Natsumi and Hayato ended up on the couch. He had his arm around her, and she wasn’t sure when that had happened. She felt strange, like the air around her was heavy liquid beating down on her, turning everything anyone said into distorted echoes. She was warm. Really warm. She had probably had too much to drink. Hayato was grabbing the back of her head, turning her towards him, and kissing he on the lips. Time was syrupy and variable, the movement of his head to hers passing in a milisecond and the kiss lasting hours. She felt her hands go up to clasp the back of his head and hold him to her without her command or consent. She felt distantly alarmed that parts of her body were mutinying. Natsumi supposed she should try kissing back. After all, every other girl liked kissing boys, would be thrilled to be in this position. But it was like kissing a fish. Everything felt wrong — there was just something about the subtle proportions of the face, the rapacious tongue, the stubble that. From any distance greater than about a foot they looked like the perfect white marble that came from the quarry. It was only up close that you could see the tiniest of cracks outlining a small square panel. Freddie pressed it and it swung open. Inside an array of small dials gave the vital data; beats per minute, blood pressure, oxygen content, respiration rate. The needles on the gauges all pointed to the green sector on their dials, the occupant of the block was fine. Beside the gauges was a locked switch. Freddie took his key and opened it. Pressing the button withdrew catches with a clunking sound. The top of the block lifted slightly.Freddie lifted off the false lid of the block. Inside, helplessly secured and plumbed in to the block's various systems, was Helen. Thinking about Helen's situation, Freddie recalled the story of the wooden horse. This was much the same idea, he felt, but an altogether more peaceful application of the concept.The sedative that they gave the girls.
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