(19) MeToo in Svendalia

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MeToo in the film industry has finally found its resolution.

Erik Jensen, one of the most renowned directors in all of Svendalia, sat behind the expansive desk in his brightly lit office. The setting sun outside mirrored off the towering glass buildings, but inside, the atmosphere was cool and tense. Since the law had mandated the ring for all men in Svendalia, Erik's life had changed drastically. He ran a hand over his chin, trying to shake off the thought that in another time, he would have reacted very differently in this situation.

The door opened, and she walked in. Livia Bergström—barely 22, radiant, with long golden hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders. Her eyes, wide and a deep, mesmerizing blue, sparkled with expectation and nerves. Her figure, slender and elegant, moved with an effortless grace, as though she were made to be captured on camera. She wore a light dress that subtly clung to her curves, and Erik felt his gaze inadvertently linger on her silhouette.

In the past—before he had been forced to wear the ring—he would have leaned back now, flashed a charming smile, and let his eyes unapologetically roam over her body. He would have admired her courage, indulged in her beauty, and somewhere in the recesses of his mind, the thought would have flickered that she might be willing to offer more than just her talent to land the role.

But not today. The ring, which had been his constant burden for three long months, made such thoughts impossible. The moment his gaze lingered for too long on the delicate curve of her hips, he felt the familiar sting. A dull, biting pain crept up from the base of his body, and he wrenched his eyes away from her, as though they had grazed fire.

"Mr. Jensen, thank you for seeing me today," Livia said with a smile, though her voice quivered with anxiety.

"Erik," he murmured, forcing himself to speak kindly. His hand tightened around the pen lying on his desk, gripping it as if that could dull the pain. "Please, have a seat."

Livia sat, her posture tense, her delicate hands resting in her lap. Her dress had ridden up slightly, and once, Erik would have taken the opportunity to let his eyes drift over her legs. He might have used her nervousness to his advantage, made subtle, ambiguous remarks about her beauty that would have unsettled her. But now, the ring's constant reminder kept him in check. It forced his eyes to stay locked on hers, resisting any temptation.

"You know, this role could be a big break for you," Erik began, his voice rougher than he'd intended. "It could change everything for you."

"Yes, I know," Livia said eagerly. Her eyes glowed with hope, her lips forming a tentative smile. There was an innocence in her expression, one that would have enticed Erik before. He might have been tempted to exploit that innocence, to twist her naivety into something darker, something that blurred the line between professionalism and manipulation. But as the thought even began to form, the ring punished him again—this time sharper, fiercer. The spikes dug into his flesh, and he clenched his jaw to keep from wincing.

"I... I’ve read the script," Livia continued, her voice trembling slightly. "I feel so connected to the character. It would be an honor to play her."

In the past, Erik would have heard those words as an invitation. He might have suggested that she needed to "connect" with him just as deeply. He would have leaned in, perhaps placed his hand a little too close to hers, and whispered something about how they could work very closely together.

But not now. The ring tolerated no such thoughts, no indulgence in fantasy. Every inappropriate impulse was seared away by its relentless spikes, leaving only the agony of restraint. Erik sat stiffly in his chair, forcing his focus to remain on the conversation, on the work.

"Livia," he said at last, his voice taut with control, "you have talent, there’s no question about that." He swallowed, pushing the next words out carefully. "But this role requires more than just skill. It demands emotional depth."

She nodded earnestly, her eyes bright with determination. "I’ll give it everything I have. I’ll do whatever it takes."

Another sharp sting surged through him. Once, he would have taken those words as an opportunity. A chance to test just how far she was willing to go. He might have suggested they move the audition to a more private space, where the lines between professional and personal could blur.

But not anymore. The ring had stripped him of that power, forced him into a place where every flicker of temptation was met with immediate, excruciating punishment. His thoughts were herded back to virtue, back to propriety.

"Good," he muttered, struggling to maintain his composure. "Good. We’ll schedule a proper audition. It’ll be demanding, but..." He forced a smile, one that felt more like a grimace. "You’ve got potential."

Livia beamed, clearly unaware of the inner turmoil that raged beneath Erik’s surface. "Thank you, Erik. That means so much to me."

She stood, her movements graceful as ever, and bid him a polite goodbye before leaving the room, the door clicking softly behind her. She had no idea how close she had come to awakening the old Erik, the one who would have taken advantage of the situation, of her eagerness. But the ring had held him in check, had forced him to behave in ways he once would have scoffed at.

Erik leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly, staring up at the ceiling. Once, he might have felt a thrill at the power he wielded, a sense of satisfaction in the way he could manipulate and control such a moment. But now, there was only the ring—and the unrelenting virtue it demanded of him.

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