Under his thumb

Her father had owned his own flight school, her mother had been a fashionable model. Both were heirs to very wealthy families. They were wonderfully handsome, wonderfully superficial, the kind of people to whom life smiled by handing them banknotes. They were born with money and continued to earn it as if it were their due. In other words, they were given money without doing much to get it. They were introduced to good business opportunities, their friends gave them cars, insider tips on how to invest their money. They were even given vacation homes for nothing. 

All of them lived in a permanent vacation atmosphere, surrounded by party friends, transfixed by the radiant beauty of their parents. 

The father was a Dom juan, handsome as a Greek god, smiling, seductive, a little fat. The mother was a beauty queen, whose frivolity was matched only by her worldliness. There were many parties in the house, and a few partouzes as well. That's where we spotted them, with the kid.

She had been born in the upper class, surrounded by superficial and carefree friends, living a carefree life, perhaps a little too liberal. 

Her parents were nice, they liked her, but they liked themselves a lot. They didn't take much care of her. 

After an elementary education in a school in the best neighborhoods, she continued her education in an international college. She did not work much, she was rich and beautiful. She was left alone, she went out with friends, she flirted early, she smoked cannabis. 

It was in her last year of college that K got into the game. He was the father of a classmate, he met her officially at a birthday party. She did not realize anything, she was not fourteen years old. K, a bank manager, was part of the world's elite, the ones who had planned the New Order.

He was struck by the fact that she had the ideal beauty characteristics defined by his caste. She had the qualities to become a breeder, to spend her life in a breeding center providing her eggs for the exogenous breeding of a new race of humans destined to be genetically augmented. That was their thing, their obsession: to create a superhuman elite, beautiful and intelligent.

But K. did not want that: he wanted it for himself. He was important and influential enough within the elite to impose his whim on his friends. 

So he managed to follow her more and more closely, anonymously buying out her father's club, taking over the casting agencies that employed her mother. 

Quickly, he managed to become an intimate of his parents, supplying the father with chicks and providing more and more coke to the mother and her girlfriends. He managed, by employing prostitutes, coke, "friends", to break up the family unit.

Through his various providers and servants, he gradually took control of the interests of the family of the girl and was brought "naturally" to watch over her, as a friend. He took her in. His parents let him do this, being bought with a thousand gifts, a thousand favors. 

They became more and more absent, then disappeared for good when K had them physically eliminated. When he had control over her, no one had anything to say, she had become his thing.

When the COVID health crisis broke out, she was barely sixteen years old. She was deflowered by a guy who was under K's orders and who was in charge of preparing her for her future role. This man was a professional, a kind of master in sensuality who educated her exhaustively. He disappeared when his mission was accomplished. 

Of course, K had supervised the whole operation. K was already a bit old, he enjoyed what he made him do. K loved to manipulate people, to possess people and their destinies. 

The young woman was given several "training courses", with total disregard for her psychological balance. She was made to consume drugs that made her sensual, almost nymphomaniac. She offered herself to the pleasure of others. Before her twenties, she was a lost girl, totally given over to the fantasies of K and her friends.

From the first health crisis, she received medical treatment to resist the multiple bio-genetic attacks that were to decimate the world population. She was never vaccinated. They wanted to keep her alive.

She was transported to a huge estate in Patagonia, where K. lived with many of her oligarch friends. It was a secluded place, equipped with all comforts, an island of tranquility and prosperity in a world given over to massacres on all sides. 

For years, she lived there, in the midst of billionaires who threw party after party and lived in opulence, while the planet was on fire and blood. 

She was not aware of anything, she lived in a perverted world, docile and complacent to sex in all its forms. 

It must be said that she was conditioned to be voluntary, even militant. The goal of K and his friends was not to make her like a zombie. She had to agree, to demand what they wanted to do to her. She had to ask for more. She was young and remarkably conditioned.

All the girls who were with her had the same profile: exceptional physiques, young, cheerful, fun-loving girls, not cerebral...

Sometimes, however, some of them would break down, start crying, calling everyone names. They disappeared immediately. 

One of them, Martha, had become a friend. The two of them made love, were crazy about each other.

Then one day Martha started to cry. They talked and talked and Martha finally confessed that she wasn't taking their pills, that her parents wouldn't have approved of what she was doing, that they were losing their minds, etc.

K and the others had spotted the change. They understood that this kid was no longer under their control.

It was the first time she had caught such a terrifying look in K's eyes. He was no longer the joking grandpa, he was no longer smiling. He was no longer smiling, but with a frightening look that could take a life with a nod of the head. 

She was afraid he would look at her with that look. She begged Martha to pull herself together. "Don't you understand that this won't last, that they're screwing us while we're young."  Martha replied, "Don't you see this is an asylum for old perverts. What the hell are we doing here?"

The day after this discussion, Martha was gone. No one spoke of it again.

After Martha was eliminated, she went back on the pills. She couldn't have kept it up.

Several years passed. She kept up her role, going from house to house, from party to party. She was appreciated, she trained other girls, she became the muse of other men. She was appreciated. 

During her commissioned trips, she saw other places, glimpsed production units, overheard conversations between people of the elite that she pretended not to understand. She got an idea of the whole.

She realized, little by little, what they were doing. The Earth was emptied of its inhabitants, the survivors were, for the most part, parked in these production units, reduced to the rank of slaves. These poor people, lobotomized, had become incapable of conceiving the slightest independent thought.

She understood that they had reduced humanity to a mass of servants with a limited lifespan, exhausted by the task, dehumanized.

On the other side of the globalist curtain, she saw the people of the hyper-class pursuing an unattainable dream. Some participated out of ambition, submission, worldliness, sometimes out of ignorance. If they had problems of conscience, they were immediately eliminated, as mercilessly as rebels. 

In the end, a few old fools, like K, concentrated most of the power in their hands, in the midst of a globalist community that increasingly doubted the final interest of this dystopia, but submitted in fear and resignation. 

The dream of eternity came up against essential philosophical questions. Their offspring, born in machines, deprived of organic links, deprived of love and human warmth, committed suicide. All of them took drugs until they died, many were taken by destructive madness, killing everything in their path. 

These haughty and contemptuous elites were unable to stop the world's population from falling. Humans, enslaved, psychologically destroyed, could not survive their physical and moral pain. It was clear that despair was killing people as much as hope could have made them live.

World production was falling, no one wanted to survive, to work, to produce. Factories were closing down, servants were missing, food was getting worse. The status of billionaires was falling.

Only a few rebel communities, unfortunately composed mostly of people condemned in the short term by the effects of bacteriological attacks, survived in the most inaccessible places of the planet. But these sick people had managed to preserve the essential: their dignity and their freedom.

The project of a humanity controlled by artificial intelligence had become a nightmare. The elite knew that they were doomed in the medium term, but they preferred to go through with it and drag the whole of humanity towards its twilight than to give back the freedom they had deprived the rest of humanity of. It was tragic, it was cruel, it was Faust's gift.

In the mists of her personal wreckage, she suddenly became aware of all this. It was very hard, intolerable. 

She asked to see K again.

He misunderstood her intentions and invited her to join him at his house in Patagonia. She had not seen him for years. He had changed a lot, despite the surgery. He received her with eagerness and excitement. Sitting on his chair, he immediately wanted her to masturbate him, "for old times' sake". She executed this gesture with a smile, without any qualms. She had practiced it so much.

In the middle of the operation, she asked: "Why did you have them killed?"

- Who? Who are you talking about?

- My parents, Martha, all the people you looked at without smiling...

He looked at her, surprised. How dare she?

She grabbed his purse, squeezed with all her might. 

Maybe she had a chance. The bodyguard had to look away from this sordid scene.

He grumbled, wanted to seize her hand. He wanted to shout. She threw a dry blow on his throat. She had trained herself, he collapsed. 

She still had time to strike his cervical vertebrae with all her strength, with the elbow. She felt that she had broken something. She had practiced for months on cinder blocks and beams. She had endured the pain and the bruises to succeed in this mission, probably her last.

The bodyguard opened the door, rushed into the room and immediately put a bullet in her head. It didn't matter, she had avenged her people. She had avenged her own ruined life, without getting any satisfaction from it.

She had been chosen for the pleasure of K and his friends. She had survived, and yet none of the seconds she had gained over the billions sacrificed to the New World Order had been a privilege.