We are not in the business of growing slaves. A product should “enjoy” its purpose. Anything else is unethical and can even be dangerous. There have been many slave revolts in history…not pretty.
Life is motivated by pleasure and pain. You need to design your life to seek out its targeted work at the exclusion of all other activities. For example, if a household servant is required, the servant should be designed with an obsessive-compulsive disorder for cleanliness (see gene template #C139090). Such a servant will vigilantly maintain order in the household without any direction from the owner.
As another example, if a product’s purpose requires painful activities, those pain receptors might be excluded from the product design or a propensity for masochism could be added.
In this process, pleasure and pain are used together to obtain the desired behavior, and most importantly, these stimuli are intrinsic to the being.
Lyra, Djoser, and D_Light had no idea where the strange little girl was taking them, but they did not hesitate to follow. However, nothing could have prepared them for what presented itself on the other side of the hedge-a clearing bordered by high walls of leaves and flowers, in the middle of which sat an elaborate dining set. A long, silver table dominated the space, surrounded by slender, high-backed chairs, between which a banquet was visible. Lily, who had been ahead of the rest, stopped abruptly and stood stone still. Emerging through the hedge as if their lives depended on it, D_Light, Lyra, and Djoser nearly ended up in a heap as they skidded to a stop behind Lily.
“Excellent, I had hoped you would make it in time for supper!” roared a man from the far end of the table-at least D_Light assumed he was a man, for he was so ugly that D_Light’s heart skipped a beat and his left hand, his throwing hand, shot down to where his razor discs were hidden in his skinsuit.
For starters, the man’s face was completely asymmetrical. His left eye was slightly lower than his right, one cheek puffed out as though suffering from an allergic reaction, his nose was crooked, and his left eyebrow was completely gone. And as if the overall structure of the face was not bad enough, his skin was pocked by countless undesirable features-tiny craters, patches of rubbery flesh, tufts of hair where there should be none, and a feeble beard that, had this man any luck at all, would have concealed some of the aforementioned defects. Instead, the beard only darkened areas of his chin and cheeks, further mottling his face.
The grotesque stranger rose from his seat. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he began. “I am Dr. Monsa, and you are our guests!” He outstretched his arms wide as though offering a generous gift. “Please, find a seat. Take a seat and be comfortable.”
Lily led the team in bravery by shuffling forward a few steps as though testing for quicksand. The others did not move at all, but merely stared in awe. An awkward silence followed. Then, suddenly, the doctor erupted with laughter, the short and sudden bursts of sound making D_Light flinch in surprise. “I am afraid I will need to ask of you the nearly impossible task of forgiving my appearance,” the doctor announced. “In my nearly two hundred years as a wetgineer, I bear the scars of many of my creations.” Dr. Monsa bowed sincerely and gestured again for the party to be seated.
Djoser looked back over his shoulder and, through his panting, managed to utter a sound as though trying to speak. Dr. Monsa quickly interrupted him. “Oh, yes, you are absolutely safe now. Like me and the rest of my family, you all now smell absolutely dreadful to my cullers. Please, attempt to relax.”
“One of us was left behind,” Lily announced.
“I see,” replied the doctor, who then looked over at a lanky-limbed, long-haired monkey that stood upright nearby on the table. Dr. Monsa nodded thoughtfully. “Oh, yes, your guardian is alive, but I’m afraid she is a bit worse for wear.” He frowned and added, “She will not be joining us for dinner.”
The doctor’s eyes were distant as he spoke. D_Light took this to mean the doctor had been accessing his familiar. Was the monkey his familiar? D_Light wondered to himself. It was a sin to manufacture a familiar with human-like characteristics such as hands, and possessing such a familiar was a transgression. A familiar with human-like physiology could be used as an extension of the master’s own body, which would likely lead to sloth.
The doctor returned from his vacant-eyed trance, at which point he roved over to Lily. “Lily, is it? Please, it would be an honor if you would sit right here at my side.” The doctor slid a chair out with a flourish that reminded D_Light of something from old movie feeds he used to watch in nursery.
Lily curtsied stiffly as though reciting a long since forgotten ballet move, and took her seat, at which point the doctor swiftly moved behind her and scooted the chair in behind her. Without looking away from the top of Lily’s head, which he stood over, Dr. Monsa made a vague motion to the rest of the party to sit. D_Light, Lyra, and Djoser found seats near each other, creating a defensive line. The three of them rotated their attention between each other, the plates and utensils in front of them, and their host.
Love_Monkey silently moved a chair to the other side of Lily, sat down, and smiled sheepishly as she gazed up at her. Lily smiled back at the girl, remarking to herself how volatile human children were. Back at the groksta, only an hour or two ago, the child had been furious, but her eyes now glistened with adoration.
Lyra felt completely disoriented. With her familiar gone, she felt as though a part of her mind was missing, the part that knew things. She had the unbearable urge to ask questions so she could fully establish her bearings. “Grandfather, about those creatures, the cullers, as you call them, are they-” Her sentence cut off as she nearly jumped from her chair. Six little girls, identical in all ways to Love_Monkey, entered the clearing. All wore the same clothing, differing only in the color of the bow fastened in their long, golden hair.
“They’re cloned!” Lyra gasped. “Grandfather, you cloned your children?”
“Please, just call me doctor,” the man insisted. “And no, cloning human beings is a sin. These are in the likeness of my children and I refer to them as my daughters, but their code is under the legal limit to be considered human; therefore, they are products. Products that I cloned.”
“You have children products? Why? No one creates products in the likeness of children.”
Djoser pinched Lyra under the table. Why is she interrogating him? Doesn’t she know who he is? he wondered.
The doctor curled his bulbous and crooked lips into what Djoser hoped was a smile. “Yes, Lyra. Although technically not a sin, creating immature products is not considered a best practice in my line of work.”
The doctor took a long gulp of his beverage before continuing. “As to your question of why, it is because I could not dream up a better assistant. My bio-daughter, Samantha, was both a joy to work with and an effective wetgineer. She fell victim to the TerriLove virus before she gained immortality and hence was not qualified for resurrection.”
Lily’s forehead wrinkled with concern, and she leaned over to pat the doctor on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she offered. “It must have been tragic to lose a daughter so young.”
The doctor redirected his gaze at Lily, and his grimace widened. “Oh, she was seventy-three years old when she passed. Granted, she was young, but on the bright side, she survived longer than most in my laboratories in the early days. As for these girls,” the doctor said, nodding to the identical children at the table, “these lambs, which is what I call all of my family, I put a clamp on their physiological development at age eleven-you know, before puberty and all that nonsense.” The doctor winked at Lily.
“In addition to their physiology clamp, I also disrupted certain aspects of their overall nervous system development-enough to, in layman’s terms, keep them young at heart as the decades slide by. In this way, I spared my lambs the tragedy of adulthood. Even as their intellectual powers increase through experience, they do not become jaded and unimaginative like the rest of us. As you can imagine, they are exceptional scientists.”
“Daddy, you know we hate it when you talk about us as though we’re not here,” one of the clones complained.
Dr. Monsa ignored her as he took a sip from his nectar ale mug and said, “You see, it was at age eleven that Samantha, my bio-daughter, was at the height of her curiosity, of her unbridled wonder and passion for all that was alive. Unlike any other bio-child I had, she would sit and watch all manner of organisms for hours on end. It did not matter what it was, either. It could be an amoeba through the micro, a beetle scuttling over the ground, the veins of a leaf, the dance of molecules of mitochondria. She would unselfconsciously ponder the reproductive cycle of any creature she found.” The doctor stared off vacantly as though the end of the table was the ocean horizon. “When my little girl was that age, my head was deep into my machines. I wanted to mimic life with software, with zeros and ones. All those years ago, she was the one who first taught me the value of life, that there is no substitute, that life itself is the ultimate technology.”
Dr. Monsa smiled over at the clones now seated in a line spanning one entire side of the table. “These remind me of her,” he said while smiling and nodding. “They remind me of the beauty of nature and her never-ending capacity for wondrous creation.”
The doctor took a long pause. “And this,” he said as he gestured to his ravaged face, “reminds me that new creation is often fueled by destruction. Viruses, bacteria, as well as much larger organisms, don’t always turn out as planned. Worse yet, depending on who’s funding the project, they turn out exactly as planned. When only maimed, I called myself lucky. When not so lucky, I died. I dare say I have been resurrected more times than I care to count.”
“Five times, Daddy,” one daughter offered. “As an immortal, Daddy has the option for resurrection, that is, if resurrection is possible under the circumstances.”
The doctor flipped his hand in the air as though performing a magic trick. “The body is easy enough to mend and bring back to life; it is the mind that is irreplaceable-at least currently. Fortunately for me, my brain tissue has never been damaged beyond repair.”
“I hope I don’t offend you, but I must ask, why don’t you replace your-”
“My face?” The doctor interrupted Lily’s question with a chuckle. “Because it is a hassle, for one thing. Swapping a body is not routine, even for immortals. It is a major ordeal, and there can be complications. Also, and I hope you do not think me petty for saying this, I must admit that I enjoy seeing people’s expressions when they behold me for the first time. For example, I don’t leave my garden often anymore, but when I do, say on business, even other immortals are intimidated. I think it gives me an edge in that I leave a lasting impression. I don’t need the world to enjoy looking at me. I have the love of my lambs, and that is all I require.”
The doctor suddenly threw up his hands and groaned. “And speaking of my lambs! Let me apologize once again for your harrowing welcome. One of my girls, Love_Monkey, whom you already met, messaged ahead that you would be coming. I sent another of my lambs to guide you in safely, but she evidently got distracted. What was it this time?”
Curious_Scourge, the clone D_Light supposed was the one who had given the team the repellant earlier, bent her head slightly. “It was the Gibbon flies-they had transitioned,” she muttered under her breath.
“So typical, Curious!” BoBo, who sat at the far end of the table wearing a purple bow, shook her head disapprovingly.
Dr. Monsa pointed his finger at BoBo. “Don’t chide your sister. I think it’s safe to say you could have done the same thing.”
“No, Daddy, no! Where did the ‘Curious’ come from in ‘Curious_Scourge’?” BoBo raised an eyebrow at the doctor and then back at her sister.
The doctor nearly choked on his mouthful of syrup. “Oh, spare me! Just the other day I sent you to milk the mellowcows, and where did you end up? Three hours watching an Equus caballus #7541 give birth while the rest of us sat and drank water for lunch!”
“Insomuch as I am like my sister, it’s your fault. As you just lectured our guests, you designed us clones to be this way!” BoBo shot back smugly.
“You’re right, I should have known better. I should not have sent any of my daughters. I should have selected another lamb.” As the doctor said this, he pointed a knobby finger at several creatures that stood rigidly at attention at the far end of the clearing. D_Light had been so immersed in the conversation that he had not noticed the newcomers. The sight gave him a start, as one of those assembled had a morass of tubes sticking out from his head and various other parts of his body.
BoBo whispered loudly to reach her sister, who sat several clones down, “By the way, Curious, did the transition complete? In regard to the flies, I mean.”
In response, Curious_Scourge scowled and dismissed her sister’s question with a wave of her hand. However, a chipmunk familiar poked its head from under Curious_Scourge’s arm to better silently communicate with BoBo’s familiar, also a chipmunk.
The doctor introduced the newcomers one by one, each bowing as he did so. First was the priest, a sallow, tall man. He seemed anxious and bored at the same time, as though inexplicably delayed from something he desired. He wore a traditional priest’s robe that, although clean, looked slightly worn.
Next was Sara, Dr. Monsa’s concubine. As was typical, she was very tall and strikingly beautiful in a haughty sort of way, as though she had stepped out of a high-end spy spanker game. She regarded the newcomers intently.
To each side of Sara was a man with product tats on his cheeks. They were identical, including their matching impeccable black slacks and tunics. One could only tell them apart thanks to the particulars of their injuries. Both were riddled by irregular bruises, scars, and even some open wounds that shimmered wet with blood, or perhaps pus.
Lastly, the doctor introduced the tube man as “my most excellent analyst.” This man trembled and his eyes shifted about restlessly. When he bowed in greeting, he did more of a lurch, in the process stepping on one of his cords, which pulled at his skin and caused the unfortunate-looking man to bleat out in pain. This event prompted D_Light to ask, “Pardon me, doctor, but why the tubes?”
The doctor snorted. “The tubes, yes! Oh, it begged me for them. Pleaded for days on end until I finally had it fitted with its precious tubes! You see, the tubes bring it food, water, and drugs without the need for boosters. And, dare I say this at the dinner table, they provide a means of sanitary excretion.”
“Daddy!” protested one of the clones.
“Why did you desire this?” Lily asked the analyst with a sad and curious expression. “It looks rather unpleasant.”
“Maximum productivity, of course!” The doctor answered for the analyst as he patted Lily’s wrist. “I presume you are unaccustomed to the obsessive tendencies of analysts. Analysts live to research, to scrutinize and consider. An analyst is in the thick of the most complex grinders. And the better designed ones, ones like this one, loathe leaving their work-ever!”
The doctor removed his blotched hand from Lily’s wrist. D_Light noted that Lily did not react to this, did not withdraw her forearm off the top of the table, did not dip her napkin into the nectar wine and scrub away at where his loathsome hand had touched hers.
Doctor Monsa said, “Despite the preferences of some, I like to see my lambs face to face from time to time.” He looked toward the analyst, his one eyebrow raised. “It was once said that a family that eats together stays together.”
In a trembling spasm of a whisper, the analyst protested. “I do not require it. I do not require this, this food. Please excuse me.”
“No more of that!” Dr. Monsa barked. The analyst fell silent, placing his chin down to sulk. His head gyrated back and forth as though afflicted with a nervous tic.
Presently, the new arrivals were seated. Sara, the tall concubine, sat sandwiched between the two battered products, one of which sat next to D_Light. The priest seated himself across the table, and the analyst sat at the far end, allowing himself an empty chair on either side as though attempting to quarantine himself.
The doctor complimented Djoser on his choice of bodyguard. “ Homo sapiens # 43687 is a good model. Attractive, yet loaded with enough cunning and speed to hold off three of my cullers for nearly eight seconds! I’ll send you the archive. You will be pleased with her performance.”
Djoser hesitated, taking time to swallow. “Like your analyst, Amanda enjoys what she does.”
“Yes, and that is as it should be. A good wetgineer instills in his products a natural love for their purpose. Anything else would produce suboptimal performance and, if you subscribe to my line of thinking, is even unethical.”
“I agree, sir,” Lyra commented while straightening her posture. “I realize that products are not human, but it is still our responsibility to make them as comfortable as possible, even happy, if such a term applies.”
Dr. Monsa furrowed his brow slightly. “That is the general sentiment of the profession. However, there are some products designed specifically not to enjoy their purpose.” With these last words, the doctor pointed to Lily with a tilt of his head.
Lyra’s voice lifted delicately. “I beg your pardon, but I do not know what you are referring to.” Her eyes darted between the doctor and Lily. Lily nervously looked back at Dr. Monsa, smiled with a trembling lower lip, and then looked forward.
The doctor looked at Lyra with curious eyes. “Hmm, well…”
He took a deep breath as though stalling to think of what to say next, but he was preempted by BoBo, who rolled her eyes. “What? You don’t know?” she asked disbelievingly. “She’s a camper.”
A camper? Smorgeous, what the hell is that? D_Light sent to his familiar.
It took only a second for Smorgeous to mash together a summary from various sources on the Cloud:
Homo sapiens #4586754 (camper)
Entertainment. Campers serve as quarry in the hunting reserves, typically hunted by rape-and-kill fetishists.
Typical High-Level Phenotype:
Appearance:
— 94 % Blond Bombshell
— 3 % Waif Asian
— 2 % African Beauty
— 1 % Other
Psychological Profile:
— 99 % Moral ^*
— 99 % Hygienic ^*
— 93 % Sensitive ^*
Intelligence is variable. Depends on human template used and outside factors (see human intelligence).
Other notes: Campers are generally marketed as one-use products due to their termination shortly after capture. This is advised by the manufacturer due to extensive degradation of psychological phenotype if used as catch and release.
Smorgeous offered other resources for more detailed information, but D_Light decided not to open them just yet.
It was quiet at the table until Lyra, having tapped into Djoser’s familiar to research the subject, broke the silence. “That’s disgusting! A completely sordid business! To design a-a perfect rape victim? My Soul, is there no limit to what a player will do for a couple of points?”
“A couple of points? No, try a lot of points,” Djoser said. Lyra scowled at him, at which point he added, “Uh, not that I’ve looked into it, of course. Just, you know, a few of the guys…Well, campers are one-use products, so it doesn’t take a genius to know hunting them would cost a fortune.”
Lyra bunched up her hand into a fist. “Don’t be stupid!” she hissed at Djoser. Then, addressing the doctor, she said, “Begging your pardon, sir.”
Dr. Monsa shrugged and looked over to Lily with an expression that D_Light could not read on his misshapen face. “It is I who beg your pardon, Lily. I did not realize your, er, your friends were unaware of your background.”
The analyst, who until now had been absently poking at his food, looked up and stared pointedly at Lily. “You…you escaped the reserves?” His voice quavered. “How? How did you escape from a place like that?”
At this point several people at the table started speaking at once.
Djoser: “Ridiculous, really. Just the R amp;D to design such a product…”
Analyst: “Lily is your name, right? Lily, yes, I would truly like to see your archive of the escape…”
Priest: “You’re off the reservation. My Soul, you’re a demon, then!”
Analyst: “Oh, dear me, I suspect you have no archive. Campers are not fitted with chips…”
Djoser: “…would cost a fortune, and then the cost to grow her…”
Analyst: “Perhaps just you and I sit down back at my den and you give me your story…”
D_Light: “Why don’t we leave this alone?”
Djoser: “Such an expense for a few hours of fun? My Soul, how some players live!”
Analyst: “I can scan you there, at my den. It does not hurt a bit. Your story would be valuable…”
Lily’s eyes were tearing up as they fixed on something distant.
Sara: “Despoil you? That is your purpose? You look like a kitten. No sport in it, I suspect…”
Lyra: “You are being rude.”
Sara: “Rude? That thing is just a toy.”
As Sara said this, the concubine sneered and then plunged a fork down into the hand of the product seated between her and D_Light. It howled and thrashed, knocking over D_Light’s wine glass and flipping his plate.
“My Soul!” D_Light leaned back away from the anguished product.
Lily bolted up, knocking her chair backward, and then she walked quickly away from the table. She disappeared down a shrubbery corridor.
Lyra glared at Sara. “How dare you! I’m flipping royalty, and you were born a slut! You don’t question anything I say!” Lyra sprang up. She looked as though she were preparing to pounce on the concubine.
Dr. Monsa struck his wine glass with his fork several times, resulting in a high-pitched chime that cut above the clamor. Everyone ceased fire and looked over at him, at which point he said, “Sara, that is no way to behave at the table! Leave us now!” Sara gave her master a cold look, but she immediately got to her feet while grabbing the hair of the two products. She dragged them away with her.
Taking a bite from his plate and addressing the table without swallowing, the doctor said, “I apologize for Sara’s behavior. She gets overexcited when she sees new faces.”
“I mean no offense, sir, but your concubine appears unstable.” Lyra’s face was flushed.
“Indeed, she is one of my earlier designs. I’m afraid in my younger years I put too much emphasis on passion and vivacity. But she loves me. So what can I do?”
One of the clones leaned over the table to better see Lyra and offered, “Mother Lyra, if it is any consolation, my sisters and I hate her too.”
The doctor laughed. “Yes, remember Mua_So_Pretty? She was one of my girls. She tried to kill Sara, but the old lady came out on top that time.”
D_Light stood up and bowed. “Doctor, I am afraid I feel the call of nature, and I ask to be excused.”
The doctor nodded absently. “Of course, and feel free to relieve your nature into the bushes yonder. All plants here metabolize urine well. If your nature is a bit more on the solid side, well, that is beneficial for the flora too, but please keep it downwind.”
“Father!” BoBo cried plaintively.
Dr. Monsa chuckled. “Oh, and by the way, the amarilla plants, the ones with the broad, soft leaves,” he said as he pointed to a nearby plant that fit his description, “they make excellent toiletry.”
“Father!” BoBo cried again. “Really inappropriate for the table! You lecture us on etiquette?”
The doctor smiled mischievously at his daughter.
“Try leading by example,” she instructed.
D_Light smiled to himself as he walked away. Only an old immortal like the doctor would talk about cleaning oneself with toiletry since everyone nowadays used his or her familiar to do it. Smorgeous’s tongue was not just cosmetic; it possessed the appropriate enzymes to process human waste. Familiars had waste of their own, but they excreted it only where appropriate, and it smelled like cinnamon.
As he left the clearing, D_Light overheard the doctor saying, “Sara’s behavior is an extreme example of poor etiquette. Etiquette. It’s quite simple, really-make your guests feel comfortable. Etiquette is a lost art, I fear, something more in vogue when I was young.”
D_Light was not happy with this at all. He felt as though he were in some disquieting Alice in Wonderland inspired spank game, starring Dr. Monsa as the Mad Hatter. At D_Light’s instruction, Smorgeous watched behind D_Light’s back. That crazed concubine was out here, and he had noticed her slip the fork she had used to stab the product into her blouse before leaving the table.
It was only a minute before he found Lily walking slowly on a trail ahead. He had to run to catch up. As he approached, she looked back with a tear-streaked face. She tensed up as he came near. She was obviously upset, but there was anger in her eyes as well. D_Light wasn’t sure what to say, but he spoke anyway. “So you were designed to be a sex toy for sadistic assholes-so what? Who doesn’t have a little baggage?” D_Light was far from sure that dark humor was what she wanted right now, but it was the first thing that popped into his head.
Lily shook her head and smiled halfheartedly. To D_Light’s surprise, she walked quickly over and embraced him. Her face was warm and wet against his cheek. Soul, she smells good, he thought. He wanted to care for her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. He moved his hands up through her hair and gently stroked the back of her neck and head. She was trembling. Despite her toned body, she was soft in his grip. “Help me,” she whispered with a fierce undertone as though she was issuing a command rather than pleading. She then lifted her head back and looked at him with sad, soulful eyes. “I miss my sisters. I don’t have anyone.”
“Your sisters? You mean the-” D_Light was going to say “other campers,” but instead he said, “The others on the reserve?”
She nodded slowly and then said between sobs, “I had Todget, and he was good, and we were…we were doing okay, even happy sometimes, but I left them. We left them all behind.”
D_Light was not exactly sure what she was saying, but he felt the need to comfort her. “I’ll work on this. You know,” D_Light said as he cupped her soft face in his hands and gazed back into her shimmering eyes, “Djoser and Lyra are powerful players. I’ll talk to them and maybe they can help. Maybe they can help you when this is all over.”
She shook her head and sniffed. “I doubt that they will help me. Did you see how they looked at me back there?”
“What do you mean? Lyra was livid! She was-”
“Yes, she was angry that I was made, but that doesn’t mean she wants to help me,” Lily said. “I’m not talking about her anyway, I’m talking about the other one.”
“Djoser? He was just surprised. I mean, we all were. He’s gotta appreciate what you’ve done for the team, how you helped us escape.”
“I just feel wrong. I wish I could be one of you, but that’s impossible. I…” She broke off and sobbed. “I should go. I should go, I think.”
“You can’t keep running.”
Lily smiled sadly. “I was created to run.”
D_Light hugged her tightly and pressed his lips up against her ear to whisper, “Don’t look now, but there’s a squirrel spying on us.”
“Oh Stag, it’s one of those robots,” she whispered. “How embarrassing, to be blubbering and having that silly thing watching me.” Despite her apparent alarm, she laughed. D_Light was glad to hear it.
“I should get back,” he said. “Get back to the dinner. Don’t go running off, though. Can I find you later?”
Lily answered with an ambiguous shrug. As D_Light walked away, he kept looking over his shoulder. He half expected her to run off at any moment, but she just stood there meeting the stare of the squirrel that sat on its haunches on a thick branch of a polka-dot-patterned tree.
Although it had been an excuse to find Lily, D_Light actually did have to urinate, and on his way back he found a secluded thicket into which he could relieve himself. As he stared down at his stream, he half wondered why he bothered with the girl-why, for instance, he felt the need to comfort her when she cried, which was turning out to be a common occurrence. She was no relation of his. She was not even in the Game. And now he learns that she is not even human! But these thoughts were washed out of his mind as her scent, voice, face, and body swept back into his memory. He took a deep breath and let out a low, soft groan.
Master, your bio-chemi signature and thought patterns most closely resemble patterns shown during past early stages of courtship. Examples available upon request.
Yes, Smorgeous could always be counted on to point out the obvious. D_Light knew he had a thing for the girl, or for the product, as it turned out. Smorgeous, upon confirming his suspicion, suggested alternatives to what the computer termed “unproductive dwelling,” including testosterone inhibitors, or since his master currently enjoyed privacy in the hedge, a collection of erotic material.
D_Light refused both options, the former because he did not want his testosterone meddled with, and the latter because he did not have time for that; he needed to get back to the dinner.