Secrets

Even Trade

“So, how long have you lived here?” she asked, looking around after she sat down on the couch.

“It’s been about five years now. It’s a small house but there’s a finished basement, more room that you might think just seeing it from the street. Can I get you anything, munchies, something to drink?” He stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

They had first met at work. He was in the Engineering department; she worked in Purchasing. Procurement meetings often brought them together when planning rollouts of new products. Co-workers warned him she rarely went out with anyone from the business. Eventually he asked her anyway, and to his surprise she accepted.

The first date had been a movie followed by a late dinner. Over plates of enchiladas the topic came up of relationships and compatibility. She had mentioned a new website with a compatibility test processed entirely by an artificial intelligence program. It asked all the usual questions and a few surprisingly politically incorrect ones, but promised the answers were kept in strict confidence to encourage honesty. The site had a lengthy explanation on how the profiles were never read by a real person. To test compatibility two people could exchange user account IDs and get back a percentage rating.

The concept was intriguing. More out of curiosity than anything else they had decided to try it out. His user account was accurate to a degree where he’d never risk answering if the responses were made public. For that reason he hadn’t expected much in the way of results. He was astonished when the Artificial Intelligence gave her a “93% compatible” rating. Even more surprising was her result, which showed him as “near perfect”. Both of them agreed to a second date to discuss the results over dinner.

He sat down in a chair facing her. She was attractive in the methods he preferred. The Artificial Intelligence had certainly hit one hundred percent in that respect. She was dressed for an evening out, although in a more conservative way than what he usually encountered. Looking at her he was struck by one more way she seemed to be different. He hadn’t noticed before how she all the time sat with her legs together, never crossed, and both feet on the floor always. That was one of the quirks he had listed in his user account.

The dinner had gone well, or at least he wondered so. The conversation had been non-stop, none of those awkward pauses where no one knows quite what to say. She didn’t appear to be reticent about talking about herself either, no short answers, and seemed to be just as interested in what he had to say. Still, it wasn’t obvious to either of them why the Artificial Intelligence would consider them a near perfect match. Still puzzled by the result she had actually asked to see his place, even though it was only their second time out together.

“No thanks, I’m good,” she replied. “I have no idea why the computer rated us so highly, there has to be something more. So how about a trade? Tell me a secret about yourself, something no one else knows, and then I’ll reveal one about myself.” She leaned back on the couch, one arm extended along the top.

He sat down, folded his arms and studied her, pondering her offer. “In engineering we have what’s called fault mode effects analysis, what are the consequences of some particular design choice when it fails or doesn’t work as expected? The end result is a prediction about the risks when you realize, after the fact, you made a serious mistake. That begs the question, what’s the risk here if I open my Pandora’s Box of secrets and let you peek in? If I accept the offer, let you have a look at my personality flaws, do you think you can keep an open mind before you decide to run out the door, screaming for help?” He did have a secret, a big one, and it was definitely something that might very well scare her off.

She sat up, intrigued by his answer. She had expected some minor insight into what sort of person he was, on the order of a secret fear of black cats or an intense dislike for fried okra. Instead he seemed to be eager to reveal something major. “As long as you’re not some kind of serial killer or wanted for war crimes on three continents, I promise I’ll stay calm. Beyond that, well, it depends on you.”

He laughed. “No, nothing quite that drastic, no outstanding warrants.” He wondered a moment. “Okay, fair enough, it’s a deal. Rather than explain, it’ll be easier to show you. I have a collection of items in the basement, nothing gruesome, but not the sort of thing most people indulge in as a hobby. If you find it disturbing just say so. I’ll take you home right away. I ask only that you treat it as private, just between the two of us.”

He rose from his chair. “One other condition, your secret has to be on par with mine. No getting out of the trade by telling me you secretly loathe crushed nuts on ice cream cones.”

What could it be, she thought? Like him she had found the idea of a completely anonymous compatibility test intriguing. Trusting in the promises the site made she had filled out her user account with highly personal information, details she’d never disclose to anyone in person.

Up to now she had a good feeling about the man sitting across from her. Considering what she’d put in her user account she had to wonder why the Artificial Intelligence would pick this particular one to be such a close match, according to the little information provided to her. That was the catch with the website: it reported a compatibility index but offered no explanation as to how the number was calculated.

He was certainly charming. He was attentive, considerate, yet assertive in subtle methods that appealed to her. From the wide ranging topics over dinner he was obviously educated and expressed himself well, another surprise considering he was an engineer. If pressed she couldn’t explain why, but her intuition said to trust him.

She stood up. “Okay, even trade. If I stay I promise I’ll match you secret for secret. And for your information I like nuts on a cone. It’s that hard chocolate coating I hate.”

The Collection

She followed him down the stairs to the basement. It was finished, as he had mentioned, with painted wall board, ceiling tiles and a carpet on the floor, overall a nice job of adding space to a small house. The room at the bottom of the stairwell was fitted out as a casual living room, with a large screen TV, some chairs and a somewhat worn but clean sofa. A closed door led to the rest of the basement.

“I keep the collection in here,” he explained, opening the door.

She hesitated just a moment before following him into the next room. When he turned on the lights what she saw was totally unexpected, but it did explain his caution. The walls were lined with pegboards, and on them were hanging all sorts of handcuffs, leg chains and other types of restraints. Underneath each item was a small card. She walked up to one and started reading. The cards were neatly printed labels, listing the model, business, country of origin and date of manufacture. Definitely an engineering type, she told herself, he’s careful about the little details.

He backed up to the far end of the room. She didn’t miss that. He was deliberately not blocking the door, trying to not be seen as a threat. “Okay, open mind,” she began. “Obvious question, why collect,” she swept her arm around the room, “all this?”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t come to mind immediately, but there’s a real mechanical design challenge here. How do you assert physical control over someone, usually by force, in such a way as to minimize injury while preventing escape? Potential prisoners come in all shapes and degree of hostility. Any solution has to cover a wide spectrum, yet be economical and relatively easy to use, with little or no training. I’m fascinated by the whole idea, and the solutions that have evolved over the years.”

She turned back to the wall display, slowly walking past his exhibits. “All these are the real thing? They actually work? You have the keys?” She needed some time to take in what she was seeing.

“There are some reproductions, when the originals are rare or one-of-a-kind museum pieces. Yes, they are all real, they work reliably, and I have two keys to everything hanging on the wall.”

She stopped in front of one particular item that caught her interest. “Tell me about this one,” she asked, pointing to one of the restraints. “How was it used?” How could the Artificial Intelligence site have matched me to a man like this? She turned to look at him, noting how he carefully kept his distance.

He came over to stand next to her. “Those are what’re known as transport chains. When a high risk or violent prisoner had to be moved to another facility the guards will use them to closely restrict hands and feet, to keep the prisoner subdued. They’re still in use today.”

“They look scary.” She turned her head to look up at him. She asked herself silently, should I do it? Taking a deep breath, she plunged into unknown territory. “Show me how they work! Pretend I’m a violent, psychotic criminal. I’ve just been convicted on multiple sensational and particularly grisly murder charges, now you have to take me to prison.”

He stared at her, taken back by her unexpected request. “These aren’t kids’ toys, you know. This is the real deal. That particular model is used by federal marshals and maximum security prisons. They lock on; you can’t get them off without the key. Unless your secret is you moonlight as an escape artist?”

She looked directly at him, eye to eye. “I understand, I trust you. And no, no outside job as a magician. Go ahead; I want to know what it’s like. I’ve never been arrested. I’ve never even seen handcuffs before, except on TV.” She turned her back to him, placing her hands behind her back. “I’m ready. And don’t hold back. Treat me like I’m the real deal too.”

He hesitated, wondering if this was a good idea. He reached up and took the restraints off the pegs. “These can be used with your hands in front…” he began.

“On TV it’s always hands behind the back,” she interrupted him. “Don’t take too long. I’m liable to lose my nerve.” That part was true. It was all she could do to hold still and not begin shaking. I can not be saying this, she wondered. It felt like she was driving down a steep, twisty mountain road late at night, through a thick fog.

“Okay, if you insist. First thing, we have to secure your hands.” She heard the clicks when he pushed open the bows on the handcuffs. Taking hold of her left hand he closed the cuff around her wrist, followed by the other cuff around her right wrist. “The keyholes face away from your hands. In theory it’s supposed to make it harder for you to open them if you get hold of a key. I don’t think it really matters, but that’s the procedure.”

She tried to pull her wrists aside. The cuffs held them close together. Then she tried to slip the cuffs over her wrists, like regular bracelets, but they fit too close to go past her hands. “I can’t get them off. You definitely have my attention.” She was still heading down that twisty road, but to make it interesting her brakes had just failed. I’m past the point of no return. Once she was committed all the anxiety seemed to fade away. It might still be a dangerous road, but she wasn’t the driver any longer.

“Doing okay, not too tight?” He checked the fit, slipping a finger between her wrist and the cuff to make sure there was some room. Satisfied, he used the key to double lock them. “That click was the double lock, so they won’t tighten further and cut off circulation.”

With one hand he took hold of her arm and turned her to face him. “This is where the extra security comes into play.” He reached around behind her and took hold of the loose ends of the waist chain. With one end in each hand he pulled it tight against her waist, slipping one end through a ring on the other. “It takes some work but a lot of people can slip their hands down and step through the cuffs if they aren’t secured in place. This waist chain makes it more difficult to escape.” Reaching for a padlock on the wall he clicked it shut on the waist chain in the front, well beyond her now restricted reach. “With the chain on the idea is that your hands will stay in place behind your back, where they are the least likely to cause some mischief.”

She tried to shift her hands left and right, and then up and down. Bending over, she tried to reach out, without success. She tilted her head to look up at him. “You’re right about not having much freedom of movement. What about that other thing hanging on the wall?”

Behind her back, hidden from his sight she ran the fingers of her right hand over the cuff on her left wrist. It had a more substantial feel to it compared to a regular bracelet, heavy and sturdy. If these could subdue a man twice her size there certainly wasn’t any way she could break Free.

“The handcuffs keep you from fighting back, but you can still run away. You’d find it awkward running with your hands cuffed behind your back though. It throws off your balance. To make sure you don’t try to escape we have to restrain your legs too.” He turned her around to face the wall again.

She looked up at him over her shoulder. “I suppose that makes sense. Those things,” she nodded toward the leg irons on the wall, “go around my feet?”

After reaching over her head to take them off the wall he knelt down and began fastening the leg irons on her ankles, above the straps on her shoes. When they were in place he checked the fit, and then double locked those cuffs as well. “That’s right,” he explained as he stood up. “The connecting chain is long enough for you to walk, though it will slow you down. The length is too short to run, even if you weren’t wearing heels.”

She leaned over to better see what he’d done. There was a larger handcuff locked around each ankle, with a longer connecting chain between them. “Be careful when you try to walk. These leg irons are a special version, modified with a shorter connecting chain.”

While he held onto her arm she took a tentative step forward. Her ankle jerked to a stop when the chain pulled tight. She tried again, with the other foot. Carefully she stopped before the chain halted her. She could walk, but not very fast or very far. She wondered of the stairs down to the basement. Those might be something of a challenge to climb. He was right; she certainly wasn’t gonna run away now.

While standing behind her he reached over to the wall and took down one more special set of cuffs, slipping them into his back pocket. “At this point I’d be escorting you out to the bus that’ll take you to prison. How about we go sit down for a few minutes? You do still owe me a secret, remember?” At her side he took hold of her arm, above the elbow. “C’mon, you can reveal all.”

Collecting a Debt

Her first step towards the door brought her up short when the leg irons grabbed hold of her ankles. She stumbled and almost fell. Fortunately his grip on her arm kept her upright. “Steady, take it slow,” he warned her. “You have to take shorter steps. Work with your limits. Don’t try to fight the chains.”

“I see what you mean. It’s sort of like wearing a really tight skirt and way too high heels.” She tried again, this time deliberately taking a short step that didn’t pull tight the leg chain. “Okay, that was better. Not very likely I’m going to overpower you and make a run for it, is it? I’m not sure I could even make it up the stairs.”

“I’ll have to take your word on the tight skirt. Yeah, that’s why they’re called restraints. Most machines are designed to make a difficult task easier. These do the opposite, make something as simple as walking a slow and complicated effort. You’re doing fine, take your time.” Still holding onto her arm he led her through the open doorway into the small living room area. “Here, you sit down on the sofa. I’ll help you.”

While he kept her steady she sat down. He watched her closely, still puzzled as to why she hadn’t asked him to release her right away. He pulled over a chair and sat down facing her. She sat up straight, legs close together and feet on the floor. He noticed for the first time, with the leg irons on she couldn’t cross her legs.

“There is one more part to this I didn’t mention before. See, if you really were a high risk, and in a bus seat, I’d use a pair of these,” he held up the set of cuffs he’d taken from the wall, “to keep you from causing any trouble.”

What she saw dangling from his hand was another pair of oversize cuffs, like the ones around her ankles, but instead of a chain these were joined together with a large hinge. Their purpose was obvious. Locked on her ankles she couldn’t walk at all. Leaning forward to keep her balance she stretched out her legs toward him. “Since I’m in this far I suppose I might as well go all the way. Well then, officer, better make sure I behave.”

He looked at her again, not quite sure what to make of her last remark. Reaching down he closed the oversized hinged cuffs around her ankles, immobilizing her. Like the others he used a key to double lock them. When he finished she drew her legs back, planting both feet firmly on the floor. “It seems I won’t be going for a stroll anytime soon.”

She struggled a bit more, more to prove to herself she was securely imprisoned by the restraints that actually trying to break Free. “I have to admit these chains do a good job. I’ve never felt more helpless than right now.” She looked up at him. “I don’t have a clue as to how I can make a daring escape trussed up like this. What happens next?”

He leaned forward in his chair, facing her. He was so close their feet were almost touching. Tilting his head to one side he studied the woman in front of him. “That is the question, isn’t it?” He took his time before continuing. “I suppose if this was your unlucky day, I would, as the saying goes, have my way with you.”

She froze, afraid to speak. Was he serious? And if so, what could she do? That brought up a more complicated question, what did she want him to do? Finally she asked, “Is that what you planned?”

He smiled. “Still have an open mind? A sudden turn, isn’t it? For just a moment there, you felt what a real prisoner feels: fear, helplessness, trapped and no escape. Is it what you expected?”

Frowning she snapped back, “Do you always answer a question with another question?”

Just as quickly he replied, “And do you always change the subject when asked a difficult question? You can relax. No, I’m not going to attack you. I’ll share one more secret. To be completely honest, you are extremely attractive wearing those, umm, accessories. You are quite the temptation. I find it’s very difficult keeping my hands off you. But don’t worry, you’re safe.”

Behind her back she explored the cuff on her left wrist, using the fingers of her right hand. Slipping two fingers under the bow she tried to pull the cuff open, but it didn’t budge. She wasn’t gonna get out of them on her own. “If I ask, will you unlock these things and let me go?”

He stood up but didn’t answer right away. Towering over her she had to lean back to look up at him. “The easiest way to answer that is for you to actually ask me. Remember though, you wanted me to show you how those cuffs work. You’re halfway there now, but there’s more than just being bound hand and foot. To really understand what being restrained is like you have to experience that moment when you are trapped, a prisoner with no way to get them off. You ask to be released, I refuse. At that point the world shifts around you. Suddenly you’ve lost that last little bit of control.”

That was when the realization struck as to how extremely vulnerable she was. He was twice her size, far stronger, and she couldn’t make a move to defend herself. Trying not to shake she lowered her head. Barely whispering she said, “What…What are you going to do to me?”