Skyfall
~One~
I stood waiting for the metal door to slide open and admit me to my glass cage. Against my efforts, I had been stripped, scrubbed clean and then dressed in silky underwear. After almost a year of undergoing this process, I felt no shame at being in a state of undress around others. I only fought to give the institution as much trouble as I could, and maybe I would waste some of the time the snotty nobles seemed to have immense amounts of.
The metal door slid back, and either side of me, the women I’d been living with stepped obediently into the glass showcase. I hesitated, and was jabbed hard in the back by one of the Watchmen. But not too hard; don’t want to damage the merchandise after all.
I stepped forward reluctantly, the door sliding closed behind me. I was in a small glass cage, two foot by two. The front of my case was cold glass, with an ornate gold doorknob, the mechanism clearly visible through the glass. My buyer - if that day ever arrived - would open the door, a symbolic gesture, one which apparently was very important – it was all about the experience of buying after all.
I slumped against the wall in the most unattractive pose I could, which is rather difficult when you’re only dressed in silky scraps of material. I ignored the prospective buyers as they filed past, running a finger under the collar around my neck. Any funny business and they could shock it right out of me. I was one of the only women wearing one.
In the other cases I could hear the other women trying to call buyers over; they figured living with a rich man (or woman, sometimes) had to be better than our squalid living quarters – I, however, preferred not to be the play thing of a bored old man.
The buying day was drawing to a close, and I was ready to head back for to the quarters for the inadequate dinner we were fed. In fact, I was up on my feet and facing the back of the case when I sensed someone outside the glass door. I turned reluctantly to see a young man watching me. I narrowed my eyes at him and turned my back again, still waiting for the metal door to slide open.
I turned back when I realised he hadn’t left. Suddenly, unexpectedly, I felt very exposed. There was an older man just behind him, examining me like he would a cow or a horse at market (if there were still livestock markets – they died out about fifty years ago).
“Excuse me,” the older man was gesturing for one of the Salesmen. “Tell us about this one.”
The Salesman fixed his tie, and then set his gaze on me.
“This is Alexa Seris. She’s nineteen years old, in very fine condition.”
He was lying; I was severely malnourished.
“Been with us for a year,” the Salesman leant close to the older man. “Been waiting for the right buyer, you see, sir.”
I frowned at the Salesman, hoping the nobles saw my expression. Only the younger one did – he was yet to take his eyes off of me – the older one still listening to the Salesman.
“She was a ward of the state; she’s been educated in public schools. She can read, even write. A bargain if I’ve ever seen one, sir.”
“You’d say that anyway, wouldn’t you?” the older man smiled, but his eyes remained chips of ice.
A shiver ran across my skin. The old man had the eyes of a snake; I almost expected to see a forked tongue when he spoke.
The young noble was still looking at me. I was about to tell him to shove off (an act that’d see me get another taste of the electric collar around my neck) when he turned back to his father.
“This one,” he said, and my heart sank into the bottoms of my feet.
I was about to be bought.
The metal door slid back, and either side of me, the women I’d been living with stepped obediently into the glass showcase. I hesitated, and was jabbed hard in the back by one of the Watchmen. But not too hard; don’t want to damage the merchandise after all.
I stepped forward reluctantly, the door sliding closed behind me. I was in a small glass cage, two foot by two. The front of my case was cold glass, with an ornate gold doorknob, the mechanism clearly visible through the glass. My buyer - if that day ever arrived - would open the door, a symbolic gesture, one which apparently was very important – it was all about the experience of buying after all.
I slumped against the wall in the most unattractive pose I could, which is rather difficult when you’re only dressed in silky scraps of material. I ignored the prospective buyers as they filed past, running a finger under the collar around my neck. Any funny business and they could shock it right out of me. I was one of the only women wearing one.
In the other cases I could hear the other women trying to call buyers over; they figured living with a rich man (or woman, sometimes) had to be better than our squalid living quarters – I, however, preferred not to be the play thing of a bored old man.
The buying day was drawing to a close, and I was ready to head back for to the quarters for the inadequate dinner we were fed. In fact, I was up on my feet and facing the back of the case when I sensed someone outside the glass door. I turned reluctantly to see a young man watching me. I narrowed my eyes at him and turned my back again, still waiting for the metal door to slide open.
I turned back when I realised he hadn’t left. Suddenly, unexpectedly, I felt very exposed. There was an older man just behind him, examining me like he would a cow or a horse at market (if there were still livestock markets – they died out about fifty years ago).
“Excuse me,” the older man was gesturing for one of the Salesmen. “Tell us about this one.”
The Salesman fixed his tie, and then set his gaze on me.
“This is Alexa Seris. She’s nineteen years old, in very fine condition.”
He was lying; I was severely malnourished.
“Been with us for a year,” the Salesman leant close to the older man. “Been waiting for the right buyer, you see, sir.”
I frowned at the Salesman, hoping the nobles saw my expression. Only the younger one did – he was yet to take his eyes off of me – the older one still listening to the Salesman.
“She was a ward of the state; she’s been educated in public schools. She can read, even write. A bargain if I’ve ever seen one, sir.”
“You’d say that anyway, wouldn’t you?” the older man smiled, but his eyes remained chips of ice.
A shiver ran across my skin. The old man had the eyes of a snake; I almost expected to see a forked tongue when he spoke.
The young noble was still looking at me. I was about to tell him to shove off (an act that’d see me get another taste of the electric collar around my neck) when he turned back to his father.
“This one,” he said, and my heart sank into the bottoms of my feet.
I was about to be bought.