The Girl They Sold to the Moon

by Chris Stevenson

  No one objected. Buddy took a seat next to her and said, “Not to worry. I’ll keep my mouth shut. Go on with whatever.”

  “What happened to your tooth?” asked Tilly. She saw a gap in Buddy’s smile that hadn’t been there before.

  Buddy hunched his shoulders. “Got it chipped. Somebody threw something at me last night—a coin. Hit me square in the face.”

  Tilly cringed. “Damn hard luck.” She looked at Sue Lin. “Okay, ever since I was tiny. Mom used to play music for me and swing me around. I never really knew my birth mother. Anyway, I was never without music playing some tune in the house. My mother used to dance for me and I always tried to follow the steps. She had all kinds of moves, loved just about every style and form. That’s where the natural rhythm comes from. Mom said I was a dancer before I was born.”

  “Hmmm…she used to hold speakers to her tummy, then,” said Sue Lin. “You were being served in the womb.”

  “That’s funny,” said Fia. “I used to do that too. Lots of pregnant moms did.”

  “That’s about it,” said Tilly. “But she confessed later that I was adopted, and that it was just a story so I would feel better about myself. Anyway, Mom started taking me to contests when I turned about six. Talent shows. I didn’t like the competition too much because there were always a lot of hurt feelings or screaming parents. I was shy, too. Still am, a little bit.”

  “You started winning contests, then,” said Sue Lin.

  “Yeah, that happened a lot. Especially when I got older. At fourteen I won the Let’s Find a Superstar contest in Los Angeles. That was just about the time I found my mother’s old tape collection, which had some of the old superstars. I became obsessed with M-J and started practicing all of his dance moves. High School got in the way, but I kept practicing and auditioning when I could.”

  “How did you end up at FTALC?” asked Fia.

  “My dad applied when I turned seventeen. He knew from a brochure that wards who had special talents could work the high-paying acts that would give him a higher loan-out. He got in trouble with back taxes, wrote some bad checks. They threatened him with a jail sentence if he didn’t make an effort to pay.” Tilly speared some salad and went on. “Mom passed away from ovarian cancer. We didn’t have the medical insurance or money to pay for the treatments. We…couldn’t save her.”

  Fia dabbed her mouth. “Well, the big stock market crash got us. It just took longer to bring me and my husband down to poverty level. Our internet movie rental business went bust after two years. We lost our home after a fourth mortgage and ended up on Public Assistance. Tom had to file bankruptcy. Since I was the only household dependent, we decided to loan me out for two years, so we could make a new start. The only skill I had was waitress jobs at the local restaurants. That’s how I got my assignment here. Tom wrote lots of letters to me over the network at first. I heard it through channels that he’d filed divorce proceedings against me and picked up with another gal. He paid his bills but skipped on the FTALC loan. I guess he has that new life, hiding out somewhere. I’ve been here just under three and half years.”

  “That fucking pig,” said Sue Lin, under her breath. “You must have missed a labor auction. Even after two years you would have been cut loose and back to civilian life.”

  “I did miss out. My name wasn’t called. Who the hell wants a waitress? You can’t pad a bio-history with a job description like that. I still haven’t made enough in tips to pay the loan off.”

  Everyone looked at Sue Lin.

  “What’s your story?” asked Tilly. “You’ve been here a long time.”

  Sue Lin hunched her shoulders. “Simple, I volunteered. I had to go through the application process and wait nine months. But they snapped me up.”

  Fia looked incredulous. “Can’t you leave any time you want? You’re not a ward.”

  “Don’t want to leave,” said Sue Lin around a mouthful. “I applied for volunteer status at FTALC seven years ago. I had a successful martial arts studio at the time. I also danced in some Broadway productions. I wanted something different, a new location. FTALC sent me to Las Vegas, where I pranced back-up for the lounge acts. I applied for a transfer to Tranquility Harbor, which had just been completed. I moved up in the ranks in the first year, became a headliner, and then they offered me a coach-instructor position. I took it. I’ve been coach for Block 41 for four years. It’s grueling, hard and fast-paced. That’s the way I like it.”

  “Any family?” asked Fia.

  “I hopped an old steamer out of Okinawa when I was thirteen. Runaway. Father wanted me to be a Geisha. No fucking way, said this girl. I landed on the American shore before it became the United Western Enterprise. My family’s right here, all around you.”

  “You’re a success story two times over,” said Buddy.

  Tilly looked at him. “I thought you were going to keep your mouth shut.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I’ve trained over 700 entertainers since I’ve been here,” said Sue Lin. “That’s the real success story.”

  “But why here?” asked Tilly. “You could have worked any Earth-side job.”

  “United Western Mining was one of last corporations that offered a pension plan. I figure to stick with it until my retirement. That, plus my savings, I’ll be sitting pretty at the end of it all. No regrets from this gal.” Sue Lin let out a raucous burp.

  From the corner of her eye, Tilly saw the hand that flung the muffin that bounced off her forehead. A small knot of girls cackled manically then rushed to different tables. The girl who threw it had red hair fashioned in a multi-layered shag with temple ringlets. She also had the biggest bosom in the dining hall.

  Sue Lin shoved up from the table, squinting at the suspects. “All right, who threw that food item?”

  All eyes turned toward Tilly’s table. A moment of silence ensued. Then the rabble started up again. Tilly looked at her salad plate and whispered, “Redhead with ringlets. Big tits, four tables behind you, Sue Lin. I think I’ve seen her before coming off the stage.”

  Sue Lin turned around, spotting the girl. “You dumb bitch, Candy. If I was your coach I’d pull your act. You feel like a trip to Roger’s office? Try that stunt again.”

  “You’re going to see a lot of that,” said Buddy.

  “Yeah, but who is she?” asked Tilly.

  “Candy Cane Evans--she headlines at the Amazon,” said Sue Lin, making a face. “One of the erotic prancers. She got her start working the pole, a pole that looked like a candy cane. Now she has her own show and a huge draw. Nothing artistic about the erotics—they’re a bunch of slithering tramps with no shame. But the Dogs love ‘em and the Corp allows it, so what are you going to do?”

  “How does headlining work?” asked Tilly.

  Sue Lin took that one. “Headliners get a full two hours on stage doing whatever they want. It’s usually a combo act, prancing, tweeting, telling jokes, modeling, and fielding questions. Whatever they feel like doing. They get a larger tip percentage and private suites. They’re the money makers for us.” Sue Lin looked at Candy’s table again and raised her voice. “But some of those bitches got their heads stuck up their twattles because that’s where their minds are at.”

  Tilly now understood the reason for the muffin in the face. Candy was inhumanly attractive, with a typical European face, light green eyes and stylized red hair. She had heavy, thick brows and cheek bones to die for. Her bust could have been synthetic, but that was doubtful since points were deducted for artificiality. She had to be a ten. She looked young enough for the Sunflower class but she might have been a very young Carnation—twenty or twenty-one.

  Tilly looked at Candy, making eye contact and offered her a neutral expression. In response, the girl flipped her the three-finger—a brash insult. Tilly’s group couldn’t avoid the other curious stares. Yet, all Sue Lin had to do was stare back at them to turn their heads away. The girls plainly feared the wrath of the coach.

  Buddy leaned c
lose to the side of Tilly’s face and whispered, “You wanna go smoke a real cigarette with me later?”

  Tilly glanced at him. “What do you want with me? You know about the frat rules. What’s the story with you?”

  Buddy fell back into this seat, threw his legs out and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m glad you asked that. I’ve been here for five months, with four more left to serve. They call me Buddy ‘Gunner’ Bell because I’m a crack shot with a rifle or pistol. I won four cyber-shooting championships when I—”

  “Hey, we’ve got time to browse the rotunda before our shifts start,” said Fia. “Let’s wear out some shoe plastic.”

  “That’s a great idea,” said Tilly, and stood up with the others.

  “…when I was 15, 16, 17, and 18,” Buddy went on. “But I always had a thing for Houdini and started collecting props and magic tricks during that time…”

  Tilly and the others walked to the exit and headed up to the foot tram. Buddy followed.

  “…Mom was head of the household and the major breadwinner,” Buddy went on. “She owned her own casino in Henderson, Nevada, and used to let me star in my own stage act. I got pretty good at card tricks and sleight of hand, making a pretty decent wage until a bunch of business guys showed up, claiming to the be the rightful owners of my mom’s casino. Come to find out…”

  The foot tram sped them toward the main rotunda. Tilly tried reading all of the advertisement placards on the walls, catching names and products while Buddy droned on.

  “…that dad had forged a bill of sale and sold Mom’s business, lock, stock and barrel to a petroleum consortium. I can tell you Mom hit the roof like a NASA launch. She had to hire a bank of lawyers to dig her out of the mess and prove ownership. The trial proceedings went on for months. She kicked dad out of the house, but one of the lawyers put him up and worked for him pro bono. I couldn’t let Mom go…”

  The tram stopped at the rotunda entrance. A huge lighted marquis, featuring the “Astounding Candy Cane Evans”, who was headlining at the Amazon main lounge, drew Tilly’s attention. The marquis listed her measurements, muscular index and fat percentage. Bold block letters proclaimed she was a “Perfect 10.” A window opened up to show a running video of one of her most memorable performances. Her breasts were prominently displayed, nipples covered by two plastic thimbles. Her bikini bottom was designed from a single strand of rope, tied off strategically.

  “The advertisement doesn’t do her justice,” said Tilly. “They should have zoomed in on her eyes, her best feature. But what do you expect with a meat market like this?” The others grunted.

  “Her ID code number probably reads 38-24-36,” said Fia.

  “Yeah,” agreed Sue Lin. “The first number is her intelligence quotient.”

  “…I couldn’t let Mom go out like that,” Buddy continued, “so I came up with the idea of getting loaned out for a little while so she could fight off those crooks. She got her advance, all right. And last I heard, they’d set a trial date, which is coming up in a couple months. She writes that we have a 90 percent chance of reclaiming ownership. Shit, I don’t mind. Dad was a freeloading, pill-popping, son of a horse’s ass, anyway. And I don’t say that because he didn’t like my magic, either.”

  Tilly had never seen so many mini-shops in all her life. Some were 40-feet long and just as wide. She saw handcrafted gifts and keepsakes in some of the smaller shops, barely ten-feet long and wide. All the shops were cordoned off with plastic walls, sans roofs, giving them an open-air carnival look. A few people fast-walked on the pavement, obviously using the street as a sports track. Electric carts and scooters whizzed by them.

  “Well, it’s been really nice talking to you guys,” said Buddy to Tilly’s back. “I’ve got a bunch of stuff to do, so I’ll be getting my knees in the breeze.”

  Tilly didn’t have to turn around to know that Buddy had left. Fia bumped shoulders with her and said, “He’s not such a bad sort. He means well. Just lonely.”

  “I know that,” said Tilly. “He just tries too hard. I did hear everything he said. Can you imagine? Kind of noble to give up everything to help his mom out.” She really meant that. Buddy had sacrificed for his mother when he could have looked the other way or moved out and ignored her problems. She and Buddy did have something in common—they’d both ended up in a place like this to keep someone else out of trouble.

  Fia bumped shoulders with her again. “Yeah, could you imagine those hands, used for manipulating all kinds of things, working you over?”

  Tilly laughed and bumped her back. He does have nice hands, she thought. But she wished he would go to the company dentist and have that tooth capped. She felt responsible for it.

  Sue Lin led them to a stall a hundred yards down the street and pointed at shelves that held herbal supplements, energy bars, vitamins and health drinks. “You have to pay a hell of lot more for the real stuff, but it’s worth it in the long run,” said Sue Lin. “The crap they have at the commissary is generic, mixed with synthetic ingredients. It would be wise to make some purchases here after you get your tip share.”

  Tilly would remember the place: Ward’s Power Station. The prices were astronomical. Then again, United Western Mining catered to the rich. The nearest business competitors were 240,000 miles away. A captive consumer group with no options, she thought. Not only were they profiting off the wards but they were gouging the tourists and residents.

  They stepped out into the street again. Tilly heard a loud electric whine. Her instincts told her to turn around. When she did, she had enough time to hop in the air as high as she could. The slope-nosed electric cart drove under her, slamming into her hip, sending her in a somersault over the Plexiglas canopy. She landed on her shoulder and ribcage with a sickening thud. The cart sped down the street, weaving between pedestrians, nearly running a few of them down. Tilly’s lungs hitched as she gagged for breath.

  Sue Lin ran to her and knelt by her side. She set her lips over Tilly’s and blew, inflating her lungs. Tilly gasped and sucked for precious air.

  “I’ll get a med team!” cried Fia, and ran to a nearby booth.

  “Can you move your limbs?” asked Sue Lin.

  Tilly wasn’t sure she could move anything. She felt the most pain in her shoulder and chest, fearing that if anything had been broken, that was the area. Then her arm began to numb. She did manage to move all four limbs and her neck, but it took effort. No paralysis.

  “I’ll be all right with some rest,” said Tilly, shakily. “Just…wind knocked out.”

  “You’re still going to get checked out,” said Sue Lin. “That was no accident. That cart was breaking the speed limit, and you were singled out.”

  Fia rushed back to her side. “Medics are on the way,” she said. “I called the harbor police. That cart had no I.D. plate and the canopy was tinted. The overhead security cameras probably caught it. Somebody is going to pay for this!”

  Chapter 5

  “Somebody doesn’t want you to go on stage,” said Sue Lin as the women left the infirmary, “and I have a good idea who.”

  “We don’t have any proof,” said Tilly, stepping out into the corridor with her friends, her arm in a sling and ribs taped. “Let the authorities take care of it. It’s not going to stop me from performing tomorrow night.”

  Sue Lin turned. “I think you did hit your head. Are you whacko? The swelling hasn’t even gone down yet. You’ll feel like a piece of cardboard out there, hardly able to move. You won’t have any breath. Doc probably gave you sick leave off. Use it to recover.”

  “And that’s just it, isn’t it,” said Tilly. “They want me to take time off. They want to ruin my act. They want to discourage me, scare me off. If I give in they win.” She shook her head. “The show goes on.”

  The other girls stared at Tilly. Sue Lin shook her head. “Damn your foolish pride. Your body is a beautiful engine and you want to ruin it. If you were 12 years younger I’d haul you over my lap and paddle you go
od.”

  “I wouldn’t cry no matter how hard you paddled.”

  “I suppose you wouldn’t. Then let’s go to my private suite and see what we can do about a therapy session. I have some herbal lotions and medicines that will help. And, a few tricks that I stole from the masters.”

  Instead of lessening Tilly’s popularity, the incident had the reverse effect. Not only was she billed for a performance that night which loaded the theater with a fan base of admirers, but a new batch of sympathizers had bought tickets to see the girl who had survived the accident. The Harbor News, a small news website, had written the account of Tilly’s amazing recovery, citing her for courage above and beyond the call of duty. Of course, that’s exactly what the Prairie Dogs wanted to hear, that one of their own entertainers had as much guts and pluck as they did.

  Tilly went on that night, using up her first act by dancing to the full-length productions of “Bad”, “Beat it”, and “Black and White”, making three separate costume changes. She changed out with amazing speed, hardly giving Buddy any fill-in time between dances. Her first act garnered a standing ovation. The coins flew on stage, along with other paraphernalia. The bar police were out in force and a rail extension had been added to discourage the audience from hopping over the barrier. But as she exited through the curtains when her first act was over, she heard feet stomping and the cries for an encore. Which was an unusual request, since her next act wasn’t due for another three hours.

  When she reached the basement level, Sue Lin helped her out of her costume. “How do you feel, girl?”

  “Numb in spots, and I’m having a little trouble breathing. But I’m still strong.”

  “Good, because the director might want a turnaround act right now—the Dogs are stompin.’ Do you have everything ready to go?”

  “It’s all racked.”

  Just then Sue Lin got a call on her wrist com. After a brief discussion with the caller, Sue Lin said, “That was the director. You’re on again. Can you do it?”

  Tilly arched her back to loosen up. “Try and stop me.”