The Kremlin; Offices of the Special Operations Directorate
“The Soviet Union thanks you for
our agreement, Comrade Director Nakatomi,” The General said to the distinguished
older Japanese man. “Your company has done a great deal to improve relations
between our two nations. We want to do more business with you later.”
“My company return your thanks, General Gogol,” The Japanese passed his briefcase
and a roll of plans to General Gogol. “The rest of shipment of the special electronics
you order has arrived with me. You like them?”
“Yes. And this plans you made for us will allow us to produce the electronic
devices we need. We hope to buy our parts for our future production of the device
from you, of course.” General Gogol looked at briefcase he gave Director Nakatomi
in return. “I hope your company finds the agreed compensation worthy of our
business?”
“We do. All the risks we have taken for this is worth it.” Director Nakatomi
said. As a high official of a very large Japanese electronics company he shouldn’t
have been in Moscow talking with somebody he thought of (rightly) as being from
the KGB, and selling the Russian advanced western electronics was even worse.
If his government or Americans found out about what his company was doing, the
company would suffer; he and other officials would likely be arrested for selling
banned goods to the Communists. But Russian gold was better than paper that
came in dollars or yen, and if Russia paid a lot of money for very special electronics
only the West could make, Nakatomi and his company was secretly happy to make
and sell them those. All at a reasonable (meaning unreasonable) profit.
“Then let us drink to the deal we have concluded today and those we will make
in future,” General Gogol gave a glass of his finest vodka to the director and
took up his own. “A toast!”
The Japanese was not happy with drinking to toast the deal. He preferred wood
aged whisky but Russian vodka wasn’t even sake and Nakatomi didn’t drink it
well. But he finished his glass and put it down with a forced smile. “A good
drink,” he lied.
“A very good vodka, Comrade. It’s a small thing I can do for everything you
do for us.”
“We try, though order was not what we deal with everyday,” Director Nakatomi
responded. “Why do you need something so small with so much battery power? We
can put more power in the radio without battery there.”
“It is something we need. A very good, powerful radio transmitter without outside
power cables or wires. Unfortunately, the Americans have been good keeping us
from getting the electronics or miniature parts to make it. And we ourselves
have had some problems designing it.”
“It was most challenging to accomplish,” Nakatomi agreed, thinking it was amazing
this nation of potato farmers had even mastered the telephone. “But with the
plans you have now and the parts you posses and those we sell you later, you
can make the devices yourself with ease. We may want to know more about what
they do so we can improve on them in future,” The Japanese asked cagily. “The
electronics you order is very different from anything we see before. Exactly
what they do?”
General Gogol smiled. He wasn’t going to tell this Japanese pirate anything
about what the Suspensor actually was. Even if he told them directly how it
could halt all bodily processes and freeze people as still as statues, Nakatomi
wouldn’t have believed him. “I have to ask my superiors about that matter. You
will be told if and when I can tell you. Besides, we will inform you when there
are changes we want on the device. You can believe that.”
Director Nakatomi didn’t look surprised. Keeping secrets was important to the
Russians and the company was getting too much money to argue. Besides, his engineers
were the best and they would find out what the mysterious devices did on their
own. They were as good at industrial espionage as his Russian counterparts were
with the more traditional kind. He smiled again, “Then we wait for our next
meeting.”
“Yes.” General Gogol stood up to end the meeting. “It is nice doing business
with you and your company again. We surely will have more business for you soon,”
He walked along with the director to the outer door of his office.
Before they reached the door, the Japanese stopped and looked at two life-sized
female stone figures posed on both sides of the door. They seemed very much
like real women, posed nude in pale unblemished marble as Greek classic statues.
His eyes took in their lush curves and beautiful faces.
He turned to the General, blushing
slightly. “You must tell me where you get sculptures like this! My company want
to decorate new London office and the artwork you have here go beautifully with
decor,” he asked. The Japanese looked curiously at the strange seam running
from the statues” private areas down their leg standing on the marble pedestal,
then appearing to vanish into the pedestal. “I don’t ever see such life-like
statues before. They look like living women painted in white.”
General Gogol smiled at the accurate description. The Japanese did not know
the statues were real women frozen by the Suspensor into their poses
and made to look like statues by artistry and careful makeup. It was the general's
conceit that he displayed two of his former concubines immobilized here for
all to see. He knew that with the new electronics the Japanese had just sold
the KGB the Suspensors could now be made smaller and better, without running
a power wire down to the transmitter. Miniaturized suspensors could now be put
in places that were much easier to conceal, even into small jewelry. The devices
would be also be much more portable, which was good for KGB... And other people.
“When we next talk, I tell you how to locate fine art like these sculptures.
You seem interested in knowing of such things.”
“Yes. Such refined beauty is much welcomed in culture.” The Japanese left the
office and went to the car, then to the airport. Inside the car he took out
a notebook and wrote down what he had seen of the frozen women in the office.
His company very much wanted to know how the Russians used the electronic devices
and the presence of those lovely statues told them the scientists had guessed
right. Maybe his company could also do something with such a technology.
General Gogol ordered the plans and electronic parts delivered to the special
research lab working on the Suspensor. Then he wrote up his report for the rest
of KGB, finished his other work, and left for his dacha. He drank more vodka
in the car. It was good day for Mother Russia, and for him, because of the Suspensor.
Russia would get powerful new covert tools to use against the evil Americans
and he would likely get promoted for doing very good work. The greedy capitalist
Japanese would certainly be back to sell them more things, like computers for
Russia’s missiles or spy equipment for their satellites. The Americans and the
West could not stop them now with their irksome trade sanctions.
He would become more powerful and also be able to use the improved Suspensor
to secure more “art” for his collection. Gogol was happy with more power and
more living art and the Suspensor was going give him both. He spent the rest
of the journey imagining the possibilities.
The KGB guards saluted him when he arrived at the dacha and went in. Important
people like the General who kept state secrets needed constant protection from
American spies. He had detailed several KGB agents for that task, including
some on special undercover assignments, though there was talk of giving all
the party officials the same special female agents using the Suspensors to provide
them more protection. It was a sound idea but General Gogol was disappointed
that he could not keep those same agents to himself for all the time. Some looked
like they should be frozen just for him. But he wasn’t that powerful now. Later,
the situation would be different.
"Captain of the Guard - is the Lady Anastasia in residence?" Gogol demanded of the security officer. The young soldier shook his head ‘no’ and Gogol sighed. She was away so often it seemed, yet their lovemaking always seemed to make up for lost time whenever his latest concubine returned. They had met in Moscow, at the Kirov ballet where she was drawn to him, like so many young women to men of power and influence. Gogol was used to the adoration. Unmarried since his wife had been executed by a Stalinist purge, he enjoyed the company and the bodies of many females. Recently when he became tired of a particular companion, he would order her brought to the laboratory and Suspended into a new piece of living artwork.
Such were the two statues that decorated his inner office, the ones that that nekulturny Asian pig had been ogling over.
Anastasia was different than the others. For one, she was older, more mature than the eager young fillies that he grew tired of. Not to say unattractive in any sense of the word; she was a Latin beauty, from Cuba, and she approached her life with an ambition and passion that made her more desirable to the General. He respected her, as much as any man could, and after an interrupted courtship over the past several months they now lived together when their schedules permitted it. Anastasia was in the foreign service, and often traveled. She was not KGB; that much her background check had told him. As their lives circled closer around one another and more and more secrets were shared, Gogol actually dreaded the time when he would have to tell her about his ‘hobby’ or when she found out on her own and confronted him with it. He did not wish for her to learn the price of that knowledge. But for now, she was gone from the dacha and he could put off telling her about his fondness for peculiarly lifelike sculptures. He knew she would not understand.
He entered the special room he had built in the dacha. It was a large room for
the building with a marble floor and expensive wood paneling in the walls and
roof. There were guards at the doors but only Gogol could come in as he liked.
This was the place where he kept his private “art” collection of frozen women,
and by now he had acquired so many of them that there was little space between
their unmoving figures. Power wires for the mounting platforms ran across the
floor. Not a lot of space was left to walk around them. He wandered among
the living statues, enjoying their still perfection, pausing to caress their
stiffened bodies.
“I need a bigger dacha. I will have to put the girls I get tomorrow in the bathroom
if this keeps up!” he said to the frozen female tableaux. They stared
back at him with glassy or stony whitened eyes. The image of a Suspended female
decorating his bathroom as he took his bath was something worth thinking about.
He decided he would have to do it, he thought even as he walked around the room,
stepping around the lovely motionless women while drinking from a glass in one
hand. He would run his other hand across their frozen nude bodies posed in different
erotic ways. Seeing these statues made him think of even more poses for additional
new statues and he decide then and there it was time to give the orders to do
so. He turned to one guard...
General Gogol had been drinking quite a lot and as he turned he tripped on a
trailing power cord. He didn’t fall down but put a free hand on one of the frozen
girls as he pulled his foot from the wire. But the immobilized girl was smaller,
lighter, than General Gogol and she tipped over woodenly as he pushed on her
backside accidentally. The rigid standing figure fell onto another frozen girl
next to her and pushed her over as well and then the toppling figures went down
the row, one frozen girl pushing the next one over. All the girls from where
Gogol had tripped fell one after another like curvy dominoes, but being frozen
they were not harmed. They did pull at their transmitter wires as they lay asunder
on the floor and eventually one of the connections broke. For a few seconds,
nothing happened.
Gogol was drunkenly shouting for his guards to put the statues up again and
moving awkwardly around to put the rest of the statues back in their right places
when one of the frozen women lying on the floor started to move on her own.
First she closed and opened her eyes as she took her first breath in several
years. She looked around the room in confused way and raised herself a little.
Then she saw everything and everyone in the room at the same instant she realized
she was naked; then she screamed. Finding Gogol, the man who had ordered her
frozen, standing nearby she sprang up and attacked him. For a slim girl, she
was strong and fearless.
“You evil man! You took away my life! You made me into your toy! How can you
do this to a sovereign Soviet citizen!” She punched the General in his considerable
gut and tried to bite him and scratch him. Gogol didn’t like it as she clawed
at him furiously until his guards grabbed the girl and knocked her out at the
same time subduing another revived statue whose wire had broken seconds later.
Other guards swarmed in, checking to see the other transmitter wires on the
frozen women were intact and no more were becoming unfrozen. These two
would be Suspended again quickly, along with the unfortunate guards who had
witnessed the statues’ unexpected return to mobility. He already had some ideas
for their new poses.
General Gogol was angry. He has see his prize collection almost ruined and now
two girls had unfrozen without his letting them. One had even attacked him!
That was not good. He needed to get bigger dacha so he wouldn’t have to worry
about another accident like this one, pushing over the row of petrified women.
And he would need to do something to the suspension as well to make sure something
like this would never happen again. Ever.
KGB Headquarters, Dzherzinsky Square, one week later.
It was a strange scene, made all the more bizarre by taking place deep within the infamous lair of spies and assassins. Summoned by an enigmatic invitation, representatives from other Soviet bloc and satellite countries had found themselves guests for what almost looked like a fashion show. Except for the fact that the master of ceremonies was the fearsome Chief of Service and the ‘models’ were female operatives. After trooping onto a low stage, they turned and looked at the puzzled audience while General Rostov activated the device he had been describing.
At first there seemed to be no change,
then the four KGB agents on right part of the stage turned and marched off as
if nothing had happened. The other four women on the left, like their comrades,
were wearing tailored KGB uniforms, which didn’t hide their figures. But they
remained standing as still as statues, even as the people in the room got out
of their chairs and went up on stage and touched them. The people, senior officers
of different countries, found the women to be as hard as the statues or mannequins
they looked now like and not like animate normal people would appear. The officers
also looked carefully at the small electronic unit each woman had, attached
to the leather chokers on the back of their necks. They were about the size
of French cigarette packs but were colored black and had no buttons or switches
on them. They had to be activated remotely, by radio.
“Amazing. This can be put anywhere on a person?” General Luther said as he touched
one of the women on the cheek. Her skin was firm, cool, and she had no reaction
as she stared blankly into space. He was from the Stasi, the East German intelligence
agency and the blonde hair and blue eyes made him look like some Nazi stormtrooper.
General Rostov thought Luther was a Nazi stormtrooper but the German was a good
spymaster and Russia needed him more than killing him would benefit. “Not only
the head?”
“Of course. The portable units can be put anywhere. It is bigger then the old
one but you can carry it anywhere. The old ones had wires to them and they need
to be placed in a central place on the subject.”
“So I see.” General Minh said, looking at the suspensor closely. The Vietnamese
spymaster had some medical knowledge and it was obvious why women used the suspensor
there. “How do you hide the portable units?”
“Not in the same place. No cock is as big as that!” General Salvador laughed.
The Cuban, the last foreigner in the room was a barbarian, but like Minh knew
how to fight the Americans. “Turning a girl hard and fucking her at same time.
Almost like a cold man to do that!”
“The units can be hidden anywhere. We only need a small space to do it. Under
their feet for standing figures, and under the body for women lying down. The
pedestal will provide any hiding place. And our scientists are working on even
smaller units.”
“The...Suspensor you say, is very useful. You have told us about the uses in
spying but why are you telling us about it?” Luther asked pointedly.
All the generals knew that the Soviets liked to keep secrets. “You must have
a reason to.”
“Must be good reason. This toy is good for nothing but making stiffened statues
and sexdolls of women. It fills their cunts.” Salvador laughed crudely again.
The barbarian didn’t have manners, not even for Russians. ‘Nekulturny’ they
called him behind his back. But he didn’t know how right he was about the statues.
General Rostov didn’t tell him. Why would Russia have to share the beautiful
art the suspensor made? Rostov had some living statues himself and no barbarians
or Nazis were going to take “his girls” if he had any say.
“Yes. All of you are influential men in your respective agencies and can relay
what we say to your leaders. The KGB, as you may know, has for some time run
operations with the suspensor and special female agents to spy on the West.
But it is tricky business. We have lost many agents. Some to accidents and others
because we cannot recover them. We know the West and America has not figured
out the Suspensor but for our operations to go on we need more agents. Because
of our special needs, we need females with the appearance, talent and training
who can give what we need.”
There was a brief flurry of muttering from the audience, but Rostov continued,
“And so we want you to lend us some of your female agents. To expand our operations
we need more agents. As many as we can get. And you can fill our different needs
for these women.”
“Needs for women. I can fill women’s needs all by myself!” Salvador ran a hand
across the full chest of a frozen agent. “Take her-”
“What are you going to give us for lending you these special agents?” General
Minh said. He and General Luther look annoyed at the Cuban’s actions and words.
“The suspensor, for our agencies to use?”
“Maybe later.” Rostov knew Russia would never give up the suspensor unless they
got a high price. “But certainly some desirable hardware; tanks, fighters, antiaircraft
missiles for your war against America, General Minh, also even more aid for
your countries. But only if you follow my order and have your agents placed
under our strict orders. You don’t order them. We do. If you give what we want,
we will give you many things. But if you decide against us, you get nothing.”
“And how do we decide on what we give, what we get?” General Luther asked suspiciously.
All the other generals agreed. They would ask their governments to agree to
the Russians demand and use their people’s lives, women’s lives, as nothing
but human rubles to buy Russian goods.
“We can work them out. Should we begin with four agents for four tanks or two
fighters? Maybe ten missiles? That’s for a year. Each year you will get another
group of tanks and fighters..”
Some of the officers agreed right away; General Luther said he would have to think it over and talk to his ministers. Salvador tried to bargain with Rostov to take his favorite frozen KGB agent back home with him. The Russian general was pleased; things had gone mostly as he had planned.
KGB Headquarters, later that day
“I have to have the special triggers for the suspensor. I have to have them
right now!”
General Rostov was writing his report
for the Politburo. The other countries had agreed or at least the countries’
generals had agreed. They would get their leaders to agree to the plan and give
the KGB their extra agents for use in S-teams with the suspensor. Russia would
give them some surplus tanks and fighters it didn’t need anymore, or obsolete
missiles to try to shoot down American planes with. But the KGB would get the
best part of the deal. Foreign agents, beautiful women, for the KGB to use as
they wished. He already had made plans to have new S-teams made ready for the
Politburo when General Gogol barged into his office and told how he had gotten
attacked by some of his “artwork” who had broken free of the suspensor effect.
Now he wanted to deal with it. As usual, Gogol was more than a little drunk.
“The triggers?” General Rostov was surprised. The special trigger used by the
suspensor for the KGB teams were to prevent America from waking suspended agents
they discovered by just by turning off the power. If the suspensor was not given
the right controls, the trigger would release all the energy reserves from the
suspensor power supply and completely freeze the agents, putting them into permanent
stasis without the suspensor unit attached. Nobody could wake subjects in permanent
suspension and the women used as test subjects for the trigger had later been
put on display in the training center to warn agents what could happen to them
if they failed their missions or were captured. No agent had since been discovered
by the Americans but the trigger was now in every suspensor unit the KGB sent
out to the West. They were only found in KGB suspensor units, not regular army
ones. “Why do you want them? Not even the frozen agents we propose to protect
our important people need them. But for the artwork..” Rostov suddenly realized
what Gogol wanted.
“I want my artwork frozen completely,” he stated, confirming Rostov’s guess.
“No chance of them escaping because something goes wrong. And all artwork that
has already made and those we are going to process should be completely frozen
as well. Saves resources by not keeping a unit powered for every woman and once
we have finished, nobody will be able to tell the difference between real statues
and those we have created.”
“But those triggers are state secrets. Using them on simple art is a waste of
valuable resources we need elsewhere,” Rostov reasoned.
“I don’t need more than a few triggers. We can put them into existing suspensor
units and activate them. The new triggers don’t always destroy the suspensor
circuitry, right?”
“Yes,” Rostov said, noncommittally.
“Then we can use again everything over again for other frozen models. I say
five or six at most will do. And I can return them to headquarters when they
are needed on missions.”
“For future works I see. But using them on subjects you have already suspended?
That sounds like a huge waste.”
“It is not a waste. Would you want one of the girls we used in the production
to unfreeze suddenly? Think of all troubles we would encounter, our guards would
need to catch them again and we have to refreeze and reprepare them again. And
what if one should attack a minister, a general, or the general secretary himself
when she is awake and running around? What if one got access to state secrets
somehow and escaped to the West with them? We could be destroyed if we don’t
make sure the models frozen for such works are frozen completely. We must protect
Mother Russia from all threats!” Gogol didn’t say the beautiful, gorgeous women
frozen to serve as artwork for the Soviet Union were also state secrets that
must be protected.
General Rostov frowned. He disliked General Gogol and this sounded like a waste
of state resources but Gogol had good ideas. “Can you make sure you are right
about the resources needed for this plan of yours?”
“Of course. This is foolproof. I already know what to do. We can start as soon
as we get the triggers.”
“Maybe you should talk to Director Sergei-”
“That old fool!” Gogol spat. “He’s too concerned about going to moon and the
rights of the women in the suspensor project. As if he has anything to do with
them. He’s not been running either art or science departments in years but a
lab here in Moscow. I already know what to do and not want some obsolete fool
telling me what to do.”
“He has lot of experience in this,” Rostov suggested.
“His time is past. He doesn’t understand what we need for using the suspensor.
If we let him interfere, he will ruin things.” General Gogol leaned over. “Give
me the triggers and I will see they are well used. We need to do something quickly
this time and I know how to do so without the Director interfering.”
Gogol’s Dacha, seven weeks later
“You can’t go in-” The guard was
surprised when Sergei walked past him. The Director was old but he walked fast
and got the guard to run. “The General has ordered-”
“I don’t care what he told you. I need to stop this madness!” Sergei had hated
the plan to turn women into artwork for party and government officials when
he saw the first frozen girl reclining in some bureaucrat’s dacha. Taking away
womens’ lives to make them into art for perverts was not something the suspensor
was ever intended for. But the normal use of the device still gave the women
chance to live again when something changed, when their service was no longer
needed.
Now General Gogol’s plan took that
option away. He would leave women frozen forever, never ever enjoying life again.
Never knowing to breathe or dream or anything ever more. All because he wanted
to make his ‘artwork’ even more permanent. The Director had managed to get past
the guards and walked through the dacha searching for the one place he knew
the General would be at. He had been here once, a long time ago, and took him
some time to find the room where Gogol displayed his frozen girls.
When he got there, it was too late. The team working on the girls had finished;
they were packing up. All the girls were statues, like the ones who had escaped
earlier, frozen in exotic poses. But now there was no wire running from their
crotches to the pedestals. No suspensor unit anywhere in or on their rigid bodies.
They had been turned into real permanent statues, just as totally as a Medusa
would have done.
“You too late, old man,” General Gogol sneered. He beamed at his vast collection.
“We no longer have worry about them escaping or ruining the display by toppling
over. Aren’t they lovely? For now and forever they will remain perfect sculptures.”
“Why do something like this? You had already taken most of their lives away
from them already. You now taken away any chance – all chances – for them to
move or be alive again. This is not art; this is murder!”
“All chances to make things messy. I have made things... more secure.” General
Gogol pointed at the door. “Go home, old man. You are late coming here and you
will be late everywhere else. I have already started the process in motion.
You cannot stop it. It will be done. These decorations aren’t women anymore.
They are now property of the state. All of your test subjects have also become
property of the state as well. Stop treating them as individuals like some sentimental
Western fool would.”
“Artworks, is that what you call these poor victims?” The Director was not finished yet. Looking around the large room, he saw row upon row of exquisitely posed females, nearly all of them exceptionally beautiful and poised. Forgetting for a moment how they had come to be, he appreciated them for their loveliness even though he knew it was wrong. Then his eye settled on a frozen figure that seemed positioned for a much more base purpose.
“This one isn’t even art- I’d call it pornography!” A nude young female had been posed bending over sharply at the waist, exposing her crotch to a rear view where an obvious penis-sized opening existed between her stiffened labia. In front, her head was arched up and mouth similarly open in a characteristic “O” shape. The Director glimpsed some milky fluid seeping from between her lips. One hand rested on her thigh, the other made an open fist, again sized to encircle a particular male member. Unlike the other statues, who possessed serene, even, expressions the emotion captured forever on this young woman's face was one of fear mixed with shameful lust.
“Oh, you discovered Tatya,” Gogol said with a chuckle as he approached the erotically posed statue, then slapped it hard on one ass cheek. “She is a favorite of mine. Let me tell you a little story and you might understand more.”
The Director snorted his contempt, which Gogol took as a sign to continue. “Some weeks ago, there was a little accident here in this gallery and two of my artworks unexpectedly revived and started causing a ruckus. One of them was this little spitfire here; she even managed to strike me before she was subdued. When it was time to re-freeze her, I made sure she was put in a position so she would always be ready to ‘service’ me whenever I feel the need. As you can see, she does so admirably. It was almost a shame to put her into permanent stasis, for up until then I had the technicians make sure she remained conscious even though her body was totally immobilized. Dear Tatiana was mute witness to her own humiliation and failure.”
“You disgust me...” The Director
growled. The Suspensor, being put to such uses. He felt almost faint for a few
seconds that were lost on Gogol.
Property Of The State. Sergei couldn’t forget it. He turned and walked out,
dazed and defeated, but his mind was already working. This had to change. He
had to change it. Beforehand, he decided to contact some people from
the old regime who owed him favors.
Special Operations Directorate, Moscow
“Come in, General,” Rostov greeted the bearlike visitor with false warmth. “Have yourself some chai...”
Gogol lumbered over to the desk and sat at a side chair. Seconds later an orderly brought a dainty cup of sweetened tea. He sipped while wishing it had been vodka instead. “Comrade Brigadier General, you sent for me?”
“Yes, yes. I wanted to make sure your permanent suspension program is complete and the triggers have been returned to their proper uses.”
“Of course. All of the artwork and test volunteers are now in complete stasis. They will not bother me, er, anyone ever again. The operation has been a complete success!”
“I see. Well, I have made no secret of my feelings about such a thing, but the Politburo makes decisions that one does not question and remain healthy. So it is with this choice.” Rostov signaled to the orderly, who turned and exited the room, closing the door behind him.
General Rostov leaned over the desk, closer to the liquor-reeking Gogol. He said, softly, “You do still collect ‘art’, do you not?”
“Most definitely, Comrade Rostov. My dacha has recently been remodeled as well, to better display them.”
“Then, the Central Committee has seen fit to reward you with a new figure for your collection...” Rostov pressed a tiny button on the desk telephone; seconds later as if on cue the double doors leading to the briefing room opened. Two orderlies carried a draped form between them to the center of the office. From the way the breeze swirled the fabric, Gogol could make out the delectable female contours concealed beneath the sheet. The two soldiers set the statue down, made sure it was not toppling over, and retreated. Gogol hesitated, then approached the cloaked figure.
“Go ahead; she is yours to unveil and treasure,” Rostov prodded with a hint of amusement that Gogol did not catch.
Gogol waited no longer, tugging the sheet away, already smiling as his eyes caught sight of the gorgeously shapely figure, then gasped an instant later when her face came to light and he recognized his Anastasia blankly staring back at him. She had been posed as a classical nude, standing, with a wisp of pale cloth serving to give the statue a bit of modesty. It was clear she was a frozen statue, too, and not simply faking motionless to please him. As an ‘artwork’ he knew she had also been permanently suspended, never to awaken. For the first time, he felt a profound sense of loss; an emptiness that filled his soul.
“No! There must be some mistake... She was on the protected list?”
“The KGB does not make mistakes, Comrade Gogol,” Rostov proclaimed, taking a dossier from his desk drawer and handing it to Gogol. On the cover was a picture of Anastasia above the name ‘Pauline Santiago’. Inside were more pictures, reports, and evidence. Ever efficient, the KGB had even managed to locate her passport picture and an image of the CIA name badge...
“A spy?” Gogol blithered. He could not have been taken in so easily.
“Worse; a double-agent. She did come to Russia from Cuba, but neglected to mention she had been born in Keokuk (he pronounced it “Chee-a-o-Chuck”) Iowa. A deep-cover agent, she was assigned to penetrate the Special Operations Directorate and gather intel on the Suspensor. I doubt she ever anticipated her own experience with our device would be so. . . personal.”
Gogol didn’t really listen to Rostov’s witty explanation. He was gazing at the immobilized Anastasia (he did not want to deny her that lovely name) and taking in her static beauty. She was a stunning statue, of course, with her slightly darker skin and exotic eyes, lushly curvaceous figure and shapely legs. Yet she was the first woman that he had not wanted to turn into one of his statues. Closing his eyes for a moment, he could remember her throaty laugh and the way she sounded when they made love. He also heard her intelligence, sense of humor, and joy. All silent, now, within her lovely frozen flesh.
Novoyarsk Science City, Eleven Months Later
Director Ivan Petroskiovich looked at his instruments and watched as the model
was completely frozen in less than a second. The new Suspensor units were much
better then the old ones. They didn’t need power wires but used tiny batteries.
They also were smaller and could be placed anywhere on the subject's body and
not have to be inserted in their vaginas like the old devices had been. But
they required a lot of controls to work and he needed new electronics to make
what he did work more often.
“The subject is totally suspended, Comrade Director,” The assistant said somewhat
redundantly. “We can start the experiments.”
Ivan nodded and walked over to the pedestal where the slender brown-haired woman
stood like anybody waiting for a tram, but she was completely frozen and unaware
of her surroundings. She was dressed in what in the West was called a leotard
made of form-fitting nylon or something like that. He waved his hand in front
of her unseeing eyes and tried to shift her arm. The woman's whole body was
stiff and rigid, like a mannequin dummy.
“Good. This one is ready. Start
changing the frequency setting,” The director waited for the first change to
put into effect. He had always said changing the frequency that the Suspensor
was on, like tuning an FM radio, would change the overall immobilizing effect
of the Suspensor. But the fools in the military forbade any testing with the
device, afraid of what it might do. Now he would see if he was right.
“Frequency changed to first setting, Comrade Director,” the assistant confirmed.
Ivan nodded and then put both hands on the frozen woman’s arm. There was a slight
tingle but not as much as usual. “Subject is still in perfect suspension. All
signs read normal,” the assistant called out.
“Field effect is not as strong.” The Director ran both hands over the entire
body of the frozen girl, rubbing over her breasts and nether regions of the
woman, between her slim nylon-coated legs. No wires to interfere now, he thought.
Then he did something never done to a subject in full suspension. They always
had been completely frozen before, unable to be changed in the least. But not
today. Ivan took one of the woman’s arms and lifted it up. It moved like a normal
human arm would, maybe a bit more stiffly, yet stayed in position when Ivan
let it go, hanging rigid and straight out in mid air. Minutes passed without
any change in her frozen stance He then posed the hand so one finger pointed
out. Then he changed her legs but left the other arm posed like some Western
superhero, hand on flared hips. Then he changed the expression on the woman’s
face. Instead of being impassive as when they had started, now she had closed
her eyes and held a cute pout.
“Yes. I was right. We can change the pose if we change the frequency.” Ivan
turned to his assistants. “We can change the pose to anything we like and not
have to unfreeze the subject. This is something the ministers will like very
much.”
The Ministers would be happy and Ivan would get his reward. He would like any
reward as long as he could have the test subject too. He wanted to make his
own private experiments with such a woman. His future now seemed to hold
some amazing possibilities.