THE COLLECTIVE

Back when I worked at the hospital, I had to take MRI training and it was my favorite thing every time. It was only like 10 minutes long and went a little something like this:

Hey. The MRI is basically a really big magnet and by basically I mean it is and we literally never turn it off. It's like really big. Really really big and powerful and The Magnet is always on. We don't turn it off Ever, for any reason. We mean it bro, The Magnet is literally always on. It's crazy strong and will definitely kill you. So don't bring any metal into the MRI room, man. You will fuck up the machine (because The Magnet is always on) and then you will die (again, because The Magnet is always on). Here's some fun questions for you to test your understanding!

1) The ______ is always on.

2) The Magnet is ______ on.

3) How often is The Magnet on?

4) The Magnet is always __.

5) The Magnet is always on. T/F

6) The Magnet is usually on but we know to turn it off for you because you're a very special boy :) T/F

7) My weak fleshy body can survive the wrath of The Magnet. T/F

8) Look at this 500 lbs steel hospital bed, which The Magnet has crumpled into an origami crane. Imagine if that was you.

9) Is The Magnet ever off?

10) Sometimes we turn The Magnet off. T/F

Thank you for taking MRI training. We hope you learned that The Magnet is always on, because it is. It's on Right Now and it will be on every time you come to the MRI. Have fun and remember: The Magnet is always on!

“And we loved it, we were all having a great time, but then he saw my sister and I, and he just got this - this look in his eyes, and then-”

She hesitated, worrying the coarse material between her fingers. “Things got pretty bad after that,” she muttered. “I know it’s silly, but I try to keep - her - comfortable. We don’t know if she can still hear us, or see us, or if she’s even still in here, but I like to think she is. I talk to her when I can, I leave music on when I’m out of the house. I tried to convince my parents to bring her with us when we went to Disneyland, but they didn’t - didn’t really take that well.”

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"Against what?" the adventurer asks. They didn't say anything, but this does not tend to stop the ilithid from passing judgment on stray thoughts.

This is not a stray thought. It is an unwise fixation. There are not enough hours in the day to comment on the majority of your 'stray thoughts'.

The adventurer smiles. "If you insist. Well, what's so unwise about it? You'd want to eat me?"

No. I still require your assistance.

"Good to know." They laugh. For a proportedly straight-forward species, their ilithid companion tends to beat about the bush.

It makes an audible grumble. You will not be able to resist domination, and I will not let you go.

That gave them pause. "And here I thought you were indifferent to me," they joke.

You are useful. You would make a good thrall.

They cross their arms. This does beg an obvious question, doesn't it?

Your guild's trust in me is tentative. Enthralling you would be counterproductive.

"Fair enough, I suppose." But—

It is in my nature to dominate. I resist this impulse at its root. Letting you go is another matter altogether. It would be as unnatural to me as you choosing to starve mere feet from a banquet hall.

"Fine, fine, I get it, I'm too tempting for a taste," they say, waving their arms in the air. "Just don't complain if one of your buddies enthrall me first."

There is a palpable silence in the adventurer's mind. It raises the hair on their neck; the ilithid is never this quiet.

You make a compelling point, it finally 'says'. Perhaps it is in your nature to be dominated. You will be useless to me if you stray.

Their heart skips a beat. A moment passes. Nothing happens. "...You're messing with me."

No. It was a test.

Face flushing, the adventurer scoffs and says nothing.

Perhaps we should return to the guild. Your perversions are a liability.

"Hey! That's not fair, I just— I thought—"

Very little.

"Shut up, I just panicked," they insisted, heat crawling down their neck. "That's the whole reason I figured it might be a good idea to– to, y'know, get me used to the, um... The sensations, or warning signs—"

There would be none. Your mind would spread for me at first provocation. Instantly, you would slip into a waking slumber and never rouse again.

"...Hmph." They fold their arms again.

If nothing else, your eagerness is noted. Perhaps the guild would allow me to buy you at some future junction.

"I'm not for sale!" they bellow, indignant.

A husband and wife eat a bland dinner together in a dimly-lit kitchen. They don't speak or look at each other. The meal: a pathetic Salisbury steak.

Cut to their bedroom at night. The wife lays sleeping in the bed while in the background the husband is putting on her dress, pantyhose, pearl necklace, heels, makeup, and a wig. When he's done he quietly leaves the room. The wife opens her eyes as soon as she's sure he's gone.

Now we're in a seedy dive bar. A small crowd of mustachioed men wearing leather jackets, black boots, and sunglasses sip beers and puff cigarettes while the "show" unfolds. Camera pans down, then pans to the side. Between the black boots we see the husband on his hands and knees, greedily eating a Chipotle Chorizo Burrito Bowl with Cilantro Lime Rice from a plastic dog bowl on the floor. His makeup is ruined, face smeared with sour cream and hot sauce.

A man steps forward. The husband looks up, and his expression changes to that of a deer in the headlights. Cut to reveal that the "man" standing before the husband is none other than his wife, in elaborate drag as a Tom of Finland biker, false mustache and officer cap and all. She smiles warmly, and nods. The husband smiles too, and resumes his meal.