Exhibits
Clive and Nina
Clive had lived in New York for 15 years and had never been to The MET. He thought it was a tourist trap, worth skipping like so many of the city’s famous landmarks (the less said about the day wasted on going to the Statue of Liberty and not getting in, the better).
But he had to it, the museum was actually pretty good. The Egyptian wing was genuinely worth the trip by itself. Guess that’s what he got for having preconceptions.
Nina had been here before, of course. She’d been everywhere.
“You’ve lived in New York twice as long as me and you’ve never been here before?” she exclaimed when they came in an hour before. “Next thing you know you’ll tell me you’ve never seen the life-sized blue whale at the Natural History Museum.”
He looked at her sheepishly. She rolled her eyes and told him they were going after they were done here if it was still open.
Now, after getting lost in some byzantine series of back hallways they were here, in an exhibit that wasn’t on any of the guides, and didn’t seem to have a name.
The room was filled wall to wall with filth, both metaphorical and literal. Hundreds of pieces lined each side of the room showing every manner of pornography and erotic art. The middle of the room was filled with abstract and realistic obscene statues, and dildo pedestals. And at the far end sat six naked people, a stained carpet that was emitting an acrid smell, and an attendant who looked like he worked for the museum.
Nina was scanning around the room.
“I don’t think this exhibit has a fire exit,” she said. “Unsafe.”
The attendant was in the process of putting two large glossy photo posters up on the wall on spaces that Clive now noticed had been left blank. It looked like he was still adding stuff here. Guess they beat the official opening. Video screens in the same section played loops of people Clive could now see were the couples on the couch.
Just then the attendant noticed them and hurried over.
“Ah, new guests! The exhibit isn’t officially open yet, but now that you’re here, why don’t I show you around!” he said.
“Sure, why don’t you show us what you’re showing off here,” Nina replied, gesturing around the room. “I don’t know that this is exactly, or what we expected when we got lost in the hallways back there, but it’s always good to have an expert explain art to you.”
The man smiled, introduced himself as Ethan (both an attendant and a curator), and took them around the room. The next ten minutes were an intensive catalog of all of the pieces, including incisive questions from Nina about where Ethan had sourced some of the more obscure ones that Clive would have never thought of. One particular installation had BDSM gear from all across the world, including an array of at least 20 different handcuffs.
Finally, they got to the back corner and the newly hung poster photos. Ethan seemed genuinely proud of these.
Closer up, Clive could see now the intricate framing and intentional control of aesthetics in each image. Formally, they were, honestly, excellent. Doubly impressive since he was pretty sure they were just shot and printed.
“So what do you think of the exhibit?” Ethan asked them.
“It’s all a little bit gauche don’t you think?” Nina said dismissively.
Ethan faltered for a second.
“Well, it’s better than the ones that just set up a harem or some random fucktrain,” Clive replied. “I mean that guy last month who did nothing but knock up his sisters? There’s at least some creativity and effort put into this.”
“I guess,” she said. She was unconvinced.
“I’m sorry, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Ethan sputtered, sounding unsure of what was going on. “I’m sure you’d like to contribute some art to the exhibit.”
“Well there is one thing I’d like to show off. Abracadabra, my art!” Nina said with a flourish and spreading her arms toward Ethan. Ethan looked down to realize he had handcuffed himself unknowingly when they ed the BDSM exhibit.
“Oh, fuck. Oh shit, oh fuck,” he said quietly.
“Yeah, doesn’t feel great, does it buddy?” Nina replied.
“Abracadabra, my art?” Clive looked at her questioningly. “I seriously don’t think you have a leg to stand on busting his balls partner.”
“Yeah, yeah, everyone’s a critic,” Nina said, starting to lead Ethan away. “You got the rest of this while I get this joker out to the van?”
“Yeah, I’ll clean up the mess,” Clive replied, turning to the six other people in the room, three couples who were still mostly nude and were now staring at him with mild confusion.
As Nina led Ethan out the door, he could hear her fading voice say “Okay, stop that jackass. Using your power on me is like a mouse trying to bite a bear. The mouse is lucky if the bear just ignores it, you get me?”
Clive sighed and let his mind spread out to the six in front of him. Right on the surface he got their names. Then the events of the past few hours. Then below that Ethan’s meddling.
Despite Clive legitimately appreciating Ethan’s level of effort and creativity, his technique was basic at best. There wasn’t much to the control he imposed except for some relatively simple blanket directives:
- “What you see in this room is normal and does not offend you,”
- “You have no inhibitions, if inhibitions prevent you from making art,”
- “You want to contribute something real to this exhibition,”
- “You have a high tolerance for physical discomfort,”
- And, of course (because always, of course), “You are horny.”
Cancelling all of that out would be easy. Harder would be the process of erasing their memories of the past few hours and not have them go crazy with incongruities and lost time. Mucking with memories is always easier if you have the person’s consent, so Clive weaved in a pair of simple directives of his own: “You are calm and composed despite anything that might be distressing,” and “You need to stay here until Clive tells you it’s safe to leave.”
With that in place, he erased Ethan’s directives.
“Oh … oh wow,” Emily said, as if coming out of a sleep.
“Uhhhhhhhh, what the hell?” David said. “Seriously what the fuck?”
“Hi, hello,” Clive started. “My name is Clive David, and I am a member of an organization called The Agents of Change. As you can probably surmise, reconciling your returning common sense with your memories of the past few hours, mind control is real, and a man named Ethan Decker used it on you. I’m here to help you forget this ever happened and get on with your lives.”
There was a moment of silence, then Samantha put up her hand.
“Yes, Samantha,” Clive pointed at her.
“Why are we so calm? How did you know my name?”
Clive gave her a withering look.
“Well okay Mr. Jackass, you don’t have to be such a jerk about it,” she said in response.
Janet put up her hand. Why do they always put up their hands? Clive nodded toward her.
“When you say ‘help you forget this ever happened,’ you mean that literally, yes?” she asked.
Clive realized the chair the pregnant woman was sitting on had her embedded on a giant dildo. He was surprised she hadn’t gotten up. Maybe she didn’t want to disturb her wife, whose head was still sitting in her lap.
“Yes, quite literally.”
“Okay, blank us now!” Samantha said. “I want this all out of my head.”
“Are you sure hun?” David asked, leaning toward her. “Those photos are some of your best work in years.”
At that moment Clive actually recognized her: Samantha Horton, renowned portrait photographer. Ethan must have drawn her and her husband in somehow.
“Oh fuck off, yes, blank us right now!”
Clive didn’t have to be told twice, he felt the openness from both of them, the willing compliance of a mind that was ready to meet him half way to fill in the gaps and make the imaginary day he was weaving for them make sense.
“It was nice meeting you all,” David said to the other two couples before his face went slack and blank. Both he and Samantha quietly gathered up their clothes and started dressing. By the time they were at the front entrance they would have forgotten that they were here entirely, memories from the rest of the day expanded to fill in the gaps.
“Okay, who’s next?” Clive asked, tired. Third rogue this month. “You two?” he said, pointing at Emily and Miles.
“No,” Emily said quietly. “No, I need to . We need to .”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“That was the hottest thing we’ve ever done. I want to it. I want the poster. I want the video. I’m proud of it.”
“Lady, you were mind controlled. Those memories are basically another person driving your body. You shouldn’t have them.”
“No,” Emily was louder now, more emphatic, and very sure. “He might have lowered our inhibitions and amped us up, but that was us! I can see it clearly. That. Was. Us. Don’t take that from us.”
Clive thought back to the relatively simple directives he’d removed from their heads. She was right.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Miles was smiling at Emily and whispering something to her. She laughed and smiled back at him.
“Okay, lady, but I’m going to put in a limiter so you all can’t talk to anyone about it. Now get dressed, get your poster and the videos and get out of here.”
The limiter was actually easier and faster than the memory modification.
“Us too,” Clive heard a whisper from behind him. He looked over and Morgan had stirred and was looking right at him. “We have to keep our memories too.”
Clive threw his hands up.
“It isn’t just that it was hot, even though it was,” Morgan said looking up at Janet. “It’s that it showed me something about who I am. Who Janet is. And what total surrender and command means between us. We can’t lose that.”
“Also, there a really good chance that David fucked a baby into Morgan, and I’d much rather we how that happened, if everything else is equal,” Janet said.
Well, she had him there.
“I did always say that it was my turn next, I just thought I’d have 18 months,” Morgan laughed.
“Okay, okay, same deal. Keep the memories, limiter so you can’t tell anyone,” he conceded.
Janet grabbed the back of Morgan’s hair and yanked. The wives eyes met with an intense heat.
“Also, I think this bull needs the video and poster to help her how she was broken,” Janet said imperiously. Then she started laughing. “Okay, someone needs to help me off this fucking dildo. No way I can stand up on my own. It’s so big!”
It all happened relatively quickly then. They got dressed and started clearing out. He actually ended up letting them just straight up take Ethan’s cameras and computer. Fucker deserved to lose them anyway.
After the two remaining couples had left, Clive flicked off the recirculating semen fountain (only in New York), turned off the lights and locked the door with a key he had gotten Ethan to hand him the moment he walked over to them. The rest was the mundane cleanup crew’s job.
Now to find Nina and see that blue whale.