by Sophie Davis
Was I overdoing it for Mr. Atlic? Maybe a little.
But there was one simple fact about Calling Day that held true year after year: this was a competition. The other fourteen girls were not my friends, they were my adversaries. Not all of us would be selected for employment, so I needed to stand out from the horde. I needed to cram as much flattering information about myself as possible in the two minutes I held Mr. Atlic's attention. Yes, my main goal was to receive any job offer that would allow me to leave the camp. But it was obvious that Mr. Atlic wasn’t like the other employers. Without even knowing what positions he had open, I knew I wanted to work for him.
“That’s wonderful,” Mr. Atlic replied. “Knowledge is the universal currency.” He extended his hand, a sure signal the meeting was at an end. “It was nice to meet you, Stassi. I wish you all the best.”
With that abrupt dismissal, he turned and walked away. My heart sank. I’d been hoping he’d want to further discuss the books I’d read. Or maybe I’d been hoping he would pronounce he’d found what he was looking for, then fling me over his shoulder and spirit me away to the helo. Either way, it felt as though he was taking my hopes and dreams for a life outside the camps with him.
“Jasmine, I'd like a moment to confer with my colleagues, if you don't mind?” he called to Head Matron.
Several girls, including Trista, snickered loudly. None of us had known Head Matron's first name since she rarely interacted with us. Even when she did, we were only permitted to call her ‘Head Matron’ or ‘ma’am’. Jasmine seemed a little too exotic for this stalwart woman; her tight bun of dishwater blonde hair was streaked with gray and her dull hazel eyes seemed to get lost in the folds of skin beneath them. Then again, having ‘mean’ in her name, as he pronounced it, was beyond fitting for her.
“Oh, of course, Mr. Atlic. Take all the time you need. The other men don't mind waiting,” Head Matron said sweetly, without bothering to check with the corporate representatives before speaking for them.
Nonetheless, it seemed to be true. The other company men didn't appear bothered in the least by Mr. Atlic’s request.
Who is he? I wondered for the millionth time since the helo touched down.
Mr. Atlic and his companions formed a small huddle several yards from where we stood. Lip-reading was not a skill I’d mastered, so I had no clue what they were talking about. Trista craned her neck, turning one ear towards the trio as if she had superhuman hearing and could actually make out the conversation.
“Jasmine?” Mr. Atlic called after several agonizing minutes. With only a wave of his hand, Head Matron scurried over to join the men.
Again, the group spoke in hushed tones. Still in our line-up formation, all of the seventeens waited with bated breath for some sort of announcement. One that never came. Instead, Head Matron gestured towards the Admin Block and the group began walking away.
“Thank you all for your time,” Mr. Atlic called over his shoulder with a polite wave.
I exchanged bewildered looks with Trista as the other seventeens began whispering to each other. What was going on? Were none of us up to his standards? What type of worker was Mr. Atlic looking for?
Though it suddenly seemed a dim prospect, I eyed the group of company men still standing in a huddle. There were just as many hushed conversations happening among them. Evidently, they all knew who Mr. Atlic was but seemed as confused by his presence and the abrupt departure as we were.
“Shall we continue?” Escra asked uncertainly, to no one in particular. She eyed the two other camp employees assigned to Calling Day, Navine and an infirmary worker named Cryla.
“I’ll ask,” Navine replied. Navine was by far the kindest matron working at our camp, but also one of the most stringent on the rules. It wasn’t surprising that she felt the need to ask Head Matron for permission before continuing Calling Day.
“Excuse me for just a moment,” Navine said to the company men. “I just want to ensure we may proceed.”
She scurried down the dusty dirt path to the Admin Block while her fellow employees, the company men, and all of us girls watched.
“Who do you think he works for?” Trista asked me.
I shrugged. “Himself, if I had to guess. He has a boss-vibe to him.”
“Are you two stupid?” Andaline interjected. “Cyrus Atlic? Honestly, you must know who he is. Everyone knows who he is."
“If you want to show off how worldly you are, just tell us already,” Trista retorted.
“Quiet, girls. No talking,” Escra snapped, clapping her hands together once very loudly.
No one spoke after that. Well, at least none of us girls. The company men continued to whisper amongst themselves. Navine returned shortly thereafter, furiously chewing on her lower lip. It seemed as though she was to be the bearer of bad news.
“I apologize for the inconvenience,” Navine said to the company men. “We were not aware that Mr. Atlic would be joining us today, so Calling Day will have to run a little differently this year. Mr. Atlic wishes to speak to a few of the girls further, so several will be unavailable for immediate acquisition. If you wish to wait until he’s finished, of course you may. Or we can reschedule. I leave that to your discretion.”
I held my breath. This was great news. Crossing my fingers at my sides, I silently prayed I was one of the girls Mr. Atlic wanted to speak with in private. This was my chance.
Navine turned to address the line of seventeens, her expression unreadable.
“Joselyn, Andaline, Mena, and Trista, please come with me.”
My heart sank through my feet and into the hard, dry earth beneath my shoes. Any prospect of working for Mr. Atlic disappeared like dust in the wind. He didn’t pick me. Now, the best I could hope for was that one of the remaining men would find me suitable for some brainless task, ensuring I stayed at the bottom of society’s ladder.
Mustering a smile, I turned to Trista. “Congratulations. I really am happy for you.”
I meant it, too. Trista was the only other girl I knew of in the camp who worked to better herself. If it wasn’t me Mr. Atlic was whisking off, then I was glad it was her.
“You still have a chance to get out of here today. Ten chances, by the look of it,” Trista told me, squeezing my hand sympathetically as she nodded towards the company men. Her excitement was palpable, but she tried to keep her expression neutral for my sake. “Good luck, Stassi.”
“Now, Trista,” Navine called sternly. “Mr. Atlic is a busy man and we cannot keep him waiting."
Sparing me a final sad smile, Trista ran to join the other girls already congregated around Navine. I watched them descend down the path towards the Admin Block, sorrow turning my thoughts bleak and despondent.
“Are the rest of these still available?” one of the company men asked Escra. He flicked a speck of dirt from the sleeve of his suitcoat, then began tapping his shiny loafer impatiently. With Mr. Atlic gone, the company men no longer hid their annoyance. Not one of them wanted to stay at the work camp longer than was absolutely necessary. Calling Day was lucrative for them—the camps were the best place to find employees to fill their least desirable job openings—but it was painfully apparent that this was not a duty they enjoyed.
“Of course,” Escra said quickly. “We have eleven sturdy girls for you to examine. Let’s begin, shall we?”
With that, the true humiliation began. Each of the ten companies had sent two representatives to Calling Day. The largest and most prosperous was Revival Corp., who specialized in rebuilding communities destroyed by the Epic War. These planned communities were gated, suburban havens. In addition to the state-of-the-art home intruder systems that each house boasted, guards continuously patrolled the grounds. Grocery stores, clothing boutiques, hospitals—they were all included inside the perimeter of these exclusive areas. This ensured that residents never had to venture through impoverished towns full of scavengers—more commonly referred to as scaves—and other undesirables to purchase everyday need
s. Revival Corp. used the camps for both building laborers and grunt workers to maintain golf courses, replenish the supply of koi in man-made ponds, and pick up litter in their elite communities.
This information was not provided by the camp staff, though it would seem smart for them to tell us who was coming and what they needed. Instead, I’d researched the most frequent Calling Day companies on my Qube to gain the insight myself.
Being the most influential of the lot, the Revival Corp. representatives would be given first crack at Mr. Atlic’s rejects, which included me. To save time, all twenty representatives moved as one down the line, studying and inspecting each of us in turn.
Escra acted as their tour guide, listing off our strengths for them to consider as she stood by each girl in turn. The men didn’t speak to us directly but rather listened to Escra’s pitch, gave us a once-over, then asked her any specific questions they had regarding our individual abilities and health. Only when a question was posed that Escra couldn’t answer were we permitted to speak.
The most common request the men had was for us to turn around so that the group could get the full three-hundred-sixty-degree view. Another frequent demand was to produce our hands for examination. One man from a mining company asked several girls to remove their shoes, while another from a lamp factory inquired about foreign language proficiencies.
“Garna 2446-132 speaks both German and Arabic, in addition to English. She was a late arrival to the camp, and her birth parents were fluent in all three languages,” Escra told the lamp-maker. She was clearly hoping he would jump at the chance to acquire Garna, who had a reputation for being surly and impertinent.
“Then she is not for me,” the lamp-maker declared. “Do you have a deaf girl, perhaps? We have many trade secrets in my company, and we do not want silly little girls blabbing to their friends.”
“No, I am so sorry,” Escra replied apologetically. Then she brightened, an idea suddenly popping into her head. “But we do have a very quiet girl. She is a loner who would be perfect if you’re seeking discretion.”
I knew even before Escra pointed to me that I was the one she was talking about. Loners at the camps were rare, since they tended to fall victim to the larger cliques. The quiet, shy girls who tried to go it alone quickly changed their tune after a couple of run-ins with the cliques. It was why Trista and I stuck together, despite not having enough in common to cultivate a true friendship.
Hurrying down to where I stood, Escra ushered the men over.
“This is Stassi 2446-89,” she began. “As you can see, she is tall at five-foot seven-inches. She has been at this camp for thirteen years and is very obedient. Like I said previously, she is quiet. She is a proficient worker who knows her place.”
I gritted my teeth, willing myself not to cry tears of mortification. I’d known tough times and had lived through a wide range of emotions that those hard experiences brought with them. But I’d never experienced the depth of shame that I did in that moment.
“Let me touch her hands,” a tall man with a hooked nose demanded, stepping forward.
I held out my hands, palms facing up. The man ran his silky smooth fingers over the rough callouses on my skin, then flipped my hands and examined my nails.
“Very clean,” he commented, noting the lack of grime beneath my nails. His gaze shifted to my face, surprise widening his eyes. “Pretty, too. Very pretty, in fact. Does she have any special skills? Can she dance? Or play a musical instrument? The piano or harpsicord, perchance?”
“No, I am afraid not,” Escra said uncertainly.
These were odd questions, if only because those weren’t skills one would expect to find in a work camp. I shifted from foot to foot uneasily. What type of position required dancing or playing the piano? And what was a harpsicord?
“No problem. I believe this one told Mr. Atlic that she is a quick learner. We have people to teach her these skills.” The hook-nosed man turned back to me. “Open your mouth, girl. I want to make sure you have all of your teeth.”
“I do, sir,” I said, flashing a quick smile but refusing to open my mouth wider. They might treat us as cattle, but I wasn’t a fracking horse.
“Yes, she will do nicely, I believe. I overheard her speaking with Mr. Atlic, so I know she is eloquent—a rare quality among camp hires. Escra, I’d like to make an offer and to have this one taken off the market now.”
My heart skipped a beat. Someone wanted me. This should have been good news but it certainly didn’t feel like it. Not when the man looking to employ me made my skin crawl. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but he emitted a sleaziness that made me feel certain that whatever position the tall man had in mind for me was unsavory. I forced a smile, swallowing the bile that rose in my throat.
Another man stepped forward, this one short and red-faced, a Revival Corp. emblem on his suit pocket. “Move aside, Bellamy. I have the right of first refusal,” he said, clearly affronted by hooked-nose’s offer. The Revival Corp. man grabbed ahold of my bicep and squeezed. I stared at the ground, willing the humiliation to end.
This is how it works. If you want a better life, a life outside of the camp, you have to deal with it, I told myself.
“Well-developed muscle tone for someone so skinny,” the Revival Corp. man commented, nodding his head approvingly. Then, he turned to Escra. “Has she ever broken a bone? What about back pain? Is she prone to colds or pneumonia?”
“No, no, and no,” Escra replied. “In fact, Stassi is remarkably healthy. Several years ago, we had an outbreak of Pantera virus and Stassi was the only girl who didn’t get sick. She worked the fields alone for nearly a week, while still managing to far exceed all of her quotas.”
This started a wave of whispers that rippled through the company men. Even the ones who’d held little to no interest in me prior to Escra’s declaration wanted to inspect me closer.
“I am prepared to make a sizable offer,” Bellamy insisted to Escra. “I am sure Head Matron and I can reach a figure that suits all parties involved in this transaction.”
Except for me, I thought. I would not receive a single credit in the deal. That was how it worked; the corporations paid the work camps for the privilege of hiring us away. Once hired, they would pay us just enough to live in squalor and eat ration bars. And yet, that life was preferable to remaining in the camp. Working for one of these companies would at least allow me to be free and have some semblance of independence.
Much to my chagrin, the men began to argue with one another over who would ‘acquire’ me. Apparently, my stellar immune system was my greatest selling-point—who knew? Only Bellamy was interested in my appearance, which he continued to openly scrutinize as the company men bickered. He muttered things about my blonde hair, blue eyes, lightly tanned skin, and even my body—like, “With a little more weight, she might even have some curves.” It made me wish Escra hadn’t cleaned me up for Mr. Atlic’s inspection. My skin felt as though a nest of spiders was scurrying across it every time Bellamy eyed me appraisingly.
“I am twice as strong as 89,” Sterla spoke up from the middle of the line. She was a particularly brawny and vicious clique leader, and ‘89’ was the way she and her cronies referred to me. “I am healthy, too. I don’t never get sick, aside from the Pantera. But I recovered good.”
“Sterla,” Escra snapped, her tone even sharper than normal. “You know better than to speak out of turn.”
“Escra, please, go fetch Head Matron. Tell her I am interested in this one,” Bellamy pointed to me, “for our Perfection training. She’ll understand what that means and will surely allow me to supersede these other claims.”
More bickering broke out as the other company men disputed his rights. Watching them fight over me should have been satisfying, since all I’d wanted was to leave the camp. But it wasn’t. It was sickening.
“I am so sorry,” Navine’s voice suddenly called, sounding out of breath as she hurried back up the path from the Admin Block. She clu
tched at a stitch in her side. “I need Stassi. Mr. Atlic wants to speak with her immediately.”
“He already passed,” Bellamy declared angrily. He gave Navine a snide look. “Does this mean she isn’t available?”
“Not right now,” the dorm matron replied. “I do apologize, but I will know more after Mr. Atlic has his private audience with Stassi.” Navine gestured for me to follow her. “Hurry, child.”
Elation overcame all of the mortification, shame, and sadness that had settled in my bones. I didn’t care that I was a second-round pick. Mr. Atlic wanted to talk to me. Despite not knowing who he was or what he was hiring for, I knew without a trace of doubt that working for Mr. Atlic would be far, far preferable to Bellamy or any of the other men.
“What’s going on?” I asked Navine quietly. “Did Mr. Atlic not like the others?”
“I really do not know, Stassi. One of his associates merely asked Head Matron to fetch you.” Navine wasn’t being short with me, not exactly. If anything, she seemed nervous and edgy, but I detected an undercurrent of excitement, too.
Though Navine was always careful to keep a physical distance with us girls, she also cared about the work camp more than any other employee. In fact, she was the one who’d taught me to read. Navine had spent the hour before lights-out with Trista and me for several years, patiently explaining the markings on her own Qube that were utterly foreign to me at the time. Given her kindness, I knew she would be my best fount of knowledge about Mr. Atlic; if she had any information on him, she might just be willing to share it with me.
“Navine, who is Mr. Atlic? Who does he represent? What is he looking for?” Already halfway down the dirt path, I was running out of time and my questions burst forth in a jumble. I had to forcibly stop myself before posing every query that was flying through my mind.