Shadow of the Factorum: The Interview

by K. A. Trent

  “Callie tells us that you’re not a male. That you’re like us. That inside that disgusting male shell, you’re a woman. You’re here because Callie has never said that about any male, she detests your kind as much as any other self-respecting woman on this planet. But the girl senses things, and when we wouldn’t listen to her, she found proof. Transgender women existed once, a long time ago. They were very real, and they lived horrific lives under the lash of a patriarchal society, but we bred them out. We made sure that men were born as men, and women as women. The concept of a woman growing up in the body of a man is reprehensible. It would create undue pain, sorrow, agony brought on by body dysmorphia as well as the judgement of society. We aimed to get rid of that, and yet here you are. I don’t believe it, Kerra doesn’t believe it. No one should believe it, but they do. Many people do. Callie has brought it to the attention of the media, there are throngs of people supporting you and demanding that you be tested but be warned, there are just as many calling for your death. So here you are. Whether you like it or not, you will be tested, and you will fail. On the off chance that we find your DNA carries the matching markers for transgenderism, then you will be integrated into society here on Ereen like those before you. Now. You will be cleaned, you will be fed, and then you will be tested. If you have any questions, you are now given permission to speak.”

  I had been given permission, but I couldn’t make my mouth move. I couldn’t push the words out of my throat. I wanted to ask her where Callie was. I wanted to see her. But I couldn’t do it. My eyes flicked from her forehead, to her shirt, to the items laid neatly across her desk. A tablet, a sheet of translucent 'paper'. The bird statue at the edge of her desk. I'd seen birds; in the children's book. I'd never seen a bird like that. Folded wings, a deep black, no eyes to be seen. My throat was dry.

  Finally, she tapped a few phantom keys on her tablet and shook her head, looking upward at Kerra behind me; the room was silent, save for the pounding of the heart inside of my chest.

  “You put a tracker on it,” She gestured toward me. “I won’t have it walking around free.”

  “I talked to corrections,” Kerra stepped around, standing beside and towering over me, I squeezed my eyes shut, my stomach turned. “We have the tracking anklets we use for house arrest.”

  “Forget that,” She shook her head. “Tracking collar, let everyone know what it is.”

  “I’ll arrange it.”

  “Good, get this...thing out of my sight.”

  Chapter 2

  “Have you ever taken a shower?” Kerra asked me. We were back in that room again; the one I had started in. The one where I had awakened on the bed. I shook my head silently, still too terrified to speak. “You’re going to have to talk, use your damn words.”

  “No,” I whispered. My voice cracked, I wondered if I’d spoken loudly enough for her to hear me. She crossed the room and signaled with a wave of her hand for me to follow; I did so with my head pointed downward. I watched her feet as we crossed into a room adjacent to the one in which we’d begun. Her feet were small, like mine; covered in a pair of shoes, pink and white. Her legs were covered in a skintight black material that accented every curve. My heart twinged, my stomach dropped; I didn't understand what I was feeling.

  Inside the adjacent room there was a toilet; I recognized that much, but it was far different from any I’d known. Deep down in the bowels of the Factorum, toilets were merely rusted buckets welded to the floor. This one had a seat, it had a back. It was more like a chair. Atop the back, four glowing buttons indicated different functions, but how many functions could you need for a toilet?

  “How do you clean yourself if you've never showered?” She slid open a glass panel and gestured me over to the tiny alcove. “Take off your clothes.”

  “The bucket,” I said quietly as I obeyed her commands. I slid myself out of the tunic top and then the drawstring pants. My shoes came next, and then I stood naked before her. I expected her to recoil in disgust, but as her general manner was disgusted, her reaction seemed indifferent by comparison. In the Factorum, should a woman enter a male barracks or bathing area, we were required to dress immediately, so I felt a little out of place here, but she wasn’t making a fuss. I felt my body tense for punishment but it never came. She regarded me indifferently; the way we regarded rodents-- the way women regarded us.

  “The bucket.” She repeated my words as though searching her mind to make sense of them. “I don’t want to know what that is. Get in.”

  “Can I…”

  “Can you what?” She glared at me with piercing eyes awaiting my question. I closed my mouth and moved toward the chamber that she was indicating, inset into the wall. She laid her hand roughly on my shoulder, stopping me. “Talk.”

  “I...I have to sh… shi… Solid...”

  “If you want to be a lady, why don’t you try speaking like one?” She glared down at me again and pointed to the toilet. “Take care of business.”

  She watched me the entire time. I sat there, trying my best, but couldn’t do a single thing. I felt like an imposter; I’d been brought up here against my own will. It hadn’t been my decision, but I couldn’t help but feel like I should leave.

  “Are you even doing anything?” She asked me. “Stop wasting time, get up. Get in the shower.”

  I hesitated briefly; the chamber she was indicating, beyond the glass partition reminded me of the ‘death chambers’ that resided in the Factorum. The smooth interior, the door-- all the pieces were there. Was she going to kill me? Was this how it would end? I noticed the look of irritation on her face from my hesitation and immediately lurched forward. Had I shown that kind of hesitation in the Factorum, I would have felt the sting of the ‘correction’ wand instantly. It was then, as I passed her and barreled into the chamber that I noticed she wasn’t even carrying one.

  A new sense of wonder and dread washed over me as the realization hit: I had never seen a woman without one. In the Factorum, women were overseers, often faceless behind their featureless masks, but they all carried the wands. Any mistakes such as a show of defiance or an incomplete task could lead to that dreaded feeling of electricity pulsing through your very being, seizing your muscles and forcing you into utter submission.

  She wasn’t carrying one, but her presence was enough to force me into mental submission. I stole a glance at her as she manipulated a panel outside the small chamber; I took in her flowing blonde hair, her lips, far more perfectly formed than mine. Her clothing that silhouetted her form perfectly. Her body was perfect, she was perfect, and in that instant I realized exactly what I had realized with Callie in the Factorum: I wanted to be her, I wanted that shape, I wanted that voice, I couldn’t quell the feelings that were building up inside me. I wanted to scream, shout, cry. It was what Callie had said, it was exactly what she had said to me deep down in the belly of the beast. You’re like me, she’d said. I can sense it.

  Kerra’s eyes flicked to mine, and I looked away. Couldn’t she see me in here? I was screaming, I was pounding my fists against an invisible prison. I was like her; I was as Callie had said, but she would never believe me. I needed Callie. She could see me.

  “Don’t think I don’t see you staring at me,” Kerra scoffed as she continued to toy with the settings. “You’re young, so you don’t know. You have no idea why you live underground and why you should stay there. I would tell you to crack a history book, but we don’t teach you to read. The people of Ereen came from a blue planet called Earth centuries ago. We built an empire, we prospered, but little by little, the males asserted their will over us until finally, we were slaves, like you. We were treated as objects, and we let it happen. It won’t happen again. We won’t let scum like you live in the light where you can turn the tide. You’re an insignificant worm and when Callie is done with her game, you’ll go back to the dirt where you belong.”

  The chamber hummed to life and I allowed a surprised yelp to escape from my lips as water sprayed from
the ceiling. It was warm. Not hot, not freezing cold, but warm. I didn’t understand. How could water like this be warm? I gingerly raised a hand to my cheek and stared upward in wonder as the liquid washed over me. At the same time, it stung. I could feel it washing over my scars, caressing an open wound on the back of my thigh. I remembered that wound; I'd gotten it yesterday as I'd fallen and collided with a piece of jutting concrete. Wounds were taken care of by 'The Sand', as we called him. Who would take care of my wound now? He'd always taken good care of me. I snapped back to reality, allowed myself to feel the water running down my back, dousing the chafed skin with warmth, surrounding me in a comfort I had never known, but lashing at me as it touched my leg; a sting, a pain that was unexpected but not entirely unwelcome.

  “Why are you wincing?” She demanded. “It’s just soap and water. Close your eyes.”

  I closed my eyes as she commanded. She couldn’t see the open wounds; or maybe she didn’t understand pain. I raised my hands to my head and began to scrub with my palms, running them over my head. I could feel the stubble, the scars, reminders of my prior disobedience all brought to life by the flowing water. Kerra pressed a button on the control panel and the water stopped just as quickly as it had started, leaving me to shiver in the cold for a brief moment until she pressed another control, and the chamber wooshed with hot air. My skin was instantly dried and I was being instructed to step out. I trembled as she placed her hand on my shoulder blade and leaned in, taking a brief look at the back of my leg. She saw the wound but said nothing.

  “They want you to wear this,” Kerra said coldly as she handed me a simple piece of clothing. It was like a long shirt, I guess, but it was very plain and the neckline was much lower than the shirts I normally wore. “I don’t blame them, even if you’re going right back, we can’t have you looking like garbage while you’re here. We have a reputation to keep up. Put it on.”

  I pulled the shirt over my head and looked at her in confusion as it dropped. It was long enough to cover my knees, but was I really supposed to walk around the building without pants? Kerra moved behind me and grabbed two ties that hung from the sides of the shirt. As she knotted them in the back I felt the fabric around my waist tighten. The fabric hugged my waist; it felt good somehow. Was this how they dressed? Without a word, she dropped a pair of shoes in front of me; simple, black, but nicer than anything that had graced my feet at any point in my short life. I slid my feet into them; they were smooth, they didn't scratch. My foot filled the space perfectly from heel to toe without pain.

  “Next item,” she walked to the bed and lifted a circular object, colored in a shade of pink. With a single motion, it wrapped around my neck and closed with a click. “You can’t get out of here. This building is secure enough that there is no hope that you will. Regardless, should you try it, I’ll know where you are. One push of a button and you’ll lose control of your body. Your muscles will seize up, your bowels will evacuate, we’ll find you in a pile of your own excrement. Got it?”

  “Yes...ma’a...” I started and then stopped, opting to nod instead.

  I realized this collar was like a “correction wand” that I couldn’t get away from. My blood ran cold.

  “Take a seat on this chair over here, knees together, hands folded. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

  I did as she asked, sitting down and cringing as the cold metal seat pressed against my legs.

  “Stand up,” she motioned impatiently. As I did, she stepped toward me and took hold of my hands. “When you sit down, straighten out the skirt, like this. Make sure it’s all behind your legs, make sure you’re not exposing yourself. Smooth it out, sit down.”

  With her help, I lowered myself into the chair without ‘exposing’ myself and looked up at her nervously. “My name is Kerra. I’ve been assigned to...deal... with you until the Proctorum Ellicate comes to its senses and sends you back to the Factorum where you belong. Disobey me, and I will hurt you. Run, I’ll activate that collar. Attack me like the male you are, and I’ll kill you. There are no negotiations; you’ll do as you’re told. If you question me, I’ll make it so you can’t ask any more questions. If I give you an order you respond with ‘yes Ma’am’. If I ask you a question you give me the shortest answer possible. Do not waste my time. The same goes for any other woman that speaks to you. You say what you need to say, you shut your mouth. These are the things expected of you. Don’t mess it up, and you don’t have to get hurt. You’re here for a lot of reasons. Wasting my time, and the valuable time of other women is not one of them.”

  There was a long silence, or at least I perceived it as long. I spent the moment nervously chewing the inside of my cheek while she studied me for a reaction. Maybe she was looking for something other than sheer terror; she wasn’t going to find it.

  “With me,” she said finally, taking me by the forearm and forcing me toward the door. We made our way out of the room, my bare feet stumbling, her fingers digging cruelly into my arm. As I stumbled, she used her other hand to land a slap across the back of my head. I shouted in surprise. She shouted in return, “Get moving!”

  Another long hallway, another elevator. This time we passed a few other women, all of them regarded me curiously but none spoke to me. The winding corridors meant nothing to me; one hallway was the same as another, but finally, we arrived at a lower floor, inside a room with fabric-lined chairs and a desk, behind which sat another woman, this one younger than Kerra. When we approached the desk, the girl had busied herself with something behind the counter. We had come within a few feet of the white, glossy surface when she turned her gaze toward us, a warm smile paired with black-framed glasses and loose strands of hair adorning her face. She looked to Kerra and then slowly to me, and a shadow of recognition crossed her face; I was sure I looked out of place here with my shorn head, my scarred body, and this outfit that seemed so foreign to me. She forced another uneasy smile upon seeing me and inquired as to what we needed, though I had a feeling she already knew the answer. I didn’t even know the answer.

  “Tell Doctor Fitz that we’re here,” Kerra told the girl. Her tone was softer with other women than it was with me. It was more upbeat, a subtle upward inflection. My attention was drawn away from Kerra, away from her hand and fingers pressing roughly into my shoulder, and instead to a screen behind me that showed what looked like a crowd of people, but what kind of room were they in? I studied the screen, and then it hit me: they were outdoors. They were standing under the open sky. So that’s what it looked like. A voice came over the image, another woman: ‘Thousands of protesters have gathered in response to the allegations of transgenderism in the Factorum brought about by the daughter of Prime Minister Ellen Bianchi-‘

  The image suddenly stopped and the screen went blank.

  “Enough of that,” Kerra muttered. “Sit down, keep your eyes down, legs together, hands folded on your lap. I don’t want to hear anything out of you.”

  We sat there, waiting for what seemed like hours; I spent the time staring straight ahead, finding solace in a blank wall ahead of us while Kerra toyed with a computer tablet she'd brought with her.

  “Can you tint the windows, please?” Kerra called out to the receptionist.

  “Oh, yeah, sorry,” She replied. The room became noticeably darker, but only by a modicum. I allowed my eyes to darken around the room, looking for the source of the light; finding that it was a series of windows set behind the reception desk. Through them I could see what resembled the open sky I’d just seen on the screen, but not much beyond that. “They were already tinted, but we don’t want to hurt her.”

  “Much,” Kerra muttered, returning her attention to the tablet.

  A few times, I contemplated glancing over to see what she was doing, but did I even dare try that? The temptation was removed when finally, a door opened on the other side of the room, and a woman emerged. She was younger, perhaps the same age as the woman at the desk; her skin was darker, her hair shorter.

 
; “Doctor Fitz is ready to see you now.”

  “Great, thank you,” Kerra’s manner changed as she looked at me, her voice turning forceful: “Get up.” I complied with her order without hesitation. I rose from the chair and walked in front of her as she gestured. We walked past the new woman and into a small hallway filled with more doors, Kerra moving much more confidently than I could. I stumbled and shuffled as she glided angelically. Toward the end of the hall we turned into a larger room, this one filled with medical equipment-- I’d been to a doctor’s office before; they were down there in the upper levels of the Factorum-- but this one seemed to be far more personal. The colors were more inviting, the room itself more comfortable. Still, I was apprehensive; I didn’t want to be here. I was an imposter, a virus in the bloodstream of a society that was ready to reject me.

  She was here, the Doctor, dressed in a white coat, a computer tablet in her hand. She offered a brief smile in my direction and gestured for me to climb onto the bed in the center of the room. I hoisted myself up and my feet dangled several inches above the floor.

  “Hello,” She told me, nearly ignoring Kerra’s presence. “My name is Doctor Fitz, and I’ll be treating you for the remainder of your stay above ground. As the surgeon general I typically stick to politics, but the Proctorum Elicate has decided that a matter like this demanded my attention, and mine alone. Kerra, does this person have a name?”

  “We don’t give them names,” Kerra seemed disinterested.

  “I have to admit, this is very unorthodox,” Doctor Fitz told no one in particular, she let her words hang in the air as she ran her hand up and down my arm, tapping it in places. “We haven’t tested anyone for transgenderism in well over two centuries. I had to do a lot of reading to even figure out how to do this properly. Basically, it comes down to genes. Long ago, once our society managed to get over its religious stigmas and actually pay attention to the logic of science, we were able to identify the specific gene that manifests transgenderism. Over time, it was genetically modified out of existence, but if it re-emerged in you, then a simple blood test will tell. Now, let’s get down to some of the basics. Women on Ereen give birth through artificial insemination, and for the most part give birth to women. Male birth occurs, and those males are sent to the Factorum. It’s a good system, it works well, and genetic anomalies are rare - especially one like this. We can run the test, but it’s going to take some time for us to see results.”