Seventeen pigeons were parading up and down the path, eating bread crumbs thrown by an older woman sitting about six benches on my right. Eight passers-by in the last five minutes, one playing loud, thumping music on a boombox slung across his shoulder. Two planes and a helicopter overhead in the same amount of time. A single squirrel is chittering atop the bench directly across the path from the one I'm lounging in. Only four blocks from my apartment to the East and a fourteen-and-a-half-minute walk from my office to the North, it is a comfortable halfway point for me to rest during my commute home. On particularly stressful, bleak days like today, I like coming here, sitting on the sixth bench on the right side along the path most efficient to walk when traveling from the office to home- and counting. 
  Today, there were about twice the number of pigeons than usual and about a third of the amount of walkers along my path. There was no correlation between the number of people and the number of pigeons; at least, I could not prove any. The elderly woman who came here on any other day but Tuesdays and fed them from the fourteenth bench on the left side of the walkway, the final bench before reaching the park's Eastern gate, was responsible for the surplus of congregating birds. The number of people walking along the path was always lowest on days like today, and I, therefore, assume that most people do not like overcast skies and drizzles. I do.
  The count becomes less stimulating; my mind begins to relax as it always does after five to twelve minutes of sitting in my favorite slice of underfunded nature nestled within the forest of endless concrete, brick, and asphalt. I like this seat because it gives me the best view of both ends of the curving path and keeps me generally safe from the auditory nightmare of the six and five-lane streets on both the North and West sides of the park, save for the peace-breaking honks occurring on an average of every two and a half minutes. 
  A ninth pedestrian walks by my bench, pulling along a poodle more eager to sniff every fencepost, bench, or fountain than walk by the side of its impatient owner. The little white dog is the fifth pet I've seen this week seeming somewhat neglected by inattentive or busy owners. The poodle locks eyes with the squirrel and barks three times before being pulled away by the embarrassed owner. For a moment, I consider barking at the squirrel in sympathy to the poodle- feeling a privilege at the moment before remembering that the norms of society are perhaps a leash in of themselves.
  My thoughts shift, and I find myself craving my usual $7.59 meal from my favorite deli a block South when I notice a tenth pedestrian and immediately focus on observing them without appearing to do so. Interestingly, she is observing me as well. Unbothered with averting her gaze, this woman, with her dark blue overcoat and black hair cut in a fashion I understand to be a 'bob' or 'pixie-cut' or... something walks up to me and extends a hand. 
  "Hi, come here often?" 
  "Yeah, enough to consider this my bench, I guess."
  What I had intended as a joke or an introduction instead felt to me had come off as a territorial snub. I wasn't sure what to make of the spontaneous interaction, but I didn't mean to dismiss the woman; I appreciated the attention. I was the only woman at my office, and I only had four people who I interacted with on most days- my boss, his crony working with me in accounting, Mason from the deli, and the cute barista who makes my coffee on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.
  The lady seems undeterred by my accidental refusal and plants herself beside me. She pulls a business card from a chic handbag I had yet to notice and hands it to me. I avert my gaze to look at it, its tasteful, matte black with blue accents reading;

 

 

  Years in the city primed me to be immediately wary of moments like these- what would a Department Head from one of the largest product manufacturing conglomerates in the world be doing here, on a park bench, and talking to me? I only knew a little about Cherimoya, except that they owned the fifth tallest building in the skyline and produced all sorts of things, from hair dryers to GPS devices to portable televisions. I remember seeing an ad for their first smartphone launch some time ago. The woman I was looking at, if she was who she claimed to be, likely had a seven-figure salary and an office in that very building. I looked at her with some surprise and introduced myself in turn.
  "I'm Lucille," I pause, debating whether or not to reveal my last name. Before I can decide, she speaks.
  "Lucille Earn. I know who you are; I've heard a lot about you from Amir. It's no coincidence I'm here. I'm seeking you out specifically."
  A wave of nervousness passes over me. It doesn't surprise me that Amir might know her; he often flaunts his income with his sports car and affinity for dining in the more expensive areas of the city. However, having seen his salary in my accountings, I wondered if the proportional difference between my income and his was eclipsed compared to him and hers'. What made me uncomfortable was that she had known to come here to find me- I had never shared anything with my coworkers, much less Amir.
  "How'd you know to find me here?" She laughs, rolling her eyes as if the question were rhetorical.
  "The offer I'm here to make you is essential to myself and Cherimoya. We're testing a new... product, and finding the right candidate for the trial was crucial. Based on my conversations with our mutual friend and my investigations, I've found that you might be that person."
  I blink six times at her. Two people had walked by since she'd first sat down, and I hadn't even bothered to look their way as usual. Many questions rush through my mind, the primary of which being, of course, the one centric to my long-deflated ego;

  "What makes you think I'm the prime candidate? How many did you go through?" A mischievous, knowing smile creeps up her cheeks.

  "You've been the highest scorer in any mathematics class you've had since early schooling. You were offered a free ride on an extended program from your university but denied it to come work here in the city instead. Your first job here wasn't with your current group; it was with a financial giant on Wall Street. You had one of the brightest futures of any woman in the city, but after some event which I haven't been able to ascertain, you got kicked out of the firm and got footballed around from job to job until now you're here."
  I cringe a bit at the mention of my first job. Those bastards had left me out to dry, but it wasn't entirely their fault either. I had no intention of sharing the details of that incident, but she was right that I hadn't seen a stroke of good luck since. I still don't understand how this made me a viable candidate to test any product. Before I can ask, she continues.
  "What I have here," Wynona takes a small box out of her purse, "Is the answer to your problems. No more bullshit jobs wasting the potential of a beautiful, intelligent woman such as yourself. No more working somewhere like that motherfucking plumbing consultation company. If it works, this product will unlock the potential of people like you." There's a wild look in her eye, a glint that tells me she believes what she's saying, perhaps more than she'd even like to let on. I had to hand it to her; Wynona knew how to make a sale- except that she had obviously needed a private investigator to get all the information she seemed to have on me.
  "What does it do, exactly?" She frowns, reaching again into her handbag to pull out a thick stack of papers. 
  "Legal provided me with this NDA, and as you can see, it's not exactly the right length for park bench perusing."
  "Wouldn't I have had to read it anyway?" She shrugs.

  "I figured it'd be easier to convince you once you'd tried the thing. Or, if it didn't work, we wouldn't have to worry about it."
  That first part finally puts my suspicion over the edge. I stand up, putting my workbag over my shoulder, trying to think of a way to apologize and thank her for the offer.
  "I'll give you twenty-four thousand dollars."
  "What?" I hadn't expected her to offer me any money, much less precisely five month's pay. With that money, I could finally quit my job and have enough breathing space to find something new. Or treat myself to a vacation. Or at least a nice dinner and some stress-free mornings. Between rent and health insurance, I felt like I'd been treading water for a long time.
  "Twenty-four thousand dollars. That's five months' pay for you. It's completely safe; it'll take five minutes, and I swear that it will change your life."
  I sat back down with a sigh, still tense but increasingly curious. What could possibly be so important that Wynona or Cherimoya would be willing to offer so much money? All her promises? What was the point of any of this?
  "Fine, I guess. What do I need to do?" 
  She removes the lid from the box, revealing what looks like a dog collar. I laugh out loud, realizing this must have been a practical joke. The sixth person to walk by since the beginning of the conversation eyes me bewilderedly as I come down from the hardest chuckle I've had in years. I glare at her, the smile fading on my face into anger as I feel like the butt of a joke.
  "You had your fun yet? Can I go?"
  "No. I'm serious. I'll pay you upfront." I stare at her for a moment as I process further. She takes a phone out of the handbag- the same one I saw Cherimoya advertising- and taps at it for a few seconds before I feel my own buzz in my jacket pocket. I pull it out; sure enough, it's my bank app notifying me of a wire transfer. I look up and see a sincere, almost nervous expression on her face. The woman in front of me has played all her cards. I know this is also an act- I imagine someone of her influence could coerce me in many other ways if I chose to walk away now. I had the feeling that I couldn't say no.
  Shrugging, I reach down and pick up the collar. It doesn't have much give; the ridged grey plastic is broken up at a few points with joints of stretchy material. It terminates with a buckle similar to that which would go on a standard dog collar save for a large node on the receiving end with a single red LED light, cable port, and some circular port I can't identify. The inner portion, which I assume would touch my neck, is a sterile-looking brushed metal with various holes, ports, and ridges that I couldn't guess the purpose of.
  "The buckle goes right under your chin," I wait a moment for Wynona to instruct me further before realizing that's all she would say. Shrugging again, I wrap it around my neck and clasp it over my throat.  The collar is almost uncomfortably tight, and for a moment, I feel nothing before it loosens, seemingly adjusting itself to fit my neck. At this point, it actually feels a little comfortable. It gives a single electronic beeping tone, and I look at her, almost a little entertained. She's still looking at me expectantly.
  I feel a pinch, like a needle, directly into my jugular vein. I look at Wynona with confusion, reaching up for the collar before I feel an overwhelming numbness spread across my body. I almost fall out of my seat, holding myself up on the bench with a hand I can't feel, and she reaches out and holds me in place. Pure alarm crosses my mind.
  "What the fuck... doing? Did it just... just... drugs?" Words are hard to form, and I speak them sluggishly. I feel pressure on my spine, and a sense of pins and needles spreads out from the back of my neck. It hurts like a motherfucker, even numbed up like this. I reach up to pull the collar off, but she scoots closer and holds my hands in place. I can't muster the strength to resist.
  "It'll pass. Just hang on for a moment." She speaks with a reassuring tone, but I feel anything but reassured. What the fuck had I gotten myself into? My thoughts feel slower in my head, and I struggle to think of what to do. Lethargically looking to my right, I try to find the pigeon lady, but she is gone. Time begins to melt together, and I can't tell if seconds or hours pass between the four other pinching sensations I feel at various spots on my neck. Is this what it feels like to be put inside an iron maiden? I giggle at the thought.
  After a while, my head begins to clear, and the high passes. The residual pain fades away, and I can't feel any of the needles in my neck. I wonder if they're still there or if they'd pulled out. Unable to fathom how needles could have even fit in such a thin ring, I look at her with a mix of confusion and horror. The collar rings out three resounding beeps, which I assume means the collar is done with its nefarious deed.
  "What the fuck did you just do to me?" Furious at the woman feigning innocence right next to me, I reach up to pull the collar off. A buzzing, burning pain, like an electric shock mixed with a cattle brand, strikes from all sides of the collar at once and snakes down my spine, and my arms give out as I fall off the bench in agony. As soon as it comes, it subsides, leaving me reeling from the echoes of one of the worst pains I'd ever felt. I reach up again to pull the vile machine off and am met with the same response.
  "Do you get it yet?" I look up at her, the innocent expression on her face having morphed into a sadistic smile. I nod weakly. If I try to take it off, it'll hurt me. I don't know how any of this is possible, but that seems less relevant now that I'm experiencing the reality of it.
  "Good." She leans down and helps me climb back onto the bench. My knees are still weak from the pain, and I'm too scared even to move my arms. I open my mouth to ask her what the fuck she's done, but I find myself completely unable to form words. It's a surreal experience, knowing how to speak and knowing what you want to say but failing to control your vocal cords and produce anything but silent exhales. I notice a remote in her hand.
  "I'll let you talk again in a minute. Right now, we'll get up, walk out of the park, and get into my car. Sound good?" I shake my head, get to my feet, and grab my bag. I'm rewarded with another terrible, painful shock resounding through my entire body. Before it's even done coursing its way down to my fingers, she asks again.
  "Sound good?" I detect zero patience in her voice. I nod. I couldn't walk with this pain, no matter how much I wanted to. I have no choice but to do as she says or writhe on the floor. She picks up my bag and slings it across her shoulder, the remote still in her hand, and begins walking down the path. I have no choice but to follow, terrified of another shock.
  A man passes by, jogging and listening to music on earbuds. He doesn't even look at me as I fail to shout for him to help me, to free me from this horrible situation. She sneers at my attempt and walks faster. It takes us forty paces out of the park gate to reach a black sedan with deeply tinted windows and a massively built woman in all black standing at the side, who opens the back door and stands in wait for us. Was she the backup plan if I had resisted?
  The woman closes the door as I climb into the car with Wynona. I can't see the front seat; a tinted partition blocks the way, but I can feel the front door open and then close, the car jostling a bit from the driver's enormous weight. The car starts, smoothly pulling out. I look out of the tinted windows and try to make sense of my situation, find some way out. I'm still in disbelief that any of this is even happening.
  "I will allow you to speak again, but I'd prefer you to watch your manners. You know what will happen if you don't." I nod, unsure what else to do but cooperate. Wynona taps the remote and I test out my ability to speak.
  "Umm, hi? What's happening? Why are you doing this?" I'm careful not to use any pejoratives as much as I'd like to. I'm trying to hide my fury as much as possible.
  "I've taken acquisition of you in order to test the product around your neck."
  "You said this would only take five minutes! You're kidnapping me!"
  "I lied, sorry. That was necessary for the acquisition to go smoothly- we were in public, there were a lot of variables, and I'm in a hurry. Right now, you and I are at a... transitional stage, but you'll understand soon enough."
  "W-when do I get to go home?" I'm past argument. I know I'm screwed.
  "Once sufficient data has been collected, if you so wish, you can go home. I swear it." I feel an urge to roll my eyes at her swearing of anything.
  "What does this thing do?"
  "As you've seen, it allows for coercion of the wearer by the holder of this convenient remote." She holds up the remote and makes a face fit for an advertisement. "However, it has other coercive methods and functions that you'll learn in time." She prattles this off as if it's a description she's had to repeat at a dozen board meetings and product pitches. I wonder if she has.
  "Where are we going?"
  "That's the last question before more quiet time. Unlike you, I have several more meetings today and need to retain my internal balances. However, to answer, I'm taking you to our headquarters, where we'll set you up with lodging and further processing in our R/D laboratory."
  "What? Labora-" She hits the remote again, and I fall silent. At least two dozen questions, angry retorts, and actions flash through my mind. It is incredibly frustrating to be silenced like this, and I try to show it with a furious glare, damn the consequences. She summarily ignores me. After a few minutes, we ended up stuck in heavy traffic on a bridge. There are easily a hundred people within two hundred feet. I sneakily test the door handle, seeing if it'll open so I can make a break for it. It's locked—surprise, surprise.
  Unable to ascertain if the responses to my attempts to remove the collar are automatic or manually orchestrated by Wynona, I grapple for a while with the idea of attempting it again while she isn't paying attention. She seems absorbed in her phone, and the remote isn't even in sight. Eventually, I settled to make the attempt.
  Slowly raising my hand to my neck, I make it within about an inch before the pain consumes me again. Apparently, I learn, that while I can't speak, I can squeal. I let out a high-pitched sound as I writhe in agony, which seems to catch Wynona's attention. 
  "Honey, I thought you'd have learned your lesson by now. You can't remove it yourself. This would all be much easier for you if you just accepted your situation. I promise it won't be all bad." The cruel, sadistic smile across her face tells me otherwise. She enjoys seeing me in this pain. I open my mouth to ask the question which I'm already starting to learn the answer to, but remember I cannot speak. Defeated, I look outside the window and pout.
  After an hour and ten minutes (at least I still have my watch), we finally pull into the garage of the massive Cherimoya building through a security checkpoint. Descending several levels, I feel as though I'm nearing the belly of the beast. My stomach sinks. Stopping along a curb in front of a massive metal door, the car is opened by another security guard. I follow Wynona out of the car and up to the huge gate, which she opens with a key card on the left side. I make a mental note that this is the second security checkpoint as she guides me into a tight hallway with a tiled floor and imposing concrete walls. As we walk, she talks, and I'm surprised she is giving me the same spiel she'd give an investor or new staff member. Maybe out of habit?
  "Welcome to my domain! For the last two years, we've shifted our focus from consumer goods to the 'consumer good'. In the face of the various crises and further impending disasters, our Board decided that our focus should be... eh, whatever, this is all gonna be lost on you pretty soon." Despite my fear, I feel more curiosity than anything. What the hell could any of this be for? What kind of insane conspiracy have I found myself at the center of? What 'further impending disasters' are they preparing for with something like this collar? I shuddered at the implications. And what did she mean by it being 'lost on me?'
  Eventually, after three right turns, one left turn, one more security checkpoint, and two more keycard doors, we reach a white, opaque glass door labeled "Project LSKD-22A." I make a point to memorize the name as I did the way out. If I could manage to escape, I'd need to remember that name to expose whatever-the-fuck is going on here. I brace myself for whatever horror I'm about to see on the other side.
  The door opens, revealing a depressing open-floor plan office with six people working at desks or tinkering at workbenches. They all stand upon Wynona's entrance and clap as if she were an astronaut returning from the Moon. The room is entirely grey, minus the spots of color under their lab coats, and the feeling of imposing concrete has never struck me so powerfully.
  "Folks, we have our first test subject." Wynona seems incredibly proud of herself as she leads me through the office and walks up to a younger woman in a white lab coat.
  "Everything is ready, Miss Ruhl-Cotz. Is this candidate six?" Wynona nods and hands the woman the remote.
  "I'll be back in a few hours; I need to attend to some things. Get our friend here ready for the second stage- the device has taken well, and she's responding to the pain conditioning as expected. I'll see you at seven?"
  "Yes, Ma'am." Wynona turns to me and gives me the sinister smile I've been learning to fear.
  "Good luck, pet. I'll see you soon." And then she walks away, out of the room. Pet? What the fuck, man. The lab coat lady speaks up before I lose myself in further confusion.
  "Hi. I won't waste time with introductions; you won't really remember it anyway." I look at her with my best attempt at abject horror, and she seems completely unfazed.
  "We all took extensive training before starting live trials. I know how to treat you and ignore your protest. Save yourself the effort and comply." She repeats this as if she's rehearsed it a hundred times, and I believe her. Trying to ground myself, I count the seven buttons on her coat and nine desks in the room. Lab Coat pulls me by my hand and places me in a chair in the corner of the room. She connects a cable to the port on my collar and sits in front of me, opening a laptop.
  "I'm going to allow you to talk. Please remain civil so as not to disturb my colleagues." She taps a key, and I test my regained speaking ability.
  "Please don't do this, whatever you're doing, please just let me go home." She rolls her eyes and taps another key. I immediately feel the familiar pain course through my body, and after recovering from the reeling sensations, I remain silent.
  "Let's take care of the formalities first. If you comply, you'll be rewarded. If you don't, there are worse pains than the one you just experienced." I wince at the idea of something worse.
  "First on the docket; what's your home address?"
  Unsure why she's asking, I answer honestly, they must already know this. Instead of pain, I feel a wave of euphoria and excitement radiate through my body, like an incredibly good sneeze or mediocre orgasm. I let out a slight, satisfied squeak and look at her with renewed confusion.
  "That's the lowest level of reward. I'll raise it as we go if you remain compliant. Now tell me your age." Again, I answer honestly, and I'm 'rewarded,' slightly better this time. I will admit it feels good, but I feel a growing sick anxiety in my stomach as I wonder where this is all going.
  "Where do you work?"
  "Gabal Plumbing Consultations." Another wave of euphoria, my legs shake, and my mouth hangs open as I do my best to suppress a moan.
  "What bench do you like to sit on?" She doesn't give me time to recover, and forming words is challenging through the warm fog shrouding my thoughts.
  "Sixth bench... right side..." I can't help but smile as another crash hits me. My thighs tighten, and a dribble of drool runs down my chin.
  "What university did you graduate from?" After the fifth question and honest answer, I feel warmth growing between my legs, my dick stiffening slightly under my skirt. I realize, to some horror, that I'm eagerly anticipating the next question.
  "Alright, we've got a good baseline now. Let's try something harder. What's your social security number?"
  I'm stunned at this question.
  "Why do you-" Pain. A new pain a dozen times beyond anything I'd felt before. I try to scream, but the collar silences me again, and I curl up in the chair in pure agony. After what must have been an eternity, it passes over.
  "Try again." I answer honestly, a renewed terror guiding my decision. My 'reward' is as it was in the beginning. There's a sting of disappointment and a further sting of pure humiliation at that fact. I know exactly what is being done to me, and I can do nothing about it.
  "What's your bank account username and password?" I answer honestly and barely notice my 'reward' over the stomach-churning realization that the money I had been paid would be removed from my account. I had taken the bait and made off with less than nothing.
  "What's your phone's PIN?" She holds it in front of me. I hadn't even realized it had been taken.
  "Six three seven nine." She scoffs as if this was predictable before tapping the key to reward me. I giggle absent-mindedly as it passes before realizing it in embarrassment and averting my gaze.
She asks another question and another after that. I find myself growing more concerned with the rewards after than the questions themselves. At the tenth question, I'm excited for the eleventh. The anxiety in my stomach was forgotten entirely. After what might have been twenty questions, I don't even care that I've handed over everything in my life on a silver platter. She even had me tell her about the incident from my first job. They had all my money, access to my home, knew how to keep my distant family satisfied if, for some reason, they ever contacted me, and enough blackmail to ruin my life again if I ever managed to escape. I was thoroughly fucked. When she took a stack of papers and had me start signing, I didn't even bother reading them. It took forever, and she didn't 'reward' me until I had finished them all. It was almost worth it, and I crossed my legs to hide the obvious stain around my crotch.
  "Cool, so you're processed now. We've got total control over you and what used to be your property. You know what happens if you disobey and what happens when you comply. Do you have any questions?" I can't help but whine slightly that more rewards wouldn't come. Regaining my composure, I look at her, distraught yet flippant. The situation's absurdity is beginning to set in. An insouciant smile creeps up my face, and I try not to think about how satisfied I feel.
  "What happens now?" I ask, and she grins, seemingly glad I hadn't tried to argue. 
  "We're done an hour earlier than I anticipated. There are several hours left until Miss Ruhl-Cotz returns to attend to the next stage. I've got a report to write, so I'll just put you to sleep and hand you off." She hits a key, and I barely manage to push out a word before I'm overwhelmed with tiredness, scarcely aware of how quickly my consciousness fades into the ether.