A Boy and His dungeon

I. In the Beginning

My name is James, and I love really old houses. The architectural oddities, secret rooms and passages, and the sense of living history have always fascinated me. Our home was no exception. My family had owned, worked and lived on the land as far back as anyone could tell. The old rambling house sat on about five hundred acres of what was currently rolling meadows and a large wood lot close to the Welsh coast.

I spent a good deal of my early years exploring the ‘big house’, out buildings and the property in general. My Great grand father would ramble on for hours at night by the fire about the history of the house and lands. Every time he mentioned some old feature of the property I’d have to go find it for myself. I explored the ruins of old stone buildings, caves, and a scattering of almost prehistoric mining sites. He took me down into the cellars and showed me an old narrow passage that led to an group of unused underground rooms he referred to as the ‘dungeons’. I remember being disappointed that there were no chains on the walls or tiny dark cells for prisoners. There was an even narrower Atairway that led to a door in an old shed at the edge of the gardens.

I talked father into letting me have the ‘dungeon’ as my own private space.

“As long as you maintain good marks in school.”, was his only condition.

I moved an old table and chair down there to use as a desk as well as a comfortable reading chair. At first I used a couple of kerosene lamps to light the area, but soon contrived to wire in lights and outlets, modernizing the the rooms and making them more comfortable. Needles to say, I was motivated by father’s condition and actually spent most of my time down there in study. I also used the dungeon to hide a small but growing collection of porn.

As a teenager I pursued an eclectic group of hobbies; archery and bow making, iron work, metal casting, electronics, computers, and probably dozens of others. Just after graduating from what most would call high school, I found a project that would change my life forever.

I reasoned that, if one could monitor the electrical activity of the brain, more sensitive sensors might be able to read actual information from a living brain and as a working corollary information might be able to be inserted into the brain. I developed a mesh of sensors that could pick up signals from the entire brain when worn like one of those medieval skull caps you sometimes see in old pictures. Soon, with aid of my bank of computers working in parallel, I could read significant amounts of information from my own brain.

I needed another brain to read to refine the process, but did not want to involve my parents at this point. I thought about my small, almost nonexistent, circle of friends. The only name that seemed to fit was Jennifer, a frequent lab partner, and who was almost as much of a propeller head as I was. I figured ‘come to my dungeon laboratory’ might be a poor approach.

So, I gave her a call and asked her for a date to see the new super hero movie playing at the town cinema. Being at loose ends until she went to university, she agreed to a mid week date and we soon had details worked out.

At about 7:00, Wednesday evening, I pulled up to Jennifer’s house in my old Ford Anglia. Jennifer met me at the door. She was a petite blond, and while not voluptuous, her small breasts and narrow waist gave her a very nice figure. Clear blue eyes and waist length strait blonde hair completed the picture. What I liked most about her was her quiet intelligence, he never had to restate things for her to understand. Tonight she wore a modest white skirt and a knit vest over a long sleeved white blouse.

“We’re off, Mum.”, she called over her shoulder as she stepped outside.

“Have fun, kids.”, her mother called back, as she pulled the door closed.

“Still driving your old Potter car?” she commented as she saw the car at the curb.

“It runs.”, I answered dryly.

We made small talk on the way to the cinema, once there, we bought popcorn and drinks and found our seats. Being mid week, the cinema was sparsely attended and we had no one sitting close by. We continued to make small talk until the lights went down and the previews started to roll.

I had a plan to pique her curiosity.

The last thing I said as the sound came up was, “I have a new project going, you should . . . Whoops, it’s starting!”

Then I made a point of ‘shushing’ her every time she started to ask a question.

Two and a half hours later, as we were walking out she pulled me out of the Queue.

“What new project?”, She demanded.

“Hold on, I need to hit the loo.”, I walked quickly into the loo, leaving her standing there, fuming.

I took my time, knowing that she could not suppress her curiosity. When I came out, Jennifer was nowhere to be seen. I looked around the lobby and peered out through the front windows, looking for her. Just as I was beginning to think I might have overdone the curiosity baiting, Jennifer walked quickly from the girl’s loo and made a bee line to me.

“What new project?” she demanded again, threading her arm through mine and hanging on tightly.