Handcrafted Monsters
October Eleventh, Twenty Sixty-Five
A small, curt alarm sounded in the security guard's earpiece as the dainty woman entered the building. He momentarily cast a glance upward, recognition filling his emotionless eyes. Stepping to the side, he allowed the woman to enter the staircase leading out of the front lobby and to the upper level of the establishment. Preferring to simply be referred to as Miss when dealing dealing with business such as the business she was on the particular night, the sharp click of bright red heels came with each step up towards the second floor. She was, as most women during the winter season, breathtakingly beautiful. Dark brown hair curled expertly to frame her face, bangs pinned back as to flaunt her sparkling emerald eyes. Her lips were a bright and boastful red and cheeks rosy, an ambiance of confidence and warmth radiating from her petite body. She didn't bother to announce herself as she approached Dr. Joseph Kander's office, instead flinging back the door and taking determined steps inside. Bewildered, the doctor looked up from the mountain of paperwork in front of him, confounded at her quick arrival.
"Well?" she prompted curtly, her voice cutting through the cold air as she looked expectantly to the old man. He was gray in the hair, something very uncommon, his skin slowly fading to a similar shade- his one hundred and twenty-fifth birthday was coming up soon, after all. He had never been one for the skin treatment mumbo-jumbo, instead opting for a more traditional way of life. His ambition was to live his life as similarly to that of his father and grandfathers as he could. Despite the fact that most citizens felt guise was taboo, he liked his appearance- it was unique to find in a city like Danforth, and he thought it to give him an air of wisdom and professionalism. "They called and said I could come pick it up now."
"Yes, you can," Joseph assured her, pushing up his spectacles on the bridge of his nose as he stood up from his desk. Capping the old fashioned ballpoint pen that had once been his grandfather's, he tucked it securely into his breast pocket before withdrawing a small, circular device from his desk drawer. Pressing the black button in the middle, the sphere spread open, revealing a small screen and a full keyboard, as well as several colored buttons without specific markings present. Fervently he began to type in the same forty-seven character pass code that everything in the east wing of the building required, hitting the bright red button before one of the white walls of his office separated, sliding back into place to reveal a brief hallway with another door at the far end. "After you, ma'am."
Once he reached the end of the hallway, Joseph began to type in the pass code once more, the set of doors swinging back to lead to a dimly lit room. Twelve tables occupied the space, each spaced exactly four feet and eight inches apart, a plastic, rectangular container set dead center atop each. To both right and left, two female attendants stood with hands behind their back, and feet shoulder width apart. Their hair was pulled back and shoved into a colorless cap, a good proportion of each face hidden behind masks that were similar. Their outfit took away all shape and figure, covering every inch of their body aside from the small sliver left between the mask and the cap, from which emerald eyes peeked out. They sparkled, matching the woman who had come from the outside. If it weren't for the eyes, Joseph might have mistaken the attendants as being something radically different from what they were.
“Farra,” the doctor said, gesturing to the woman on the right. She took a step forward at the mention of her name, waiting for her orders. “A9D4824JF, please.”
With a nod, she moved to the table at the very end of both the vertical and horizontal row, removing a small bundle wrapped in a dark blue cover. Carefully, she crossed the room, handing the heap to Miss. It looked awkward in her hands; she didn't hold it using the correct form. Tisking on the inside, the doctor helped her to handle it carefully, though it still didn't look quite right in the woman's arms.
"It's perfect," she admired, a slow smile unfolding across her flawless face, white teeth now showing.
Joseph cleared his throat, retrieving a large stack of papers from Farra, “Er, yes. That is, after all, the point. Now, we do require your signature on a few documents to confirm your purchase."
Carelessly, Miss pulled out her government-issued identification stamp, handing it to Joseph and instructing him to use it as he needed to. Though she had always been warned by both her parents and the endless commercial that government officials output over the years, she never hesitated to hand over her entire identity, as if it were nothing. She knew that if something went wrong, she could easily obtain a new one.
Once the doctor completed his task, he handed the woman a bulky manila folder, forcing her to look away from her newest luxury. "You'll want to keep up with this, in case any defects are present."
"Defects?" she repeated, a glimmer of worry showing through the emerald eyes that were programmed to show only self assurance. "You can't guarantee it will be... normal?"
"Well, Miss, nothing is certain," he reminded her calmly, handing the stack of signed papers to Farra. "The chances conflict will arise for you personally, however, are very slim. This is simply precautionary. Of course, if you do find yourself experiencing difficulty, you may return your purchase and all money will be refunded."
The normal confidence shone through her eyes again, curiosity now coming into play in lieu, “What do you do with… the defects?”
"I wouldn't worry my pretty little self over it if I were you, Miss. We have the proper facilities to detain them," he promised, repeating the same words he had to countless women. "We've gotten everything taken care of."
"You're right," she decided, easily accepting his statement as truth as she peered down at the bundle in her arms. "Like I said, it's... perfect."
Miss, who was known by Baythal Nelson to all outside the walls of the building, stepped out into the lobby once more. Her brilliant smile had yet to dissolve from her face, the security guard feeling an overwhelming wave of accomplishment upon seeing the cause he was contributing to bring joy to the women of Danforth. He tilted his head in her direction as she walked past, wishing her good luck and a safe departure. Baythal stepped happily out onto disorderly chaos that was Fifth Street, the baby boy swaddled in a blue blanket clutched tightly to her chest.
"Well?" she prompted curtly, her voice cutting through the cold air as she looked expectantly to the old man. He was gray in the hair, something very uncommon, his skin slowly fading to a similar shade- his one hundred and twenty-fifth birthday was coming up soon, after all. He had never been one for the skin treatment mumbo-jumbo, instead opting for a more traditional way of life. His ambition was to live his life as similarly to that of his father and grandfathers as he could. Despite the fact that most citizens felt guise was taboo, he liked his appearance- it was unique to find in a city like Danforth, and he thought it to give him an air of wisdom and professionalism. "They called and said I could come pick it up now."
"Yes, you can," Joseph assured her, pushing up his spectacles on the bridge of his nose as he stood up from his desk. Capping the old fashioned ballpoint pen that had once been his grandfather's, he tucked it securely into his breast pocket before withdrawing a small, circular device from his desk drawer. Pressing the black button in the middle, the sphere spread open, revealing a small screen and a full keyboard, as well as several colored buttons without specific markings present. Fervently he began to type in the same forty-seven character pass code that everything in the east wing of the building required, hitting the bright red button before one of the white walls of his office separated, sliding back into place to reveal a brief hallway with another door at the far end. "After you, ma'am."
Once he reached the end of the hallway, Joseph began to type in the pass code once more, the set of doors swinging back to lead to a dimly lit room. Twelve tables occupied the space, each spaced exactly four feet and eight inches apart, a plastic, rectangular container set dead center atop each. To both right and left, two female attendants stood with hands behind their back, and feet shoulder width apart. Their hair was pulled back and shoved into a colorless cap, a good proportion of each face hidden behind masks that were similar. Their outfit took away all shape and figure, covering every inch of their body aside from the small sliver left between the mask and the cap, from which emerald eyes peeked out. They sparkled, matching the woman who had come from the outside. If it weren't for the eyes, Joseph might have mistaken the attendants as being something radically different from what they were.
“Farra,” the doctor said, gesturing to the woman on the right. She took a step forward at the mention of her name, waiting for her orders. “A9D4824JF, please.”
With a nod, she moved to the table at the very end of both the vertical and horizontal row, removing a small bundle wrapped in a dark blue cover. Carefully, she crossed the room, handing the heap to Miss. It looked awkward in her hands; she didn't hold it using the correct form. Tisking on the inside, the doctor helped her to handle it carefully, though it still didn't look quite right in the woman's arms.
"It's perfect," she admired, a slow smile unfolding across her flawless face, white teeth now showing.
Joseph cleared his throat, retrieving a large stack of papers from Farra, “Er, yes. That is, after all, the point. Now, we do require your signature on a few documents to confirm your purchase."
Carelessly, Miss pulled out her government-issued identification stamp, handing it to Joseph and instructing him to use it as he needed to. Though she had always been warned by both her parents and the endless commercial that government officials output over the years, she never hesitated to hand over her entire identity, as if it were nothing. She knew that if something went wrong, she could easily obtain a new one.
Once the doctor completed his task, he handed the woman a bulky manila folder, forcing her to look away from her newest luxury. "You'll want to keep up with this, in case any defects are present."
"Defects?" she repeated, a glimmer of worry showing through the emerald eyes that were programmed to show only self assurance. "You can't guarantee it will be... normal?"
"Well, Miss, nothing is certain," he reminded her calmly, handing the stack of signed papers to Farra. "The chances conflict will arise for you personally, however, are very slim. This is simply precautionary. Of course, if you do find yourself experiencing difficulty, you may return your purchase and all money will be refunded."
The normal confidence shone through her eyes again, curiosity now coming into play in lieu, “What do you do with… the defects?”
"I wouldn't worry my pretty little self over it if I were you, Miss. We have the proper facilities to detain them," he promised, repeating the same words he had to countless women. "We've gotten everything taken care of."
"You're right," she decided, easily accepting his statement as truth as she peered down at the bundle in her arms. "Like I said, it's... perfect."
Miss, who was known by Baythal Nelson to all outside the walls of the building, stepped out into the lobby once more. Her brilliant smile had yet to dissolve from her face, the security guard feeling an overwhelming wave of accomplishment upon seeing the cause he was contributing to bring joy to the women of Danforth. He tilted his head in her direction as she walked past, wishing her good luck and a safe departure. Baythal stepped happily out onto disorderly chaos that was Fifth Street, the baby boy swaddled in a blue blanket clutched tightly to her chest.