ã€ŠSatedã€‹


 1 TO MY FIRST LOVE

    I keep my hand at my nose to fight off the smell. It''s not my father''s fault; we don''t have any credits for water. Since it comes down to daily necessities, and there not being enough, that means the fault is mine.

    My father still sells his water allotment to afford other things for me, even when I''m not around.

    "How is the combat training coming along at Job''s gym? You finish your reps?"

    "Yeah." I nod without looking; my eyes stay transfixed to the vid screen on our old, tattered wall. It was a wonder a structure as shabby as ours even had the capacity for an interface with the computer. "I came back early to see this interview, remember?"

    Our dinner in hand, my father shuffles his weary miner frame around the table and puts the tin plates down. Tin? Even Job''s gym uses ceramics. And it didn''t have such a rank smell.

    When I live here daily, I never notice this sour stench. Only when I leave for long periods of time, that''s when I get it¡ªI understand what everyone always whispers about.

    I''m Colony-born, but my father has survived Topside to make it down here to the underground. I think he''s tough; other people think he smells.

    I guess both are true.

    Only...this smell''s strange, like a sickness. I won''t ask about it again, because it upsets him, but I worry.

    He tells me something, but I don''t catch it.

    "Philippe..." he says, finally, using my given name.

    That''s also something so Topsider-ish that I''ve come to notice. Down here in the Colony everybody carries their family name in the back; Topsiders in the front.

    He''s Philippe Raul and I''m Philippe Remy.

    "Phil," I insist, still watching that interface across from us. Lately, I feel uncomfortable with people knowing so much about me just from my name. Phil''s easy, Philip''s even better.

    He sits down at our little table, his imposing figure reeking as he speaks through those dirty teeth.

    "What''d Job say about the fee? Did he say we can square it later?"

    I focus on my father, finally. I don''t like to ignore him, and he rarely gets angry when I do, but I wish he''d grow some balls about Job overcharging us because Topsiders don''t know any better. My pa knows better. We''ve paid twice the rate of everybody down here and it''s all for some stupid dream.

    "Phil," he corrects himself. "What''d he say?"

    Luckily the interview on the screen isn''t the one I am waiting for so I glance at my father again.

    "He cut the rep time, but we should just go somewhere else, somewhere cheaper."

    His eyes dim and I know that look. My father is nearly twice my size in bulk. I beat the hell out of him in height, though. But while my muscles come from training, his have come from fighting to stay alive on the surface¡ªand maintained by working the mines down here. I used to think he was unstoppable but now that I have to start earning some credits, I can see that he''s maybe not as smart as he thinks he is.

    "No. We should stick with Job. Nearly half his fighters turn ELETE. ELETE is safe."

    My breaths come shallower because he''s going into one of his rants, and I know them all by heart. Maybe if he''d put some power behind his words, I''d take them seriously, but he never speaks harshly; he just doesn''t have it in him.

    "ELETEs are safe. No ELETE''s ever sent Topside for breaking a law. You get food, a nice place. You get everything. I''m too old and I don''t have the guts in me to make it, but you...you can do it. So...." His thick eyebrows knit together as he leans to the right, trying to meet my gaze. "So just humble yourself and go back and ask Job for an extension. We can borrow some credits for an extension on the training and pay it back after you make ELETE."

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    I meet his blue eyes only for a second before I have to focus on the screen in the distance to avoid him.

    He''s insane and beyond wishful. ELETE soldiers, the deadliest and most respected enforcer division of the Colony, could chew me up and spit me out. Yeah, I have height. I have some skill from fights. But I never win any of them. For Job, wasting space by letting me train is basically an embarrassment at this point. I nod, though, because it''s easier to just let my father think I am still training instead of telling him we owe Job too much and I am too embarrassed to go there and beg for a chance to train with his students.

    I focus on the screen now with that other weak interview finished. Our dinky little screen widens¡ªa perk for a celebrity interview this coveted. Two extra inches on either side is better than nothing, I guess.

    "Are you sure it''s a noblewoman?" my father asks. "Because I''ve heard¡ª"

    "Shhh," I say as politely as I can when the interview room lights dim. "It''s starting."

    Eyes fixed on the screen, I scoop up some of my dinner and try to ignore what mixture of cheap algae it might be tonight.

    The new setting of the interview room makes me smile. Each chair is taken away and replaced with oversized bags of beads. A slender, well-dressed figure flops down into one of them, saying, "These lights are still a little too bright for me, darling. Don''t suppose we can lose them entirely?" Light blue. She''s able to afford such color. It stands out compared the announcer''s pricey navy ceremonial suit.

    A rustle sounds as the interviewer shifts in his beanbag seat. "I''m sorry, ma''am. For the camera''s sake, we need some lighting."

    "Suit yourself."

    The video zooms in to settle on a haggard face.

    Gara.

    My body warms at the sight of her. Lydia Garran shot to fame five years ago and blazed a destructive trail ever since. The most memorable thing about her is her hairstyles. Today she''s shaved the right side down to the scalp leaving a curtain of onyx to hang down past her chin. She''s not in stage garb and she''s probably high if the lights bother her. That''s no surprise, but even that doesn''t matter, she looks larger than life¡ªall five foot four inches of her.

    "What are your plans for this year?" the announcer asks.

    "Plans?" Gara yawns, her hands guarding her eyes. "Plans are like all others. Eat, sleep, and fuck. Make it through another year with all my bits intact. You?"

    Gara lumbers to her feet, hikes up her dress, and practically falls into the announcer''s lap.

    She''s pretty close, nearly face to face with the man. I bet she smells nice.

    The announcer must have thought so because he pulls out a handkerchief and starts to wipe sweat from his brow.

    "How about you, darling?" Gara drawls. "What plans do you have? You''ve got a nice little frame on you. What are your plans?"

    Taking great interest in the five-by-seven data tablet in his hands, the announcer swallows hard.

    "You...you have two shows coming up which are quite popular. Plays you wrote by yourself. Could you tell us what inspired them?"

    Gara stops squirming against the poor guy. I can''t help but chuckle at the way she always gets to people. Most get nervous, but I wouldn''t be much of a fan if I didn''t know that the biggest kick Gara gets out of rubbing up on others, is seeing them fumble around. She does it a lot, especially when someone hates it.

    She stops now, though. Looking more serious as she says, "Of course, they''re good. I wrote them for Blue. He deserves the best."

    Blue. I know about Blue. Nearly all her good songs talk about Blue. Rumors say it''s her nickname for her husband, but I know better. Blue is...was some long-lost friend that Gara pines for. Maybe a long-forgotten lover.

    It''s no surprise when she gets uncooperative pretty fast.

    Gara takes her previous seat, her hand guarding her mouth; she''s hiding her expression.

    "What about them?"

    The announcer''s brown eyes bulge. "What?"

    "What about my plays? Are you going somewhere with this or just being a dick?"

    After that, things get quiet. Gara doesn''t last long before she heaves a sigh. "By the Colony, this is tedious. Listen. Just announce that we''re accepting fresh talent and security for the show and cut to a different interview. I''m getting kinda sick and tired of staring at your cheap suit."

    The screen goes black.

    I fight back a chuckle. Sure, I want to see a longer interview, but she never lasts long. This is one of the shorter ones though.

    Pa says something to me again and I meet eyes with him, finally. "What?"

    "Job? The training? You will go today, yes? Let him give you room for a few days. It''ll look nice on your files when you go to test in."

    I''m not paying much attention to the nonsense, but I nod anyway, just to get him to stop talking. I''m never getting ELETE. ELETE soldiers are the baddest, most vicious fighters in the Colony. I''m lucky just to make it out of a ring alive. Yeah, Job trains the best, young fighters especially, but that''s not what I want. I should tell my pa that to his face. Be upfront. But I''m just like him, I guess, a coward. He''s worked so hard for me already; I can''t break his heart. Not before the holidays.

    "Hmm''m," I mutter, standing.

    Pa stands, too. "You still haven''t said what you wanted for a present."

    "I don''t want anything. And I''ve told you already. Use the credits for your medical checkup," I insist.

    He ignores me. "It''s getting late. Let me walk you."

    But how can I? His teeth are falling outta his head; his clothes are so dirty they''re about to spring to life and walk off him. And that smell....

    "It''s okay. I''ll message you when I get there," I promise.

    He looks proud though, his scruffy brown hair sticking in all directions. I stare at him for a second, wondering if this is gonna be me at fifty.

    But he looks proud and that''s enough. Better he thinks that I''m going to train; he wouldn''t want to know where I really go.

 2 TO OUR MEMORY

    I don''t often think about my pa, not when I make good decisions. I think about him now because of the gun put in my hand.

    "These are stunners, you don''t wanna make a kill," Bailey says, his dark, wiry frame stomping past me.

    "Kill?" I whisper. No one would meet my gaze. "Kill? For...for cleaning?" I ask again. "This is a cleaning job."

    Clean for Gara, walk away with monetary credits, I recall the ad saying¡ªthe same ad Gara promotes for new talent and security for her shows. Cleaning...that''s no job for a fighter. Even my pa has never done menial work like that. Still, it sounds easy and I need equipment and instruments to try and get on the stage. I need to train more in acting. I need monetary credits. My father''s spent each and every monetary point on my clothes and fee to train with Job. At least in those places I could take a shower regularly. My height and training with Job was probably why I made the cut. But this must be a misunderstanding.

    But come to think of it, we''re in a tunnel...an uninhabited tunnel. A structure''s only this quiet when it''s private property. It doesn''t look any different from a regular gray-walled Colony one, though. I''ve never heard of anybody rich enough to own a part of the Colony''s tunnels.

    "I dunno, Bailey. Word has it, she''s temperamental," someone complains.

    The man in the center of it all, Bailey, whispers, "We just clean it out fast, but the pay is good."

    My hand goes up before I even realize it.

    "Sir. This is a gun," I say. Bailey blinks at me so I add, "For cleaning?"

    "No. They''re stunners. If you can''t help, then keep outta trouble. Don''t try to steal any diskettes with credits. Private credits are hard to decode. We want jewels, glass especially. We want trinkets, anything not bolted down that''d fetch a good price. And of course, anything private you can pick up like clothes. We only have twenty minutes to make this count."

    Second guessing isn''t an option now, not with the way everyone eyes me as if they''ve found the weakest link. It occurs to me, finally, what sort of cleaning they''d been talking about. A heist. The chances of them letting me walk away are slim at best.

    You''re in it now, Phil. Just shut the fuck up and keep outta the way. Sound an alarm and they''ll shoot you right here.

    I tuck the gun in the back of my trousers like I see them do at Job''s gym after training. Hopefully, it won''t go off in my pants.

    Three things concern me as of now: my pa, this gun, and Gara. Credits would make it all go away. Besides, these are stunners.

    Bailey touches the wall and says, "System, mass transport."

    "Command confirmed," the computer sounds.

    Everyone takes on a readied stance, so I follow suit. I need credits. Maybe this is luck. All this hard work to smell like hell and die with nothing just isn''t cutting it.

    Bailey drops his hand, signaling us to move and I run with the crowd. I''ve never traveled a mass portal before but this one is rough. As if I''m made of rubber, my head is yanked back, and my lower body stretched. I shoot out of the portal on the wall just in time to topple onto my ass.

    I''m slow and stupid. Everyone else is already in motion, ripping down trinkets on the walls, turning over furniture.

    Me? I''m admiring the view.

    The house is fucking amazing; high ceilings, even higher than in the theater; plush rugs, statues everywhere. The marble floors aren''t even the usual gray; they''re white. This place looks ethereal¡ªespecially with the long award banners hanging everywhere. Every second my guilt for stooping so low as to let others rob someone fades. Someone this rich can stand to lose a few monetary credits. But if I''m caught here with them, that''s jail for sure.

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    I decide to wait it out and follow them out again. I won''t take anything of real value, but I need something, something to show that I''m in it, too, and I won''t rat anyone out.

    There isn''t much left for me to get to with the nine other people weaving through rooms. One thing is enough.

    Glass is everywhere, too. Not the cheap plasticky stuff either, but real glass, the stuff you can''t find in the Colony anymore.

    Everyone else keeps to the living room area and kitchen but I figure there''s got to be something cheaper in the bedrooms. The foyer itself is so huge I fear this house might swallow me up. Before I reach the largest double doors¡ªfashioned out of wood, no less¡ªI spy an open hallway. Halfway down there''s a door. It''s so strange that there should be one there. No bigger than a storage room for cleaning supplies; this looks like the perfect place to wait them out. Maybe I could take something from here.

    A tap of the wall has the door sliding open. It''s not a storage closet, though, but another hall. With everything so quiet, I run down it to make sure it doesn''t lead to a secret room somewhere.

    It leads to a lot more than that, though.

    The hall ends at a spotless room. It''s pretty tiny, big enough for five people maybe. Soft rolled-up blankets are tucked neatly against the wall but at the center of the small room, a little shrine rests. There isn''t much. A pair of old boots, shined to perfection, a shirt and some trousers. These are miners'' clothes¡ªI''ve never seen a set so clean. The boots catch my eye because, being tall and big meant requiring more material; good boots aren''t that easy to come by.

    Shame I can''t use the clothes; they look good, almost fashionable but I wouldn''t be caught dead in miner garb.

    I want new boots, better ones, but these aren''t bad compared to the ones I''ve got now.

    I kick off mine and drag on the newer pair. A little big but they fit just fine.

    Look at that, Phil. You''ve even got boots. Things are looking up.

    A gun discharges somewhere in the house. Thoughts of the clothes fade. Loud voices follow and then a ruckus I can''t quite make out.

    "Shit," I whisper. Inching along the hall. I strain to hear what''s going on.

    I don''t have to wait for long.

    The lights dim red and the System announces, "Intruder. Please fall to the floor and await the guards. Intruder. Await the guards, please."

    Colony houses can''t open and close to strangers. A temp code, like we''ve used, can allow a one-time access in, but not out. Each single door leading into a house responds to the residents only. Despite that fact, there''s no mistaking the airlock. Someone opens the front door. More guns discharge before voices fade.

    "System," someone calls out. "System, get the guards into this main tunnel. Tell them to look for eight men. One I''ve shot, so get a medic down here."

    At the edge of the hall, I peer out as slowly as I can.

    The man standing over Bailey''s still frame, the same who has called for the System, shoots him again, right in the chest.

    I draw in a breath and press myself against the wall. The voice I know, at least the tone as the man barks orders.

    "You. Get in here. Make an assessment of everything they stole. Heads will roll." Gara''s husband. This man with the gun is Gara''s husband.

    This is Gara''s house. We''re robbing Gara''s house.

    I race back down the hall to the little room, desperate to find a vent or something to climb into and hide.

    Nearby footsteps pad against the marble floor. Someone''s coming.

    I grip the gun at my back, not sure what I should do.

    A gasp from the hall tells me someone''s spotted me. Maybe they were readying their weapons because I hear a rustle.

    This gun might only be a stunner, but it''s something.

    Panicked, I take aim but I don''t fire. Gara freezes dead in her tracks.

    Her breath hitches, her eyes widen at the sight of me. A second later her features soften, disappointment creases in her face. She''s stark naked. I tear my eyes away from her neatly groomed groin and stare into her startled eyes.

    Who was she expecting?

    She leans back to refocus on me and says, "You were supposed to leave before we got back. Why didn''t you meet at the front door?"

    I lower the gun.

    Hands on her hips, she looks up while shaking her head. "Of all the fucking places to come.... Why are you in my private area?"

    "They shot him," I mutter, "they shot that man."

    Voices close in from the hall and she drags me closer by the waist, fumbling with my buttons.

    "If anyone asks, just say you were keeping me company!" she whispers.

    My mouth opens and closes as I struggle to answer. That''s hard when she yanks my trousers down around my thighs. She looks back at the hallway and waits. I wanna say something, I mean to.

    Those thoughts fade when Gara drops to the floor and drags me down on top of her bare body.

    I look up in time to see a small army of guards empty into the hallway.

    Several step back, startled.

    "I''m sorry, ma''am. There''s been a break in. Are you all right?"

    Looking back at them, Gara says, "Well I was until you bastards walked in. Can I have some privacy?"

 3 HOW I GOT MY JOB

    Naked, Gara sits on a finely decorated chair, her knees to her chin, her eyes fixed on the floor as she weathers the barrage of cussing.

    "First that interview and now this? I''m tired of you making me look like a fool!"

    "No worries there," Gara drawls. "You don''t ever need me to do that, love. You do just fine on your own." She barely flinches at the next strike. "Well, if you''re gonna hit, put some more force into it."

    Gara''s husband wails, "You had something to do with this! I know you did. You''ve come off the gaw-ro rails, you piece of shit."

    "Whatever you think it is that I did," Gara begins, meeting the man''s gaze. "Don''t you think I''d at least have sent someone to put a hole in you, too?"

    Fists raised, the man huffs and puffs.

    Gara barely cuts him a glance as she focuses on the floor again. "Go ahead. Then you do the gaw-ro promotion interviews instead of me. I''m sure nobody''ll tell the difference."

    The man lowers his hand, his body drooping.

    "What is it you want? What the hell is it you actually need to spend even one damn second content? Huh? What could you possibly gain from any of this?"

    "Get from this?" Gara asks. "I was with my bodyguard. But assuming I know what you''re talking about, maybe you should reconsider watching private recordings of me having sex." She squints before she could get a reply. "You know which ones. The ones that matter to me."

    "You have people robbing our home. Are you out of your gaw-ro mind?" he cursed.

    Scoffing, Gara lowers her gaze once more. "And again, you assume I had anything to do with it. I was busy having fun," Gara mutters. "But you wouldn''t know how that feels, all two seconds of you. Fuck, at this point it''s so fast that you barely tickle me."

    Servants gather, mostly with diskettes in hand to give a list of all that is missing. Everything falls silent, though.

    "Take that back," the man warns.

    Gara keeps her gaze low as she cocks her head. "You''re right, it does tickle me sometimes."

    Sucking in a deep breath, the man turns to one of the servants and says, "Get me fuel. Get me fuel and a gaw-ro match."

    At this, Gara picks her head up.

    I still stand in front of that narrow passageway, mostly because I don''t dare go anywhere else. I have no way to help her¡ªI have no way out of this place.

    On a good day, I''d jump at the chance to pretend to be Gara''s lover. Today leaves me queasy, however.

    The servant returns with the copper container. Gara sits up, her feet on the floor, finally.

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    "Wait..." she says but stops herself.

    The man in charge stands with his back to Gara, a small smile forming. He nods to the passage beyond me and says, "Light that shit up."

    A servant glances back at Gara then lumbers down the hallway. Five minutes later a flame gushes out of the opening.

    Gara sits and watches. Silent even as the System warns of the fire and offers to quell it. Silent as the man of the house, the one to order the fire made, declines the suggestion and orders the System to allow it to burn. And she''s silent as everyone eventually walks away.

    The shrine¡ªher ''private space'' and the miner''s clothes and quaint decorations are gone. I can''t see it, but the passageway is crimson mixed with black. The bellowing smoke gets sucked up where the passage meets the main house by the vents. It''s still eerie and surreal. She and me are the only two left.

    Can I leave? Do I want to leave? I''m not sure. The flame finally dies away, but Gara still watches on. A tear runs down her cheek as she stands and makes her way down that hall.

    When she reaches the little room, she closes the door behind her and the sound to erupt after that makes my blood run cold. Never have I heard someone cry like this.

    I''m not sure what I can do but leaving seems like the best¡ªthe only option.

    The front door is still open. I make it there just as Gara''s husband spots me and says, "Hey. Where the fuck are you going?"

    I turn to look at him, struggling to find an answer.

    "I don''t know who the fuck you are, but I know you''re not any damn lover. Hold out your gaw-ro hand."

    My heart hurts, it''s beating so fast. He puts a diskette against my fingertips and waits.

    I only caught a glimpse of my picture as my profile starts to scroll on his diskette.

    Whatever he finds there makes him snort out a laugh. "Well how''d you like that, you train with Job?" He looks me in the eye.

    I think I manage to nod.

    "So you are a bodyguard, then? I hadn''t expected that." He studies my face a bit longer and then says, "The bodyguard part I''ll let slip, but that doesn''t mean I forgive and forget easy. If she''s hired you idiots to steal, then you might as well be the ones to clean up after her when she goes crazy. So fine, bodyguard, you have a simple task tonight, make sure that fucker doesn''t die with a needle in her gaw-ro arm."

    And then the man leaves. It only takes me a few hours to see why. Gara exits that room looking like a ghost. I stand around and watch servants scurry from her path. Once she circles the house to find that the bastard she''s looking for is gone, she disappears into the room with the large doors and I don''t see her for another hour, not until she steps out washed and seemingly unmoved.

    After that, two people arrive. Then three, and by dinner time, the entire house is full. Music blasts, food circles the room, and Gara sits in a large chair in the corner, reclining as she watches it.

    Never mind that I have on those boots from that shrine. Never mind that I have no idea what I''m doing here. I want to talk to her, but I''m not sure what I can say. Nobody else seems interested in talking to her, either, because while the house took on the atmosphere of a small chaotic club within a matter of hours, few people pass Gara by. Instead, they allow her to sit there in her nice outfit and skirt-like sash, a pocket watch in hand, observing them.

    Eventually, Gara stands on her own and wades into the crowd.

    I circle the room to get a better view of her. Whatever arrangements of tablets she sifts through, I worry.

    She looks happier once she pops a pill into a nearby man''s mouth and kisses him to take it back. Three more people offer her something the very same way and she leans back, seemingly at peace.

    One of her guests catches sight of me and nudges her . "Hey. Who''s this?"

    Eyes glazed, Gara glances to him, then at me, and stares up at the ceiling yet again. "Don''t know."

    I worry for her , but that worry fades when the guest holds out a pill to me. "You looking to go?"

    Go? All around me there''s chaos, and I''m the only one soberly watching it. The look I''m getting says one thing, take it or leave.

    So I sit down, and look around to see how the better half lives.

    I never get back the rest of that night.

 4 TO THE HEEL

    I wish I could say it''s heaven living with my idol, but it''s anything but. Random people come and go at a constant rate. Gara isn''t home often, and when she is, body-guarding¡ªthe joke of a job¡ªinvolves waking people up and ushering them out.

    Gara is fun, though she only comes near me when she throws a party, which is almost every night. And I, anxious to keep close to all things pill-related, take to my new job with gusto. Nobody ever said body guarding would involve so much puke and pulling people out of their own puke.

    It may not be so bad if it''s Gara I get to help but that''s a laughable notion. Gara never needs anyone. Almost all guests seek out her attention because nobody dislikes her. Well...almost nobody.

    With Gara gone when I awaken, I decide to stay out of view. This isn''t the first time she''s given me the slip and I don''t need the reminder from her ''handler'' that my job depends on her safety. One week turns to two.

    Today, I feel sick; I risk foraging through the kitchen for any type of pill to help put these shakes at bay. I find two, and even though I''m not sure what they do, I take them, anyway.

    My muscles relax as I press my back against the wall. This is my first time having to depend on anyone for something other than food.

    It''s humiliating and worrisome, so I decide to find some extra just in case.

    I tear open the pantry door and freeze.

    At first, I''m not sure what I''m looking at. The thing''s covered in black from head to toe, an imp saddle on its back.

    Everybody from the Lower-Levels knows what an imp looks like. This one doesn''t seem to share the mutation. No claws, no hissing, and if it has sharp teeth, it would bite through that bit in its mouth, too. A man-eating imp is a myth to most but as I live in the Lower-Levels, I know how mobsters get rid of anyone who owes too much and I know what imps are capable of. Anyone who crosses into the imp territory would have two seconds to get out. Five if he''s lucky.

    I''ve never seen one up close, so I poke at it and I recoil to be sure. It doesn''t appear aggressive. All the same, I use two fingers when I try to take the black bag off its face. I have to wiggle it around the bit in its mouth but it loosens in the back and slips off without trouble.

    It wears a mask, nearly all of its face covered below the nose.

    This is no imp. It''s a woman. The eyes I know but I pray I''m wrong. Using my full hands, now, I struggle to take the mask off.

    Gara tosses her head back and says, "Give us a hand, love. Will ya?"

    Body burning with shame, I crouch down to try and look under her. She''s kneeling, her hands bound behind her back in a type of jacket for the mad, and it''s hard to find the buckles.

    It takes twenty minutes to get her out of that contraption. It takes even longer for her to stand.

    Bending over naked, she reaches back and tugs at some sort of tail. When she tosses the object down, I lose all speech. It looks like a dick.

    "You act like it''s your first time seeing one of these," Gara drawls, bracing herself forward on the segmented counter. Maybe she needs a minute to calm, to readjust to using her legs, to...to talk to me.

    She doesn''t seem interested in talking, though. To her credit, she doesn''t seem to care about the situation one bit, either.

    The false dick rests beside the saddle and I could only stare.

    Finally, Gara says, "You''re a shy one, huh? You act like this place is the pits of hell and you just happened to stumble in. I bet you think I''m supposed to feel ashamed or something."

    I do expect that, but no matter, I''m ashamed enough for both of us.

    "Which is worse? Being the plaything, or requiring a plaything just to get interested?" Her pace lethargic, she staggers to the wall panel containing cold food, and opens it. "So no. I don''t give a shit about your judgment. Thanks for letting me out," she calls over her shoulder as she makes her way to the archway leading to the hall.

    That night I find it hard to sleep, which is stupid because I finally have a clean room of my own. It''s small but tidy...it doesn''t smell.

    The night''s events worry me, mostly the judgment. Gara doesn''t leave early the next day like she usually does. She''s up and about before I go out there.

    Waking up to a row is common; there''s not much of a fight since Gara never fights back¡ªnever raises her voice.

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    All is quiet; the house is empty. Still, the neatly set kitchen table isn''t meant for me, that much I know.

    She looks amazing, wearing a dress so new I expect to see the price bar on it. Her well-shined boot resting atop her knee as she reclines, she waits. It''s hard to believe this is the same woman I''ve found tucked away in the pantry the day before.

    The date must be important because she''s not even wearing her hair down, either; it''s tied up in a neat bun.

    Taking a pocket watch from her vest, Gara flips it open and sighs. "Three, two...one," she says, and stands. "System, cancel that acceptance of this morning''s invitation. Rotate the guest code to open the door. Please tell the sender, and I quote, eat shit and die. End quote."

    The computer''s voice precedes a chime. "Command confirmed."

    Gara starts undoing the buttons of her Lowli-fashioned skirt-sash even as the front door''s buzzer sounds.

    She pauses at the last button at the top and turns to the direction of the banging.

    I get to my feet, not sure how I can defend her but determined to try. Whoever''s on the other side of those doors is persistent.

    Gara touches the smooth gray surface and the large steel slides back to reveal a flushed face above a handful of boxes.

    For a moment, the newcomer only huffs as he tries to catch his breath.

    "You''re late," Gara says, hands on her hips. "I don''t think it''s too much to ask that you show up on time¡ªI always show up on time, don''t I?"

    Deep blue eyes peer at her from under damp blond hair. The man looks older than Gara, maybe by a good ten years. I don''t have time to study him further as Gara touches the wall.

    The door slides shut, but not before Gara mutters, "Go fuck yourself."

    The thought occurred to me to explain to her that the man, whoever he is, must have hurried to get here, he must have bought gifts for her, he must have tried to be on time. Being no more than ten seconds late seems so trivial. I say nothing, and I don''t get the chance. She walks away.

    Gara takes off her sash and is down to only her light top and regular skirt by the time she reaches her bedroom. The house is empty, that much I confirm by the various memos in the staff area.

    I consider leaving, too, but I''m unsure where I should¡ªcould go. Pa isn''t an option. It''s been days, by now he knows I haven''t been to Job''s in a while.

    Thoughts of facing him like this, scrounging for pills....

    "You''re still here," Gara observes, sitting down at the well-decorated table with a small blue box. "It''s the holidays, aren''t you going home?"

    The holidays? It''s the year''s end already. Since my birth, this is the first time my father''ll go into a new year alone.

    With no servants on staff today, Gara must have made that table herself. And then it occurs to me; today''s special. It isn''t Gara''s birthday, or anything like that. Somewhere it''s written as the anniversary of her lover''s death, but nobody really knows.

    "You might as well sit down. The food''s not going to eat itself." She mutters, "This is the first year I decided to share it with someone but...he''s disappointed me, so eat up."

    From my safe haven behind the counter, I try to make everything out. I can''t even identify it all, it''s so lavish. No signs of cheap algae, or mashed bean paste. No Vite-D supplements disguised as candy either¡ªand those cost my pa quite a bit. Everything is served on silver and those decorative gems a real, too.

    Gara stares at me, and it''s one of the few times she acknowledges I even exist.

    I make my way to the table, taking a mental note of my appearance. Everything''s in place. I''ve even combed my hair.

    It''s a good meal though, kept hot by the replicator trays holding them.

    I remember my manners as I pick at it; food like this is something I intend to savor. A part of me wishes I could bring some home to my pa. That''s the only thing he ever misses about Topside, natural food. He couldn''t do much with the basic food rations. As far back as I could remember he''d tell me a story while we were eating, trying to get me to imagine it was something better.

    He''d mutter to me as I taste my soup, "And this here, Philippe is chicken stew. Nice and fresh. Not the type with horns or nothing." And me? "What''s a chicken?" I''d ask, chuckling to myself. He''s always been trying to give me more than what I had in my reach, even back then, not realizing that I didn''t want any of it.

    The food''s succulent and tender; the best meal I''ve ever had in my life. If this is really how the better half lives, then I''ll die trying to experience it for as long as I can.

    While I devour that breakfast as politely as possible, Gara cradles her box.

    When I finish eating, Gara puts the box down and segments it with care. The box''s contents shock me.

    I gasp. "Is that an apple?"

    Still going about her task, Gara ignores me and focuses instead, on her apple.

    A real apple. It doesn''t look replicated or anything. The way Gara makes room for it, leaving it at the center of the table, says it all; it''s real.

    Today matters to her, and throwing money at things is Gara''s style. But I''m sitting here, a Colony-born in the presence of an actual apple¡ªactual vegetation.... Me. Philippe Remy¡ªa nobody¡ªmere inches away from something most will live and die but never see, a non-replicated apple.

    I don''t dare look at it much less touch it.

    "There," Gara says, putting the apple directly in the center. "Right there."

    The rest of the day is spent with Gara talking to the thing.

    "Happy birthday, you big beautiful bastard," she says, kissing it. "Happy birthday."

    I soon find out it''s not just the day Gara plans to spend like this, but rather the week. She avoids me each and every day beyond meals, and even then, she barely eats.

    She tosses a pill in my direction now and then, but otherwise she only sits again once the apple is nearly rotten.

    "Happy birthday," she says again. "One day isn''t enough for you. You deserve them all."

    The rest of the day is somber but sweet. And I can see it. This...this ceremony, this ritual she''s probably done a thousand times, it brings peace to her.

    It gets me thinking about my own yearly rituals at the holidays. My pa''s sure to be lonely without me there.

    I don''t build up the courage to sit down in front of the kitchen interface to call my pa until the very morning of the new year.

    My gut roils. My hands have never felt heavier as I tap that touch pad.

    Instead of a ''stand by'' screen or my father''s leathery face, my own picture springs up at me.

    Missing person.

    Numerous missing person''s report scroll before my eyes; two for each week I''ve been gone. The last one to float up and come to a stop freezes me to my core.

    "Missing person...Philippe Remy, age fifty...." It''s my name, but it isn''t the right age, and it isn''t my picture.

    My father. My father''s missing.

 5 THE PUPPY

    I abandon the interface and stagger to my feet, hurrying into the foyer. Five weeks of work, three missed ELETE evaluations, and ten missing person''s reports later, I stand in front of those large doors fighting back tears.

    My father''s missing.

    Thoughts come and go of a mine cave-in somewhere obscure¡ªunsanctioned mines like those are more lucrative. No matter where he is¡ªeven if I have to dig him out myself, I have to find him. But I can''t.... Not this broke.

    I know Gara won''t care what I''ve got to say. She never even remembers my name. She throws credits away, though. All the time. And right now, I need credits.

    The door creaks open as I knock.

    Gara meets me; she must have plans to go out, too.

    Her outfit catches my interest, though; it''s popular only in the Lower-Levels. She''s even wearing trousers now, a long sash draped as a skirt.

    "Oh, it''s the imp-pup," she says.

    Shame burns in me for being flattered that she at least remembers my face. Most nights she lets me fall asleep on her bedroom floor if I''m too wasted to stand up and leave. I never remember much of what happens with whoever she''s got in there with her so it''s okay.

    "Are you here with this bodyguard shit again?" she asks.

    I ignore her because I need to keep my nerve. "Mrs. Gara...I''m...I think I''m your biggest fan in the Colony. I want to work on stage with you. But I need a sponsor to help me fund my studies. I have to go home to my pa. The last missing person''s report is for him, and they mixed up our names. I...but before I go down to find him, I want to go with something to show for it."

    Gara folds her arms, crosses her legs at the ankle, and leans against the doorframe. "You''re asking me for loot?"

    I''m not. "No." In the mornings like these, if I haven''t had anything, I feel woozy. She studies me; she can see it. "Yes, I guess, I am."

    "I''m heading down to the Lower-Levels today. I do need the help there. Get yourself whatever you need off my dresser to tide you over. But when we come back, know that we''re gonna have to talk about your job. I can''t have people around me looking for a handout. Nobody ever gave me shit."

    My heart lurches. I''m not quite sure what she says, and truth be told, my focus is just on getting something to ease the pain that''s coming.

    I step past her, tentative as I look for the pills she''s promised.

    From the doorway she calls, "You''re new to this shit, you''d better cut back."

    I make good credits¡ªincredible credits, and each pay allotment goes right down my throat. It''d be okay if I can get up on that stage, though. Then I''d make more than enough. It''ll make up for my father going to see me test into ELETE just to sit down there in his only church suit waiting for a son to arrive that never shows.

    Two pills bring the Colony back into focus for me. I feel good. Thoughts of that missing person''s report for Philippe Remy, fifty years of age, made the world fade again.

    "Come along with me to the Lower-Levels. I wanna get in one of those races," Gara says, easing off the doorframe.

    "If it''s all the same to you," I say, "I have to go home."

    We don''t have to go far once we exit the house; the transport portal for the Lower-Levels is close.

    She says she''s going to the Lower-Levels to join in a race. The derby is only a few clicks from where I live. Gara reminds me that she''s a noblewoman and shouldn''t be left unsupervised in such a rough area of the Colony. She handles herself just fine, though. She speaks the language better than even my father who''s lived here most of his adulthood.

    The main transport wall in the Lower-Levels spits us out. Celebrities walking through the Lower-Levels was a common enough occurrence, so there was no mob. Most flashed her a smile and wave then held their data tablet up to capture her image.

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    My section, the Lower-Levels. Is a strange sight. The bottom layer of a city collapsed into the Colony when it sank underground. But above that are countless other structures stuck in a state of petrified free fall. It looks like something must have turned a city upside down and dropped it into the underground on top of another. Here, there is cobblestones instead of smooth tunnel walls. It was also impossible to use portals freely, so we have to travel by other means. By luck or misfortune, we can take the same tram. I''ll get off after her. I''m trying to think of how to tell her that I''m not going to follow her around; I need to check in on my father.

    "So is your mom going to be there, too?" Gara asks, reclining in a window seat.

    I''m worried, so I don''t meet her gaze but I do gesture to a building coming up that reads "Reba''s."

    "There''s my mother," I mutter. She doesn''t understand so I explain. "Almost all refugees from Topside are male."

    "Female dominated hellscape. Yeah, I know."

    Her words surprise me; my father never mentions why so many males came underground. I''ve assumed it is just the way it is. The fact that Topside is female dominated isn''t common knowledge. We only know that cannibals and mutants run freely and rule with an iron fist.

    I don''t argue, I just watch Reba''s as it passes by. "Most Topsiders stay in the main area when they come. A lot of them aren''t used to being underground; they hate it. My father''s tough, he came right down here."

    Gara sits up, seemingly interested. She''s dressed down for her travels, indicating that she knows what she''s stepping into with coming into the Lower-Levels.

    "Why is that? I would think Topsiders wouldn''t want to be around so many Traditionalists. Don''t most Topsiders get picked on and cheated."

    I need to defend my father. "My dad''s smart. He''s afraid of going back up top. You know, if anyone doesn''t get a branding tattoo on time, or commits a bad enough crime, they get exiled. He came down here looking to marry a woman."

    We both smile and then chuckle.

    "Yeah. I know," I admit. "Sometimes he''s smart."

    "Wow, that must have been a letdown," Gara agrees. "I can''t imagine a Colony woman alive who''d bed a Topsider."

    She says it jovially enough, but it still hurts.

    "Well, for marriage he wasn''t gonna find anyone. No family or bloodlines to brag about. So instead, he saved up for about fifteen years and when he had enough, he went to a local breeder down here and she had me for him. And he made sure and paid for me to be delivered naturally. It was a fortune. Look." I turn the back of my neck to shower her the breeder branding behind my right ear. "He even paid for it to be hidden so no Traditionalist would pick on me on sight.

    "Some breeder-born Lowlanders have it in the open and the only reason my father didn''t pay to remove it, he said, was to make sure I didn''t end up marrying a distant sister by mistake. And he did that all on a miner''s budget," I brag. Her look of admiration puts me at ease. I leave out the part I''ve heard others say in passing. The bits about my father being too shy to sleep with a woman, or how even though he''d paid extra for that fact, Reba couldn''t stand his smell so she offered to just do it via insemination.

    My expression must be telling because Gara put her hand on my shoulder.

    "Hey, you okay, love?"

    I gesture to an upcoming crowd. "Here''s your stop."

    Gara glances at the people then scoots closer to me and says, "So he came all this way to get a kid?"

    I''m not sure if she''s poking fun, so I keep my eyes on my feet. "Yeah, I guess so. But mostly, he stayed because of Job."

    "Job?"

    "Yeah, he runs a gym¡ª"

    "He cranks out the best fighters in the Colony," Gara says, sounding the most energetic I''ve ever heard her. "You train with Job? Holy hell. That''s incredible! Do you know Harris? He''s the best fighter around. I''ve got all his major evaluations on diskette."

    I have nothing to say.

    We get off at my stop and Gara seems genuinely pleased with the area. That must have been a lie. It''s dingy and dirty, only three clicks from the damn mines.

    "Not a bad spot," Gara says. "It''s nice and solid." She looks up and nods. "Your dad''s damn smart. Living right next to the mine''s one of the best things he can do for himself if he''s mining." She meets my curious gaze and calms. "The love of my life used to mine. So...."

    "Blue?" I ask, remembering that strange uniform.

    Gara''s color fades. She doesn''t seem as energetic as she gestures at the path before us. The one tunnel we stand in splits into three humongous ones littered with round metal doors. Not many Low-Landers even know these are inhabited; they usually mistake it for storage equipment. Not Gara; she shocks me by asking, "Which one''s yours?"

    I hesitate. Until now, I''ve never brought anyone home. It''s cramped and old. The smell....

    She waits, though, so I point.

    "I''ll...I''ll go in," I say, and hurry past her.

    I open the door and walk in. A second later, I walk right back out again.

    Gara runs to catch up with me. "What is it?"

    "He''s...he''s not moving," I mutter.

    To my surprise, Gara pushes by, not even commenting or swearing at the stench. She kneels down by my father''s side, going so far as to put her face against his back to listen.

    "He''s breathing. But I don''t know for how long. Help me get him up."

    I can''t move. She looks back over her shoulder to me and says, "We''ll clean him off first. Can you run a bath?"

    "We don''t have a bath," I admit.

    "But you have water?"

    I nod. Depending on how long he has been there, and whether or not he''s sold the allotment yet, we might have some.

    "Okay, then. Get a container. We''ll clean him off and get him a medic."

    I still don''t move. I can''t move. My pa''s all I''ve ever known. What''ll I do if he''s...? The one time I leave him to enter a new year alone, and I can''t even move.

    Fucking coward. Move!

    Gara lets out a sigh and takes off her sash. She goes to the sink to put it in. A moment later she kneels again and tries to pull my father''s coveralls down. She pauses and looks at me.

    "He''s hurt. We have to call a medic now. I''ll clean what I can, but I don''t think these wounds are new."

 6 TO PHILIPPE

    All patients in the medical section stay in the open areas, even nobles. Gara pays a fortune to get my father a private room. It must be a fortune. We even get two chairs and a nice table.

    I don''t understand all the medics say, but Gara nods; she gets it. She demands proper help. And when it gets too rough and I have to sit down, she continues talking to them.

    My father had a stroke. I imagine him showing up at yet another ELETE evaluation not seeing me and just dropping right there on the spot. That isn''t true, however.

    "The rot on his back," the female medic begins, hesitating as if it''s too awful to say. "This is a common punishment given to Topsiders who fail in an attempt to run. I''d say he''s got about six slashes that were left to rot openly over the years. So it seems that he made it down here on the seventh attempt."

    "That''s one tough bastard," another medic grumbles.

    "I''ll say. And to live with it...these are extremely painful."

    Gara looks between them. "Is there any way to fix it?"

    The medics trade a glance, and then look the room over.

    "That sort of monetary credits..." the medic says.

    "If it''s possible to do it, then do it," Gara tells her.

    I sit there, amazed.

    After they wheel my father out in that bed face down, Gara takes me by the arm. She leads me out of that room and to an older wing of the medical section. The lights don''t even work well here, leaving the passageway dim. No one comes or goes. She knows it well enough.

    We share an inhaler between us, sitting with our backs against the wall.

    Eyes closed, Gara says, "I bet you''re scared. Maybe you feel guilty."

    Ashamed, I watch the floor.

    "But it''s not your fault. So...buck up."

    Maybe I nod, something, because she quiets.

    Finally, she says, "Yeah. Blue worked the mines."

    I pick my head up and watch her. Her face seems so radiant as if the memory puts a fire in her belly.

    "Blue did everything for me. Hell, Blue''s the reason I haven''t eaten a gun yet."

    My own smile falls. "What happened to him?"

    Gara shrugs as she sheds a tear. "He never came back. Haven''t seen him. No word, nothing. He could be dead, maybe in jail, I dunno. He just vanished."

    "How long?"

    She gets quiet and it''s a struggle to answer but she sounds composed enough when she says, "Long...pretty long. The System can''t locate him."

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    Anything more than a year is a lifetime if the System can''t find someone. Where I come from, we''d say he''s dead for sure. Another thought occurs.

    "He didn''t get sent Topside, right?"

    Gara''s squints her brown eyes. She looks like she''s never thought of that. "No. He''s not Topside. I go down to the Lower-Levels to look for him when I can''t stand it. But he can''t be Topside. Hell, I''d dig my way up there with my bare hands to be with him if he was. So don''t give me any ideas."

    I lower my gaze, regretting having spoken my mind.

    "I''m sorry if I pick on you," Gara mutter. "But you''re tall like him and...I mean, you''re skinnier but I''d rather you keep your distance, that''s all."

    I nod.

    Deep down, I want to understand why Gara pines away for someone who''s probably never coming back. But I can''t.

    "He didn''t..." I hesitate.

    Gara is the gentlest I''d ever seen her as she smiles. "You''re sweet for worrying, but you don''t know my Blue." Her voice cracks but she smiles through it. "If he saw what I''ve been doing to myself, what I''ve been allowing, he wouldn''t even yell. He doesn''t need to. He''d just give me that broken-hearted look of his and say stop, and I would. I honestly would. He was the only part of life that was ever good, and he was good to me. Can''t say I always deserved it...." Her voice peters down into a mutter. "Can''t say I don''t deserve getting left, either."

    I don''t have a response to give. My pa has always had a way of looking on the bright side, to paint some sort of fake picture nobody else could see. I haven''t inherited that talent. So I speak my mind instead.

    "If someone''s going to just take off and never look back, maybe you''re better off. Right?"

    Gara''s eyes drifted to the floor and she nods. "You''re absolutely right. If he''d walked outta that little room on his own it''d be one thing, but...he didn''t." She pauses, her body stiff. "We didn''t fight. We didn''t quarrel and we didn''t have any bad blood. He worked...you know, I had enough credits, but he just kept working and I told him the mines were too dangerous and he should stop. But he kept at it, saying he wanted to get me whatever I wanted. What an idiot."

    Those last three words cut through me so strongly that I blink.

    "What an idiot," Gara repeated. "I didn''t need a damn thing but having him around. I didn''t need anything else. And we...." She meets my gaze. "Right when we were in the middle of it, he...he just froze up and started to shake. And then he coughed up blood and I had to call the System. His brothers took him out of my house stark naked. He never came back. They never respond to my messages even my official requests. They block every damn message and I can''t even see if he''s...if he''s dead or...or sick or...." Gara''s voice peters down into a whisper. "Or if he''d just changed his mind about trying to make it work. He just vanished. And even now...I''m just waiting. And I have my lows but having his stuff made up for it. And that''s why it wrecks me, because I don''t think he''d leave. He''d never just...leave. So something happened to him."

    In the silence that follows, I see her shake and I''m nearly trembling, too. I don''t know how to respond, so I say nothing.

    Letting out a held breath, Gara shakes her head. "I don''t go around getting people to rob my house. I just want you to know that."

    Again, I nod, though her eyes were closed.

    "But he...that bastard recorded us...." She sits up, put her head between her knees and gives off a strange laugh. "I guess I want those records more than I want them erased at this point. It''s all I''ve got now since he''s burned it all. There''s nothing left."

    In this instance, I feel proud. Gara has it all, everything I could ever want, but she''s done something I''ll never forget. She hasn''t scorned my father. Even I have. She put her face against those filthy clothes, used her own expensive sash to clean him.

    So when I take off those boots, the very same I''ve resolved to keep, I''m proud.

    I only have to put them down before her. She knows them.

    Gara stares at them for some time. An inkling of worry comes over me. She pounces me and I nearly fall back.

    "You beautiful bastard! You have them!"

    And I do.

    I lie back on the floor; it''s easier than struggling to sit up with her weighing me down. Gara looks down at me with an appreciative smile as if I''ve spent a fortune on her instead.

    And she kisses me.

    I lose my virginity in that hallway, high outta my mind, and utterly useless in finding what goes where. But that doesn''t matter. Gara handles all of it.

    And when it ends and she collapses on top of me, I can''t imagine anything better.

 7 TO THE LETTER

    To me, I have a girlfriend. We do it twice a day, once that very morning. So it comes to me as a shock three days after our first time when I see a couple taking off their clothes as they enter Gara''s bedroom.

    My body shuts down for a moment, and then I feel stupid. Deep down I know I should expect it.

    She catches my eye and smiles. "Hey. Good evening."

    I stare at her, stunned and stupid; at least she acknowledges me.

    My intent is to walk away, make her see that I''m not dumb enough to put more importance on what we have.

    Gara gestures behind her and asks, "You coming?"

    Till a week ago my only bedfellow has been myself. I blame that for fighting back a curious smile. Maybe I''ve been playing it safe all this time, trying to follow this strict, impossible path my pa has concocted. I go into that room, more than ready to behold all that Gara will allow me to see.

    It''s not what I expect.

    The bed is grand now with the room well-lighted. Till now she''s only walked me back to my room whenever she''s interested in us getting naked. My thoughts travel to the first night back from the medical center and Gara''s way of keeping me company.

    Just like then, even now, we never have a real conversation but Gara does take my mind off things. Can''t say my ex-virgin body isn''t appreciative.

    This room is luxurious. It looks different from when I''m high passing out on the floor. Candles line the perimeter, shrouding us in a dim light that''s both warm and relaxing.

    The four-post bed sits low, though, so low that the chairs Gara leads me to afford us a view downward of it.

    Gara meets the couple, an undying smile on her face.

    "Gara," the tall man says. "Regular like clockwork."

    "Originality isn''t my forte. I like my cycles. How is your chest?"

    I can''t make out the scar but when the man touches it, it''s hard to forget again. Bailey. And he was alive.

    "Those stunners really do sting," Bailey says.

    Gara gives Bailey''s companion, an otherwise silent woman, a bow. "You''re new."

    They are both dark-skinned and I can''t make out the new accent Bailey takes on now. Maybe they are from the common area, too. As I''m Lower-Levels born and raised; I only know the accents of my area.

    "She''s real. Her...you know, the one I told you about. The one that...I might change for," Bailey, the talkative of the two, says. "Real and true. This is my gift to you for treating me so well."

    Gara seems at a loss at first but in time she nods. "So this is it then, the last time? It''s more than worth it." She backs away and says, "Let''s get started then."

    I''m not sure what I''m in for, but I make a fast job of taking my shirt off. Gara''s raised eyebrow and chuckle tells me maybe I''m too eager.

    Slowly, I drag my shirt down again, reminding myself to play it cool.

    Gara sits back on one oversized chair and gives me a smile. I join her there, the next chair over.

    The couple holds each other''s faces, staring at one another like fools.

    Two minutes into the closest I may ever be to joining an orgy and they are...staring.

    Gara brings her right ankle on her left knee.

    "What are they doing?" I finally ask, convinced more is going on than I can see.

    "They''re just looking at each other," Gara replies.

    At least when they nip at each other it''s some movement.

    We watch that boring scene for a while, too, until I''m forced to ask, "And now?"

    Gara glances at me, her brow knitted. "You''ve never been in love?"

    I guess I never have, though I don''t meet her gaze again for fear she might realize just how in love I am with her and everything she''s ever written.

    "Look closer, Bailey''s fianc¨¦e''s nervous, he''s calming her down. When he runs his hands up his love''s back, he''s calming her down."

    Neither of them looks nervous at all.

    Gara gestures at the kissing couple who take great interest in each other''s mouths. Bailey, the taller of the two, is also in his thirties or so.

    "Bailey''s woman''s a Traditionalist," Gara explains. "You should know all about that, strictly Yule to Yule. Bail''s been friends with her since forever. She risked being labeled a spinster waiting on him. This is their first time¡ªher first time."

    When I look at the couple again, the fianc¨¦e gripping the waist of Bailey''s trousers, twisting it as they nip each other''s lips, I can see it. With each kiss her grip loosens.

    Yules like me, humans with no supernatural powers and no mechanical or genetic enhancements, are nothing special.

    Their biggest faction, the Traditionalists, are the minority in the Colony which is nearly entirely for the common¡ªbeing with anyone who loves you; only Traditionalists care about Yule to Yule pairing. They are very strict on morality. I can''t imagine a Traditionalist being able to go home after doing something like this.

    I''ve never even imagined a Traditionalist could consider engaging in something risqu¨¦.

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    "But she''s a Traditionalist..." I say stupidly.

    Gara nods. "She is. And she fancies this man, a man who makes his money in unconventional ways...."

    This time when I see them, I don''t see the sweet kisses anymore, I see something intrusive.

    "Is she forced to do this, to have sex for credits?"

    Gara chuckles. "You really haven''t been in love." She reclines in her chair and admits, "I don''t know how it is for everyone, but for me, I''d wanted to show off. I wanted everyone to see what we had, something they could never get. I was proud of it."

    The thought still doesn''t appeal. Somehow knowing they might really be in love sours my interest in that orgy.

    "Is that how you got recorded, then?" I don''t mean it as bitter as it comes out.

    Gara shakes her head. "Blue. He never agreed. But it was genuine, that''s what made it good. These two.... We''re right here. No hidden cameras, nobody watching in the wings. We''re here and they plan to let us see. And I have a feeling that''s a thrill along with it, too."

    By now Bailey''s fianc¨¦e kisses him back, gripping his hair and cheek. She looks hungry enough for me to believe that she has been waiting her whole life for Bailey to initiate. Because if Bailey doesn''t marry her after this, she''d be in for a hell of a shunning.

    "And now that she''s comfortable and she''s not backing down," Gara continues, "she''s taking the initiative."

    And it''s true. While Bailey still seems interested in continuing their deep kiss, his partner hurries to undo his buttons, going so far as to start on her own.

    As a former eager virgin alumnus, I have to smile.

    Bailey never misses a beat. He keeps instep, coaxing a kiss as his lover guides him to the bed.

    "And now she can''t wait," Gara continues. "She wants to fuck now, but Bailey''s not going to take her, not until he knows for sure it''s okay."

    Worry grips me when I think of when we''ll eventually interrupt them.

    My body warms when Bailey stumbles into bed, kicks his trousers off and takes his lover''s nipple into his mouth.

    I make a noise perhaps, because Gara chuckles.

    "What now?"

    "I guess I''d be embarrassed to do this in front of others," I confess.

    "You really haven''t been in love." Gara sits up, her right elbow on the armrest, chin on her palm. "The only time Bailey''d probably feel embarrassed now was if he made a mistake or if he hadn''t anticipated something. I told you, he''s proud."

    That he is, but his lover''s eager and maybe a little selfish when she grips Bailey''s hair, shoving him down.

    Her aggression when she holds Bailey''s face between her legs makes me flinch because I haven''t even been bold enough to try that. With how vocal she is, I stop myself from glancing at Gara, praying she wouldn''t compare Bailey and I and find me wanting.

    Relief fills me when the fianc¨¦e finally regains control of herself and pulls Bailey up.

    I can''t make out what she mutters but she looks pensive enough.

    Bailey shakes his head, kissing her throat and chest.

    I learn a lot tonight night sitting there.

    For one, I learn what foreplay actually looks like. I also learn that I really can''t keep quiet when I watch people having sex.

    "Hush, he''s just getting her ready. First timers aren''t really my thing," Gara tells me.

    "First time? I thought so at first but I''m starting to doubt if that''s really true. You don''t doubt it?" I ask, my face burning as Bailey''s slick finger disappears into his lover

    "She''s too tense," Gara says. "He''s gonna need more preparation if he plans to put his size in there and make her enjoy it. Bailey''s good, but not that good. He probably should have tried a toy first."

    Bailey''s fianc¨¦e seems to be taking the fingers just fine.

    I cross my legs to hide my interest. A glance beside me reveals that Gara doesn''t share my reaction. Her cheeks aren''t flushed like when we''re together.

    She''s right, though, Bailey''s cock, though average length, is thick and full. Despite the warmth, his lover still shivers when Bailey eases on top of her, thrusting his hips though not entering.

    For a moment, I regret being in the audience in full view. I want a room to hide in so I can ease my own ache.

    Curiosity drives me to stay, especially when Gara sits up.

    "This I hadn''t expected," she mutters.

    Bailey guides the woman unto her knees then gets behind her. I don''t need to read lips to understand.

    "Bail''s gonna..." Gara mutters, smiling. "Never thought I''d see the day."

    Rather than reclining, Gara sits forward, elbows on her knees as she watches.

    Sure enough, Bailey''s fianc¨¦e lies on her stomach and Bailey scoots lower and does the same. He spreads her legs and buries his face between them.

    The prep and instructions take ages, but surprisingly, I don''t mind. I almost cheer the man on when, after several failed attempts, Bailey finally put his lover onto her back and pops in.

    My stomach drops. That''s the least of my worries because they stop moving.

    Bailey, bracing on his elbows calls, "You okay? Is it a good fit? You feel fucking good."

    His strangled tone betrays that lie but Gara assures me. "Trust me, he can''t care. He doesn''t."

    The fianc¨¦e shifts, groaning as she grips the sheets. "Bail...." She gasps. "Bail...."

    "Should I stop? We can always stop."

    And they are slow. At the next gentle buck, Gara takes my right hand, interlocking our fingers. Bailey remains frighteningly still after that. And then his muscles melt of all tension and he cries out.

    "She''s relaxed," Gara assures me, pleased.

    We watch them, sitting side by side; watch as Bailey grips the sheets; watch as he and his lover find a good rhythm, and despite the warning, stays in control after each and every buck. Bailey lasts.

    Whenever Bailey slows, his lover tries to move under him. "Don''t you fucking stop. Don''t you fucking stop," she begs.

    Gara''s grip tightens. I appreciate it. I need it when Bailey cums first, and Gara lets out a soft huff, pleased.

    "Bail. Bail." His fianc¨¦e groans. It turns into a chant, each name coming with a slap of flesh against flesh as Bailey''s once timid lover casts off all reservation and cries for him.

    "Yes, cum. Cum," Bailey pants, his face pressed in the bed as he shivers. I think to argue that Bailey should have waited but to my surprise, the woman shudders.

    And then she cums. Both Gara and I lean back in unison.

    I''ve never heard a shout quite like that. It lasts for some time but even as it dies away to a long groan, even as they both collapse in those thick sheets, even as they cling to each other, Gara keeps her grip on my hand.

    My pulse races with them. It skips and stops and skips again when Bailey''s lover kisses his forehead, his ear, his throat, his chin, again and again. And it only speeds up when Bailey himself, grips his love''s hand, bringing it to his face.

    The way they pet and tease and stroke one another makes me wonder about my first time. It''s sad because I don''t even remember a pet. No gentle I love you''s. No, "Did I hurt you?" with someone to answer, "No you bastard, you''ve wrecked me. You''re all I need."

    They stay tangled in the sheets. Gara stays gripping my hand. It''s then that I realize, I''m gripping hers in return.

    "That was nice," I admit.

    "Yeah," Gara whispers. "But rare." She untangles herself from me, crawls into the bed, though she keeps her distance from the exhausted couple as she kisses Bailey''s brow. "So you finally found somebody worth keeping?"

    Eyes closed, Bailey smiles. "Told you I''d get you what you wanted eventually, even if I had to do it myself."

    Gara''s smile is genuine but she offers him no reply.

    Finally, Bailey says, "But it''s like I said, there''s no love in my line of work. I gave the very closest I could but I''m sorry I wasn''t able to find him for you."

    Pleased, Gara held his face. "I am satisfied."

    Bailey''s eyes are still closed when he confesses, "I see now why you run it down, why you chase it. Why you chase love. This is...it''s scary but¡ªbut thrilling. I fear it but crave it all at once. It''s surreal." Groaning into the embrace as his fianc¨¦e tightens the grip, Bailey begs, "Don''t give us any credits, Gara. This is your gift. The idea that I could have let this chance at happiness pass me by if not for your urging, it terrifies me. I''m grateful."

    A small smile forms but eventually withers away as Gara says, "I don''t like gifts. You can have four times the usual. Retire and go live a boring life in the Clusters."

    "I think I''m gonna go home."

    Gara nods, slipping from the bed. "I''m glad you get it now."

    She makes her way to the doorway and extends her hand to me. I glance at the couple. This isn''t what I''d expect but I''m equally happy to see something solid, something committed.

    Once we are out in the hall, Gara closes the door. "They can sleep it off." She turns to me and takes me by the waist. She isn''t wearing much under that thin dress as I feel her warm body against mine. "Now...it''s your turn," she says, leading me to my room by the waist of my trousers.

 8 TRACK MARKS

    I want to believe that Gara fancies me above others. Or that I am special to her. But outside of the bedroom, she still keeps her distance. She lets me hang around when she composes at the piano, though.

    But nights when she feels particularly rotten¡ªwhich is often¡ªshe disappears into someone else''s room.

    I should be steadfast and demand something solid. That isn''t my way though. My pa''s teachings always involve patience. I''ve inherited that weakness. Gara is a force and there''s no holding onto something beyond my understanding.

    Each show is a hit, each party a success, each song an instant favorite, and nights like these¡ªwhen everything goes well¡ªare the nights when she''s at her worst.

    She doesn''t even cut me a glance when she passes by in a crowd.

    Now and then she opens her bedroom door and spies me. I''m never certain if she will open that door wider for anyone at all who happens to be there.

    She does that often, though¡ªlets me in when she sees me watching her room.

    More than once, the thought occurs to say no, but I go. And I can admit, as pathetic as it is, a lot of the times I''m the one knocking on that door instead.

    We never talk about the bruises on Gara''s body, or the nights of quarreling she lives through. When she parties too much and everyone leaves her there on the floor, I help her up for as long as she''ll let me. And when she needs her dislocated shoulder put back in, cringing, I do that for her as well otherwise she''ll bang it against the wall. And I can''t stand it.

    She isn''t the only one who reacts to the fame, either. Each praise the household receives ''on behalf of that amazing talent'' it''s as if the fists are heavier, the cuts deeper. When an interview comes around, Gara''s face is spared, but that doesn''t apply to her stomach and back.

    A time or two I pass by a scene in the kitchen I rather not recall. Even then she doesn''t seem to care about any of it. She doesn''t care about any of it.

    Love making¡ªand I laugh to call it that because I don''t think she can love anyone¡ªbecomes a challenge. I can''t stand to lie on her for fear I''ll make it worse. She gets her way eventually.

    As she lies in my grip, I poke her skin with my index, tracing the bruises.

    The worst part...I feel proud that she''ll let me touch her after she''s been dragged around and beaten down. It''s not true comfort, but it''s a comfort to me. I need that comfort, that assurance that she''s still around.

    I even start considering something I shouldn''t.

    "Maybe we should...should do something in public like Bailey and his woman," I suggest.

    Gara feigned sleep. It isn''t often that she does, but I know that means I''ve crossed some line.

    I try again. "Were you and he...?"

    Snuggling closer, Gara shakes her head. "Me and Bail? Nah. I need nothing intimate from the likes of him, and vice versa. He helped me find pretty faces for the man of the house now and then. And I guess...I guess I gave Bailey more than enough credits for whores he would have hired cheap, anyway, ya know? He''s a jack-of-all-trade. Knows someone who knows someone sorta thing...."

    Whores? I know Gara''s history profile back and forth. I''ve never come across anything but the insults calling her a whore. "Wait...is...is that why you''re here? Why you got stuck?"

    Gara''s an expert at hiding her emotion unless someone knows where to strike. This time her sob sounds more like a laugh. My jaw drops when she chuckles clearly. She is laughing.

    "You want to hear something fucked up?" She says. "It''s mine."

    I lean away, trying to get a better look at her. "What''s yours?"

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    "The house, the money, the title. Everything. It''s mine. I''m not living off that bastard''s credits, he''s living off mine. And it''s killing him. It''s eating him up inside because he could work through this century and the next and he''ll never have as much monetary credits as me. Hell, he could spite me and not use any¡ªhe''s tried it." Gara laughs again. "But when he comes back to it, to all the lush those credits can buy, he just fucking hates that. That''s the only satisfaction I have."

    Gara''s public profile doesn''t go into much detail, only that she spends big. I have all her albums, and the remakes she''s touched up. Hell, I''ve considered working the mines myself just to afford any autographed copies up for sale. My pa took on three mines in a month trying to get it for me as a gift rather than let me do such a dangerous job. If not for that, I might have never been cured of my need for a collection.

    But if Gara''s riches come from a time before her fame, there''s no end to her money, and it''s all hers.

    "Then...why?"

    The chuckle fades, muffled by my chest as she mutters against my skin.

    "I guess for me it''s just another pill, just one that I have to work harder to manipulate well. And I pull the strings the way I want to, or need to."

    I lie stunned because I''ve never thought of it that way, that it''s intentional or something she seeks out. The pills can be fun. Never has the thought occurred to me that they are as abusive as a fist to the jaw.

    "Sometimes, when he''s beating on me, I pray for a mistake," she admits.

    My interest in the theater has all but faded by now. I have a different focus. "We should leave. Why don''t you leave?"

    Gara rolls over onto her side of the bed. "Leave? I''m never leaving. Not until this fucker kills me."

    I don''t have anything to say.

    "So your father''s really from the top?" she asks at length.

    I''m embarrassed at first, but I trust Gara; she won''t make fun of my pa. "Yup."

    Staring up at the ceiling, Gara mutters, "You think it''s as bad as they say?"

    As bad as they say? People die daily trying to get in here. My pa must have known the rot would never heal but he risked it seven times, lived most of his life with six open sores just to get away from it.

    I don''t have time to answer because something else occurs to me.

    "Why do you ask?"

    Gara doesn''t speak which is unlike her; whenever she stays in bed after we fool around, she always has something to say.

    She can''t be suggesting what it seems, but I ask anyway.

    "You wouldn''t go up top, right?"

    The laugh took time to come, but it did come. "Me? With how small I am? Although...it''s the only place I haven''t looked." She snorts out a laugh. "But that''s madness. I shouldn''t even consider it."

    But she keeps staring at that ceiling as if she is.

    "Do you really love him that much? Can''t you try to give that much love to someone else? Anyone else? Even once?" I ask because I''m too jealous to fight it back.

    Gara glances at me, and says something unexpected. "You mean someone like you?"

    My face burns, but the pang in my gut is what draws my focus.

    "I like being around you," she admits. "So stick close. Maybe when I fall off again, it''s you I''ll fall right in front of."

    Those words resound through me and I can''t tell if it''s pride or hope, or some sort of desperation to believe I might fill such a huge gap for her. I take her at her word though.

    She glances in my direction and asks, "What are you doing here anyway? You must have trained with Job for a reason."

    I tell her about my father''s plans for me. My pa''ll be getting out of the medical section soon and I''ll have to face him then. I haven''t had the nerve to visit him which is awful on my part.

    "Then don''t be ELETE," Gara says. "Me and Blue were gonna be guards. Incredibly sexy guards who shagged on our break times." She chuckles. "But what I liked were the interrogators. They''re a branch of the ELETEs that don''t see combat; it''s the only branch that pays well and you can start as a guard. Anyone can be a guard. Then work your way up to an interrogator. It''ll be ELETE but less carnage. It''ll take a while, like ten years, but that''s a way to go."

    "So let''s do that," I say. "Why don''t you do that?"

    "Told you. I''m staying right here. I''m not that far gone yet. I''m holding it together. I''m waiting right here for him to come back. What if the day I leave, the day I take off, he walks right into that charred room and sees all his shit burned to the ground? What if he comes in here, and I''m long gone and I missed my chance?"

    I want to tell her how foolish she''s being, but that''ll never work. If I mention anything against it, she''ll probably go contrary to my suggestions even more.

    "So long as you don''t fire me," I say. "I guess I''ll be here, too. It''d be a bad fit, anyway. Ten years to be an interrogator is a lifetime away."

    "A lifetime? It''s only ten damn years, love." Gara rolls over and gives me a smile. "You''ll just be in your thirties. That''s not bad at all. What about me? I''d be damn near forty."

    I get quiet, though I try to smile. Gara doesn''t seem to appreciate it.

    "What?"

    I shake my head. "Nothing. I just thought it''s a long time away."

    "It''s just ten years...." She squints at me. "How old are you?"

    My pulse quickens but I''m relieved that I can put her mind at ease. "Seventeen in two days."

    She catches her breath but doesn''t otherwise move. Her eyes explore my features, studying me as if she''s never seen me before, and then her mouth falls open.

    "Get up."

    "What?"

    Gara rises into a sitting position, slips from the bed, and begins to dress.

    "Get your shit. Get your shit right now. You''re sixteen fucking years old?"

    Everything happens so fast that I barely have time to put my clothes on. The room stops spinning when she opens the door and throws me out despite my height.

 9 THE WALLS

    It would be kinder if she''d stab me. This is far worse.

    "You cannot stay here." She says to me in the morning, looking sober. "You absolutely can''t."

    Servants take interest in us as they shuffle around, though none lingered.

    My eyes settle on the lavish food. Today, I don''t even try to guess which ones might be replicated or possibly real. I just can''t look away for fear I''ll burst into tears.

    "You''ll get your things and you''ll leave today."

    "I haven''t any place to go," I say.

    Hands out, she shushes me. "Shut up." Her eyes follow another servant, and she waits until we are relatively alone before she turns to me again. She whispers, "You''re a sixteen-year-old runaway that we¡ªI''ve been hording, a.k.a. kidnapped for over a month!"

    Someone else walks in and I judge from the all-consuming silence that the man in charge is back, maybe looking to have an audience with Gara.

    Usually Gara gets up out of her seat and goes to see what''s needed. Today, she doesn''t budge.

    Though the man eyes us, he walks out again.

    Gara''s jaw works as she mutters, "Your father''ll be out soon¡ª"

    "But I''m no trouble," I insist. When she shushes me again, I obey. "I won''t be any trouble. I''ll do my job as a stagehand."

    "You''re sixteen!" Gara growls, nearly coming up out of her chair. She looks at me as if I''ve stabbed her. "Do you know the shit I''ve done, the shit I go through?" She waits for an answer but eventually says, "Bitch, I''ve seen it all, done it all, the underaged has never been one of them. You...." Her breath hitches and she pauses to compose herself. "Never in my life, never, ever, not even once and when I say I''ve seen it all, rest assured, from being fondled by the elderly, to being ridden with a fucking saddle and when I say this is my limit. It''s my fucking limit."

    My heart pounds so hard, each thump reverberates in my ears. I didn''t keep it from her with any ill-intent. I didn''t keep it from her at all. It''s just never come up.

    "But I''m seventeen tomorrow," is the best I can manage.

    Her fist comes down hard as if she''d wants to swing it at me instead.

    Teeth gritted, she says, "I am twenty-six fucking years old. I am jaded and tired. I have one leg in the grave and the other I throw inside now and then for fun. And when I say this shit stops here, that is not an expression, a metaphor, a hyperbole, or a gaw-ro bluff. You will leave this house today. You''ll go to the medical section, get your father released early, and go home."

    It''s stupid to expect her to mention credits. I don''t think about it until the words "early release."

    She nods when I''ve finally gotten it.

    "Damn right I can''t give you even a red point. Next thing you know people''re saying Gara pays off young boys to keep them silent."

    Until now, I''ve seen Gara through ups and downs; her bouts of anger never last long, so I wait.

    With each second, her hushed demands grow louder. "Get your things."

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    "Just calm down for a minute. Nobody''s gonna care and I''m seventeen tomorrow."

    She jumps to her feet and flips the table. Before it lands, she punches it in the center, cracking it in half. That unreal physical feat leaves my jaw slack.

    "Do I look like I''m playing?" Gara looms over me.

    A crowd forms, but something else concerns me. That awful feeling is coming back, the sort that tells me I''ve gone too long without taking something.

    My hand shakes so I hug them under my armpits.

    "If you''d just let me talk to you..." I mutter because I am sorry, and because it won''t matter to wait another day.

    The way she looks tells me one day, one year won''t matter. I don''t know where her cutoff is, but that chance is gone now. I''m something she doesn''t want to see.

    My pa has taught me all the good manners, even for dealing with nobles but never how to handle a situation like this.

    I keep my voice down, asking, "Can you at least let me apologize...? I don''t want you to hate me."

    She doesn''t speak. That puts me on edge even more.

    A chuckle comes from the hallway and the man of the house saunters toward us, a data diskette in hand.

    "A runaway okay, but a sixteen-year-old? That I didn''t expect." He winks.

    Gara''s face loses all color.

    Despite Gara''s small size, her grip''s like a vice as she drags me to stand.

    "Out!"

    Gara shoves me toward the hallway leading to the large doors beyond.

    I fall at someone''s feet. A smug smile looks down at me, and then at Gara as the man of the house folds his arms and smirks, pleased.

    "Off the rails," he says, chuckling. "You''ve come off the gaw-ro rails."

    Gara marches out.

    "For the record," the man says. "I don''t give a shit if you stay. It''s not my reputation that''s going straight into the shitter." He chuckles hardy.

    Regret and guilt drive me to try and clean up the food at least, even though there are more than enough servants to do it. One by one I pile the plates, moving slower and slower still as if time is going to make this all go away.

    I''ve gotten nearly all of it off the floor when I hear a voice that fills me with dread.

    "Philippe?"

    The plates in my hands cascade to the ground, partly out of surprise, and partly out of my need for another pill.

    I''m sure I look good this morning. I''m sure of it, so my father taking a step back at the sight of me comes as a shock. My father stands at the mouth of the kitchen, Gara at his back. Sometime in the last twenty minutes she must have had him portaled in.

    There''s fear in his eyes by the time he looks the massive kitchen over.

    He bites his bottom lip and I know what he''s thinking.

    "I can pay for whatever damages," he begins, turning to face a less-than-pleased Gara who looks equally as haggard. "Please...tell me how much."

    Gara''s body isn''t as tense as she answers. She sounds gentle. "You don''t owe me anything. But I owe you an apology. He''s got a pretty good habit started. The amount of Ivy he downs isn''t going away any time soon."

    My pa sucks in a gasp and I tear up.

    "I...." Gara opens and closes her mouth again and again. Finally, she says, "I''ll pay for the rehabilitation in full, for as long as he needs. But please, please get him out of my house."

    My father trembles as he turns to me. "I can...." He glances back at Gara. "I can pay for it on my own¡ª"

    "No!" I no doubt share his expression, and I''m trembling, too, because of those fucking pills. "No," I say quieter. "No. You don''t gotta pay for anything else. You don''t...." A sob leaves my mouth before I can stop it. "No. You don''t have to kill yourself for me for any damn thing else."

    He gasps¡ªmaybe at my tone, or my language. It''s probably because of how I''m speaking to him in front of polite company.

    I''ve never seen him look so helpless. My intent is to explain to him that it''s a misunderstanding, that I''ll fix it; that I''ll fix all of it. As soon as Gara calms down, everything will be all right. Words fail me, however.

    My pa sheds a tear, the first I''ve ever seen from him. Then another comes and the helpless expression that he has makes me hate myself.

    "Philippe..." he whispers. And then he corrects his error. "Phil...."

    But he doesn''t say anything else. I''m not sure when he approaches but as soon as he grabs hold of my shirt I bury my face in his throat to keep from howling.

    "You don''t have to keep working so hard for me. I''m not a project!"

    His grip is safe and whatever he mutters in that stupid archaic Topsider language of his, the stupid words calm me.

    I lose my job right then and there; my self-respect follows a few minutes later when my father helps me gather my things and removes me from Gara''s house.

    Instead of taking me home, he takes me to the medical center. I still don''t know who''s paying for the rehabilitation. I don''t ask and I don''t care. Rehab, my six month long lesson. It''s not just the pills that I''m fixating on. Letting go of all of it hurts.

 10 AND THE MISERY

    I stand proud and strong when my father takes a photo of me in my guard''s uniform. It isn''t ELETE, it''s a common gray guard cadet one but he looks happy enough.

    "You get a smarter uniform with the guards anyway," he says, softening the blow.

    "Thanks." I flag someone down and hand the data diskette over. "Take a picture with me and my pa, will you?"

    I don''t know how I could have missed that blue hair. Maybe that''s my reason for choosing this person out of all others. He says nothing as he takes our picture and hands the diskette back.

    I study his plain black worker''s uniform as he scales the stands in the back to sit at the very top.

    My first time at an acceptance ceremony, I''m not sure what to expect. Thanks to Job''s training I''m at the top of my class. I''m even getting accepted faster than average. My pa keeps bragging about that to anyone who might stand beside him.

    I just laugh.

    "It''s starting," my father says, gesturing to the stage. "You''re lucky. This is a rare occasion that they get performers. That''s why I chose this area. They get the nicest awards."

    Rather than sit down, we stand and turn to the stage. A crowd forms within a matter of minutes, pressing so close to my father that he seems to cringe inward. I like seeing him push others away for a change instead, though. I''m by his side, looking up to see what performer could be this important.

    Gara emerges from the curtain, looking as perfect as she always does. I envy that fat grin on her face. It grows as a cheer erupts. My heart stops and feels like it''s about to implode. Six months of rehab and weaning off the drugs isn''t the only thing I''m struggling with every day.

    Seeing her here now is unreal, even more so because she looks strong. It''s stupid but all those feelings start to come back, not that it''d matter; she''d have nothing to do with me. A glance at my father and the look of worry I see there brings me back to myself. It''s then that I realize: I shouldn''t want to have anything to do with Gara, either.

    "Good day, cadets. It''s my pleasure to be here today." Gara waits until the cheers die down before she continues. "You''ve signed over to the Colony and some of you aren''t all that big. I know when you''re young, you''re in such a hurry to grow up, such a hurry to move past this singular moment. But sometimes you move a little quickly, and you can''t come back.

    "So live in the here, and live in the now, because once you''ve left that all behind, all that innocence and vulnerability behind, if it''s done wrong, you end up searching for it...in anything you can get your hands on." Clenching her fists to her chest, she smiles. "That carefree moment when you were kinda happy...seize it, embrace it because your youth is the one substance you''ll crave for the rest of your lives. And it''s the only pure one that you''re allowed to indulge in. So use it up, darlings. It''ll stay with you if you let it. But don''t worry, ten years from now, thirty years from now, you can always start over, because we''re still damn young, right?"

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    The music starts and I smile¡ªI can see why she''s so happy. Blue; her signature song. The up when this song comes around in her lineup ever so often is always good, but the downward spiral she''ll have after those shows are the stuff of legends.

    A part of me frets that maybe she won''t walk away from this one once reality rears its ugly head. The last time left her on medical leave for two months alone.

    We meet eyes before it''s her cue to sing. She isn''t capable of moving for a long while. She pauses in her sway, seemingly dying inside at the sight of me. I still want to think that she has some regret. The right kind, a second guessing, but I suspect that isn''t it, not even slightly. I''m the source of something awful for her, and that fills me with guilt.

    She clears her throat and looks beyond me, singing as if I no longer matter. Like the long list of people she lets enter her bed, and immediately shows the exit, I know I''m maybe a nameless face by now; but for me she''ll always hold something immortal that''ll follow me to my dying day.

    And then something else catches her eye and she freezes up entirely. The band keeps on but eventually dies down. Murmurs come from the crowd. I''m afraid for her. Maybe she''s swallowed something before coming out and now it''s taking its toll. Maybe she''s feeling the effects of this song a lot sooner.

    She stares at the stands for what seems like ages before she sucks in a deep breath and mutters something. Tearing off her sash and all the wires that connected her portable mic attachments on it, she jumps down and pushes her way through the crowd.

    At the top of the stands, the man with blue hair rises to his feet, a blank look on his face. He seems equally as stunned at Gara''s display, and then he looks at peace.

    I don''t catch sight of where Gara ends up. By the time I make my way through the confused fans, both she and the stranger are gone.

    End.

    Sated (Love or Possession 2.5)

    This short is based off a larger series called Love or Possession. The first book is "The Nobleman''s Masterpiece," now available on Wattpad in weekly installments. Gara makes her first appearance in "The Me You Stole," available on Wattpad.

    Sated is also available for free on all major outlets (Google, Barnes & Nobles, Scribd, Kobo, Amazon* etc. ) A review can go a long way for an indie author like myself, so please consider reviewing it.

    *Unfortunately, Amazon doesn''t allow it to be free unless many people report it as free elsewhere. The lowest they allow is 0.99 cents.

    This book is a standalone, book 2.5, in Love or Possession series

    <figure>

    </figure>

    How do I find it?

    Just do a search for "Sated Lyna Forge" on any ebook site. There''s also a link in my profile.

    Is it FREE?

    It is FREE on google, Barnes and Nobles, Kobo, etc. etc. Amazon won''t allow me to make it free so it says 0.99 cents now but if enough people request it, Amazon sometimes price matches.

    Why offer it elsewhere?

    Well, it secures the entire story and it also allows people to perhaps use an app to hear a voice version of the book. I think it will widen the audience, if there is one.

    Will this happen to all your stories?

    Not all. But if it does, they, too, will be free.

    Will it become a charged story eventually?

    No. It''ll remain free.

    I hope to reach more eyes this way. I''d like to ask that if you read it, you either review it wherever you read it, or come back here and leave a comment. It''s a lot of work, I know, but knowing that someone else is seeing it and enjoying would honestly mean a lot to me.

    Thank you.