All That is Gold Writing: The Whore of Her Babylon--chapter 16

             Rachel sat up with a start, feeling energized and wide awake, despite her brief rest. Filled with curiosity, she sprang out of bed and punched the "display clock" code for the monitor over the door, then was shocked to learn it was only seven thirty. Realizing there was no chance of going back to sleep, she gradually turned up the tiny lamp in her corner of the room. By its faint glow, she could see the outline of Alice lying on her bed, a medical temp pack strapped to her mouth. From her limp posture, Rachel guessed she must be in a drug induced stupor and therefore she didn't have to be afraid of waking her. So, she left the light on and went over to the food slot to order herself a heavy fruit shake for breakfast. Curling up in bed so that the light fell over her shoulder, she sipped her drink slowly, due to it coming out much too thick, and took out the book Dave had lent her. She would have blushed if anyone had ever found out, but she had slept with it under her pillow, just to be close to something of his. The title of the book was Modesty and Matrimony, which was discouraging since Rachel didn't know what either of those words meant. Maybe they were the names of the main characters? She felt so ignorant. Oh, how she wished she had gotten education. Dave probably knew what hundreds of words meant that she had never even heard of. But she could never ask him because she didn't want to look stupid. She couldn’t even try looking them up on the internet. The other girls would never give her computer access for such an, in their eyes, stupid reason, even if she thought she had any chance of finding a dictionary that included such out-of-date words in the “super streamlined brothel special” internet package.
             Reading was slow. Not only the title, but the entire book was filled with words she had never seen before, words like "bustle," "nosegay," and "soirée," and what was that weird thing on top of the E? Plus, the language of the book was written in a strange style that was very difficult for her to read. It sounded beautiful though. For all these reasons, she could only make a rough guess as to what was going on in the story. But, as far as she could tell, the main character was a girl who was preparing for her Sacrifice. They called it a "marriage" but Rachel could guess what it meant because one of the characters alluded, very indirectly, to the fact that the girl would be sleeping with someone for the first time and had, not so long ago, been presented at something called a “cotillion” that sounded suspiciously like a coming out of the closet party, except that several girls had all, apparently, been presented at the same party, which sounded like a very cheap way to do things. At least, she had to hope none of the girls were business rivals. The strange thing was that the girl's training did not seem to involve any sexual instructions. This girl was not like Alice. She was not bad at performing. She was, as Dave had said, being deliberately kept in ignorance of how to perform at all, though Rachel could not really figure out how this was supposed to help her. She did seem to have some practical skills, like how to entertain at a party, though this seemed limited to serving food and carrying on what Rachel could only describe as incredibly boring conversations, at least if she understood them properly, as they seemed to consist entirely of pointless topics like the weather…and not even mentioning who had sponsored it either.
             There was also another character who was wandering through some ridiculously plant filled area with his friend. They seemed to be on their way home from having education, which, apparently, always took place at a distant location. The more important man didn't say much at first, but his friend was constantly complaining about how horrible Sacrifices were, which Rachel found hard to believe. It seemed a Sacrifice had been arranged specifically for the friend and he was required to attend when he returned home. Why did he not have to bid? But, also, in this society, once a man had been to one Sacrifice, he was only allowed to sleep with women at Sacrifices, hence the friend's irritation. Even so, how could he possibly be upset that he was getting the Victim as a sure thing, rather than having to compete to outbid a bunch of other guys? There did seem to be some sort of money exchange going on, something called a dowry, but, from what she could see, it seemed like something the girl was giving him, rather than the reverse. Rachel re-read that passage about twenty times to make sure she was reading it right, the idea seemed so unthinkable. It couldn’t even be that the girl was really ugly and that was why he was pissed. Even if someone somehow got placed into the wrong level of brothel where there wouldn’t be a high demand for them, this would never happen. The shame of being so openly desperate would destroy both the girl herself and the sponsoring brothel...assuming the disgraceful group “cotillion” thing hadn't already done so.
             Rachel sighed and stirred restlessly. The unfamiliar vocabulary and language were giving her a headache and she had made no progress towards solving the Alice problem and, no, she was absolutely not going to consider trying to pay people to sleep with her. She would be very offended if she found out that was what Dave had been trying to suggest by giving her this book. Besides, she could already predict what was going to happen in the story. The main guy would want to bid on the girl, his friend would try to talk him out of it. He would start to leave, then changed his mind and run back at the last minute, getting the winning bid at the Sacrifice. Susan's sensuality novels sounded remarkably similar and she had given Rachel more plot summaries than she had ever wanted. Though, to be fair, none of Susan's books had been so beautifully written. Speaking of Susan, Rachel decided that she ought to go find her and ask her about how things were with Alice. She glanced at the clock. It was now nine thirty. Susan was probably up by now, and if she wasn't, she should be. Flicking off the light, Rachel went down to the main room. There was no sign of Susan but Stacy was sitting at the desk, scrolling through the images on the Aurope Valley website, while she neglected the plate of food beside her.
             "Have you seen Susan?" asked Rachel, looking over her shoulder. Stacy shook her head. "What are you doing?"
             "I'm shopping for a plant," Stacy replied, glancing back at her. "After all, soon, we'll be able to buy one, thanks to you." She grinned at Rachel, but it was a conspiratorial grin, not a malicious one.
             "You think I'll succeed?" asked Rachel in shock. She had expected Stacy to think her wild promise unnecessarily risky to the point of being suicidal. Well, maybe she did think that but was putting a good face on it now since it was too late to change things.
             "Of course. You are the Demon. You would never let Elissa win."
             "I thought you liked Elissa."
             "I do, but you're the one who's helping the brothel right now. I don't have to pick favorites. I can just pick out my plant." Stacy stopped scrolling and zoomed in on the image of a small plant with delicate thin leaves and tiny, bright yellow flowers. "That's the one I want," she said with an almost dreamy expression on her face.
             "The other girls will probably want something flashier," said Rachel, trying to sound sympathetic.
             "Oh, I know." Stacy sighed heavily. “But this one is such a good investment. It blooms year round so we’ll always have something to show off and it’s really easy to take care off. You can forget to water it for over a week and it won’t start turning brown.”
             “But it won’t be able to compete with that hydrangea that Gregory’s got.”
             “Yes, the idiots. That thing only blooms when you take perfect care of it and you have to give it exactly the right amount of light and water. It can't have too much sun or shade and has to be watered a lot but you need to use the kind of pot that drains correctly because you can't let it get too wet. I would be willing to wager quite a bit that they kill it within three months.” Then, she shook herself, noticing Rachel staring at her blankly. "Tell me about David," she said, obviously trying to change the subject.
             At once, Rachel felt resentful. "Why do you want to know?" she asked, keeping her voice steady with difficulty.
             Stacy shrugged. "He's rich," she said. "We could get a lot of money from him." At those words, Rachel was filled with anger and a sense of insult, not for herself, but for Dave. This was not about someone prying into her personal life. No, it was about how shallow and unfair it was to see someone as nothing but a source of money, especially someone as nice as Dave. "You're already getting a lot of money from him," she said, with a threatening edge to her voice.
             "Ah, but if you played your cards right, we could be getting a whole lot more."
             "How much do you want? You're already getting a plant out of me."
             "As much as we can get, besides, two plants are better than one." Stacy looked back at her yellow flower and sighed.
             "You forget, I am the Demon. Do not anger me. Do you think David has nothing better to do than spend his money so you can have plants?"
             "Why are you so sensitive, Rachel?" cried Stacy in irritation. "He's rich and he has to spend his money on something. If he spends it on you, why is that worse than spending it in any other way? It's not like we're using him. He does get to do whatever he wants with you."
             Rachel opened her mouth to scream, then shut it again as her blood ran cold. Now, she understood fully what Dave had said to her last night. His virginity was an attempt to avoid people like Stacy who thought favors bought with money were all a man could desire. She could see the world from his perspective now. Being endured for money was bad enough but then to have the woman leave, thinking she had given you nothing less than you could possibly want, oh that was the supreme insult. And Stacy was not cruel. Her conspiratorial smile and shy revelation of her fantasy plant had convinced Rachel of that against her will. For the first time, she had to admit that someone who hurt her had not done so out of malicious spite, but only out of blind ignorance. She, and more importantly, Dave, could not even have the pleasure of hating the person who had hurt them, since the hurt had been dealt by accident and the dealer was completely unaware of its existence. Therefore, she did not shriek "Bitch" at Stacy, hard though it was to restrain herself. Instead, she said, "I don't think what he wants can be bought."
             Stacy looked confused. "And what is that?" she asked. “Everything in this world is for sale.”
             Rachel shrugged. "You couldn't possibly understand," she replied. "I don't fully know what he wants myself and I've spent a great deal of time in his presence. If you see Susan, tell her I want to talk to her." She turned and left, even though walking away from someone who had insulted her made her feel like her insides were being combed with pins. The run-in with Stacy and especially the part about not getting angry with her had just put Rachel more on edge. The thought of sitting still a moment longer, let alone trying to read the headache inducing book, was unbearable. She needed to get out now, but felt a trip to the library was out of the question. She didn't want to be away from Alice for that long and it was really just more sitting and reading anyway. Maybe she could just go for a walk around the neighborhood, though any outing would necessitate proper attire and she did not want to go back into her room and risk disturbing Alice so, instead, she went to raid the communal clothing dispenser on the third floor, which she could usually count on to have something in her size. She found a pair of rhinestone adorned stretchy jeans, so they could fit just so without being too hideously uncomfortable, and a pale purple tank top sporting the logo of some beach club, which she paired with a leather jacket and matching ankle boots, not exactly what she would have chosen to wear on her own but it would satisfy any of the other girls who happened to see her and was casual enough that she could get away with doing the minimum with her makeup and hair. With a snarl of rage, she jammed her pager into the jacket pocket--at least she wasn't going far enough to justify taking an overnight bag--and headed for the front door. Stacy was still at the computer when Rachel passed back through the front room and waved without even really looking up. Rachel returned the gesture, though she doubted Stacy would notice, and then she was through the door and finally free.