Ali had initially protested. There was no way she could accept such a gift. Sure, she loved it, but it was too expensive. No, she simply couldn't justify it. Many thanks for thinking of her, but no, she couldn't do it.
Sure she could accept it, Cyril had argued. It really hadn't cost him anything, not a single cent. The new, big-screen, ultra-HD TV had arrived intact but not working. Customer Service had replaced it quickly, but had neglected to take back the broken one. So, he tinkered with it.
Low and behold, he had gotten the original one to work. Now, he had two large TVs with only the space for one. He reached out to his friend Ali. Her TV was older, and he knew she was shopping for a new one. Why not take his spare? Why not let him gift it to her?
No, she felt bad doing it. She didn't need to. Really, it was okay? It really was. In fact, Ali would be doing Cyril a favor by taking it off his hands. He insisted. She wavered. Cyril was nothing if not uncannily persuasive. Ali relented.
The next day, a brand new if slightly repaired TV graced her living room. She was beyond excited to watch all the latest shows and movies in ultra-HD...whatever that even meant, although it was supposed to be spectacular.
She wore her comfiest lounging clothes--brushed cotton top, fleece leggings, nothing on her feet--as she plopped down on the sofa and stretched out her legs over the ottoman. Before pressing the power button on the remote, the TV's polished black surface displayed her reflection almost as clearly as any mirror.
Being closest to the screen, the soles of her feet showed the largest. She wiggled her toes, finding the gesture amusing and fun for no particular reason. She giggled and decided with neither judgment, nor conceit that her feet looked good. She looked good. She felt good.
Feeling good was wonderful. And now, while she felt that way, it was time to watch something vibrant and beautiful on her new TV.
She pressed the power button, and the screen sprang to life. A high contrast, amazingly detailed image coalesced. Perhaps the manufacturer's logo? No, it was a pattern. And it was moving. What the heck was it?
A rainbow of colors flowed and twisted around the edges of the screen, slowly but surely winding inward towards the center as they went. Huh, that was interesting. Well, it was interesting at first. But after a few seconds, Ali was ready for it to finish up and be replaced by a menu or channel guide or something useful.
But it didn't finish up. Really, what was that all about? Now the colors were flowing and twisting more quickly. And their inevitable and unending journey had taken on a distinctive spiral shape.
As done as she was with this pattern, and as much as she wanted to watch an actual show, Ali found herself intrigued by the image. She kept watching it, waiting for it to change or end. But no change or end occurred.
All right, that was enough of that. She would turn off the TV and buzz Cyril to see if he knew what the problem was.
The TV remained on. Ali continued watching the spiral.
She didn't want to watch it. But she couldn't stop. Something was wrong. She tried to look away. She couldn't. She tried to close her eyes. After a fraction of a second, they opened again. She tried pressing the power button. Her fingers wouldn't accept the command from her brain. What was going on? What was happening to her?
So, like it or not, she watched the swirling spiral of bright, ultra-HD colors. After a while, she began hearing sounds. At first, she thought it was just an electronic hum. She strained to hear it better. Now it reminded her of a rhythmic buzzing. Masked within the buzzing, she started to hear a voice. Its cadence matched the carrier noise. She listened intently and found that she could make out what it was saying.
And that's when she knew. She knew what was going on. She knew what was happening to her. She knew she was in trouble.
The spiral had hypnotized her. And the rhythmic, buzzing voice was giving her hypnotic suggestions.
It wasn't how she had imagined hypnosis to be. She hadn't been lulled to sleep. She didn't feel as if she was in an altered state of consciousness. She was awake and aware. And yet, she was not in control. The image had not let her look away. And now the voice was instructing her.
She had begun verbally repeating those instructions. Her voice had become a thing not controlled by her. She couldn't stop herself from speaking. What she heard first from the TV and then from her own mouth both amazed and terrified her.
Ali was told that she would soon invite Cyril over to her house. When he arrived, she would be barefoot. She would have several meters of cord ready. She would allow him to tie her up. She would allow him to hypnotize her. He might use the TV again. Or, he might use a swinging pocket watch. Or, he might use some other method that she wasn't yet aware of.
Once he had hypnotized her, she would have no will of her own. She would do anything he said. She would put her bare feet on display for him. He would have full access to them. He might play with them. He might tickle them. He might do other things that made her blush with both embarrassment and perverse delight.
Ali watched the spiral. She listened to the suggestions. She repeated them back. She did this over and over and over and over. All the while, she could still think and understand what was being done to her. She was being conditioned. She was being programmed. She was being brainwashed.
But she had hope. She remained aware of what was happening. When the hypnosis was over, when she was back in control of herself again, she could fight against the suggestions. She could seek help. She could find another hypnotist. She could work with them to undo Cyril's insidious mind control.
The suggestions suddenly stopped. Just as suddenly, Ali stopped repeating them. Was it done? Would she soon be free? No, the spiral continued its infinite swirling. She still couldn't look away. So, what would happen now?
New suggestions sounded within the buzzing. First came the instruction that she felt sleepy, oh so sleepy. Next she was told that once she fell asleep, she would forget. She would forget everything. And finally, she was told that from now on, whatever Cyril told her to do, she would obey. Obey, obey, she must always obey.
No, no, no, she couldn't fall asleep! She couldn't forget! She must stay awake! She must remember! Otherwise, she would truly be brainwashed. And Cyril would come over, tie her up, hypnotize her, and do whatever he wanted to and with her feet.
But she couldn't stay awake. Her eyes grew heavy, and second by second, heavier still. Soon, they closed. And she found herself drifting down into an inevitable slumber.
This was the way she had always imagined hypnosis would be: falling into a deep sleep and not being aware of what the hypnotist made you do. And now it was actually happening to her. She slept. She forgot. She obeyed.
Ali blinked and shook her head. She had gotten lost staring at her own reflection on the powered off TV. That was weird, but also no big deal. She was entitled to an occasional space-out. With a smile and a shrug, she glanced once more at the image of herself.
Being closest to the screen, the soles of her feet showed the largest. She wiggled her toes, finding the gesture amusing and fun for no particular reason. She giggled and decided with neither judgment, nor conceit that her feet looked good. She looked good. She felt good.
Feeling good was wonderful. And now, while she felt that way, it was time to watch something vibrant and beautiful on her new TV.
And afterwards, she would give Cyril a call. Wouldn't it be nice to have him over for a visit? Yes, it certainly would be.