Episode 4 - Owned

[00:00:00] Speaker A: Lovers of horror, fans of mystery, welcome to JB's radio show, the one and only place for original fiction written and narrated by JB Cross himself and guest authors. For the amusement of all you creepy crawlies out there, we've got a great tale pulled out of the trunk for you as we lead up to the release of our first special event. But first, a word from today's sponsor. [00:00:25] Speaker B: Are your claws hardening as you get older? Are they getting brittle and easily chipping? No need to suffer, my friends. We have technology that can help. Introducing the Claw Spa, the once a night treatment which doctor approved for treating age hardening claws. Each morning after you return from your hunt and take up your favorite resting position, just dip your claws into the bubbling wall of the spa and feel the relief almost immediately. No more troublesome hardening. No more annoying trips to the witch doctor. Just easy, fast relief for your aching claws. Ask your witch doctor if Clawspa is right for you and order yours today. [00:01:12] Speaker C: Clawspa is not available in every region. Check with your HMO before ordering, as some do not cover maintenance costs not for use, impatience with fin rotation. [00:01:23] Speaker B: And now our feature presentation Owned. [00:01:33] Speaker C: There'S just no two Ways around It Fog is hard to see through. That was the first reason Evan had a difficult time figuring out where he was. He stumbled, but caught himself on a leafy branch before he hit the ground. That was good, because the ground felt hard and jagged under his feet. Hitting that would have hurt. He pressed onward, his mind blank and spinning, his arms outstretched and groping at the empty air. The groping didn't stop him from stumbling, but it gave him a chance to catch himself again. So when he finally reached the edge of the fog, he'd only gone down twice. Of course, twice was enough to open a shallow gash from elbow to wrist and split open his chin. Regardless, when he climbed out of the little depression filled with fog, he saw a town just ahead. He didn't know what the town was or why it was there. He barely remembered his own name, but he breathed a sigh of relief anyway. He also realized that it looked familiar. The little houses sprouted up in rows that lined both sides of a narrow street. They were all the same shape and size. The earmark of Constructor Corporation. Evan paused on the edge of a house's backyard. He wasn't sure how he knew what Constructor Corporation was, but he knew it and its sister companies were subsidiaries of Developmental Intergalactic Newtonian Incorporated engineers, better known as Disney. Disney owned everything, didn't they? He shook his head to clear the mental fog, and bolted into the yard, relieved just to be near civilization, no matter who owned it. His relief was why Evan didn't notice that all the houses were dark. It's also why he didn't notice the roof turret that tracked his movement across the lawn, at least until it started to shoot at him. Lucky for Evan, the security turret, while expensive, wasn't well calibrated. The first few bullets went wide, blowing holes in the lawn, but only superficially, cutting Evans calves with shrapnel. He dove into the bushes, breaking the turret's line of sight before it could adjust its aim. He lay frozen in the tangled branches of the hedge, peeking through the leaves to the roof mounted security turret. He laid there long enough to catch his breath and for the turret to resume its standard scan of the front and back yard, then slipped out of the bush. He stayed low to the ground, crawling on hands and knees. He hoped the turret would mistake him for an animal. His luck held, and he made it around the side of the house to the sidewalk without getting shot. He stood, brushed the filth from the front of his denim shorts with bloodied, scratched hands, and gave the turret the finger. The turret couldn't see him anymore. It was at least calibrated as per Securicor standard to only monitor the confines of one specific residence. He was safe as long as he remained beyond the property line. Evan turned slowly, looking up and down the street. It was then that he noticed the oddities of the neighborhood. Every house was dark. Not even the glow of lights, decorations, or late night shenanigans showed only the street lamps and the scanning turrets. One on every house demonstrated the presence of electricity. There was also something missing, and after a moment he realized what it was. There was supposed to be a beach. He didn't know why he thought there should be, but he knew it was supposed to be there. Yet this neighborhood was far too cold and clearly landlocked. He looked down at his clothes. He was even dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, denim shorts, and Sandals. It was 40 degrees at best. Who would dress like that if he did not go to halt? Intruder, said a mechanical voice. Evan jerked and spun to find adjusticore Corporation securitron 6000 trundling toward him. It was roughly humanoid, but with only a single leg centered on its lower half, ending on a wheel. Its upper body was broad and bristled with extended weapons. Evan raised his hands. Wait. Please. I need the Securitron fired a single laser blast six inches above his head. Evan's hair singed down the middle of his scalp, and he fell to his knees. Stop, please. He cried. The front of his denim shorts grew dark and wet with urine. First warning shot issued, Securitron declared. It came to a stop two feet in front of Evan. Do not resist. I'm not resisting. Evan bawled. Please don't hurt me. What is your identification? Securitron asked. I I I think I'm Evan. Evan Fielding, he replied. Lie flat for search. Evan Fielding, securitron instructed. Evan obeyed, and long, probing arms extended from Securitron to scan and poke at him. State purpose, said Securitron. I don't Evan broke off to swallow, and his dry throat clicked. I don't know. I just woke up out there in the woods. Securitron poked him hard in the ribs and Evan yelped as bone popped. State Purpose. I don't know. Evan bawled. His hand crept down to his side where his rib had crept, but Securitron's extended arm grasped both of his wrists and jerked them to the small of his back. Evan's shoulder cracked with the force of the jerk, and he yelped again. You are taken into custody of the neighborhood 79482 for trespassing. Authorities will arrive at approximately two standard days, securitron informed him in the same robotic voice. Securitron's extended arms hefted Evan into the air by the scruff of his neck. The robot carried him like that all the way down the street to a tiny shack next to a teleporter pad. Inside the small building, Securitron dumped Evan onto a cot in a 4x4 holding cell and slammed the door closed. Then the robot retreated to an alcove in the corner and remained motionless. Evan whimpered and cried. Then he kicked the bars and screamed. The Securitron remained motionless. Exhausted and confused, Evan fell back against his cot to stare out of the tiny barred window. A Teleport Corporation teleporter pad stood outside. Evan didn't know how he knew what it was, but he knew. He sat frowning at it until he fell asleep and dreamed about a man on a beach vacation. Vacation with his wife and two teenage children. He woke to rough banging on the bars. The robot stood just outside the cell, a medical bag in one arm, a bowl of what looked like gray sludge in the other. To Evan's horror, a spoon protruded from the sludge. I'm not eating that, evan said. You must eat it or I must feed you, securitron replied. First, I will tend your medical needs. Evan shook his head. His shoulder ached. Every breath was Agony because of his rib and the scratches and cuts on his arms burned. He wasn't about to let some machine make it worse. I don't want your medical attention. Call a doctor. Negative. Securitron opened the cell and rolled in. The robot's massive upper body dominated the small space. Medical and nutritional needs of prisoners must be met. Try to relax. Music, elevator music of the off key saxophone variety began to emanate from somewhere on the robot. Oh, for Christ's sake, turn it off. Evan cried. He tried to put his hands on his ears, but one arm refused to move and Securitron's extending arms grabbed the other wrist. The robot pinned Evan against the wall, grasped his injured arm above the elbow, and jerked upward on a limb. His shoulder popped and the ache turned to a knife cutting burn. Evan screamed and tried but failed to thrash back and forth. Remain still, securitron instructed. Go to hell, evan replied. There, there, securitron said, its robotic tone anything but comforting. You will feel better when you are sedated. No, evan said. Please, no. Stop. One of Securitron's arms extended with a syringe and plunged the needle into his side. He felt the needle go deep, strike bone, and felt a disembodied snap. Then he began to go numb along his right side. There, there, securitron said in the same cold, mechanical voice. The anesthetic will reduce your pain. Evan whimpered. Blackness closed on the edges of his vision, slowly dominating everything. The last Evan saw before he passed out was Securitron's extending arm driving a spoonful of gray sludge at his face. When he woke up again, Evan was in a new place. The ceiling, walls, and floor were stark white. The bed underneath him was firm but comfortable. The man in the lab cup standing over him smiled. How are you feeling, Mr. Fielding? The doctor asked. Evan tried to reply, but only managed a hoarse croak. That's alright. The sedative you were administered can confuse the throat muscles and vocal cords. Full function should return in a few days. The doctor smiled and patted his shoulder. Do you have any idea what happened? Evan shook his head, frowning. You and your family teleported to the Centauri Prime Beach Resort three days ago. They arrived safely, but you were diverted en route. The doctor held up a small display showing lines going between circles on a black background. One line skewed away from three others. Teleporter reflections happen every now and then, unfortunately. Thankfully, we got lucky this time. You landed on the Betelgeuse Winter Resort rather than some random star. Betelgeuse is empty this time of year, but our security force managed to keep you safe in hand. The doctor chuckled, but Evan shuddered. Your family is here to see you. Are you ready to see them? The doctor didn't wait for a reply before turning and opening the door. A familiar looking woman led two teenagers into the room. The teens stared at their handheld Entertainicore Corporation viewers and the woman glanced nervously from the doctor to Evan. His memory is still hit and miss, ma'am. That's common with this reflection type incident. He's lucid and recovering though, the doctor announced. The teenagers gave half hearted smiles. The woman approached the bed cautiously. Hi sweetie, she said. How are you feeling? Evan could only croak at her. Her smile became tremulous but held. She patted his chest. I'm glad you're okay, sweetie. Another loving reunion, the doctor said. Then he snapped his fingers as if he'd forgot something and fished something out of his lab coat pocket. Oh, I almost forgot. A Teleport Corporation representative asked me to pass these along. They wanted to make up for the mishap, so they wanted to give you each a complimentary transportation voucher to any gold location listed. The teens glanced up at this and the woman's eyebrows raised. They accepted the vouchers eagerly. Oh, can we go back to the beach, Mom? The girl asked. The woman glanced at Evan. Once your father is recovered, maybe. The teenager's smile soured and she turned her attention back to the entertainment viewer. An orderly stepped into the room. I think you folks should head on back to the waiting deck, the doctor said. It's time to change Mr. Fielding's food and waste extraction tubes. And that's not a not a pretty sight. The women and teens crinkled their noses, said their goodbyes, and left the room. As the orderly set about his work changing bags and tubes under the bed, the doctor leaned back down to Evan. On behalf of our parent company, Disney, we're thankful for your discretion, he said quietly, whispering in Evan's ears as he slipped a golden piece of paper under Evan's hand. Please accept 100 credits off your medical expenses. Evan's eyes widened at the mention of a discount and he glanced at the doctor's name tag. It read gelding Benjamin, M.D. medicore Corporation. I'm sure the rest can be financed, the doctor whispered. Evan didn't understand how he knew, but he had a feeling Disney owned him now. 2 well, wasn't that fun? So sad. It's over. Never to fear. We've got another episode coming up soon. Next time we'll watch a woman sink fully into madness. How fun. [00:15:37] Speaker A: In the meantime, check out our website, jbcrausauthor.com to find JB's work in print and more episodes of the podcast. Make sure you also keep up with us on X, Facebook, Pinterest, Instagram, and TikTok so you know when our special events and new episodes are coming. In fact, drop us a line while you're there. Give us a spooky or a fun idea. We'll spin it into a nice yarn just for you. Until then, remember friends, don't be too loud at night. Always lock your doors and never stare at the moon. JB's radio show is produced and copyrighted by the Koteria of North America. All rights reserved.