“Don't miss the
latest action-packed video game from Nonuple A Studios, Dio Di,”
the advertising voice-over declared proudly, with resonating emphasis
on “action-packed.” Rachel snarled. Video games were the last
thing she wanted to hear about, especially when they sounded like
something Esteban might have enjoyed. The ad moved on to a sound
clip from the game that involved someone speaking what appeared to be
nonsense with bizarrely punctuated emphasis. “Get pills” it
began, “against...” But before it could say more, she switched
off the radio with a cry of rage. Pills were the one thing she
wanted to hear about even less than video games. A video game about
getting pills? That had to be the ultimate abomination. Throwing
herself down on the bed, she dragged the covers over her head in the
hopes of retreating into sleep to escape this latest affront. But it
seemed she had barely dozed off before she was disturbed again.
"Rachel, Rachel, wake up," said a soft voice in her ear.
She clamped the blanket down more tightly but the voice did not go
away, pleading on and on. In disgust, Rachel ripped the covers from
her head, thinking it was probably Alice, come to whine for more
help. Well, she would get what she was asking for. She jerked
herself up with a snarl, only to see it wasn't Alice at all but Mary.
"What do you
want?" Rachel snapped.
"Well,"
began Mary, as sweetly as she could, "there's a dinner gathering
tonight from Galore and More, and Elissa strongly hinted you might
want to go." Of course Elissa would have done that even though,
or especially because, she knew Rachel didn’t want to go. Rachel
was about to make a nasty remark, when a truly ingenious idea
occurred to her. Why not? Go to their stupid, fucking party and
then be an absolute bitch. That would pay the world out properly for
its treatment of her. She smiled at Mary.
"I would
love to come," she said. "That could be just the thing to
make me feel better." Mary looked very relieved. Clearly, she
had been afraid of being the one chosen to confront "the Demon,”
and Rachel smirked behind Mary's back at the thought. More, this
idea came only about a week after her brilliant coup at the library.
Really, she must be getting smarter. "What time do I have to be
ready by?" she asked. Good, she had two hours. Her misery was
making her sleep longer and longer every day but, in the time
remaining, she would make herself so fine that every man there would
be drooling to have her as his partner. Only after he got what he
thought he wanted would he realize he was dealing with a “toxic
personality.” Murmuring happily to herself, Rachel went off to
take a bath, sinking into the warm water laced with salts and
fragrance oils to scent and soften her skin. After she had soaked
for some time, she rinsed her hair in an extra generous portion of
Lucrezia Glow hair oil to make it shine, using the special new
formula that even had glitter flecks in it, then, as she rose from
the bath, she selected a hair dressing unit from the rack on the
wall, programmed it, and stuck it on her head. One of her two
precious hours was already gone so, while the unit did its work,
Rachel rushed back to her room to dress, rummaging in one of her
baskets of goods in search of some of her most appealing clothes,
along with her most eye catching pair of “hire me” shoes, the
chunky blue and silver, round front, open toed ones with the ankle
straps, which she had decided never to wear again in her wrath at
losing Esteban. But, of course, it was alright to wear them as a way
of expressing her wrath. She selected a sleeveless boned bodice,
someone had once told her the proper term for it was "corset,"
pale blue with fluffy gauze ruffles around the top, that made her
breasts spill appealingly over the edge There was a matching skirt
and diadem which she threaded in amongst the long curls the hair
dressing unit had created, before painting her eyelids blue and
putting on a sapphire necklace to match.
About four other
people were waiting at the front door for the transport and Rachel
noted with a mixture of relief and disappointment that Susan was not
one of them. She also noted smugly that Elissa was there, the
one who would be the most outraged by Rachel's protest, making said
protest all the more enjoyable. "I'm glad you came," said
Elissa, with only a hint of coldness in her voice. "You look
like you're going to make an impression."
"Oh, I mean
to," replied Rachel with a broad grin as they all climbed into
the transport. It was fortunate that her spirits were so high as she
faced a long, dull ride to the event. The girls would not shut up.
Beth was holding forth about the client she had entertained last
night...in far more detail than was necessary, and one of the newest
girls, who had been Scarified while Rachel was being a house pet, was
quizzing her about the various positions involved. Beth was getting
so into her recounting Rachel was afraid she might get up and offer a
live demonstration at any moment. Over in the opposite direction,
Mary was having a meltdown because her intricately constructed updo
had fallen apart and, of course, no one had thought to bring a
portable emergency hair-dressing unit. Elissa was plying her with
tranquilizers while someone else tried, without much success, to fix
the mess manually. The radio overhead was blaring out an
announcement that today's snow flurries were sponsored by Soothing
Social Responsibility Inc., “your cozy, friendly provider of
old-time emotional regulation supplements, just like our predecessors
used,” accompanied by a twangy rendition of the classic song “I
Belong at the Corporation.” Rachel had always hated both the
melody and the gratingly conformist lyrics, “...where the CEOs and
mid-levels work. Where never is heard a dissenting word, and nobody
cares to shirk.” Not that it wasn't totally appropriate as the
jingle for one of the world's largest vendors of emotional
suppression.
Rachel was about
to breath a sigh of relief as the song ended but, almost at once,
things got even worse. “Preparing for The Holidays got you down?”
the chummy voice yelled again. Rachel cringed. Shut up in Esteban's
house, and then in her black shell of misery, she had not even
realized The Holidays were coming up, the time when everyone was
expected to spend even more extravagantly than normal and be shamed
if their peers outspent them, making Luther's
lack of funds even more fraught. “Stress making you aggressive?
Feeling jealous of your co-workers? Soothing Social Responsibility
Inc. has the solution. Take over your hostility with un-hostile take
over.” The repressive message made Rachel's blood boil.
S.S.R.Inc. had always been one of the worst when it came to
forcefully promoting pill use, and her anger was only exacerbated by
the fact that the announcer was not physically present, meaning she
was unable to stab him. The only thing that enabled her to sit still
was the reminder that she was on her way to a party where she was
going to execute a decidedly hostile take over.
The building in
which the dinner was held was much closer than normal, thankfully, as
she had been on the verge of murdering someone with the chaotic mess
in the transport. She was in the very act of clenching her fist to
punch whoever was closest when she was rescued by the sensation of
the transport lowering itself and maneuvering into a docking bay. In
exasperation, Rachel jabbed a button on the wall, rendering
transparent one of the windows. The other girls had turned them all
off during the ride over and she had been in too much of a state to
think of un-clouding any of them to distract herself during the trip.
Now it was too late as the towering edifice of matte black glass
which they were approaching filled the entire view from the window.
The surface was completely smooth with no irregularity and, since the
glass was not reflective, she could not even watch the image of the
transport on its surface. The transport settled to a halt and they
all filed out into the entry area which matched the outside of the
building, more stark black glass without even a carpet or a place to
sit. Fortunately, they were allowed to proceed at once into the area
beyond. Rachel wondered absently if the stark dull appearance of the
building had been specifically chosen to contrast with the tone of
Galore and More's line of work, the manufacture of cheap, brightly
colored, plasticite toys and do-dads for the fleeting amusement of
potential employees and new hires...and bored businessmen, truth be
told. Rachel shuddered, remembering a client who had kept a pile of
them in his transport and another on the night stand next to his bed
and was always trying to show them to her. Fortunately, that
association hadn't lasted long.
The quick,
stressful ride had given Rachel little time to think about her plan.
Still, as she walked into the sitting room, all gleaming black marble
and overstuffed chemical-leather chairs, she paid close attention to
the way she swayed her hips and tilted her head, hoping it would make
some unlucky guest more eager to fall into her trap. She did notice
several of the men watching her and one in a dark lounge coat with a
deep forest green shawl collar shifted in his seat, as if he had been
about to stand up and come speak to her but remembered to restrain
himself so as not to disrupt the host's plans. Soon, the host
himself appeared, Kevin CRDO Galore and More, a middle-aged man with
a slightly daring shirt pattern of pale blue covered with elaborate
white curly-qs, shaking a hat filled with chips displaying the names
of the male guests, indicating their partners would be decided by
lot, and drawing attention to his extremely large gem set cuff links,
but she mostly ignored the drone of his voice as he announced the
pairings of the evening. There was no central table, only the
chairs, couches and ottomans arranged into nests of various sizes,
with precarious looking little tables of dark stained bamboo'zle, for
resting drinks and hors
d’oeuvres
on, and she absently wondered how many of her brothel-mates would
have their clothes spoiled by spills by the end of the evening.
"Rachel,"
the host finally announced. Rachel yawned elegantly behind her hand.
What did she care who she was paired with? "Rachel, you shall
be paired with David Technical Expert Libertus." Well, he was
in for a bad time, whoever he was, though, she was vaguely intrigued
by his last name of Libertus. Of course, to be successful enough to
survive on his own he probably had to play the moronic social game
ten times harder than a normal man. She would have been in for a
very dull night if not for her private plan to shake things up. As
she moved towards the couch the host indicated, the man seated there
looked up at her and gave a smile that suggested recognition. Rachel
was puzzled, until she noticed the deep brown shade of his eyes.
Then she felt sick. This was the person who had been Susan's partner
at the previous gathering, who had designed the beautiful Corridor of
Visions, who had respected her. She felt a great stab of guilt at
what she was going to do. But, suppose he continued to interact with
her on an intellectual basis? That would piss everyone else off
sufficiently to satisfy her. Very good. But, if he said even one
thing to her about sex...then, she would let him have it...and not in
the way that either he or the rest of Luther's girls would like.
"Hello,
Rachel. It's nice to see you again."
"After
talking to you, I went to the Corridor of Visions," said Rachel
quietly as she settled onto the couch, farther away than was usual
for women at parties but not so far away as to be rude. "It
still amazes me." He seemed pleased that she remembered.
"I've
recently begun working on a new project, a sculpture for the Great
Hall of offices where the Confab Assembly meets in the center of
Her-Babylon. Would you like to see it?" He pulled his trapah
up onto the couch between them and opened it. To her surprise,
Rachel felt only a small prick of resentment at the sight of the
offending device, so eager was she to see more artwork. David was
hastily scrolling through menus and file collections, until, he found
what he was looking for, and passed the device to her.
Rachel looked
down at the screen and gasped in wonder. The image was of a sphere,
milky white and pearly at the top. Lower down, the white became
tinged with pale pink. Gradually, the pink darkened and turned to
violet, and, at the very bottom, it flamed red like fire. Rachel had
only seen fire once or twice, since some rich men thought it was
fashionable to have fireplaces in their house, but she recognized it
easily. The other amazing thing was that the pearly white was opaque
but, as the color changed, the globe became translucent. Embedded in
its heart was a solid black square, reflective so that it picked up
highlights of the reds and violets on the surface, while the top of
the globe was covered with a strange soft texture that made it seem
to be constructed from sea foam.
"It's so
beautiful," breathed Rachel. "Your work is impressive,
David. And it's seamless, you could never tell it was made from a
composite."
"That's
because it's not," the other replied. "You can call me
Dave, by the way. I could never have achieved the flow I did with a
composite. Take a closer look at the top and you'll see what I
mean." He tapped the screen quickly to zoom in on the upper
portion of the image. On the top of the sphere, several tendrils of
the milky white substance rose from the main body and twined about
each other and Rachel could see a definite stylistic connection with
the flowing statues in the corridor of visions, but these were more
abstract. Depending on the angle, the light, or the whim of the
viewer, they could look like a swaying woman, a waterfall, a white
bird with a long neck, a tree, or even a tangled mass of wires. "It
was very hard to find a substance that was both strong and flexible
enough to sustain that kind of molding,” Dave went on eagerly. "I
had to modify some existing compounds, add certain molecules to give
the substance greater elasticity. And, while the structure is not a
composite of separate fussed pieces, you're right that it is not one
uniform substance."
"So, how did
you do it?" asked Rachel, fascinated.
"I used, or
plan to use--the sculpture hasn't actually been constructed yet, but
I've been experimenting on how to do it--a clear base substance for
the entire shape, which will make it strong and give it a uniform
appearance. Then, the different colors will be produced by adding
special chemicals to each section, which will be heat sensitive,
spread through and retained within their respective sections by the
use of temperature gradation." He smiled so broadly in his
pleasure at talking about this that little lines formed around his
mouth. Rachel was delighted as she had never seen anyone take such
obvious joy in their work before and it was wonderful to behold.
Most men came to these parties to get away from their work as much as
possible. Further, talking about the design and construction of
sculptures precluded talking about sex and, best of all, his in-depth
description of the chemical processes showed he had at least some
faith in her intelligence. "I only wish I could see it better,"
she sighed.
"It is
rather hard to see on the small screen," he said apologetically.
"If only you could see it on the wall screen at my house."
Rachel nodded as someone handed her a glass of fuzzy neon pink
Champagne from Barbe
à Papa à Boire. She
disliked this kind immensely because the bubbles always went up her
nose, but training stopped her from making a face at it. Most of the
occupants of the room were engaged in a typical party conversation
and many of the people on the couches were groping each other.
Laura, apparently still obsessed with being as trendy as possible,
had equipped herself with that hot new novelty item, a candy necklace
and was wandering about challenging guest to suck off individual
candies, not an easy task considering how drunk most already were,
and loudly proclaiming her goal of having the necklace gone by the
end of the evening. Rachel's stomach turned over and she tried to
convince herself it was due to the sickly-sweet odor of the drink.
"Do you want
to join them?" the man beside her asked, almost hesitantly she
thought.
"What?"
"I don't
really want to participate in their conversations. But, if you want
to, I won't demand that you bore yourself to entertain me."
Rachel felt herself blush. No guest at a party had ever asked her
what she wanted before and the thought of putting herself first made
her very uncomfortable.
"I would
rather speak with you," she answered honestly. But did he
believe her or did he think she lied to please him, as anyone in her
position would have done? Dave did look pleased but rather unsure of
himself.
"Let me know
if you get bored. I lose track of time when I start talking about my
projects." Rachel nodded but could still feel her face burning
and wished she had a scarf or fan to hide her cheeks. She was more
ashamed of the fact that she was blushing than of her original reason
for blushing. The last time she remembered blushing so hard was when
she had gotten her first oral sex lesson as a naive new hire.
Thankfully not seeming to notice her discomfort, Dave showed her some
other buildings and structures he had designed, then asked, "Do
you want to play a game?" Thinking he meant a sexual party
game, she shook her head. "Just let me show you then." He
tapped another spot on the trapah and it switched to an animated
image of two fat birds fighting.
"What's
that?" asked Rachel, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous
creatures.
"It's called
Animal Wars. Does it look like fun?" This time Rachel
nodded assent, as he placed the trapah into her hands and pointed out
the right buttons to push. The fat bird was very hard to control,
constantly flopping around clumsily, and, when it hit the ground,
which it did often, it bounced off again in a random direction. The
computer-controlled birds moved with much greater skill, often
intentionally falling on Rachel's bird and doing a great deal of
damage, though they looked equally ridiculous while doing so, and she
did not last long, partly because she was too distracted by the funny
antics of the birds to pay proper attention to what she was doing.
"Dave, why
don't you put down your trapah and be a little social for once?"
called the host, judging by his voice, already very drunk.
"I was
having a conversation with Rachel here," Dave replied a bit
uncomfortably.
"About your
trapah."
"So? It's
of interest to both of us. What could be better for us to discuss?"
"Talk about
sex.” The host blurted out. “This is not a business meeting.
Why else would you come to a party and sit with a woman? What do you
think I'm paying them for?”
"Actually, I
came because you invited me," Dave replied a bit shortly.
"Besides Rachel's never been to a business meeting, so they
interest her." Seeing the host's face change color and some of
the other guests about to start laughing, he went on quickly.
"There's no need for you to get angry. Your topic and my topic
can be one and the same if you like."
The host's face
became darker. "That's only for men who don't have the money or
the nerve to buy themselves a real woman." Rachel felt Dave
flinch beside her.
"That's not
true," objected one of the other guests, Rachel seemed to recall
his name was Sean. "For example, I think the body of Lily from
Calvin's is very attractive
and I desire to look at it several times a week. However, my
lifestyle does not leave space to have a permanent house pet. Also,
I find her temperament unpleasant sometimes. Therefore, I have a
desire to look at her far more than I want to actually be in her
presence." There was some clapping and nods of agreement from
some of the other men in the room.
"I still say
that it's a weak, financially stunted man who can’t get a woman to
treat him with decency," declared the host, sweat standing out
on his forehead and creating noticeable stains on his poorly chosen
pale colored shirt.
"Maybe you
need to go somewhere important but are feeling frustrated and don't
have time to order a prostitute?" asked a guest tentatively.
Another made a spirited response that if you got that frustrated that
easily, you should really get a house pet, and Sean butted in to
angrily reiterate his justification for not having one. But this
drew the conversation away from Dave once more and he turned back to
assisting Rachel with Animal Wars. He showed her
animals besides the fat birds that could battle, like small
four-legged creatures with long hanging ears and large puffy tails
called rabbits. Rachel thought she remembered seeing one in the
animal hall in the Corridor of Visions but these creatures looked
like extreme caricatures compared to it. There were also strange
creatures that hopped around on their large flat back legs, holding
their short front legs close against their chests, and had pockets in
their bellies from which small versions of themselves would sometimes
leap out. So engrossed had she become that she must have lost all
track of time for Rachel was surprised at how startled and sorry she
felt when their host announced it was time to go to dinner.
As she crossed
the room and went down the hall to the dining area, she noted the
eyes of one of the men, the one paired with Elissa, resting on her
butt as she walked and was shocked at how uncomfortable it made her.
She had become so used to being a sex object that she never thought
about it anymore. Sure, her skin had crawled like this when she had
gone to her first party as a new hire. But, by the time she had lost
her virginity, four months later, she was so used to being stared at,
clothed and naked, that she thought nothing of it. How could just an
hour or so of being treated like a thinking being undo a lifetime of
training? Dave had never touched her, except to show her how to play
Animal Wars. But that touch had not been remotely sexual.
Had it? Rachel hadn't thought it had been. Now she wasn't sure.
She had been told so many times there was no other reason a man would
ever touch a woman it was hard to think otherwise, even if the touch
appeared to be an accident. He did not touch her now, nor at any
point during the meal, which was fortunate as she ended up sitting
next to the man with Elissa, which she did not much like, and Rachel
was suddenly aware that her breasts were spilling out the top of her
bodice, as she had carefully made sure they would do. Why was she
now wishing she had something to cover them with?
"Tell me
about any other interesting buildings or sculptures you've seen,"
said Dave. "It might give me ideas for more projects.
"Well, I
don't know. Most architecture is so ugly. But, at least, that way,
there's lots for you to improve on. In particular, I wish you could
do something with those horrible fake trees outside the Corridor of
Visions. They seem so much more awful since they're in front of such
a beautiful building."
"I've often
thought that. But what can I do? No one is going to pay to put real
trees in all those spots."
"I know, I
know." Rachel shuddered slightly, thinking how much that many
real trees would cost.
“Beyond the
cost of the trees themselves, they are so valuable that some idiot
would probably try to steal them, so the sponsor would have to spend
a fortune just on the security to guard them. After all, anyone who
would pay so much to put in trees in the first place, wouldn't want
the investment and potential future prestige ruined by having them
stolen. ”
“Wouldn't it be
a bit obvious is someone stole a bunch of trees?” asked Rachel.
“Besides, they're too heavy to just carry away and it would be
impossible to secretly load them onto a transport.”
“They wouldn't
even get that far. You can't just pick up a plant, a real plant.
They have things called roots that go down into the ground and hold
them in place. To move them, you have to dig up the whole root
system, which for something like a tree could cover a whole city
block. But the roots are how they eat so, if you damage them too
much, the plant will die, which means, even if they failed, which
they would, they could still do serious damage.” Rachel made a
small gasp of horror at the thought of the senseless waste. She
wondered how many other brothel women knew about roots as it was
probably not something that was included in the brothel internet
package. Maybe Stacy. She seemed to have an uncanny ability to find
out strange things...if there was some kind of financial advantage in
doing so. Hopefully, no one at Gregory's
did. With any luck, they might accidentally kill their precious new
plant, if they ever managed to buy one. That might almost be better,
them spending all that money for nothing. “A greater risk would be
that someone would try to just cut down the trees and take away the
wood. Again, virtually impossible to actually cut down a tree
without anyone noticing but still incredibly damaging to try.”
“It wouldn't
have to be real trees,” Rachel said after a moment. "Couldn't
you use tinted plaZtic columns in abstract shapes, like the top of
your new sculpture, or how about narrow metal beams with colored
pieces of glass hanging from them, or even if they would just not
spray paint what they have now." Dave nodded. In the moment of
silence between them she suddenly became aware of the loud
conversation one of the other girls was having with her dinner
partner on the other side of her, involving the possibility of him
hiring her to accompany him to the ceremonial tree lighting in Navona
Plazza.
“I've heard the
tree ceremony is supposed to be absolutely wretched this year,”
sniffed the girl. “It's being sponsored by Chief ConFluE Lvl and
they are so cheap and never do things right. And the accompanying
snowfall is from Hexaport and they haven't been in business
long enough to possibly know how such things are done.”
The man snickered
evilly. “Were they even in business last time the Holidays came
around?”
“How should I
know since they certainly weren't important enough for anyone to pay
attention to. I wouldn't subject myself to this shit show for just
anyone....but for you...” Rachel cringed at the vapid transparent
manipulation, then quickly pulled her attention back to Dave when she
saw his concerned look and realized he must have thought she was
making a face at him. If nothing else, why waste her time on a
conversation that she basically already had memorized. In the last
seconds before her ears completely tuned it out, right on cue, she
heard the girl start to say, “To make up for it, you'll have to
take me to...”
“I had a
thought,” Rachel burst out, speaking quickly to stop herself from
hearing any more of the unsavory conversation, “why not use
artificial trees, like everyone does for the Holidays?”
Dave frowned.
“Those can be a lot of work too. The majority of plaz plants are
not made to be durable enough to last long outside. They would have
to be plaZtic, not silkcone and heavier plaZtic at that. Plus, they
would almost be at a greater risk of theft than real trees since they
wouldn't have roots and not weigh nearly as much.” Rachel tried
not to look put out that her idea had, apparently, been so stupid.
“It makes a lot of sense,” said Dave eagerly, as if to reassure
her. “The only catch is finding something that is durable enough
without sacrificing authenticity, which can't be done just by using
thicker and heavier material. Such things do exist but, they're
super rare, special order only, since there isn't much call for them.
I think the Holidays tree in the Navona is one. It's so big they
needed something stronger even though it's only up for a few weeks.”
“Have you heard
what the decorating theme is this year?” she asked. Normally, this
would be all over the news as the sponsoring companies would use it
as a way to draw more attention to themselves, but Rachel had been
doing her best to live under a rock for the past months.
Dave rolled his
eyes. “Hexagons,” he said. “The light clusters on the tree,
the fireworks, the lanterns, the banners, the boxes for putting gifts
in, all hexagons.” He seemed to suddenly remember something. “Oh
and this.” He fished in his pocket and brought out a, now very
crushed, plaZtic package. “I stopped off at Tracy's to hire a
calligrapher for my Holidays cards and there were people at the doors
of the department store handing these out...and when I say 'handing
out' I mean forcefully shoving in your face so you have no choice but
to take it.”
Rachel took the
crumpled mass into her hands and smoothed it out, discovering it was
the sanitary wrapping around what were, or had been before they got
broken in Dave's pockets, hexagonal candy canes. A snorting laugh
burst out of her before she could stop herself. “That's the
dumbest thing I've ever seen. If they had to make it hexagonal,
couldn't they have made body of the candy hexagonal instead and kept
the cane shape?”
“Obviously not.
Look closer. the tube is hexagonal.” Rachel held the
package up to the light, squinting, and gave a shriek of laughter
when she saw the truth of this statement. “It's a special
exclusive flavor too,” Dave went on “or so I was told whether I
wanted to know or not: Blondie Bliss.” This sounded exactly like
the kind of moronic idea Chief ConFluE Lvl would come up with. As
the company responsible for regulating the flow of the the Blondie,
Her-Babylon's main river that cut right through the heart of the
city, and the water level, wave patters and such for all the lakes
and beaches in and around the city, the company executives suffered
from an inferiority complex about how prosaic and un-glamorous their
work was, leading to lots of ill advised attention seeking behavior
which they lacked the taste and discretion to pull off properly.
Even the company's name, short for chief controllers of fluid
environmental levels, was designed to make what they did sound much
more challenging and important than it really was. All of this was
great for Hexiport as Chief ConFluE Lvl was probably the only company
desperate enough to team up with them for the sponsorship, but
disastrous for everyone else as they would now be expected to eat
piles of “Blondie Bliss,” rendered even more unappealing by the
sickly yellow color of the candy's stripes, doubtless meant to echo
the color of the water in the polluted river, just calling attention
to the fact that Chief ConFluE Lvl was shit at its main job.
Rachel made a
face and continued to stare at the candy “canes” or candigons, as
they were probably called, unsure of what to do with them. Beth
would be dying to get her hands on these, if she didn't already have
several stashed in her room. She had the truly bizarre hobby of
collecting samples of limited edition candy and, for this reason,
usually, was forced to room with the least desirable member of the
brothel. What strange fluke had caused Rachel to wind up with Alice
instead? Not surprisingly, no one wanted to room with her because,
no matter how carefully she packed her samples away in vacuum sealed
All-Ways Fresh bags, inevitably, from time to time, something would
go wrong and some of her specimens would go bad. The other women
would spitefully joke about which was worse about rooming with Beth,
the off food, or her “off” emotions when she had to get rid of
some, in her eyes, priceless, and irreplaceable item. There had been
an incident many years ago when a newly hired Rachel had gotten a
chocolate craving and eaten her way through most of Beth's annual
Holidays truffles, each with the year printed on it in gold foil.
She had refused to acknowledge any wrong-doing, maintaining that
chocolate was for eating, not for storing. Most of the truffles were
already so stale she would never have eaten them if she had had some
other ready source of chocolate. She had already learned that the
dispensers were faulty and seemed to be particularly bad at
chocolate...that or, because she wanted it so often, they had more
opportunities to screw it up.
“Is something
funny?” asked Dave, seeing her lip curl. Rachel snorted into her
hand and then coughed awkwardly to buy herself time. She really
wanted to tell him what she had been thinking. Having someone else
to laugh with about the inanities of her life would be so freeing.
She glanced around nervously. Of course the others would be very
upset about her exposing brothel dirt. They might mock Beth in
private but making her look bad to a potential client was another
matter. Not that Rachel cared and, besides, the other women were all
busy with their dinner partners. No, the real thing that was holding
her back was the fear Dave would disapprove and she would alienate
him because he would see it as mean-spirited. Even if that didn't
mean he would shun her, she would still lose him because it would
mean he wasn't the person she had thought, hoped, he would be. He
couldn't be totally opposed, as he had been pretty derisive when he
told her about the candy in the first place, but still... She was
reaching the end of the time when she could realistically sustain a
coughing fit. Quickly, she grabbed a glass of water and swallowed.
“I'm so sorry,” she gasped, patting her throat to help with the
swallowing. “I was just thinking about how I know someone who
would get very excited about this candy...”
Dave rolled his
eyes. “Just because it's limited edition. I know. But it tastes
like ass.” Rachel giggled, glad he didn't hate her attitude, even
if she hadn't said everything. “I'm going to be so tied up with
all the parties with business associates over the next few weeks and
I'm sure many of them are going to expect us to eat piles of the
stuff.”
Rachel gave a
sympathetic nod. “And, as a Libertus, its absolutely vital that
you accept every invitation so none of your contacts feel slighted.”
He grimaced.
“That's about it,” he said.
“How do you
manage it? How can you pick out all those presents and then sit
through it all with a straight face?” Rachel shuddered, thinking
how glad she was that the various Holidays duties for Luther's
were divided up between the women, or handled as joint projects, so
she had never had to do too much and, of course, now could evade it
all on account of her being too emotionally unstable for them to risk
pushing her to attend a party when she wasn't feeling well. Women
were expected to take on the individual responsibility of getting
gifts for their personal clients, but, since Rachel now had no
clients and was doing her best to keep it that way, this was also not
a burden for her.
“All the
alcohol helps.”
“Unless that's
as bad as the food?” she asked maliciously.
“Oh, no. They've probably released a recipe for a special
signature cocktail to go with the stupid candies. It probably tastes
like ass too.” He pulled out his trapah again and started
frantically trying to search for more information and Rachel wondered
vaguely if gross cocktail recipes were included in the brothel
internet package. Probably not, as they were mostly expected to hire
companies like uServe to cater their parties. There might be a
special add-on for any brothel that had girls who trained in artistic
mixing and serving drinks as a form of entertainment at parties.
“Are you serious?” cried Dave in exasperation. “This thing has
Gin, Ouzo, Crème
de menthe, ginger ale, Abinthe, olive brine and celery bitters.
Apparently it's called River Fresh. They're going to expect me to
drink that.”
“Just be glad
it isn't hexagonal,” said Rachel dryly.
“Nope, they are
served in hexagonal highballs.” Rachel snickered at his look of
distress but then her professional training got the better of her and
she felt obliged to change the topic.
“Last time I
saw you, you said that building design was just a hobby for you?”
she said. Dave nodded, slightly absentmindedly, fingering the stem
of his wine glass and, clearly, still thinking about the horrible
River Fresh cocktails looming on the horizon. “So what do you
actually do for your job? What is a 'technical expert?'”
“Well, perhaps,
I misspoke,” he replied. “As a Libertus I can take, and
frequently do, whatever jobs people will pay me for, which does
include buildings. But my original training was in chemical work,
what I did before I became a Libertus, so I still sort of think of
that as my 'job.'”
“Chemical
work?” asked Rachel tentatively, intrigued but hoping she did not
sound too ignorant.
“Knowing the
properties of different substances and figuring out how to apply
those properties to various uses. Also, altering or combining
substances on the molecular level to try to get them to do what the
client wants, which is the main skill I use in building design. Most
of the time it's working with theoretical models on the computer but
I really like doing actual hands on experiments where I can see the
results with my own eyes. I have a space in my house set aside for
that and...” He paused, clearly pleased to be able to talk about
this, as the attendants from uServe entered the room to present the
first course.
About halfway
through the dinner, which was composed of glazed ham and lime jelly
following a pasta fagioli soup, proving the host had gone all out,
plus more of the fuzzy neon Champagne,
Elissa turned towards Dave and began attempting to flirt with him.
Rachel felt a blind rage flush through her, but that was
understandable. She was actually being treated like a person for
once. Why did Elissa have to interfere? Rachel had no doubt she was
doing it on purpose just to spite Rachel and she had no doubt she
would succeed. However, Dave turned an extraordinary color and
appeared to be made very uncomfortable, rather than excited by
Elissa's actions. Turning, he asked what he could do for her,
politely but without any suggestion in his voice. Elissa put her
hand on his arm and tilted her head so her hair brushed against him.
For a second, Rachel thought she saw him shiver all over at the
contact, but the movement was too small to be sure.
"Sam and I
have been having a debate and thought you might help us resolve it."
"What's the
debate?"
"We can't
agree whether buffet-style or gala-style sex is better."
"How
should I know? I've never done either. I'm very sorry but I can't
help you. You should ask someone else." He was not exactly
short with her but he turned back to Rachel without further comment,
asking her a question about what she thought would be a good color
scheme for living quarters.
"Actually,
I've been reading Color Theory: A New Path to Harmony. I
agree with the premise that blue is a relaxing color. I think it
would be nice to have a bedroom done all in blue so it looks like
it's underwater."
"That's an
interesting idea," said Dave. "The trick would be to find
a substance in which the molecules refract and reflect light similar
to water, while still being a solid or at least an amorphous solid."
"That would
be pretty," said Rachel softly. "They could be arranged in
highlights and swirls to suggest waves and foam." Fascinating
as this all was, she was unable to properly enjoy it, thanks to that
bitch, Elissa, who was once again trying to fondle him. This time he
shrank away from her touch as if it made his skin smart. But, when
she showed no sign of ceasing in spite of this, he turned towards her
and gently but firmly removed her hands.
"If you want
my attention you can speak to me," he said thickly, as if he
found the words hard to get out. "Your duty here is to please
me which you certainly are not doing right now. Therefore, I order
you to stop." Rachel noted the sour look on Elissa's face with
extreme relish in the second before she wiped it away. Obviously,
she had not counted on this and was glancing about in search of
something to cover her failure. Rachel's brain began salivating with
anticipation of her further discomfort. But, disappointingly, Sam,
her partner, saved her by telling her to go fetch him a drink.
"Sorry for
the inconvenience," said Dave, keeping his eyes down, as if
getting attention from a woman made him feel ashamed. “Here's
another project I was working on.” He selected another image on
the trapah, showing a bowl shape in dark rough-textured rock,
speckled with small lighter patches.
“I've never
seen a material like that,” said Rachel in fascination. “How did
you think of it?”
“I got the idea
when I took a trip to the V-Crater down south. I've always had an
interest in different kinds of rocks so I thought I would try to make
something that captured both the shape of the crater and the look of
the individual rocks.”
As the
conversation went on, Rachel felt happier than she remembered being
in ages, felt like her stomach was full of light, bubbly Champagne,
not the gross pink kind, with all the bubbles rising up through her
stomach and bursting at the top with a tingly feeling. It was so
thrilling to actually be able to exercise her intellect. With
wonder, she realized she had never truly been allowed to before.
Brought to the brothel at age six and never having left Her-Babylon,
it was very interesting for her to listen to Dave's accounts of his
travels. He had been to other cities and had even visited mining
colonies and oxygen plants out in the desert to do computer and
chemical work, as well as traveling to the top of the space elevator
to work on reinforcing the Ring with transparent materials resistant
to impacts from the Junk Belt. He had also done guest work in the
famous Modern Butcher’s Designer
Meat Factory where things like gourmet hams and sausages were
manufactured. He described to her the machines he had programmed,
which molded the generic food paste into the shapes of stakes and
chicken legs, which were chemically treated to harden them and then
dyed and flavored with compounds which he had also helped design.
As the guests
were rising and making their way to the door at the end of the
evening, Elissa's Sam came up to Rachel and said, "You will
sleep with me tonight." A rock dropped into the pit of her
stomach. So, that was why he had been watching her so carefully.
She felt horribly sick and the blood drained from her face. Oh no,
she felt she was going to vomit and quickly put her hand to her
mouth.
"No, you
cannot do that. I claim my right as her dinner partner." Dave
stepped up and put his arm around her shoulder, as all within hearing
froze in shock. Rachel could feel his hand sweating, from doing such
an audacious thing no doubt. Though it was still an official custom,
these days it was considered very rude to demand to be allowed to
sleep with someone just because she was your dinner partner. The
proper thing to do would be to let the other man have her, then make
one's own arrangements at a later date.
Sam was rather
taken aback, but endeavored to keep his composure. "Well, I
suppose, if you really want to, but you hardly seem the kind of
person to care. I mean, you could have another woman, or you could
sleep with her tomorrow."
"No, I claim
my right." Rachel felt Dave's fingers dig into her shoulder,
his hand clenched in tension. Why this? Why now? If he had wanted
to sleep with her, he could have asked to at any point in the
evening. Instead, he had convinced her that he saw her as human,
then stabbed her in the back after winning her trust. This would be
far worse than sleeping with Sam, a stranger, since she had thought
well of Dave. At least, because she was so angry, she was no longer
in danger of vomiting. Rachel noted that Sam left quickly and Elissa
looked peeved, giving her some cold comfort in the fact that she had
managed to piss someone off. But Dave hung around for a while,
speaking to a couple of other guests. To keep herself occupied, she
listened to what people around her were saying.
"So, you're
finally going to have sex?" inquired one of the other men,
poking Dave in the ribs.
"It seems
so, Jack," he replied without much enthusiasm. What? Could
they truly mean that he was still a virgin at his age? Apparently so
and Rachel was uninterested in the idea of being his guinea pig.
True, she had slept with others for the first time. But not now.
And not him. Soon, he moved towards the door and Rachel
followed him, though he was not touching her, which puzzled her, as
usually, a man would put his hand on the wrist or shoulder of a woman
he was going to spend the night with, or in more suggestive places,
to symbolize what was to come. They stepped into his private
transport, much like a public saucer but smaller and more luxurious,
as befitted a Vis11s like this, the seats heavily cushioned and a
thick carpet on the floor, the entire ceiling a domed screen through
it was turned off now. Dave allowed her to take a seat, then took
one himself, not close enough to touch her easily.
"Where do
you live?" he asked. "Luther's?"
"Yes,
Luther's. Why?" He
quickly swiped through the map on the touchscreen of the saucer's
control panel and the transport lifted lightly into the air. "Where
are we going?"
"I'm taking
you home."
Rachel was so shocked it took her several minutes to convince herself
she had heard correctly. Then, she was ashamed and angry at once.
"You don't want me," she accused, feeling a great desire to
scream or cry. She would have been wildly relieved if she had
escaped her duty in any other way. Now, all she could think of was
that her suspected repulsiveness had been confirmed.
"No, the
point is that you don't want me." They were skimming swiftly,
high above the street on a level with the tops of the buildings, the
privilege of small private transports that had the equipment for it
and could afford to pay the high altitude tolls. Rachel glared at
him. "I saw your face. It would be a cruel thing to force you
to sleep with me."
"Why did you
demand me then?" Her emotions were so confused that none
registered and her voice was dull and flat.
"I saw your
face."
"What?"
"You
obviously didn't want to have sex with him, so I did the only thing I
could think of to prevent it." If Rachel thought she was
confused before, she realized now how wrong she had been.
"Why? Why?
Why the fuck ever?" she stammered.
Dave looked away.
"You've been kind to me," he said softly. "I would
repay kindness with kindness. And I can't watch the helpless suffer
and do nothing." Once again, it took time for Rachel to accept
what she had heard. Then she felt a strange emptiness inside her
that slowly filled up with a soft warm glow. This was an act of
kindness the like of which she had never received before. The
closest she had come was when Susan didn’t try to make her take
pills but that had been a private act that carried no personal risk.
The fact that he had publicly embarrassed himself to help her was
beyond comprehending. She felt her nose itch and realized with
horror that she was likely to start crying. Although she didn't care
that crying was a sign of severe mental instability, she had no wish
to inflict her emotions on this particular person. To stop
herself, she began twisting her fingers together rapidly.
"But, but,"
she stuttered. "If I don't bring back any money, our brothel
will suffer and everyone will be angry at me."
"Simple,
then I will pay you." As he spoke, they could feel the
transport lowering itself to the ground. "Here we are at
Luther's. Good-bye, Rachel.
Perhaps we'll see each other in the future."
"Good-bye,
Dave." Rachel felt herself start to cry again, and quickly ran
away into the building, going directly to her room for the sake of
privacy. Shutting the door, she clasped the pillow to her face and
wept, only lifting her head once to undo the laces of her bodice as
its bones were digging into her. At least the fact that fullness
pill had worn off and her breasts were now deflated made the pain
somewhat less. She was not crying because she was sad. She was
crying because she was painfully happy and afraid it wasn't real.
Also, because she was horribly confused. Eventually, she fell
asleep, the tears still flowing gently.
©Amanda RR Hamlin 2025
