The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Last of the Independents

Prologue—When everything changed.

Well I’m here to remind you, of the mess you left when you went away.
“You Outta Know” — Alanis Morrisette

London, England—2001

This is a tale of everything that makes mankind the most destructive animal on the planet. This is a tale of growth and deconstruction, of wealth and greed, of our old friends sex, lies and audiotape. This is a tale of control and theft. This is a tale of love and loss, and never being able to love at all. This is a tale of stolen dreams, shattered memories, water’s value over diamonds, and of a girl’s best friend.

This is the tale of a world that everyone knows and no one dares admit. It’s about twenty-five grams of plastic and a platinum-toothed trap, cut by a laser into an iridescent pattern that drives cats crazy. It’s about a wasteland of talent, mindless idiots by nature, elegantly wasted by design. It’s about little lies, the false face of sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

But it’s really about legacy, and a living dead girl, and how the dead are more alive than the living. Legacy is a gift, and this is why I do this now.

The cursor at the end of the paragraph blinked at the blonde, reflecting in her eyes with the blood lust of a woman scorned. She smiled at the footsteps of her partner behind her and turned to see the look of concern on the other woman’s face.

“You’re gonna be a target, Sasha. A big target. Seriously, creating a network to distribute music and destroy... their profits. You’ll be bleached off the face of the earth by Tuesday,” the black-haired Latina said over the blonde’s shoulder but the blonde remained steely-eyed, ready to launch her new program.

“Melinda, Melinda, Melinda, we are not in Hollywood anymore. We’re just a couple of Eastenders who happen to talk funny and live in the apart- er, flat above an old recording studio. We’re nothing. The content will come from millions of users. If you kill one, you have to start going after all of them, and someone will notice if they go after the entire population of Cleveland. You agreed with me when she... sold out. If you want the safety of that world, I’m sure they’ll hire you to put a little cream in their coffee during the day and let you hang out with her at night. I’m sure her kisses will be just as sweet and her arms just as warm if you ignore that she’s no longer anything but their little puppet,” Sasha reminded her partner in crime.

“She- they- it- them- that Voldemort thing for Senate Records- ay de Dios, I can hardly say those words without throwing up in the back of my mouth for what they did, but Sasha, she’s no she to me, she’s still Christy Reed, queen of the industry for 12 years and on top of the world when she sold out. So we know it wasn’t her decision. You were with her for seven years. She knew the day would come, no matter how hard she tried. I try to think she’s at peace, no longer running, no longer scared, no longer climbing the walls,” Melinda said.

“Then you see her again, with the rainbow hair and the cutoff shorts and the boob job, and she opens her mouth and raps in that angel’s voice. Her. Doing hop-hop. Whatever that thing is, it’s no longer our Christy, and they still have so far down to take her. Maybe they’ll just destroy that shell and call it a drug overdose. I can hope for a little mercy in this world, can’t I?” Sasha asked, on the verge of tears.

“You know punking the industry won’t bring her back, or any of the others they’ve destroyed.”

“No, but it might keep them from being strong enough to take anyone else down. Maybe someone as talented as Christie was won’t have to resort to the measures she did to keep herself for so long,” Sasha said with a sigh, uploading her speech as she launched the website.

“So it’s done. A new beginning from Christie’s end,” Melinda said sadly.

“Opening time,” Sasha agreed. “It’s better than anything on radio right now.”

“So it is. I just hope you’re right. We can’t afford to be wrong again.”

“I know I am. I was Christy’s publicist for long enough to know that this is what she’d do if she could- stick it to those bastards, hit them where it hurts, and hit them hard. This isn’t Napster. This is so secretive they can’t figure out what we’re doing. It will ruin them.” Sasha’s smile was all teeth and no joy.

“I know, I know, I helped create it, but it seems so- so...” Melinda trailed off with her voice shaking.

“Defiant? Turning your back on Christy? Biting the hand that feeds you? It’s still in my head too. But she’s gone, no matter what they call that thing that’s wearing her face, so it’s either go mad or get even. I’d rather get even, although we’re both going to be pretty mad by the end of this.” Sasha’s smile widened, and her eyes danced with mischief- the kind of thing Melinda hadn’t seen in over a year in hiding.

“She’s still singing to you as well, isn’t she? Well, if you’re into her rebellion, why should I wallow in her angst?” Melinda said, returning the smile.

“The timing’s perfect. These new devices will turn the world on its ear, and people will be looking to download like crazy. All that addiction the music industry tried to feed will come back and bite them in the ass. They’re going down so hard...”

“Let’s do it. For Christy Reed,” Melinda replied. She leaned over and left a lingering kiss on Sasha’s lips, one that took them both back to the beginning, when things had been simpler and more complicated at the same time.