfriend had been the victim of a traumatic crime. His response had been, Can you work from home? And now he was going to ask her into his office just to look at her chest. “Can you come in here for a second?”

Marisa entered his office, closing the door behind her without being asked to do so. She did not sit; he did not keep a chair there, forcing his female employees to stand, so that he could get a better view.

“How’s your girlfriend doing?” Brad said. He was not looking her in the eye.

“It’s a long recovery ahead,” Marisa said. “She was hurt really bad.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Brad said. Marisa seethed inside, at how not-sorry he sounded. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Look me in the eye, you jerk, Marisa thought. He did not.

“Marisa, of course we have nothing but respect and concern for what you have gone through,” Brad said. He sounded like he was reading off of a card. Or maybe he had practiced in front of a mirror. “But I need to have some kind of idea how much work you are going to miss here. If you’re going to be gone much longer, I might have to hire a temp to carry your load.”

Hire a temp, train them up, sign them to a contract that pays them less than me, then lay me off, Marisa thought. It was a classic Brad maneuver; he had done the same to Amberlyn’s predecessor, when she had missed two weeks of work with mono. Marisa hadn’t said anything then, because she had just gotten the apartment with Kat and thought she needed the money too badly. But now, she had a different perspective.

She said, “You know something, Brad?”

“What’s that?”

“For once, I’m glad that you don’t know my eyes are up here.”

Brad’s eyes flicked upward in surprise, to see Marisa holding Kat’s digital recorder next to her head, at eye level. A USB drive was plugged into the device. Marisa hit the button marked with a large green arrow.

Music filled the room, a weird, wavering melody. Bass, theremin, an indistinct number of organ harmonies.

“Wow, that’s...” Brad blinked his eyes, then blinked twice more in rapid succession. “What is that? A demo?”

“Something like that,” Kat said. A low drone of white noise filled her head through the earbuds she wore, just as it had in Hallam’s apartment at the end. She could still hear the music, just as she could still hear Brad talking, but some of the emphasis was gone. The music no longer had that ineffable quality which made her eyes heavy. The irony was not lost on her, that white-noise devices like this were supposed to help people sleep.

“Not bad,” Brad muttered. His eyelids slid closed.

Marisa waited for a count of sixty, noting that Brad did not move for the entire count. She then said, “Can you hear me, Brad?”

“Yeah,” Brad said in a low voice.

“It’s very relaxing, to tell me the truth, isn’t it, Brad?”

“Yeah.”

“You were staring at my chest, weren’t you, Brad?”

“Yeah.”

“You like staring at my chest, don’t you, Brad?”

“Yeah.”

“Why do you like staring at my chest, Brad?”

“Your tits...” Brad sighed heavily. “They’re just perfect. Not too big, not too small. Just perfect.”

Marisa’s mouth formed a small red line. “Brad, I am quitting as of today. I walked into your office today and quit. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

“When I leave this office, you’re going to realize what you said to me. You’re going to realize that’s the reason I quit. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did I quit, Brad?”

“I told you I was staring at your tits.”

“Why did you say that to me, Brad?”

“I dunno,” Brad sighed again. “Just felt like the right thing to say.”

“Of course it did, Brad. When you realize what you have done, you’re going to talk to Human Resources. HR will know what to do, won’t they, Brad?”

“HR will know what to do,” Brad said in a dreamy voice.

“You’re going to recommend a very generous severance package for me, Brad,” Marisa said. “Five years’ salary or more. Because otherwise I might sue. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

“How much severance should I get, Brad?”

“Five years?” Brad sounded curious, doubtful, until he said with more confidence, “Maybe more.”

“Why do you want to give me that much severance, Brad?”

“Cause I screwed up.” Brad’s voice wavered, the first sign of fear she had ever heard from him. “You might sue.”

“That’s very good, Brad. I want you to count to two hundred in your head. When you reach two hundred, you’ll be able to open your eyes, and remember what you need to do.”

She backed out of the door, clicking off the digital recorder as she did so, and walked to the elevator. She wasn’t sure if she would get the money; HR might just fire Brad and deny all culpability. But she would be perfectly happy with that result also.

Before she went to the subway, she walked cross-town. The thumb drive went into the Hudson River. She now had a good picture of how addictive it could be, from both sides of the closed eyes.

Kat opened her eyes the next morning. Marisa was slumped in the chair on the opposite side of the room, sound asleep. That was how it was for her, she could nod off anywhere in any position. It was this characteristic that had caused Kat to first think about hypnotizing her.

“Ris,” she said quietly. Her voice had finally recovered some of its timbre, after three days of hydration and rest. “Marisa.”

Marisa shifted her body, pushing her hair out of her face as she made her waking-up noises. “Hey, babe.”

“Did you destroy it?” There was no need to specify what it was.

“Hudson River.”

Kat felt a momentary swell of panic. She had forgotten to mention something yesterday. “Did you delete—“

“—everything Dustin did for us,” Kat confirmed. “I made sure he deleted his copies also, before I quit.”

“Quit?” Kat’s eyes went as wide as she could manage. “You quit your job?”

Marisa nodded. “Seeing Hallam on the floor at the end, I realized I couldn’t take Brad’s bullshit any more. A couple of days later, I realized that I couldn’t do any political stuff inside the company to get him fired, because I was going to be spending all my time here.”

“But the money—“

“I’ll find something else, babe. I have two years at one of New York City’s top startups on my resume. It’ll work out. Also...” Marisa grinned.

“Also what?”

“I think I’ve got a really good settlement coming. Someone might have suggested to Brad that he admit his behavior to HR.”

“Suggested. With a little musical accompaniment?”

Marisa shrugged, still grinning.

“I was going to apologize for using you as bait,” Kat said. “But now I think you might be more evil than me, when you need to be.”

“And I was going to punish you for giving me suggestions without telling me,” Marisa said. “But there will be plenty of physical therapy time to make you suffer.”

Kat looked at her with imploring eyes. “I need to teach you what I do,” Kat said, her playful tone gone. “I’m going to need your help.”

“I mean, I’m sure the hospital has—“

“I need you, Ris,” Kat said. “You’re the only one who could have gotten me to walk out of Hallam’s apartment. And you’re the only one who can get that music out of my head.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m dreaming about that music, Ris. I know we’ve won and Hallam is a piece of shit, but I still dream about it every night.”

Kat lowered her voice to a whisper. “Erotic dreams,” she said.

Marisa walked across the room and took Kat’s right hand. As far as they could tell, it was the only part of her body not in constant pain. “Kat, I’ll help you on one condition.”

“Anything,” Kat whispered.

“What you did to me,” Marisa said. “Tell me why.”

Kat cleared her throat, blinked the tears out of her eyes, and said, “I was scared. The System was something I did not have any idea how to deal with. I felt like a little kid trying to fight a professional boxer. I thought the only advantage I had was, I knew your trance better than he did. So I thought I had to use you.”

Her voice broke on the word use. She issued a couple of harsh sobs, before saying, “I knew it was wrong. I knew I was going to tell you eventually, and I expected you to break up with me when I did. I was desperate and I didn’t know what else to do.”

Marisa leaned in close, whispering into her lover’s ear. “Never again,” she said. “No matter how scared you get. No matter what. Do you understand?”

Kat nodded, vigorously. Marisa stood up, still holding Kat’s hand. “Then say it.”

“Never again, baby. We have rules, I broke them, and it is never going to happen again. No matter what, because I love you too much to fuck this up.”

Marisa managed a small smile. “Then I guess we better talk about the first lesson.”

Hallam pleaded guilty. The NYPD and FBI both had him right where they wanted him, and he couldn’t even speak in his own defense. The only deal he got was a regular prison instead of an insane asylum; either way, the sentence would have been the same twenty years.

Kat and Marisa did not have to testify. Their names did find their way into some of the written stories about Hallam’s crimes. They both deleted all of their social media accounts after the first sex creep sent a direct message. They never appeared on a television program or web stream, and did not want to do so.

Marisa did receive five years’ severance from Audiovoid. In addition, Gotham University offered them a settlement under a complicated legal agreement that would prevent them from suing. Ever the expert negotiator, Marisa persuaded GU to cover Kat’s medical costs and physical therapy, in addition to the cash part of the settlement.

Brad kept his job. Marisa spent most of a morning burning up inside over it, while Kat was in surgery to repair one of her many muscle tears. Then, looking at Kat’s surgery scar, Marisa understood that there were more serious concerns for her at that moment.

Kat spent two months more in the hospital than they had expected. The burns on her leg, tiny though they were, were as highly susceptible to infection as any severe burn. She was never in danger of losing the limb, but the agonizing itch, and the punishing side effects of the antibiotics, made her miserable long after many other wounds had healed.

Finally, the week after Independence Day, Kat was allowed to limp home on crutches. The ligament damage would take months more to heal fully, and there were still several weeks of physical therapy to go, but she had no more surgeries ahead.

She sat on the couch while Marisa unpacked bags and did all of the physical labor Kat herself could not do. Finally, Marisa dropped onto the couch next to her. They shared a long, silent look.

“What are we gonna do, Ris?” Kat said. “Neither of us has been looking for a job for months. The settlement money isn’t going to last forever.”

“The FBI called me yesterday,” Marisa said. “They want us to consult on a kidnapping case. The victim was brainwashed.”

Kat paled. “By Hallam’s thing?”

“No, no,” Marisa said. “He told me, ‘they messed with her head the old-fashioned way.’ Drugs, solitary confinement, love-bombing.”

“They need psychologists,” Kat said. “That isn’t us.”

“They have psychologists,” Marisa said. “The psychologists tell them that she’s not mentally ill. Those psychologists haven’t had to deal with a mind-control nut up close and personal, the way we did.”

“This is a bad idea, Ris. We are not professionals. We’re amateurs. And the last time we ran up against someone who knew what he was doing, I spent a few months in the hospital.”

Marisa took her hand. “I get it, babe,” she said. “I understand why you’re worried. But we have a responsibility to help everyone who isn’t as lucky as we were.”

Kat sighed. On some level she knew Marisa was right. And she also knew that, six months ago, she would have jumped at the chance to do work like this. Had Hallam taken the guts right out of her? “We’re not doing it for free or anything, right?”

“Kat, it’s me.” Marisa smirked.

“Okay,” Kat said. “I’ll do it. But if it sucks, if we aren’t helping this girl, we walk away. Right?”

Marisa stuck out her hand. “Shake on it.”

As Kat reached for her hand, Marisa took her wrist and lifted it high, until Kat was looking upward at her own palm, which hung a foot or so above her head. “Just focus on your hand, Kat,” she said, speaking quickly and in a low voice. “Focus on every line, every wrinkle, every vein. Feel the weight of your hand, how many muscles you need every day to help it move.”

Kat’s eyes never left her hand. She blinked, eyelids moving slowly. The shock of interrupting the handshake might have put her into a light trance already; they’d had many long nights in a boring hospital with nothing to do but practice, and both of them had taken to their new roles like fish to water. As Kat liked to say: the best hypnotists make the best subjects, and vice versa.

“Take a deep breath in, and let it out, feeling all of the muscles in that arm relax,” Marisa said. She had begun to slow her pace, drawing out the words, letting Kat slow down with them. “As that arm relaxes, the hand grows heavier and heavier.”

Kat’s hand began to move, sinking down toward her face, before Marisa could even suggest that it would do so. Marisa smiled. Kat knew how so many inductions worked that she sometimes jumped the gun, as though her trance-self was saying, Get on with it!

“When that heavy hand touches your face, your eyes close and you relax deeply, so deeply,” Marisa said. Her Trance Voice was singsong, like a children’s lullaby. Kat’s eyes began to flutter, prompting Marisa to say, “And sleep.”

The hand dropped the last six inches, slapping gently against Kat’s cheek and staying there as though glued. She went limp, falling back into the couch cushion, the heavy hand holding her down like a paperweight, anchoring her in a dark peaceful place.

Marisa counted her down from ten to one, sending Kat deeper with every number, then she got down to business. “Kat, imagine green. Imagine the greenest, most peaceful trance you can think of.”

Kat, who had grown up in Northern California, was in a redwood forest. A giant green canopy shielded her from the sun. Pine needles crunched under her feet. Even the trees themselves were not as red as their name implied, with large splotches of moss coloring them as a camouflage uniform does a soldier.

Marisa knew that this was what Kat saw; they had discussed Kat’s Green Place after previous trances. She simply focused on the sensations that she wanted Kat to feel, and let Kat’s mind do all of the detailed work.

After a few minutes of reinforcing the green feeling, Marisa swallowed hard. “Turn around, Kat. You’ll find that Hallam is there.”

Kat turned and saw him, standing in the middle of a clearing, a loose circle of six or seven medium-sized redwoods.

“Go to him, Kat.”

“Nnnn,” Kat said. “Nnnnno. Don’t wanna.”

“Why won’t you go to him, Kat?”

“He’s red.”

Indeed he was, bright red, as though the two-meter-wide circle he was standing in had been transported directly from Mars. The ground was free of pine needles or undergrowth; the dirt was baking under his feet. The forest air was red all around him, as though he were standing under a red-filtered spotlight.

Kat’s free hand balled into a fist. Her lips began twitching.

“Remember the music, Kat?” Marisa bit her lip.

Kat’s fingers relaxed. The hand that had been stuck to her cheek slid off of her face and flopped onto her chest. Her mouth went slack as she murmured, “Yeah.”

“It’s relaxing to think about the music, isn’t it, Kat?”

“Yeah.”

“Hallam controls the music, doesn’t he, Kat?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’ll go to him, won’t you, Kat?”

Kat shifted her head on the cushion, rolling it away from Marisa’s voice. She made the same sound of negation as before: “Nnnnnnn. Nnnnnnn.”

“Kat? Speak to me, baby. Will you go to him?”

“No.” Kat’s voice was forceful. A mother telling her child to never put the bleach in his mouth. “No. He’s red. This is red.”

“You’re doing so well, baby.”

“FUCK HIM!” Kat shouted. Her eyes remained closed. Her fisted hands pounded the couch cushions, once. “THIS IS RED!”

Marisa grabbed both of Kat’s fists with her hands. “Kat, on the count of five, you’ll awake, knowing that we were doing our test. One-two-three-four-five.”

Kat’s body relaxed. Her eyes twitched a few times, struggling to open. Finally she groaned and forced herself awake. “Ris?”

Marisa stroked her cheek. “Kat? How are you feeling, baby?”

“Ugh.” Kat allowed Marisa to pull her up into a sitting position, arm looped over her shoulders to steady her. “That was way more intense than last time. The hospital bed made it feel less real. Sorry, babe.”

Their first practice trance, in which Kat had willingly gone to the Hallam in her mind, and Marisa had been forced to wake her up before she fell into his arms, had been distressing indeed. As a result, they had changed their rules. They no longer wrote everything down. And Kat had told her, Push me on the red part. Push hard. Because I think Hallam might have changed how I respond to it.

“Don’t apologize,” Marisa admonished her. “We’re a team on this. If it goes bad, it’s on me too.”

“It wasn’t bad, exactly,” Kat said. “I resisted it. I resisted it even when you reminded me of the music.”

“Yeah,” Marisa said. “Do you see now? What we can do for the FBI and this kidnapping victim?”

Kat looked at her wryly. Her undercut had grown out and her hair was getting messy. She looks like the world’s sexiest disaster, Marisa thought. “Touché,” Kat said. “When do we start?”

“Two days,” Marisa said, and gave her lover a long kiss. “Now tell me which parts of your body are okay to touché.”

THE END