by Eileen Glass
“Oh. That’s not necessary.” Rourke picks at his sleeves. “I’m not afraid for my life or anything. I just prefer not to tell anyone.” He tries to be cheerful about his error, making a weak laugh. “I’ll tell her.”
“’Her’ being your mother, I presume?”
Rourke nods.
“And no other immediate family in the home or close vicinity?”
“No.”
Rourke had this fantasy when he was a kid that his dad would find out his mom was sick and come back repentant. But that never happened. They’ve never received so much as an email or a text. The man simply went from Rourke’s whole life and he’s never discussed why with his mother. The day to day problems of surviving are what matters anyway.
“You will have to obtain proof of acknowledgment before you’re an official omega. One of these signed forms is the most common way.” She scoots back to the printer which is spitting up a sheet. “But you can also take a video or audio recording when you tell your mom. Or, we can request a counselor to visit to your home when you tell her. That would be the best option if you’re afraid of repercussions.” She comes back and slides the form over to him. “How would you prefer to proceed?”
Rourke takes the paper. “This form will be fine.”
Stephanie reaches across and takes his hand. Her lacquered nails are like little pebbles in his palm. “I know this seems like a lot of red tape to go through, but the laws are there for a reason, you know? We have to fight any abduction allegations that may arise.” She squeezes his hand, then pulls away to resume typing. “Now, for transport. Your auction will take place this Saturday! Isn’t that exciting?”
“Uh, yeah.” Rourke’s voice has become a little quiet to his own ears. His body has drifted farther away. Saturday? Somewhere, a piece of him is still in control, operating his mouth so he’ll seem excited. “Yes, that’s very… cool.”
“Heh. It’s alright to be nervous. The auction is the scariest part for most people. But it’s very short, I promise you. The whole thing is usually done in a half hour, and that includes your orientation. You’re only on the market for ten minutes or so.”
Easy, breezy.
And by market, she means a literal market. Not Rourke being single or something sane like that.
Her mouse clicks sound especially loud. “I am sending your resignation documents to your employer. Your last day will be Friday, and your workplace is forbidden from outing you involuntarily. If anyone approaches you and asks questions, it is important that you inform me immediately.” She looks away from her monitor and lowers her nose with an important stare. “Even if the encounter is inconsequential, we have to know who isn’t abiding by confidentiality laws. Other omegas may be harmed by their indiscretion.”
“Alright.” This is happening.
Stephanie picks up a pen and writes on the back of a business card. “The van will arrive outside your home at 11am Saturday. Your auction will be scheduled for 12:15, and then you’ll be on the shuttle. It departs that evening at 5pm.” She clicks the pen shut. “Pretty exciting, huh? Are you ready to be in space at the end of the week?”
Oh god. Today is Tuesday.
“Wow. That’s fast.”
And he’s going to spend the rest of the week at Cory’s side, not telling him anything.
“Yup! We’re past most of the red tape now. The alphas like to get their omegas right away. You’ll be signing your documents and having your picture taken for your new citizen ID badge after your auction. You are technically an omega citizen of the moon as soon as you get this form signed.” She reaches across the desk and taps the top of the paper with her pen. “Everything gets a lot faster after that.”
“Okay. Wow. Cool.” Rourke gulps.
“It’s a lot to take in.”
“Yeah.”
Up to this point, Rourke only focused on getting his application approved. Nothing was possible before that. Now his organs are expanding the edges, making room for the thought, I’m going to be pregnant by the end of this year. Alpha’s like to get their omegas fast, like Stephanie said. Rourke is counting on it since his mother won’t get the auction money until he conceives.
Stephanie is quiet while he processes all of this. He gives her his best smile. “It’s… my dream coming true.”
Which was the theme of his bullshit paper.
She gets up from the desk and comes around to hug him.
This was all a horrible idea. A huge mistake.
On the elevator down from her office floor, Rourke leans against the safety bar and wraps his arms around his stomach.
Who will bid on him? Will he be nice? Will he be attractive?
How much trouble will he be in if he backs out now?
Rourke gives himself the entire elevator ride to regret his decision and feel sorry for himself. At the bus stop, he forges his mother’s signature on the acknowledgment form. He’ll snap a picture of it at home and email it over.
He learned his mother’s handwriting after months of having to guide her through every hospital form, waiver, and even their lease agreement. She just doesn’t have the energy to concentrate anymore.
She’s worth it. Someday she’ll meet him at the spaceport of the moon city. She’ll be furious. Rourke might even have to beg her to come if she swears off talking to him ever again, which is a possibility. Maybe not, with her illness. But leaving her alone so he can become a breeder for the despicable alphas? That’ll do it if anything will. Rourke is prepared to face that fury. He’ll hand over the tiny one in his arms, some beautiful child, maybe with lilac hair. And that’ll win her over.
The picture is crystal clear. Except for the alpha with him, which is a murky figure. Alphas aren’t nice. They kill people without consequence. They enslave and rape. From what Rourke has heard, they aren’t that different now, even though they’ve been exiled to the moon.
Earth has pushed them back that far, but they’ll never be rid of them completely. The new government is working with the alphas, not against them anymore. And now, Rourke supposes he’s a part of that.
Maybe my alpha will be nice?
It’s worth it.
For Mom.
It will be hard for her without him, but he’ll conceive quickly. Rourke has a plan for that too. He’ll be the perfect omega, through and through. His mom will move to a rich neighborhood and get access to a better hospital. He can start the paperwork for home care from the shuttle. He’s already picked out the company, and they’ll bring her groceries, medication, and everything.
Rourke dates the forged signature and doesn’t regret anything. His mother is now a first-class citizen. And if there’s classes above that—royalty perhaps—he’s a part of that. The alphas are kings and Rourke is… not a Queen. That implies some sharing of power. But a wife, certainly. A gigolo? Yes, certainly.
The bus comes, and Rourke swipes his wage card. This will be the last time he does that. Omegas don’t have wage cards, they pay for everything with their citizenship IDs. The world is free for them, which is another reason people hate them so much.
The alphas take their fortunes from taxes, which gets funneled back to Rourke, his kids, and from now on, the rest of his lineage. It’s the ultimate welfare, and the people who pay for it are Earth’s citizens.
Rourke hangs his head as he sits in his seat. Everyone here works for a living and protests the alien’s rules in the little ways they can get away with.
To be the perfect omega, he can’t take his upbringing with him. He can’t carry the anger of the enslavement and atrocities in their history, which means he can’t be a citizen of his city anymore. He has to fully, wholeheartedly join in with the new government on the moon.
He takes out his phone and texts Cory about picking up his Saturday shift.
Leaving in secret is too easy. His mom sleeps some odd hours and noon is one of those times where she’s conked out. She doesn’t get up out of her chair much, ever. She hardly eats, so bathroom break
s are about all that she gets up for. She won’t need pills again for another week or so, and Rourke already has the websites and forms he needs to get her supplies delivered and a nurse checking in on her three times a week. All he needs is that plastic card and citizen number to click submit. The immediate family members of omegas get an upgrade in their health care.
They watched old TV shows for hours the night before. Rourke held her hand and kissed her forehead. It was a weird amount of affection for them, but she half-hugged him and wished him goodnight. She probably thought he was feeling sentimental about her dying.
Not anymore.
She’s going to get the medicine and treatment she needs.
Rourke can feel happy about that, even though he’s leaving her without warning. He tucks a letter by her thigh and resists touching her. He’d like to tell he’s scared and he has to leave home for the first time—not just home, but his whole planet.
But that would make him late. He puts his hood on and his sunglasses. The society suggested it, since people often take pictures of these ‘abductions’, trying to prove that the alphas are breaking the laws.
His phone vibrates with a text message. We’re approaching. So, he heads out the door. They’ve instructed him to meet the van on the sidewalk, to lessen the time taken for his pick-up.
The last look at his mother doesn’t capture her best side. The shutting of his front door doesn’t take as long as it should. In too short a time, with too little an effort, he’s walking away from his home forever.
Rourke had a long weekend on his schedule, so Cory won’t even realize he’s gone until Tuesday. Unless his mother calls him; which she might. Rourke is still writing his goodbye email to Cory in his head. At least he doesn’t have to worry about his friend so much. Cory doesn’t spend weekends and off-time with Rourke after starting his family.
A white van with an Omega Society emblem comes to a stop in front of him. They know who he is thanks to the tracer on his phone. An officer gets out to let him inside. Already, people have stopped milling about their business to pull out their phones.
“Hey! Breeder!” someone calls and flips him off.
The officer keeps one hand on his gun, and lifts his palm in warning. Earth officers are alright, but enforcers of alpha law shoot to kill most times. The man doesn’t shout again, though he clearly says something derogatory to the woman who’s with him.
Once inside, the officer reaches back from the front seat. “You got the stamp?”
“Yeah, here you go.”
Rourke passes him his phone. The officer scans the barcode on the screen. Much like the physical package of a mail delivery man, Rourke is the officer’s responsibility until that barcode gets scanned again at the Omega Society doors.
Stephanie explained it like the concept was cute. “You’re already ‘their omega’ even though you aren’t sold to a specific one yet. The alphas take very good care of you guys. They can hardly stand giving you the time to say goodbye to your families.”
“Ready to go?” asks the officer, but the van is already moving.
Protesting at the Omega Society headquarters is illegal, but every road leading to the gates has people on the sidewalk with signs. When they see the van approaching, they raise their placards and posters and start chanting, “Death before slavery!” The officer warned him this would happen and recommended he pull down the shade over his window. The van windows are tinted anyway, so the shade is only for Rourke’s benefit.
He keeps it up and sees slogans about meat markets, people who’ve wrapped themselves in chains, and graphic porn with the nasty bits censored but not blurred enough.
Yet, the gate is quiet, and the Omega Society looks just like your typical office building, several stories high. They scan Rourke’s stamp at the door and he’s guided to a waiting room with two other people, where he’s asked to fill out an anonymous survey about his induction process. Rourke finishes it quickly, giving Stephanie all high scores. The leather chairs and modern coffee table are a far cry from the enslaved images on the posters.
The auction room, however, is accurate. Stephanie opens a normal, unnumbered door to a dark room and flicks on the light. The place looks unfinished, concrete all over and dim with no windows. A man-sized cage hangs from the high ceiling with four cameras coming down on rods, aiming at what would be contained within.
Rourke’s feet halt on the hallway carpet and Stephanie walks in without him. He’s seen scary movies, and if there was ever a bad room to walk into…
“It’s okay, Rourke, you’ve got a half hour before you start. This is orientation, remember?” She waves eagerly for him to follow. “It’s safe, I promise.”
Rourke has seen this part a hundred times. He steps into the room and the door slams behind him, cutting off escape. Even so, he works his feet over the threshold. Too slow for Stephanie, however, who comes and physically collects him, hooking her arm around his.
“I’m not going to shove you into the cage or anything like that,” she says, dragging him. She deposits him near the cage and brings up her clipboard, which has a list of talking points. “When your auction time comes, I’m going to give you this,” She reaches into her shirt and pulls up a key on a cord around her neck. “You’re going to approach the cage, unlock the door, and step inside yourself. I won’t help you, I won’t touch you, and I certainly won’t force you. I won’t even be in the room while we’re auctioning. You can end the process at any time or reschedule the auction if you prefer. This is your last opportunity for refusal.”
She mutters to herself, “Last week that said to back out.” She shakes her head with a little exasperated sigh. “Politics, huh? So how about it, Rourke? Backing out on your dreams?”
“Not a chance,” he says, breathing easier. Stephanie’s chipper voice dispels the sex dungeon vibe in the room.
“Good boy—good man, I mean. Right. So, as I was saying,” She flips the page on her clipboard and adopts a reader’s tone. “The auction is probably the most controversial aspect of alpha culture. The alphas have a very different interpretation of courtship and love than we do. Love is also a competition, especially in the early stages.”
Rourke touches the bars. They’re thick, as if they’re meant to contain him for real. But at least the auction doesn’t take long, only ten to fifteen minutes.
“An alpha proves his love by beating all the other alphas. Yes, sometimes that means physical beating. Like cavemen or animals. But alphas are sophisticated, and the auction is development of modern culture, the same way we hang onto love rituals like gift giving to prove devotion when in ancient history wives would be purchased.” She finishes her script and looks up from the clipboard. “So basically, it’s a contest. Fun, huh?”
“What about true love?” Rourke asks, though it doesn’t matter either way. He’s going through with this.
“They have true love. They absolutely do,” she says with confidence. Everyone working for the Omega Society supports the alphas. “But they’re aliens, sweetheart, and they’re concept of it has developed differently than ours. They have to win you. It’s not just… thinking your cute and asking for your number. Our concept of dating is completely foreign to them. Omegas are extremely rare and revered. The idea that you would just walk up to one and ask him to be with you is both criminal and disgusting.”
“So how would they do it then?”
“Without the Omega Society? Well, in their old culture, an omega would first announce to his parents that he was seeking. Then his parents would either auction him or devise some means of competition. Kind of like knights and ladies, you know.”
“What if they aren’t compatible? What if they hate each other?”
“There is a process of re-selection, which you will learn about in your education once you’re on the moon. For now, we just want to get you through the auction part.” She brings the cord over her head. “I’ll give this to you now.”
“Can I climb in?” Rourke
asks as he takes the key. It doesn’t seem so bad since he can let himself out.
“Yes, if you want.”
The heaviness of the cage could be explained by its tendency to move while climbing in. Rourke must push off his back foot and hope for the best, the cage swinging slightly side to side while he hangs on for balance. Stephanie grabs a bar with one hand to help steady him.
“Now, alphas are drawn to vulnerability. So, you’ll climb in, we’ll turn down the lights down almost all the way, and then you’re going to experience a haunted house of sorts. We’ll have loud noises. Lights flashing. You’ll see hologram images and there will be figures that seem to reach for you or want to touch you. We’re not going to scare the pants off you, but we want you to seem a little nervous. A little scared. Facial expression is very important here, so don’t try to hide any emotions or avoid the cameras.”
“Why do they like fear?” This is the first he’d heard of this.
Stephanie chuckles. “That’s actually a corporate initiative of the Omega Society. It plays on the alphas’ protective instincts and drives higher bids. Which means more profit for us!” She smiles charmingly, pushes up her glasses. “If you can sniffle and cry for me, that’d be a tremendous help too.”
“Oh.” Rourke looks at each of the cameras, imagining the men on the other side of it. His orientation packet already showed him how they bid on the moon, in private booths with several screens. They have smell emitters that make them think Rourke is an omega in heat even though he hasn’t started the process of turning yet.
Who knows? Maybe he and his buyer-slash-husband will form a bond and talk about this fondly someday.