Calban Attempts To Experience Life More Fully (Ch.18): Part 3: Section 1

Part 3

    He had been here once before, four days before, treading the same streets, finding out whether the information on the Vidnet had been correct. He had known it would be because he had nervously keyed the number of the institution before he came out. An attractive youngish woman wearing a corset, which accentuated the feminine shape of her body, had come on screen. With a slightly bored air she repeated the name of the establishment and asked what he wanted. So nervous was he that he could hardly speak even though he was at the other end of the net, miles away. He managed to ask faintly, “Do you do massage?” he understood that the term implied far more than a simple body massage. How could he be sure that when she replied, “Yes”, that she meant what he meant by the term. There was no way of knowing for sure. Nonetheless her appearance and her slightly unprofessional manner added to his confidence that this establishment was what he wanted. He was thankful that while he could see her on the screen she could not see him. He had made sure that he did not press the button for visual transmission. He preserved his anonymity so far. No crime of any sort could be laid at his door by anyone, except that the Vidnet recorded the destinations of calls and stored the data somewhere for a period. If the Police Authorities needed to investigate someone they would routinely call up the data on the individual to determine who his contacts were, if it was relevant to the investigation. This kind of data had proved to be a major benefit in the detection of criminals since the Vidnet had been installed. The software enabling the information to be gathered had only been installed 30 or 40 years ago, comparatively late in the history of the Vidnet, as it demanded more efficient data storage facilities. The Police destroyed the data after some 10 years or so, unless individuals had any kind of criminal record or were particularly notable. Calban did not have any great fear of detection however, because the Police resources, overstretched as they always were would never make any attempt to monitor or randomly investigate calls, unless there was a reason. The thought occurred to Calban that perhaps the Police would automatically keep particular records of any calls into such an establishment. He thought it was probably technically legal to visit a brothel, but he was not quite sure if customers or the ladies employed there were breaking any laws. It had not always been legal in the past.

    He still was not quite sure that this establishment was what he thought it was. How could he put a question to the lady – he fell back on phrases he thought he had heard in films. “Do you do anything else; do you do extras?”

     She snapped back at him, ”Well you will have to ask the girls that won’t you.” It was delivered like a reprimand, as if he had asked one question too many. Not the kind of answer Calban expected when making enquiries at a business of any sort in modern competitive Gallanol. You expected total politeness, an overbearing attempt to coax the caller into doing business. This woman perhaps viewed her business as something to be ashamed of, which she participated in only because she had to make some money. She was perhaps reluctant to inform anyone of what she actually did for a living, even customers. More likely, Calban supposed she was pretending to make little of what really went on at the establishment, for potential legal, political, or anti journalism reasons. She and her employers did not want to advertise what the place was too obviously, for fear of attention. They feared campaigns against them. She had said enough to tell real customers that they must negotiate with the ‘girls’ themselves. Calban thought that it confirmed what the place was, but even so he could not be totally sure. He would have to go and find out for himself if he was ever to know, unless someone else told him. A friend could tell him, but he had no friends he was aware of who would know.

4/2/96

   He was finally outside the door of the establishment, sooner than he remembered from his previous failed attempt. Then he had lacked the courage, despite having come so far, so many hours spent in nervous consideration, the search in the vidbanks, the Vidcall, and the travel across city. He had stood just here, across the street from its doorway, in the semi darkness, too embarrassed to stand and look directly. So he had stood here only briefly and his eyes had scanned the whole street and the looming buildings above at the same time so that if any hidden video camera happened to be here, recording his presence he could appear to be ignorant or disinterested in the brothel on the other side of the street. Just before turning onto this street he had passed two people in different places who both shuffled past him, unconcerned by his presence. Their presence unnerved him, made him feel guilty and want to hide. His nervousness made him assume they knew why he was here, that they viewed him as a wrongdoer. In reality even if they were locals and knew the function of the building in the next street they had no reason to connect him with the place. They felt no shame to be walking these streets. Why should he? He had reasoned like this on that previous visit, but  by the time he arrived outside the massage parlour he had already decided he could not go in. He could excuse his outing as a reconnaissance and return to the comfort and drudgery of his everyday routine. Tonight however he had to go in. There could be no further excuses. Everything was ready. He had to go further than he had ever been before, to find out if it was true that the sex he had seen on the pornog vids could be purchased from real people. If he did not go in now he would never know, and he would lose the pride which was beginning to grow within him.

    Calban looked at the doorway to the establishment as he crossed the road towards it. It was nondescript. The sign above said ‘Massage and Sauna,’ nothing else. This was a remnant from centuries before when there were no books or vidinformation updates on the great sciences of Marketing, Sales, and Advertising. Little businesses had operated all over the world, hidden from everyone but the local community in which they operated, where everyone knew of their existence and few but the most unusual businesses ever needed to advertise. In the case of this kind of establishment perhaps there had been a need for secrecy at times, due to prevailing legal or moral climates, or to respect the desire for privacy from many of the customers. He was glad this particular establishment had agreed to keep the nature of what went on within away from the eyes of the outside world. However he remained unsure of what lay within. It was either a new and exciting world or perhaps it was cheap and squalid. Again there might be no one at home within. From the outside the latter possibility might appear to be the case.

    He could not stop now. He knew with confidence that he would make it to that door. He took deep breaths as he hurried at a fast walking pace over the street. He was deep into this adventure, beyond the point of no return. He wished he was anywhere but here at this moment, but he had to see it through or his life would be worth nothing, would never change. The door was slightly ajar. That meant it was open for customers. His heart was beating loudly as he opened the door and stepped inside, pushing it back to where he had found it so that no one could see him from the street. He had made it through the door with nobody noticing him in the street. He was evidently in a small entrance room; a little kiosk was in the wall. There was nobody behind it, but a bell was set on the kiosk. He looked through the window. There was a man, with only a towel around him, sat beyond a counter. He pressed the bell. A woman came round the corner from inside the counter. She wore a grey jumper and when she looked at him through the window he saw that she had a lovely face, as attractive as any he had ever seen, and long golden brown hair.

    Before she had time to say anything he asked her, “Can I have a massage please,” repeating the terminology he had guessed must be correct from his original vidcall.