The next day,
Rachel was an absolute emotional mess, constantly terrified that the
imagined perfection of the Sacrifice would be damaged and her worries
made her jumpy and distant towards Dave. Then, when they were
playing his latest video game, Undersea Seekers, she actually
lost her temper and snapped at him. The expression in his deep brown
eyes as he looked at her in shock was so filled with pain that Rachel
almost burst into tears at the sight.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she cried, throwing her arms around
him.
"It's okay," he said, touching her face hesitantly. "I
know you're really stressed, worrying about tomorrow." And he
didn't even hint that she should take a calmness pill like Un-Hostile
Take-Over. He was so wonderful. "Maybe you should take a long
relaxing bath."
"No good." Rachel shook her head. "I'm too antsy to
sit still."
"What you need is to get out of the house and do something
exciting." He took her hand and led her to the clothing
dispenser next to his bedroom. Quickly, he entered a code and they
could hear the conveyor belt rotate inside the wall. When it
stopped, Dave opened the closet door. In the midst of a sea of
bright colors and complex embroideries was a small group of dull
brownish-gray outfits. Dave pulled two of them off the rack and held
one out to Rachel. "Put this on," he urged. The cloth
felt rough in Rachel's hands and the skin on her palms pinkened
slightly from the friction as she held the garments up. They were
men's clothes and several sizes too large for her.
"What are these?" she asked skeptically.
"They're clothes from the Sunless District I wear them when I
want to go out without being bothered. You can change in the
bedroom, if you like." Though she was still doubtful, he looked
so excited that Rachel didn't have the heart to refuse. Once she was
alone, Rachel tried to figure out how to wear the clothes without
constantly tripping over them. At least, they were so big that she
could put them on right over her normal clothes which would, partly,
protect her skin from the coarse fabric. The pants had elastic cuffs
and a drawstring waist and once she pulled them on, the legs fit all
right but they were far too long so the waist came well up above her
navel. The shirt was also huge and hung down almost to her knees.
Rachel was unsure of what to do until she remembered the pair of
scissors in her emergency touch-up kit. Quickly, she pulled the
drawstring as far out as it would go and cut off half of it. The
remaining half she tied tightly around her ribs to hold the pants up
and then she made the part she had cut free into a belt which she
tied at her natural waist to help hold in the extra material of the
shirt. It even had a hood that she pulled up and tucked her hair
inside. The shapeless plaZtic shoes that went with it were
hopelessly huge but, when Rachel called out to Dave in distress, the
door opened a crack and a wad of tangled socks was pushed through.
At least they seemed to be clean and she was able to used them to
stuff the shoes so her feet fit better. Looking in the mirror,
Rachel could hardly recognize herself. She certainly didn't look
like a high-class prostitute. In fact, she hardly looked female at
all. With her hair and the shape of her body hidden, and the
heel-less, if oversized, shoes, no marks of her gender remained.
Stepping back out into the hallway, she found Dave dressed in an
exact copy of the hooded shirt and baggy pants she was wearing.
“We look almost
alike,” she cried, laughing.
“Good, I like
anything that makes us feel more connected.” She could feel his
arm around her even through all the layers of heavy fabric. Then, he
leaned down and kissed her inside the shadows of their hoods. Rachel
felt her cheeks grow warm and her troubles were momentarily forgotten
in the thrill of doing something new and exciting. They left the
house through the back door and stepped out into a dim alley. Dave
led her through several twists and turns, until the alley opened onto
a main street at a place where they could catch a basic public
transport, only having to wait about five minutes before one arrived
and they could be on their way. Down here at ground level, it was
perpetually dark on all but the widest of streets, since the shade of
the tall buildings shut out most of the light. In some of the areas
they passed through, they saw nothing but blank walls, the basements
of the rich homes and factories, and the transport stopped to pick up
and drop off people who worked there. Then, they moved on to other
areas where there were rows and rows of tiny opening in the walls,
ancient, pathetic excuses for windows. These were apartments for the
very lowest of the paid workers. Rachel thought she could count
nearly a hundred in a building smaller than Luther’s.
The upper floors of these buildings, where the light did
reach, were upscale shops and the areas under them were made even
darker by the landing pads and walkways connecting the shops.
After a time, the road began to slope downwards. What was left of
the light faded and the buildings became cracked and damaged. They
were now entering the Sunless District where there was no security
and things like robberies and murders happened all the time, or so
the sensationalist news headlines would have people believe. Rachel
remembered from a very young age being told horror stories about the
Sunless District. Actually, it was one of her governess’s favorite
activities to amuse the children and, she now realized, frighten them
into working even harder to avoid the fate of being sent there. Such
atrocities were allowed to flourish, according to the stories,
because the main security companies and contractors only concerned
themselves with crimes done by or to the wealthy. Besides, no one
who lived there could afford to hire security and why would outsiders
bother? Knowing it was unsafe, the wealthy kept away and the
situation was allowed to get worse and worse.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be in no danger,” said Dave, as if
reading her thoughts. “They usually don’t bother you if you
don’t call attention to yourself. Besides, the people are not
nearly as vicious as the media likes to portray.”
“Why not? It all seems so horrible.”
“It looks that way to us because we have so much more. But it
really isn’t so bad compared to what I’ve heard about in
education. I know it sounds hard to believe but there used to be
people who literally starved to death because they couldn’t afford
enough food. Some of them couldn’t pay to heat and cool their
homes, or even to have homes or shelter at all. Some just stood
around asking people to give them money because they had no jobs.
But none of that is true anymore.”
“How is that?” asked Rachel, but at once, she felt horribly
ignorant and turned away in embarrassment.
Instead of answering, Dave reached a hand under her chin and swung
her head back across to face him. “I think you’re wonderful,”
he said. “It’s not your fault you don’t know things. You just
never had the chance. But all the books in my library are yours
now.”
“I know. But they’re so hard to read.”
“It takes time. I was very slow at first too.”
“You? I don’t believe it.”
He smiled. “Oh, I know I’m a genius now, but I’m honest
enough to admit that it did take me time to build up my skills.”
“I’ve seen you quickly develop your skills,” Rachel teased
pointedly.
He squeezed her leg under the cover of their baggy shirts. “If we
were in private you would see just how right you are,” he whispered
back.
“But we’re in private all the time and you rarely do anything
there,” objected Rachel. “Today, you sent me into another room
to change even though I wasn’t even taking my clothes off.” This
was true. She knew he desired her by what had happened in the rock
room at the museum and at dinner the next day, and those incidents
weren’t alone. He would be forward with her often in side streets
and the like but rarely in the house or in the transport, unless they
were almost at their destination.
Dave hung his head. “It’s true,” he said quietly. “I want
you. Surely you must believe that by now. But I just don’t know
if we’re ready or not. I don’t want to start anything in a
situation where we can’t stop if we need to.” Rachel could not
fathom what this need might be but she felt moved by his concern
about her even if it was pointless and inconvenient.
“Thank you for caring,” she said, pressing his hand. “Please
finish what you were telling me about how people are better off now.”
“A long time ago, all jobs even the very lowest were paid with
money and all food and housing, even the very lowest, had to be
bought with money. So, sometimes, the wage and the cost of living
didn't match up. Now, low level jobs are paid for directly with food
and housing which, on the most basic level, technology and
infrastructure has made so cheap that it’s easy for the company to
provide enough for everyone. Yes, they can never save up for
anything but, then again, they don’t need to in order to survive.”
“What if they get injured?”
“The company pays for that too. They don’t get all the different
services that we do but, as you well know, a lot of those services
are useless or even undesirable. Their medicals may not be cutting
edge but nobody spends time and money trying to force them to take
pills they don’t want either. On the other hand, they aren't
treated well socially by others and that extends even to people in
low jobs like one-star brothels. Of course, that's not new either.”
He made a face.
“And not readily fixable,” said Rachel harshly, “as it's part
of a much bigger problem. What can you expect when the people at the
top of the social ladder also treat one another like crap? Why
should anyone care when we're conditioned not to see other people as
people, just as things that are only worth the benefit we can get
from them? We're only supposed to be invested in someone as long as
they're providing us with something, profit, entertainment, 'lessons'
to help us 'evolve.'” Her voice dripped with contempt as she
spoke. “And once they've exhausted their usefulness, they can be
tossed out like last season's fashions and replaced with something
better.”
Dave glanced around nervously, but the other people on the transport
all seemed too weary to pay any attention to them. “I agree with
you,” he replied in a hushed voice. “But do try to be a bit
quiet. We've only just gotten to the point where we don't have to
worry about running foul of people from the incident at the museum.”
“Are these people even able to call security?” Rachel whispered
back, glancing around the transport. “I assume they don't have
phones.”
“Unprofitables usually don't, but some low level workers have very
cheap ones. Anyway, there are public terminals they can use to summon
security. There's one for example.” He pointed towards a small
panel next to the door of the transport. “And you'll see a few
more on lampposts when we get off. Of course, most security
companies aren't really interested in coming down here as there's no
profit in it so the terminals only work if the company that owns the
nearby residences covers the costs, which you can guess they do as
cheaply and minimally as possible. Still, I just want to be on the
safe side.”
“This is just part of the problem,” said Rachel angrily, though
she did lower her voice. “The very idea that feeling attachment is
a 'problem' to be fixed. If we're taught that caring is bad, I mean
really caring about someone as a unique individual to the point where
they have the power to hurt us, it's hardly a surprise that we don't.
You can't just pick and choose your emotions and decide you'll feel
impersonal compassion for faceless groups but nothing more.”
Dave gave her a sad half-smile. “I was going to say that at least
today no one has the added financial and temporal burden of having to
care for future employees, but you would then rightly point out that
this just reinforces your point as the current system makes the
process far more impersonal and strongly discourages attachment. A
long time ago…”
“I know,” Rachel interrupted, proud of actually having some past
knowledge. “I read an ancient woman’s diary in the library and
she told about how future employees used to be cared for in private
homes.”
“Exactly, not only was this an added strain on people’s finances
but children of poor people tended to be poor themselves, even if
they were very talented. Here’s our stop.” He pulled the bell
cord and they stepped off onto a cracked expanse of pavement. Now
they were so far down below the tops of the buildings that electric
lights had been stuck onto the corners of some to help people find
their way. The street was mostly deserted and the few people they
did see were wearing the same dull shapeless clothing as themselves
so they blended in perfectly. “As I was saying, everyone starts
off equal in the boarding house,” Dave went on. “So, maybe,
there’s less resentment about being underprivileged due to ‘bad
luck.’”
“But the governesses can be biased,” objected Rachel. “The
governess at my boarding house pushed future employees she liked
harder or made sure they were prominently placed when potential
employers came by.”
“That’s true, though it still seems more flexible than conditions
that were fixed before birth. Besides…I take it you were one of
the un-liked ones?”
“How did you guess?”
“Your winning personality gave it away.” He actually had the
cheek to pinch her side. It could hardly be felt through the thick
layers of cloth but the suggestiveness of it still sent a jolt
through her. “Anyway, that just proves my point. You turned out
fine, so, clearly, her disfavor didn’t hurt your career that much.”
“But what about
Alice.”
“What do you
mean?”
“Alice is
insanely talented and yet she’s struggling.”
“Insanely
talented?” Dave was rather taken aback. “Then why are we
expending so much effort on trying to hide the fact that she has no
talent. You yourself said…”
“Please be
quiet and let me finish. I’m talking about her harp skills.”
“Right.”
Dave nodded, remembering.
“See, even you
are quick to forget that those are bonafide skills. Our society has
trained us not to recognize them. The only skills that count, at
least for women, are brothel skills.”
“True, but
that’s not the fault of the governesses. Besides, society does
like for women to be musical performers. I’ve seen them at parties
a lot.”
“Oh, sure, but
that skill is only an ‘added bonus.’ It’s a plus if you have
it but no one really cares if you don’t. But if you don’t have
the core skills, no amount of musical talent will count for
anything.” Rachel was starting to get worked up. “But why stop
with really far out skills like playing an instrument?” she went
on. “Even in the core skills, things are not equal. Alice could
be amazing at sex and but really shy about being observed and judged
so it would look like she was terrible.” And the second part of
that statement was certainly true even if the first part was not.
At that moment, the alley opened out into a large public square in a
sort of cavern under the basement of a huge skyscraper. The light of
the dim lamps revealed very little of the dome of stone and concrete
ribbing that towered above them. Many more people were moving about
here and a man with a company logo on his shirt went by offering meal
cakes from a pushcart. It reminded Rachel of the ice cream cart that
would occasionally go up and down the street outside of Luther’s.
When she was younger, she had often begged to be taken out to visit
the ice cream cart, but that one you had to pay for.
“Want some?” asked Dave, noting the direction of her gaze. She
shook her head, but he went and got one anyway, then broke it in half
and gave part to her. Despite the fact that it was tasteless, Rachel
discovered she was rather hungry and was actually glad to have it.
As they were eating, they turned towards the center of the cavern
which, Rachel now discovered, was filled with the ruins of a fairly
large stone structure.
“What’s that?” she asked curiously.
“The remains of a very old building. It’s called a church, I
think. They were mentioned once or twice in education. But the
textbook authors didn’t really seem to know much about them and
what little they did know seemed to make them uncomfortable.”
“What’s it for now?”
“Nothing. People avoid the place. I think they didn’t tear it
down because someone thought they could find historical artifacts
inside but no one really wants to go look for them. It looks really
cool though and you’re almost guaranteed to be left in peace to
admire it, not like the museum. Want to go in?” Rachel quickly
agreed, feeling a thrill at doing something that was, at least
disapproved of, if not actually forbidden.
©Amanda RR Hamlin 2026
