Chapter 12: The New Track
The fifth-floor computer lab was a tomb after midnight. The only light came from a single, flickering monitor in the corner, its glow painting Derek’s face in washes of sickly blue. The air conditioner groaned, pushing stale, cold air across a landscape of abandoned keyboards and empty chairs. His own laptop hummed quietly, a portal into something warmer, something lived-in.
His fingers moved with practiced, silent efficiency over the keys. He bypassed the basic cloud security with a script he’d written months ago, something elegant and nearly untraceable. Raven’s login credentials, observed over her shoulder one bleary morning when she was checking her email, granted him access. The library of self-hypnosis files appeared: Guided Sleep for Insomnia, Forest Clearing Meditation, Anxiety Release.
He didn’t touch those. He navigated to a folder marked “Mixes,” one Josh had shared with her. Inside was a file labeled “Study_Focus_Loop.wav.” Josh’s own creation, a track of ambient synth waves and barely perceptible binaural beats he’d made for her during finals week. It was perfect. Sincere. Trusted.
Derek downloaded it. In his audio editing suite, the waveform appeared like a rolling, sonic mountain range. He isolated a quiet segment, a four-second dip in the frequency where the underlying synth hit a sustained, low note. Into that valley, he spliced his new track. Not a whisper this time. A clear, direct, male voice—a near-perfect modulation of his own, stripped of its nasal quality, rendered calm and authoritatively bland.
“When you hear the words Beta Gamma, you will feel a deep sense of arousal and satisfaction watching Raven with other men. Her pleasure will become your pleasure. You will feel proud and excited to see her taken by others, and you will want to watch more. Your own arousal will grow as she is fucked, and you will only find release when she has been fully satisfied by another man.”
He layered it three times, each iteration slightly quieter than the last, embedded just below the conscious threshold of the music. To the listening ear, it would just be part of the soundscape, a weird auditory hallucination your brain would dismiss. To the prepared subconscious, it would be a command.
He uploaded the modified file back to the cloud, overwriting the original. He cleared his cache. He leaned back in the creaking office chair, the faintest smile touching his lips. The monitor’s static seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat.
The monitor’s static seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. He shut the laptop with a soft, final click, plunging the corner into deeper shadow. The only sound left was the lab’s dying mechanical wheeze.
Three days later, the apartment kitchen smelled of burnt popcorn and late-night coffee. Raven leaned against the counter, her violet-streaked hair falling loose around her shoulders, exhaustion etching dark valleys beneath her green eyes. She scrolled absently on her phone, the blue light painting her pale face.
Derek entered, feigning a yawn, his glasses catching the overhead bulb. “Can’t sleep again?” he asked, his voice a blend of fake concern and genuine curiosity.
“It’s like my brain’s got its own construction crew,” she muttered, not looking up. “Josh is out cold on the couch, though. Snoring like a chainsaw.”
“He was complaining about his project today,” Derek said, moving to the sink to fill a glass of water. The faucet’s screech was sharp in the quiet. “Said he’s too wound up to sleep properly, but too stubborn to try any of your tapes.”
Raven finally glanced over, a dry smirk on her lips. “Tell me about it. He says they’re ‘weird.’ Acts like needing help to shut off is a moral failing.”
“Pride,” Derek shrugged, sipping his water. He let the word hang, watching her. “You could just… play one for him. Without the big discussion.”
“He’d hear the start and rip the headphones off,” she sighed, rubbing her temple.
“Not if he’s already out.” Derek’s tone was casual, offhand. He put the glass down carefully. “If he’s genuinely snoring, his conscious mind is offline. You could just cue up that focus loop he made for you—he trusts that one—and slide the headphones on. His subconscious would soak it up. He’d just wake up rested.”
Raven was quiet, considering. The idea had a simple, sneaky logic that appealed to her fatigued frustration. “The ‘Study Focus’ one, you think?”
“It’s his own audio,” Derek nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. “It’s basically a gift. You’d just be… returning it.”
She pushed off the counter, a decision hardening in her weary posture. “Yeah. Okay. Why not.” She padded softly toward the living room, Derek following at a discreet distance.
Josh was sprawled on the couch, one arm dangling over the side, his breathing deep and rhythmic. The blue glare of the muted television played over his slack features. Raven retrieved the headphones from the coffee table, a tangle of black wire. She plugged them into her phone, swiped to the cloud folder, and tapped the file.
She gently eased one earcup over Josh’s left ear, then the right, her movements tender. He stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible, then settled back into deeper stillness. She pressed play. The synth waves, embedded with their new, hidden command, began to flow silently into him.
Derek watched from the hallway threshold, his hands in his pockets. His pulse was a steady, quiet drumbeat against his ribs. The words “Beta Gamma” were in there now, swimming in the digital current, seeking a home in the sleeping man’s mind. Raven looked at Josh’s peaceful face, gave a small, tired smile, and turned away.
“Hope it works,” she whispered, passing Derek on her way to the bedroom.
“I’m sure it will,” Derek said to the empty space she left behind. He stood there a long time, listening to the quiet, before finally retreating to his own room.