Anders: An Auxem Novel

by Lisa Lace

  How much did I have saved? Only one year's tuition. I didn't even want to go to the best university. All that work and I could only pay for one measly year. The thought made me want to cry.

  I needed five hundred thousand credits to go to school and get an education degree. Tears sprang to my eyes as I walked. I wondered if I would ever be able to get that much money. I had been denied a student loan twice before because my mother couldn't pass the credit check. My father? I didn't know where he lived now or if he was even alive.

  I sniffed and wiped at my eyes behind my Internet-connected glasses. When I blinked, the time popped up in front of my retinas. Shit. I was going to be late. I couldn't look like a mess when I got to work, so I made myself stop crying. It wouldn't help matters. The prettier I looked, the better the tips. I fixed my make up as much as I could. I stood up straighter.

  I would earn the money somehow. I would figure it out. I would become a teacher.

  I had made this vow before to myself. Today with the clouds and the rain and the insufficient funds message, it was a bit much to take. Combined with being late for work...my manager hated when I was late...it all just seemed so hopeless. I sighed. The suffocating feeling of being trapped in a life I didn't want and had never asked for weighed me down.

  If only there was some other way to get the money. But any other way was probably against the law. If I couldn't get a loan and it would take me years to save, the only other option for getting that much money was taking it.

  I wouldn't do that. I snorted at the thought. I couldn't steal.

  But if only there were a way to get the money that wasn't stealing...I felt my heart longing for some other way. An easier way than working my fingers to the bone for the next ten years. At this rate, I would be dead of exhaustion before I even had a chance to go to college.

  If only there were some other way.

  That night, as I lay on my bed at midnight, trying to relax enough to go to sleep, I pulled out my phone. Sometimes when I feel bad, I'll buy myself a new app. It's the only indulgence I allow myself because they're not very expensive. I know it sounds like something my mother would do: buying stuff when you're feeling down. But it was a small thing, and it made me happy.

  I tapped on the store, and a page came up, showing different categories. I went through all my favorites but found nothing that interested me. Back on the front page, I noticed a new group. It was called Love and Relationships.

  I hadn't had a boyfriend since high school. When would I find time to go on a date when I was working two jobs? In fact, I had turned down a guy who asked for a date tonight. Instead, I came home and hung out with myself. I preferred technology to people. Technology didn't let me down unless I forgot to update my phone.

  But Love and Relationships seemed interesting.

  I stared at the category, then tapped it to see what sort of apps were in there. The first one that I saw was one called M8r — as in mate-er. Cute. Developed by a company called TerraMates.

  TerraMates? As in find your soul mate?

  I tapped on it. What the hell could this app be for?

  Oh my God. It was a mail-order bride service.

  I giggled. Who would be desperate enough to use an app to arrange their marriage? I read through the description, laughing until I got to the fine print. You had to click twice to get there, but I always did. I never knew what things the app developers were trying to get away with, and I always read everything, especially the fine print.

  At the bottom after reading all the other legalese, in what must have been 5 point font, it said they compensated female applicants for the worry and stress caused by leaving Earth and moving far away to an alien planet. At least, that's what I understood from the convoluted legal language.

  I sat back in shock. So the men were aliens? And the women got paid to marry them? Holy shit.

  Of course, my next question was, How much do they pay?

  "Do you wish to become a TerraMates bride, Miss Beauchene?" Mrs. Lynch, the owner of this TerraMates branch, looked over her glasses and down her long and pointy nose at me in an intimidating manner.

  I worked with three-year-olds and senile, rich assholes who snap their fingers for my service. I wasn't intimidated easily.

  "Actually," I said, ignoring her look and sitting forward in my seat. "I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding. I wanted to find out more information. I found your app and was curious if your service might be a fit for what I'm looking for."

  "Miss Beauchene, the only thing we provide are husbands. If you are looking for anything else, you need not apply," she said curtly.

  How could anyone be that bitchy?

  "Okay, then. Suppose I did want a husband, how does the process work?"

  "You fill out an application and undergo various medical and psychological tests. Based on your application, and your test results, we may approve you. If you are approved, we match you with a male."

  "An alien, you mean," I said. I needed everything spelled out.

  "Miss Beauchene, please." I sat back to distance myself from the lightning bolts shooting from her eyes. "How are you not an alien to him? We do not tolerate bigotry here at TerraMates and will not approve anyone who displays such tendencies."

  I raised both hands. "Hang on a minute. I'm not prejudiced, and as I recall, I didn't say anything derogatory about aliens. I'm trying to keep things straight in my mind. I want to make sure I understand what I'm getting into if I choose to apply to become a bride, Mrs. Lynch. Don't get your knickers in a knot."

  "Miss Beauchene, we do not use such vulgar language here. You are already failing the interview portion of the evaluation."

  "If I didn't apply yet, how can you start evaluating me?" I asked. My face was becoming hot. This wasn't fair.

  "In my experience, Miss Beauchene, whether the woman knows it or not, by the time she arrives at our office, she has already made a decision about entering into an arranged marriage."

  I stared at her, my swagger deflating.

  "Those who are truly on the fence stay at home and remain on the fence. They don't come to our offices for more information."

  I had the feeling if she knew what air quotes were, she would have put them around the words 'more information'.

  I sat back and crossed my legs. If this was an interview, I had a few questions myself. "If I'm not passing, what am I doing wrong? What do the girls who pass do instead?"

  She folded her hands together in her lap.

  "You have an attitude problem, Miss Beauchene, and too much irreverence. You appear independent, which isn't necessarily a desirable quality. To be frank, you're not very pretty. Physical beauty is not a must-have, but it certainly helps."

  I sat back in shock. No one had ever told me I was unattractive to my face. I thought about my appearance. I was wearing glasses, and my hair was in a messy braid behind my head. Wild strands of hair were escaping and rioting around my face. I hadn't put on any make-up, and I probably had bags under my eyes from last night.

  It was my day off. I was going to pick up some groceries for dinner when I happened to pass by the TerraMates office and thought I would pop in and get a brochure. I wasn't looking particularly glamorous today, but I had always thought I was mildly pretty in a girl-next-door sort of way. Not beautiful by any stretch of the imagination, but easy on the eyes.

  What did this woman know anyway?

  The receptionist didn't give me a pamphlet. She led me into Mrs. Lynch's office and asked me to wait. Apparently the interview started as soon as Mrs. Lynch walked through the door.

  "I'm not saying you shouldn't apply. We have assisted many potential brides similar to you who have been satisfied with their alien husband."

  "Happy?" I repeated distantly. I wasn't listening to her. I couldn't get over the fact that I wasn't pretty enough to be a mail-order bride. Surely, an alien who used such a service couldn't afford to be choosy. If they wanted to be picky, they could go and find a three-eyed
wife of their own.

  "Yes, we have a high rate of..."

  "Divorce?" I finished for her. I was confident that was what she was going to say.

  "No," she said, giving me a steely glance. "We have a very low divorce rate, which you would know if you did any research on our company. Very few of our women request a divorce when they complete the required year."

  "I don't believe it," I said, folding my arms over my chest.

  "You don't have to believe something for it to be true," she said, opening a drawer in her desk and taking out a tablet. "What I was going to say was that we have a very high rate of satisfaction among our women. Please fill this in."

  "How do you know I want to apply?" I said. "Especially after what you said about me?"

  She looked at me for a moment. A tiny smile appeared on her withered face and she looked amused. I wondered what her story was. How had she become such an unpleasant person? The smile disappeared quickly, but I wouldn't forget it.

  I didn't think a person like Mrs. Lynch knew how to smile.

  "How do I know you want to apply?" She studied me closely. "Because you didn't walk out when I said you were ugly, my dear."

  She pushed the tablet across the desk towards me and stood up.

  "After you complete the forms, come down the hall. We have a nurse on staff that will perform your medical examination. There's one more thing."

  "Yes?" I said blankly.

  "You didn't ask, but your compensation is five hundred thousand credits. I suggest you don't do it for the money. That sort of thing never works out."

  I stared at the door long after it had closed. Eventually, I gazed at the tablet. I reached out and turned it on, watching my hands move by themselves.

  Everything about TerraMates was crazy. But 500,000 credits would pay for everything. Still, being a mail-order bride felt like prostitution no matter what the contract said. I knew I should get up and walk out the door right now. I wasn't really going to do this, was I?

  But a tiny part of me knew that I was. I was sick of this life. I was sick of never getting anywhere. And I was sick to death of wishing and hoping for my dreams to come true and never seeing them happen.

  I wasn't going to wish and hope any longer. I was going to make my dream of becoming a teacher a reality. And it was only going to take a year.

  No doubt it would be an eventful year, but maybe that was a good thing. I had never left my hometown. I worked six days a week. I was tired. And I felt old, like I had never lived.

  This was going to be an adventure and the beginning of a different life.

  That's when I knew I had already made the decision. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the thought.

  I was getting married.

  Chapter Two

  JESSE

  "Father, I have no desire to get married." The fire on the hearth crackled in the background of our conversation.

  "Then you have no desire to take over the farm."

  "There must be another way to satisfy the requirements."

  "There is no way but marriage. The law explicitly states you must have a wife to inherit while I am alive, and with good reason. You cannot expect to raise and train a herd of hundinlark without assistance."

  "The help could be anyone. I could hire a worker."

  "You know hundinlark require a very sensitive touch, and they respond better to women. You can't have a bunch of men caring for your herd. I'm sorry, son, but they'll be better if a woman raises them."

  "Why can't I hire women to work for me?"

  "You know they won't do that, and none would work for you even if they would work for someone else."

  "You're being ridiculous."

  "That's not what years of tradition say."

  "I don't mean it's ridiculous that hundinlark respond better to women. I mean the rest of it."

  I stood up and paced while my father sat calmly in his chair by the fire. The house had been part of our family for generations — since The Before Times.

  "It doesn't matter what you want. You cannot inherit the farm unless you have a wife. Period. End of story, son. Why are you suddenly upset now? It has always been this way."

  "Not always, Father. There was a time when we had choices," I said. I knew I was heading into dangerous waters, but I couldn't stop myself.

  My father raised his eyebrows. "You don't want to return to our lifestyle before The End, do you?" he asked. "That way led to our civilization's destruction. Millions of people died. All of our cultures were nearly snuffed out in an instant. And it was due to freedom and..."

  He wouldn't say the word technology but I knew that's what he meant. I wasn't afraid of a word.

  "It was not the technology that pushed the button, Father," I pointed out. I stopped on the hearth so the side of my body that faced the fire was burning hot and the side that faced the room was cold. "It was just a person."

  "But it did create a situation where one person could destroy everything with a button, Jesse."

  "I know, Father. I don't want to go back in time. But I do wish we could abolish some of our oldest customs that no longer make sense. One of these is the requirement of marriage to inherit the land."

  "Well, it's not you or me that will do away with them. That's for the king and the council to figure out. Perhaps it will be the queen who will decide, if King Murtaugh is as ill as they say. Marsaline will make a good queen if he ever gets out of the way. We are fortunate she is only a second cousin, and not closely related to him. We will have a very different reign if she ever takes the throne. You will, at least," he added, dropping his eyes.

  "Do not speak that way, Father. I will find the best healers to tend to you. You will live to see your grandchildren."

  He smiled sadly. "Would that I could, Jesse. It will be enough if I see you take over the farm before I die. Do you not desire a wife? Many lovely girls live in the village. There must be someone there who has caught your eye."

  I had plenty of desire for the young women of the village; unfortunately, they had no desire for me. The odd one would lie with me. Perhaps she thought I was handsome, in spite of my past, or maybe a friend dared her to.

  None would consider marrying me. A man with my reputation would not make a good husband.

  "It is not a case of desire, Father, and you know it."

  "Jesse, your transgression was long ago. It was the mistake of a boy."

  "They haven't forgotten, and none of them would consider my proposal. I don't intend to humiliate myself by asking," I said, drawing myself up straight.

  My father frowned. "Perhaps you are correct about changing the old customs," he said. "It's not right for them to continually punish a good man because of something that happened in the past. Have you considered marrying outside our village?"

  We looked at each other. We both knew that if no one in my village would have me, the chances of a stranger taking the risk were slim to none. Even if such a woman existed, she was not the kind of woman I wanted as a wife. I sat down on a wooden bench and put my head in my hands.

  "It is impossible, Father."

  "Jesse, I cannot continue to run the farm," he said, his eyes hungry with desperation. He coughed hard while I stood by helpless to assist him. "I am too ill."

  "I know, Father. I know."

  "And if I die without you inheriting our land, someone else can acquire it."

  "I'll think of something. I won't let strangers have our farm."

  He sat back after the coughing fit. He looked different these days; he seemed old and tired.

  "See that you do, Jesse. There is nothing more important to me than keeping the farm in the family."

  "I will."

  He nodded. His eyes started to close, and I left him. It was time for him to nap after dinner.

  My father could not bear to think of our family's hard-earned hundinlark farm being turned over to the hands of strangers who would never love it the same way the Melnyks always had.

  I
would find a woman. It couldn't be that hard.

  After the fourth fruitless week of traveling to all the villages in the nearby area, I was beginning to wonder if I had been overly optimistic. I knew I was going to need help — and not the legal kind.

  I walked into the inn and looked around. The innkeeper was standing at the bar, polishing glasses. The place was still empty because it was early afternoon.

  "Can I help you?"

  "Perhaps," I said. "I'm looking for a man called Porter."

  "Porter? What's his family name?"

  "That's his name. He goes by Porter."

  "Oh, that one. He usually comes in around dinnertime. If you want to speak to him, you'll need to return later." He eyed me suspiciously. "Why do you want to see him?"

  "I'm an old friend visiting the area, and I wanted to have a pint with him."

  The innkeeper didn't believe a word I said. "Whatever you say, stranger."

  "I'll see you again."

  The man nodded and watched me all the way out the door. I could feel his gaze boring into my back as I went outside.

  Porter was my oldest friend. I had known him since we were ten. We had been through some tough times together. One day, he disappeared, and I never knew where he went.

  The rumor was he was on the run from the Bureau, but I never got confirmation. I had never tried to find him.

  That was before. Now I needed him, and I had tracked him here. I was sure he was the only person on Yordbrook who could help me with my problem.

  A few hours later, I was at the inn again with a pint of ale in front of me. When Porter entered, he was laughing with a bunch of men who were listening to a story he told. Only Porter could simultaneously be hiding out and remain the center of attention. He glanced around the room and looked at everyone briefly. He didn't react, but I knew he had seen me.

  I finished my drink and got up to leave. I knew he would follow when he had the opportunity. I waited in the clearing nearby where I heard he conducted his transactions, my cloak wrapped close around me and my hood drawn up to protect against the drizzling rain.