A
revolving pop can sporting the words “Gen. Rush” in large blocky
letters, trailing flames to give the impression of speed, went
blasting across the black void of space on the vast video screen
mounted on the side of a building outside and, even though,
thankfully, Rachel could hear nothing through the sound-proof pane of
the window, the brand theme song was already starting to play in her
head.
"I
don't feel very sure of this," said Alice meekly, glancing out
from the shadows of her black hood and startling Rachel back into the
present.
"Oh,
trust us," said Rachel gaily, giving her a comforting pat on the
knee. "David knows what he's doing. Don't you?" She
glanced over at him, keeping the look just this side of suggestive
with difficulty.
"Indeed
I do, or at least, I know how to get the best people for the job.
Money can keep people quiet about the most unusual request."
There was silence as all three thought about just how unusual their
requests would be this day. When she had told her plan to Dave at
their next meeting, just a quick lunch at a bistro downtown, squeezed
in between his business appointments, he had agreed to it
enthusiastically, called her a genius actually, which she still
blushed to remember. It made her feel slightly better that someone,
the only person she could talk to about it, since she still hadn’t
been able to locate Susan, didn’t think her plan was hopeless. She
was starting to become seriously worried about the Susan's continued
lack of communication, but appearing too concerned about it would
only make her look weak to Elissa so she kept her concerns under
wraps as much as possible. Of course, Dave probably wasn’t the
expert on how to make something socially acceptable and neither was
she but she still appreciated his vote of confidence. Even better,
he also was able to come up with practical steps to make her vision a
reality, as well as the resources to carry them out, which was
fortunate, considering the barriers they would face in order to do
so. As if reading her mind, Alice shifted nervously again.
"It's
not like you're the only one in danger," said Rachel. "I
think this plan is worth risking my own livelihood for, as well as
yours." Alice nodded meekly and hid behind her cowl.
Dave
tapped Rachel on the shoulder and told her to look out the window.
"Over there," he said. "That's the rainbow dome I
worked on as assistant designer and chemical coordinator." They
were in his private transport, floating high over the city and Rachel
had to admit the view, both inside and out, was marvelous. But she
couldn't properly enjoy it for, despite her words to Alice, she knew
the risk she was taking, a fact that neither the panoramic view, nor
even Dave's face, could make her completely forget.
Even
at this moment, she was breaking brothel policy in a serious way, or
rather, several serious ways. First, was quality control. It was
forbidden for hooded new hires to associate with men on anything more
than the most casual basis. After all, they couldn't demand money
for someone who hadn't been Sacrificed yet, and the thought of
allowing a man that much free time with one of her co-workers would
make any self-respecting prostitute plunder her emergency stash of
Sir Lyronax, tranquility's champion. The brief conversation in
Fedallah's had been acceptable, but riding in a man's private saucer
and spending several hours in his company was completely out of the
question and the only excuse that would have made such prolonged
contact acceptable, Dave being Alice's Sacrifice sponsor, was
actually true but she had to pretend it wasn't because that would
give Elissa insight into her plan, which she could then attempt to
sabotage. Therefore, Rachel and Alice had gone "out for a walk
in the park," but instead, they had actually met Dave at a
prearranged location.
The
first problem led to the second. Since Alice's location had to be
concealed, so did Rachel's, as Alice was not allowed out without an
escort. Oh, how Rachel wished she could have gotten Susan in on the
plan. It would have made things so much easier. But Susan was
nowhere to be found. Therefore, Rachel was spending time with Dave
for free, which officially constituted robbing the brothel. She
could only hope she wasn't recognized by anyone, or, if she were,
they wouldn't think the information worth repeating. Small hope of
that though since any trip to buy a Sacrifice dress, or a coming out
of the closet dress, or any other such outfit, was considered a huge
piece of gossip.
"Where
shall we stop first?" asked Rachel, to take her mind off her
worries.
"We
should look at fabric first," said Dave, "but I have
connections for that." Unlike the others, he did not seem
particularly uneasy. He lounged back against the wall of the
transport and kept turning a small curiously shaped piece of metal in
his hand, which he watched intently. Rachel thought he looked
absolutely splendid and feared she would say something stupid. "When
are you going on your trip?" she asked.
"I
thought I would leave in the next couple of days, once everything
here is set up. That way, you can keep working on things while I'm
gone and I'll be back in time to start on the social events."
"Ohh,
I think I'm going to be sick," Alice moaned, clutching her
stomach. "I can't do this."
"But
you don't have to do anything," said Rachel with irritation.
"That's the point. You just lie there and pretend to be
scared."
"I
am
scared," Alice cried.
"Well,
that should just make it all the easier then, shouldn't it?"
Alice whimpered and then an uncomfortable silence filled the
transport. Dave brushed his hair away from his face and turned the
metal again, so it flashed in his hand. "That thing looks like
a sex toy," Rachel blurted out. Sure enough, she had done
something stupid.
Dave shrugged. "I've seen similar things
used that way. But you shouldn't talk about things like that right
now. We don't want to corrupt our virgin." Rachel laughed
stupidly and Alice looked ill. "This piece here was the result
of a failed attempt I made to alter the structure of this type of
metal. I kept it because it was interesting."
"It
does look pretty," said Rachel.
"Here,"
he tossed it over to her. "You can have it, if you like. I've
never used it for anything."
Rachel
caught the object with difficulty in her clumsy hands. It felt very
solid and smooth and...it still retained the heat from his hands.
Rachel trembled all over and furtively pressed the warm metal against
her bare wrist, imagining it was Dave's fingers touching her. "Why
are you acting so confident today?" she asked. In a way, she
was enjoying this cocky side of him.
"Because
I know I'm doing something useful," he replied. “I often
question what the point of anything I do is, beyond serving my own
convenience, and, while there's nothing wrong with that, I sometimes
wonder if that's all there is." There was a strange look on his
face as he said this, as if there was more he was not saying, or what
he said was not quite what he meant. "But, right now, I'm doing
something that obviously helps someone else, and that makes me feel
good."
"You
certainly look like you feel good," she said, then cringed, not
realizing how suggestive it sounded until it was too late. Quickly,
she turned her attention to Alice and began reminding her of all the
new habits she needed to instill in herself. Using his ultra deluxe
non-brothel internet package, Dave had been able to locate a document
of behavior advice from the era in question, a kind of ancient Manual
of House Pet Behavior, and then use
his connections as a Libertus to have a copy of it sent to him. It
was hopelessly confusing and much of the advice was impossible to
understand, not surprising as it was written with the same strange
phrasing and vocabulary as the novel, but she still managed to cobble
together quite the list of things that Alice needed to remember to
do. She must always keep her eyes down, always speak softly, take
small steps, look away from people who approached her, laugh quietly,
and cover her mouth while doing so. Rachel was only a quarter of the
way through the list when they landed on the loading dock of the
large fabric factory, Fabriganza.
"David,
what are you doing here? We didn't send for you." A man with
pale hair and a pointed nose came out onto the platform to meet them.
"No,
you didn't, Jake." The two men slapped each other on the back
in greeting. "I came here to do some shopping."
"Shopping?
You? For fabric? Come on, Dave. You know I don't get drunk during
daylight hours. How could you expect me to believe a story like
that?" Then he caught sight of Rachel and Alice. "Women?
You brought two women here? You've expanded your horizons since last
we met. And a virgin? Are you angling for preferred status at her
Sacrifice?"
Dave
grinned back at him. "No, I'm hosting it. We need cloth for
her dress."
"Well,
invite me," said Jake excitedly.
"Of
course, of course. But one thing, I would like you to personally
conduct all our transactions today and keep secret all information
about our visit."
"Eh?
Why?"
Dave
looked at him steadily. "My friend...I will be giving you an
invitation," was all he said.
"Fine.
Fine. You were always a weird one anyway." Jake began walking
towards the doors. "Follow me."
"I've
worked with that guy a few times," Dave whispered to Rachel.
"We can trust him. Plus, he's rich, rich and reckless enough
that his involvement will jump start the bidding for sure."
"Did
you know he would want to come?" she whispered back.
"I
suspected, I hoped."
"You
are clever," she said. He smiled with pleasure at her flattery.
On the surface, it was an arrogant grin, as if her words were no
more than his due. But, underneath, she saw the shy delight of one
unused to genuine praise because he received it far too seldom. Both
aspects of his personality enchanted her and she suspected, she
hoped, he would be just as clever in bed as he was in other ways.
"What,
in particular, are you looking for?" asked Jake, as he led them
into the main hall of the warehouse, both sides lined with doors to
storage rooms, containing bolts of fabric, sorted by color, texture,
weight, chemical composition, and other qualities that were beyond
Rachel's comprehension.
"White,
lots of white," said Dave. "In fact, it would probably
save time if you showed us nothing but white."
"White?
For a Sacrifice?" Jake looked at him questioningly.
"See,
this is why I need you to keep quiet. This Sacrifice is going to be
a little...different than most and we don't want Gregory's
or Calvin's getting wind of our
plan and beating us to it."
"Or
Luther's,"
Rachel thought to herself. As they were talking, Jake led them all
the way down the long hall and through the door at the far end which
opened into a series of rooms roofed by glass domes, each divided
into aisles by high racks running down the length of the room and
these racks were all hung with bolts of cloth.
"This
is our display complex," said Jake, as he guided them through
it. "Here we show off fabric for selection by the clothing
factories and clothing artists. This is the way people are supposed
to enter." He elbowed Dave pointedly.
"Hey,
I'm an exception. I work here."
"You
may have done special commissions here in the past but, right now,
you're in the role of a customer. Oh, here we are at the white
fabric." Rachel gasped in wonder at the sight. There was so
much white fabric in the room that it looked like the whole place had
been buried under drifts of snow as pure as a sponsor could buy. The
racks were all colored silver and the light reflected from them and
from the white fabric itself so brightly that Rachel had to shield
her eyes at first. For one hour and the greater part of a second,
they wandered among the racks, feeling the different fabrics and
holding them against Alice's skin to get the best match, though the
whole process would have been much more enjoyable if Jake had not
been almost constantly trying to slip in comments about the amazing
technological properties of the cloth, how it was made on the newest
model of self-correcting, thermal sensitive ur-loom and was specially
treated with some unpronounceable chemical to make it stain resistant
despite being white. Rachel made sure they chose the lightest and
most airy fabrics, the filmiest gossamers and the most liquid
silkones. Jake shook his head in perplexity at her selections but
promised they would be promptly delivered to the location of her
choice.
Dave
just patted him on the shoulder and said conspiratorially, "Remember,
you will be invited and then all your questions will be answered.
But, if I were you, I would save up my money. I think you'll want it
that night."
"You
were marvelous, David," cried Alice in amazement, when they were
back in the transport. "How did you ever manage to do that?"
"Empathy,
the ability to sense the desires of others and respond to them."
"Oh,"
said Rachel. "That's how you could tell that the other women
don't..." He gave her a sharp look and she realized he didn't
want her to talk about his personal issues in front of Alice. She
subsided but, as she did so, another thought occurred to her. If he
could sense that other women did not desire him, then, maybe, he
could also sense that she did. At the thought, she blushed deeply
and turned her head away.
Their
next stop was at a firm of clothing artists. Dave knew nothing about
women's clothing artists and Rachel did not want to visit anyone she
had patronized before for fear of being recognized and word getting
back to the brothel, so Dave had asked Jake for recommendations. At
Rachel's request he had insisted on being given the name of an artist
who focused on experimental fashion, as opposed to one who
specialized in Sacrifice dresses for she knew it was almost
impossible to induce the self proclaimed “experts” to deviate
from their narrowly defined ideas of how such things should be done.
Even so, none of them could help feeling quite apprehensive about
approaching a total stranger with their unusual requests. In the
entryway of the large building Dave pulled out the card Jake had
given him to look up the office of their recommendation, Orlav
Tier-1-Artist Fashion Brigade Extravaganzus.
Rachel
groaned. “He has a fourth name?” She cried in exasperation.
“There's absolutely no way he'll pay attention to anything we say.”
Dave
nodded, his expression tense. “He's located on the second floor in
the north hallway just off the main corridor. Suite 28B.” He
turned to go without further comment and Rachel followed behind,
stewing and fuming about their ill luck. She could only hope Orlav
wasn't one of the risk adverse types.
©Amanda RR Hamlin 2026
