[The Worm — 14.01.2011 — Friday]
In the morning, I loaded the filament extruder with pellets, and after just minutes of calibration, began receiving surprisingly consistent filament. An obvious result of the conscious and subconscious adjustments of my new knowledge.
After an hour of lazy experiments about creating a 3D-printing pen while watching TV, I decided to continue my progress in the Cruel Intentions universe.
'This is starting to feel like save-scumming,' I thought, and immediately reprimanded myself for too much dangerous interpretation of my Gate power to even toy with it.
⸻⸻x⸻⸻
After arriving at the Valmont mansion, Sebastian led me into a small room and essentially repeated what he'd already told me over the phone, adding only a few minor details regarding Annette's skepticism and theories.
Once he'd finished, we headed upstairs.
⸻⸻x⸻⸻
The first thing I noticed upon entering the room was a radiant smile on a drastically looking better Kathryn's face. Then her much more revealing dress. Still proper, but with a small design flaw - too wide a neck cut that accidentally showed one lilac bra strap. Just a coincidence, for sure.
Then I noticed Annette's cautious gaze and her rigid posture with a fully upright back. And, again, beauty that was simply impossible to ignore.
Both actresses had passed the casting because they ranked in the highest percentiles of physical attractiveness.
Then dozens of film crew specialists pushed their attractiveness into the realm of the superhuman. The same way as it was in the case of "supernormal stimulus," but in the case of overall facial proportions.
Such results, of course, couldn't truly exist outside a film set. Only the makeup needed additional touch-ups every thirty minutes.
But in my reality? The work of dozens of professionals had become just natural beauty. So abnormal that from the very moment I stepped into the room, it started powerfully messing with my twenty-year-old-hormone-flooded brain.
Especially in Kathryn's case.
Not so much because Annette was significantly less attractive per se. Rather, because Kathryn's facial features, averaged with mine, could give our hypothetical offspring an almost ideal appearance - closer to the population average, but with a little hypertrophy of sexually attractive features. Which rang subconscious bells tied to my personal beauty preferences.
However, that only applied to facial structure. Because Annette's body was one of those very rare cases where petite stature did absolutely nothing to prevent the development of all the right feminine curves and proportions.
Among other things, their beauty also reaffirmed that the idea that "men's visual preferences change dramatically with age" was complete nonsense.
I had transmigrated in my thirties. So, despite inhabiting a body saturated with 20-year-old hormones, that should have had at least some effect on my beauty preferences.
But it didn't.
Because it shouldn't. Only women have a natural tendency toward such things.
Women's primary mating strategy historically revolved around spreading genes through qualitative care for offspring. Including — via adherence to social norms — by placing them in the very center of the social herd.
With age, women had more children and lost their beauty and men's attention. So they compensated with interest toward a partner's protective qualities that had arisen and accumulated with age: experience, responsibility, social status, conformity, and reliability secured by the decline of men's sexual hormones.
Exactly this compensation created the famous sentiment: "Why date someone younger if talking to them is going to be boring and annoying?"
Men's primary reproductive strategy, meanwhile, historically revolved around spreading genes through the quantitative number of copulations. Or rather, the maximization of reproductive opportunities.
'Annoying conversations? Oh, absolutely! So many delays, instead of the quick fulfillment of a periodic tribute to nature (more frequent, dangerous, and sometimes more inconvenient than women's counterpart) and a quick return to more important matters, are indeed so annoying!'
No.
Only after the use of DEEDS — from exhibition of one's own qualities and help to various feats — to receive women's attention, and AFTER sex, did men's instincts begin thinking about the same child-provision concerns women's instincts wanted to talk about BEFORE sex, and with often distaste towards young inefficient providers and hussies.
Of course, humans aren't animals. Culture and consciousness could and did regulate such inclinations. For example, making men less interested in the reproductive optimum and, even before sex, to talk about a common future with millennia-old vampire dragon matrons.
Yet, from a purely biological perspective, talking became part of man's sexuality mainly as a result of the dying of his sexuality due to the decline of sexual hormones during aging and, sometimes, a partner's pregnancy.
When the very zenith of male sexuality was fully about raging promiscuity and attraction toward a zenith of women's reproductive health, as it was in the case of these two 22 and 23-year-old actresses, who, with the help of professionals, had implemented the popular women's dream, and shed years down to 18-20-years optimum.
"Like what you see?" Kathryn asked playfully. "If so, it would be much better to look closely, wouldn't it?"
After spending a few seconds frozen near the doorway, I continued toward the couch.
"It's not my fault that the production crew so pushed the actresses who played you toward ideal beauty that their dimensional reflections trigger aesthetic overload.
You're literally the most beautiful women I've ever seen in person. Give me a little time to adapt," I said in a shameless voice and dropped onto the couch beside Kathryn, facing Annette and Sebastian.
"That may actually be the strongest compliment I've ever heard," Kathryn laughed.
"Kathryn. Annette. I'm really glad to see you," I said.
"I'm glad to see you too, Max," Kathryn replied warmly, moved closer, placed a hand on my knee, and gave it a "friendly" little stroke. Clearly trying to leverage my "aesthetic shock" to find out how much influence she already had over me.
My adrenaline spiked, and everything suddenly became hotter. For all intents and purposes, my body should have produced at least a visible shiver or even more juicy for Kathryn erratic behavior.
Lose. Give Kathryn a long list of things. Information, the aspect of control, a lessening of some interest in me because of similarities with other men she knew. And many other "insignificant things inside just a silly game, which you shouldn't think too much about," and yet, irreversible and accumulating, slowly pushing me towards the role of her pet.
So I counterattacked with an analog of First-Minute-Zerg-Rush.
I deconstructed her behavior into patterns and causalities already known to me, and dethroned her into "just another human being with typical monkey and human stuff" associations. Making her fully banal provocation wash over me without any physical reaction.
At least over my physical shell, despite the raging storm within.
"Nice to meet you, Max," Annette said politely, studying me intently after casting some rather disgusted glances toward Kathryn. "If you don't mind, I have a question," she asked, and after my nod, continued. "There's been something bothering me. If you really can travel between universes, why didn't you demonstrate it? Why do you rely on indirect evidence instead?"
'Because talking isn't a free action,' I thought about her perfectly reasonable question from her perspective.
Unlike the stepsiblings, who had seen so many familiar things in the movie, Annette had only recognized herself, Sebastian's aunt, and her father. And the latter two had been featured for only a few dozen seconds.
"Isn't that obvious? For the same reason, I haven't talked about my other powers. We don't know each other well enough for me to trust you with information that is — potentially — tied to my safety. And because I have some alternatives."
I leaned down, pulled my laptop from my backpack, placed it on my knees, and began showing them photographs and videos of Reese Witherspoon, especially scenes from Pleasantville that were particularly relevant to our situation.
Not great proof of my interdimensional hopping, but good proof of my ideal knowledge of Annette's body and mannerisms.
"And what about me?" after some time demanded Kathryn in mock indignation.
"You haven't earned that privilege yet," I said seriously, yet with a little hint of playfulness in my voice, and immediately received a playful slap on the knee.
"And when exactly will you give me a chance to earn it?" Kathryn purred and, to "make up" for the slap, leaned her shoulder — and not just a shoulder — against mine. Pretending that she just wanted to hear my answer better.
Too quickly for it to be a 100% conscious decision.
Yes, of course, it was still for the sake of testing my boundaries, yet some things had already begun to slip into genuine, impulsive feelings for me.
Much like in Madison's case, except under an order of magnitude greater subconscious pressure from much better understanding of my potential.
In Madison's case, the situation was like that of an inexperienced mechanic who had to choose between a Ferrari that had spent a few hours underwater and a brand-new Ford Fiesta.
Who, naturally, leaned toward fixing the Ferrari. Largely because he was a fucking mechanic, who, given time, almost certainly could cobble together at least something useful. Which also meant that even before he'd properly assessed the damage, he already cherished his "fixable" Ferrari far more than the prospect of driving a Ford Fiesta, constantly regretting the lost opportunity to acquire something exceptional.
But in Kathryn's case, I wasn't a Ferrari, I was the USS Enterprise.
Something so vast that her subconscious literally fought with itself in an attempt to comprehend it. Such uncertainty, in turn, created an impulsive desire to convert all questions into a more understandable format. To provoke emotional reactions from me, and already from them decode my properties: emotions, wants, motivations, and vulnerabilities.
To that, I had three possible responses.
I could try to fake emotions, which was extremely difficult given her superior empathy and, overall, was an amateurish and shortsighted losing move. At least in the context of a long-term game.
I could provide her with the information she wanted, improving the quality of her future provocations. Not a bad choice if you could muddy your responses and exchange them for a similar amount of information. Yet, for our situation, banter and flirtation were just excessive.
The third possibility was something rather rare: maintain radio silence until the right moment to trade the information for some concessions. Which worked only when women wanted more from you than you wanted from them. Exactly in the situations we were in.
I calmly looked into Kathryn's face, so very close to my own — and, in the voice of an older brother talking to an annoying younger sister — stated, "When it would be convenient for me, of course."
Next, I turned toward Annette, who seemed thoroughly bewildered by what was happening, and asked her in a much warmer tone, "My apologies for Kathryn's behavior. Her greed and fear of competition from you make her a little twitchy. Just ignore her."
Sebastian loudly snorted.
And Kathryn tried to salvage the situation, "Fine. And what about Mr. Crybaby With a HeArT? Let me guess, his actor was famous for starring in sleeping-pill commercials."
But Annette and Sebastian had taken my advice and ignored her, continuing to watch the photos and videos, including on my smartphone. No longer of Reese Witherspoon, but of Earth with superpowered people. So far, mercifully, without any additional context except for, "Believe me, you don't really want to know."
⸻⸻x⸻⸻
"Photos and videos of someone who looks exactly like you, and ideal mockups of another world on such a tech, obviously can't reproduce the effect the step-siblings experienced from an ideal depiction of their future. Without a single inconsistency. But combined with everything else, I'd say it's fairly undeniable evidence," I said to Annette.
"Can you demonstrate something... actually fantastic?" Annette asked in a quiet voice.
"Right now, no. Not outside my literally perfect university-level knowledge of mathematics, programming, chemistry, physics, and electronics."
At that, she perked up and immediately asked, "What element is incorrectly believed to have the highest ionization energy, and how many electrons does it have in each shell?"
"Neon. Two, eight. Because its stability led people to overestimate it compared to helium," I instantly answered.
Then she asked another question, but now without any urgency in her voice, already resigned to the absence of an easy way out of the mine rabbit hole.
"Name the central theme of both of Noether's theorems in a single word."
"Symmetry."
I answered instantly.
She fell silent.
"Third question?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"Then, if you don't mind, let's return to the main topic. Did the step-siblings tell you about my offers?"
"Yes," Annette sighed, finally fully letting her back rest against the sofa. "According to them, they told me everything they knew. And because you asked them to. Is that true?" She studied my face carefully as she spoke.
"Yes. That's true."
"Then I'd like to thank you for such trust. And ask you to repeat the offers."
I nodded and repeated everything I had told the step-siblings the day before, occasionally answering Annette's follow-up questions.
⸻⸻x⸻⸻
"I don't want to sound ungrateful," Annette said, "but I don't understand why you need me? Despite what the movie showed, I'm not rich, and I'm not a genius. You may be right about my looks, but I doubt that's all you want from me."
"A better question: why do you think that, out of all possible universes, I chose one containing two social manipulators?"
"Charming Socialite," quipped Sebastian.
"You want me to keep an eye on them?"
"Close. Here's another hint. Do I strike you as someone who would hand power to an ambitious addict?"
"Hey! I'm not an addict!" Kathryn protested. "What you saw in the movie was just a rare... entertainment!"
"You want me to help Kathryn rehabilitate?" Annette asked uncertainly.
"No."
"I want you to become her sister."
Absolute silence followed.
Sebastian was the first to break it by bursting into laughter.
Then came Annette's hesitant question, "Figuratively?"
And finally, Kathryn's cold voice: "I don't need any handlers. I already flushed everything down the toilet yesterday and don't buy more. I'm serious."
"No. Not figuratively. Not really. I literally want you to become the closest people in each other's lives. At least as long as I visit this reality."
Under many circumstances, something like that would have been foolish, unreasonable, manipulative, even cruel.
I wasn't under those circumstances.
Between my pre-transmigration experience and the knowledge provided by Self-Therapy, I had a fairly good understanding of what I was doing and the risks involved.
Kathryn had an ideal need for something like this. A very long list of environmental, social models, emotional, objective, obviously bisexual, and other needs.
Annette's personality was ideal for satisfying such needs with complementary ones. Hosted in a completely opposite archetype, yet very accommodating one, and with the same quality of mind. Which was so rare in fiction that I would have been a complete moron not to take advantage of an opportunity to unite two opposites into a whole.
And I needed a stable, reliable bridgehead in the universe that I planned to use as an anchor to my past. As a better version of my first world.
"We never agreed to anything like that," Stated Kathryn. And, to emphasize her point, touched my foot with her foot, once again confirming that, among other things, she was a kinesthetic learner. That was a great addition to her impressive improvisational abilities.
"No. But we also never agreed that nothing like that would happen.
And frankly, I don't understand why you're so upset. Isn't this your golden opportunity to finally obtain something capable of holding my interest in you? Through your 'redemption.'
Because of my limited time, in the only possible form of it, by proxy.
Do you really want to throw away that chance simply because you're afraid of something new and want even more? The impossible?"
Kathryn just froze. Perhaps because there were too many contradictions between her goals, desires, and priorities.
"I take back what I said yesterday about the movie's ending," Sebastian said cheerfully. "This is— even better." He stopped immediately after catching my disapproving look and realizing this wasn't the best moment for his feud with Kathryn.
I continued talking with Annette. "Not that you're really obliged to comply with such a proposal. It's just what I want. What I sincerely believe would benefit both of you."
"What exactly does this 'sisterhood' mean?" Kathryn asked defensively.
"To become the closest people in each other's lives. That is far too complex and unpredictable a concept to define precisely.
But I'll explain the most obvious part. I want Annette to make Kathryn's ambitions less shortsighted and egocentric. And I want Kathryn to temper Annette's excessive naivety and rigidity, which is ill-suited to her current circumstances.
Through a mutual understanding that your advantages and disadvantages are very complementary. So if your goals were aligned, you could reach them much faster and with better results."
Annette finally found her voice. "Am I understanding correctly," she asked hesitantly, visibly flustered by the obvious implications of my proposal and overall context, "that you're willing to... offer me more than to the stepsiblings in exchange for this?"
I sighed.
"Although it's beneficial to me — and, theoretically, somewhat desirable — I don't particularly enjoy this kind of negotiation.
Bending someone's will by using their virtues as vulnerabilities. Even if it's 'just' through excessive leverage and with preaching about free will.
I spent a long time thinking about it. And I decided it would be better to just add this part to our Relational Contract.
Yes. I promise that the more productive and convenient our cooperation would be for me, the more motivated I'll be to reciprocate. In your case, and only in your case, with possibilities for... more global requests and with the capacity to veto global changes you would consider too radical.
And yes, from certain perspectives that's hypocritical, but... it's... it's like a children's construction set with a handful of blocks.
My wants. My needs. My risks. The same for you. Our extremely unusual circumstances.
Yes, I assembled an ugly duck from them. But it's the best I could assemble from them right now." I tried to explain a maddening reality through a maddening metaphor, starting to understand why humanity had chosen poetry and riddles to describe the most complicated aspects of existence.
Annette thought about it for a while. Then she let out a heavy sigh and, with sarcasm, quoted her virginity manifesto: "Making a mature decision... Okay. Assume you're right... And how am I supposed to know that you won't just... lose interest and disappear after a few days or weeks?"
"If I suddenly disappear, it will probably mean I'm dead... which isn't unlikely, given my circumstances. But that's actually a very good question...
Let's say I encrypt socially valuable information into a program that will use data about future major solar flares as a decryption key. If I vanish, you'll receive part of what you want from me, albeit in the distant future."
⸻⸻x⸻⸻
We spent some more time discussing the details of my proposal. Eventually, Annette looked directly into my eyes and seriously stated, more for herself than for me: "People do not exist for beliefs. Beliefs exist for people. When circumstances change, and good beliefs become bad ones, you have to acknowledge that and replace them with better ones." Then her stare intensified, and she stated part for me, "Max, I'm putting my trust in your hands and accept both of your offers."
Then she held out her hand, and after the handshake, all four of us just relaxed on the couch.
"Great! I'm so glad for you, sis!" Kathryn chirped and ruined the blissful silence. "Now let's go find the last piece of our Voltron, right?"
"Cecile? I really hope not," Sebastian added, giving me a questioning look.
"No," I reassured them. "At least not for the next... week." I paused, thinking about the next topic. "Now we're going to do Better Feminism."