Spade and Z in café, after Milgram's
Created | Updated Mar 8, 2013
This is another excerpt from Spade's story. Here we find Z and Spade conversing in a café after Spade's intense experience in a club called Milgram's.
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Spade sat across from Z, inhaling deep the earthy roasted aromas of the café. He held his cup of coffee close to his face. He inhaled deeply. The dizziness was wearing off. Z sat calmly sipping her own drink. A sweet spicy smelling drink Spade hadn’t heard of which Z called chai. She offered a sip and Spade found it quite delicious but after his experience in Milgram’s, he wanted a very strong sobering cup of coffee, with milk and sugar. Spade sipped his hot coffee slowly. They hadn’t said much since walking to the café. Spade supposed Z was allowing him to regain his bearings and decompress, and for that he was grateful. Spade closed his eyes.
“Are you OK?” Z studied Spade with concern.
“I just don’t get it. Why? How can people be like that? Who would get pleasure from that? I don’t understand.” Spade stared into his cup, shaking his head. He just couldn’t understand why anyone would want to engage in such – he couldn’t bring himself to think ‘sinful’ – activities.
Z took a long sip and thought. “Do you remember when we first had lunch together, that sandwich you had?” Spade nodded. “You said something about he meat tasting bland and boring. Remember when we were in the woods and I refused the jerky? The thought of eating wild meat is just, I can’t.” Z shuddered visibly. “So at lunch when you mentioned the taste of meat back home, eating chickens and pigs, it about made me sick. I got really nauseous but I didn’t want you to know how disgusted I was.”
Spade could only stare at Z. It never occurred to him that she might feel that way.
“Look Spade, don’t think I’m upset with you and please don’t be upset with me saying so. But I grew up on synth meat, grown and processed in factories. Nothing had to die to make it. I love roast beef and I love pâté and I eat it knowing that some animal didn’t have to be slaughtered and hacked to pieces for me to enjoy it. But for you, roast beef would be the direct result of such a slaughter. Not necessarily because that’s what you want, it’s just the way you had to live. Ugh, just thinking about it makes me queasy.” Z paused to take a sip of her chai.
“You get pleasure from something that completely grosses me out. You said so yourself. ‘Real meat has real flavor.’ That’s where the flavor is, but not for me. I really like the meat I eat; I think it has plenty of flavor and taste. Whether it’s synthetic chicken or bacon or whatever, to me it’s delicious but for you, it’ll never be enough. It’ll never have enough flavor. Which is why traders sometimes trade in black market meat. There are some people in the cities that will pay extraordinary amounts for real, wild meat, and it’s why I stay away from trading the stuff. I could never haul around a box of animals parts.” Z stopped herself and took another sip. She composed herself, took a breath, and continued
“Most people enjoy sexual pleasure. And they get that pleasure with others or alone but they get it in normal ways. For most people, everyday run-of-the-mill sex is pleasure enough. But for some people, for the ones who go to places like Milgram’s, regular sex just isn’t enough. There’s not enough flavor, so to speak. They cross that line of pleasure and pain and they blur it. It’s something they choose.”
Spade continued to listen, all the while starring in his cup. When Z had finished he said, “But it just seemed wrong. I know I shouldn’t judge but it didn’t feel right at all. Like it was unnatural or something. I don’t know. I was just, revolted, I guess.”
Z nodded. “I know. I think killing animals and consuming their flesh is wrong. I think the analogy works, Spade. For you it’s normal. It’s your normal. Not mine. The whole S&M thing is the same way. It’s what they want.”
“Why would anyone want that?”
“They just do, I guess.” Z was clearly exasperated by the argument. “It’s their choice. Maybe you didn’t notice but most people were just watching. And those who do participate do so with consent. I know you were really freaked out in there but actually it’s quite safe. No one is allowed to touch you without permission. It’s their rule. And that’s why they go there. They can live out that kind of lifestyle safely, with other like minded people. It’s a community. A weird and f---ed up community,” at that Spade laughed, “but one where they feel comfortable. You grew up in a strict moral community but it’s not really a moral argument anyway since no one is getting hurt.”
Spade corrected her, “Well at least no one who doesn’t want to get hurt.” He smiled and was glad to see her smile in return.
“The way we see it, as long as laws aren’t being broken and people aren’t doing anything that harms society, let them be.”
Spade nodded. His cup was empty. “That’s fair enough. And I agree. They should be allowed to do whatever. I guess it’s just me and the way I was raised. All that stuff put in my head when I was young. It’s hard to shake.” Spade looked again at his empty cup.
Z got up from her seat and grabbed his cup, “I’ll get us some refills.” As she walked off Spade thought about what Z had said. He tried not to think about Prat. Although he found her intensity, those hard staring eyes, frightening and intimidating, he did not feel repulsed by her as he had felt when seeing others in the club. But that intensity in her eyes somehow told him that, if she wanted to, and she probably did want to, she could cause someone a great deal of pain – or pleasure, if that was your thing.
Z returned with fresh cups. “Cream and three sugar, right?” Her smile was infectious.
“Perfect.” Spade lifted his cup close to his face and breathed deeply. “Perfect.”
“What did you call Milgram’s? Sodom and Gomorra?”
“Oh yeah.” Spade sipped his coffee gingerly, as it was still too hot to drink properly.
“What is that, a place or something?”
Spade looked over the rim of his cup. Z’s eyes locked on his and he was glad to be looking at those eyes. He put the cup down and held it with two hands, feeling the warmth spread to his wrists, then up his forearms.
“It’s a biblical reference. Sodom and Gomorra were two cities destroyed by God because of the sins of their inhabitants.”
“Why would he do that?”
“As a general rule, in the Old Testament, God was something of an a--hole.” Z nearly did a spit-take as she tried to sip her chai. Spade laughed. “He really was.”
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Spade sat across from Z, inhaling deep the earthy roasted aromas of the café. He held his cup of coffee close to his face. He inhaled deeply. The dizziness was wearing off. Z sat calmly sipping her own drink. A sweet spicy smelling drink Spade hadn’t heard of which Z called chai. She offered a sip and Spade found it quite delicious but after his experience in Milgram’s, he wanted a very strong sobering cup of coffee, with milk and sugar. Spade sipped his hot coffee slowly. They hadn’t said much since walking to the café. Spade supposed Z was allowing him to regain his bearings and decompress, and for that he was grateful. Spade closed his eyes.
“Are you OK?” Z studied Spade with concern.
“I just don’t get it. Why? How can people be like that? Who would get pleasure from that? I don’t understand.” Spade stared into his cup, shaking his head. He just couldn’t understand why anyone would want to engage in such – he couldn’t bring himself to think ‘sinful’ – activities.
Z took a long sip and thought. “Do you remember when we first had lunch together, that sandwich you had?” Spade nodded. “You said something about he meat tasting bland and boring. Remember when we were in the woods and I refused the jerky? The thought of eating wild meat is just, I can’t.” Z shuddered visibly. “So at lunch when you mentioned the taste of meat back home, eating chickens and pigs, it about made me sick. I got really nauseous but I didn’t want you to know how disgusted I was.”
Spade could only stare at Z. It never occurred to him that she might feel that way.
“Look Spade, don’t think I’m upset with you and please don’t be upset with me saying so. But I grew up on synth meat, grown and processed in factories. Nothing had to die to make it. I love roast beef and I love pâté and I eat it knowing that some animal didn’t have to be slaughtered and hacked to pieces for me to enjoy it. But for you, roast beef would be the direct result of such a slaughter. Not necessarily because that’s what you want, it’s just the way you had to live. Ugh, just thinking about it makes me queasy.” Z paused to take a sip of her chai.
“You get pleasure from something that completely grosses me out. You said so yourself. ‘Real meat has real flavor.’ That’s where the flavor is, but not for me. I really like the meat I eat; I think it has plenty of flavor and taste. Whether it’s synthetic chicken or bacon or whatever, to me it’s delicious but for you, it’ll never be enough. It’ll never have enough flavor. Which is why traders sometimes trade in black market meat. There are some people in the cities that will pay extraordinary amounts for real, wild meat, and it’s why I stay away from trading the stuff. I could never haul around a box of animals parts.” Z stopped herself and took another sip. She composed herself, took a breath, and continued
“Most people enjoy sexual pleasure. And they get that pleasure with others or alone but they get it in normal ways. For most people, everyday run-of-the-mill sex is pleasure enough. But for some people, for the ones who go to places like Milgram’s, regular sex just isn’t enough. There’s not enough flavor, so to speak. They cross that line of pleasure and pain and they blur it. It’s something they choose.”
Spade continued to listen, all the while starring in his cup. When Z had finished he said, “But it just seemed wrong. I know I shouldn’t judge but it didn’t feel right at all. Like it was unnatural or something. I don’t know. I was just, revolted, I guess.”
Z nodded. “I know. I think killing animals and consuming their flesh is wrong. I think the analogy works, Spade. For you it’s normal. It’s your normal. Not mine. The whole S&M thing is the same way. It’s what they want.”
“Why would anyone want that?”
“They just do, I guess.” Z was clearly exasperated by the argument. “It’s their choice. Maybe you didn’t notice but most people were just watching. And those who do participate do so with consent. I know you were really freaked out in there but actually it’s quite safe. No one is allowed to touch you without permission. It’s their rule. And that’s why they go there. They can live out that kind of lifestyle safely, with other like minded people. It’s a community. A weird and f---ed up community,” at that Spade laughed, “but one where they feel comfortable. You grew up in a strict moral community but it’s not really a moral argument anyway since no one is getting hurt.”
Spade corrected her, “Well at least no one who doesn’t want to get hurt.” He smiled and was glad to see her smile in return.
“The way we see it, as long as laws aren’t being broken and people aren’t doing anything that harms society, let them be.”
Spade nodded. His cup was empty. “That’s fair enough. And I agree. They should be allowed to do whatever. I guess it’s just me and the way I was raised. All that stuff put in my head when I was young. It’s hard to shake.” Spade looked again at his empty cup.
Z got up from her seat and grabbed his cup, “I’ll get us some refills.” As she walked off Spade thought about what Z had said. He tried not to think about Prat. Although he found her intensity, those hard staring eyes, frightening and intimidating, he did not feel repulsed by her as he had felt when seeing others in the club. But that intensity in her eyes somehow told him that, if she wanted to, and she probably did want to, she could cause someone a great deal of pain – or pleasure, if that was your thing.
Z returned with fresh cups. “Cream and three sugar, right?” Her smile was infectious.
“Perfect.” Spade lifted his cup close to his face and breathed deeply. “Perfect.”
“What did you call Milgram’s? Sodom and Gomorra?”
“Oh yeah.” Spade sipped his coffee gingerly, as it was still too hot to drink properly.
“What is that, a place or something?”
Spade looked over the rim of his cup. Z’s eyes locked on his and he was glad to be looking at those eyes. He put the cup down and held it with two hands, feeling the warmth spread to his wrists, then up his forearms.
“It’s a biblical reference. Sodom and Gomorra were two cities destroyed by God because of the sins of their inhabitants.”
“Why would he do that?”
“As a general rule, in the Old Testament, God was something of an a--hole.” Z nearly did a spit-take as she tried to sip her chai. Spade laughed. “He really was.”
