Lincoln Jandick was an established digital entrepreneur. The world’s insatiable appetite for pornography made it relatively easy for anyone with a little bit of seed money and absolutely no scruples to stake a claim in the omnipresent cyber economy. Content was the key, those generating a constant stream of content could find consumers for it somewhere on the global network. Viewing had become its own form of consumption, and that made Jandick’s business model that much simpler. Destiny or chance is a matter of perspective so because of the former or the latter Jandick found himself a resident of a city that was founded as a center for the mass production of fantasy.
The factory of illusion was powered by a never ending supply of forlorn people seized by the mass manufactured illusions that were continuously streamed into their consciousness. Dreams became delusions and hordes of people chemically disconnected from reality drifted into the city until it became a depot for human desperation and a graveyard of dreams. This provided men like Lincoln with ideal laborers, desperate and stripped of dignity.
Lincoln had been in entertainment for awhile never on the creative side of it but as an attorney and that was quite helpful during his transition into producing/directing. He existed on the fringes of the industry, feeding off its discarded scraps.
No vocation is free of routine, but luckily Lincon derived exceptional satisfaction from the monotony of the profession. Every day was spent checking answers to his craigslists ads, having sex with the ones who would do it for the pay he was offering, and then editing the tape on his MacBook.
Lincoln spent a lot of time making promo versions of his videos for streaming sites. It was a process that at this point was so formulaic in the industry how to manuals had been written about it. The first few minutes were spent interviewing the girl. Mostly basic questions, where did you come from why are you here, getting her to strip, then oral, three positions, followed by a facial, and then capped off with a fade out from a shot of the model staring up at the camera with a semen smeared face. The 45-minute scene had been cut down into a fifteen-minute highlight reel, much the same as reality television.
Lincoln was particularly pleased with how his latest scene had turned out.
She was painfully shy and the initial pre-sex interview took a bit more goading than usual but every personal fact he got the visibly nervous girl to reveal about herself unraveled the mystery until everyone who watched would know Sara was a 22-year-old call center rep from a suburb of Chicago who had taken dance and singing lessons the last 15 years of her life. Her reason for doing the scene was so she could avoid having to ask her father for money. Lincoln didn’t think much of that at the time. It wasn’t until the very end when he was spitefully tossing her a hand towel that he uttered;
“I wish I could see the look on your dad’s face when he sees this,”
He was thrilled with his improvised sound byte. Critics of the industry often say it dehumanizes women, that it encourages men to think of females as lifeless dolls. They were wrong, though. They didn’t understand it was the girl’s humanity that made her real and made her humiliation exciting. Millions of men were going to witness Sara’s degradation. Silicone dolls were incapable of experiencing shame and remorse but Sara could.
He had just finished uploading Sara’s big debut when his phone started buzzing.
“Speak of the devil,” mumbled Lincoln accepting the call.
“This is Lincoln Jandick,” he said formally.
“Mr. Jandick this is Sara from the shoot yesterday,” she said timidly.
“What can I do for you Sara?” asked Lincoln as he reclined in his chair.
“Mr. Jandick,” she began with a shaky voice. “I, I was wondering if it wasn’t too late to stop that tape from going online.”
“Sara we have a contract,” Lincoln sternly reminded her.
“I know,” she quivered. “You can even have your money back I just want the tape destroyed,” she pleaded.
“I’m sorry, but we have a written agreement. I paid for your services as “talent" and you agreed I would have full ownership and distribution rights over all the recorded materials.
“But Mr. Jan,”
“ If you want to discuss this matter further, please contact my attorney,” Lincoln cut her off. “But the video is up, and you’re not getting me to take it down!” He sneered.
“It’s already up?” she gasped.
“That’s right,” said Lincoln.
“Good, then you're fucked!” Sara hissed.
“What?” Lincoln said somewhat shocked by the sudden change in her demeanor.
“Does the name Amanda or Sara Macior mean anything to you?” She asked.
Lincoln felt the breath turn to ice in his chest, and the blood in his face start to simmer. “Your ID said Sara Nash,” he whispered.
“Yeah, a lot can change in a lifetime dad!” Sara snapped. “But sometimes shit can change all at once. You just posted a video of yourself having sex with your own daughter.”
“You’re a lying cunt don’t ever call here again,” Lincoln said sternly.
“I was born November 23rd, 1997 you met my mom when she was stripping in Baltimore. You sent your last child support payment in December of 2015!” Sara shouted into his ear.
“What do you want?” Lincoln finally asked.
“Nothing I just wish I could see your face right now!” Sara said acidly before hanging up.
“Hello!? Hello?!” Lincoln repeated now clearly panicked. He tossed his phone at the wall and the plastic splintered into pieces. He flipped open his MacBook. The video already over seven thousand views.
“Oh fuck oh god no,” Lincoln sobbed. “Oh fuck what did I do? Oh god oh fuck what the fuck did I do?”
Lincoln’s video was going viral. His content was about to reach more viewers than he ever could have imagined. In just a few days he was going to be a household name. It was a level of notoriety few could ever even hope to achieve.