FERTS

by Grace Hudson

  “Oh, I will forgive you, pretty one. But only after your penalty is served.”

  “But Resident Citizen Yuri, do you not desire me? Would you not rather take me instead?”

  “No, I would not rather take you instead, perhaps later, if you demonstrate your willingness to my satisfaction. I would advise you not to speak again. I much prefer this.” He shot out his fist, catching her in the jaw, the sharp pain aching almost instantly. He brought a leather belt, hidden in his other hand, down again and again on her back, stinging and burning through her white jumpsuit, which must be staining red by now.

  Yuri laughed, a hollow, rasping sound. He brought the belt down again, laughing harder still.

  201 awoke sheathed in sweat, shivering wildly, her face layered in tears. Her jaw ached and her back throbbed and stung, lasting through her hurried shower and lingering through the rest of the night as she tried, in desperation, to sleep.

  – 23 –

  The following days for 201 were fairly routine. Her muscle mass had dropped a little in the past month, sparing her the Games Ring for now. Reno had all but given up on nominating her as a Fighter, despite her clear talents for attacking and defensive maneuvers. She knew that she was far from the willowy, frail looking specimens in Beta and Omega Circuit. She was a long way from what she had endured before, body thin and pale, eyes wide and a sick, hollow feeling aching from her painfully concave stomach. But she was in Epsilon now. There were strength and agility requirements that she had not yet fulfilled, and testing was scheduled for this afternoon. She tried to put the thought out of her mind, preferring to bathe and prepare for her presentation in the regulation bathtub. She eyed her regulation grooming implements, the hours she was required to spend with combing, smoothing, brushing. She never used the comb, could not be bothered with the brush that made her scalp tickle and wasted time and effort she could have spent thinking, dreaming, exploring. Soothing music piped through to the bathroom, and 201 allowed her tension to drain away, to think of nothing and feel nothing.

  – 24 –

  That morning, after rations, 201 stepped tentatively into the chrome filled testing room, spotting only one Officer in attendance.

  “Present, 201.”

  The door sucked shut behind her, causing her to flinch a little. 201 took a deep breath and stood tall, right foot forward slightly, chest curved slightly outwards and head tilted at what she hoped was a seductive angle.

  “Wow. I mean… excellent.” The Officer, Titan, was attractive, more so than the other Officers. In fact the majority of the Officers were balding, fat and generally repulsive in one way or another. 201 had never seen an Officer that looked anything remotely like Titan. She wondered where he had come from. His insignia read 24Y, unusually young for an Officer. He was tall, perhaps a little over six foot or so. His hair was a lightish blonde and stood out in all directions, a little longer than what passed for regulation length. His eyes were a striking blue-green and his features were pleasingly angular. But the main feature that attracted 201 was the kindness inherent in his face.

  “Where did you come from?” she blurted.

  “Pardon?”

  201 cursed her quick mouth, hoping it would not get her in trouble this time. She searched his face for signs of annoyance and found none.

  “Where did you come from?” she asked again, feeling bolder. “You don’t look like the other Officers.”

  Titan laughed, a pleasing sound, the smile reaching his eyes. “No, I guess not. I’m from Ignatia schooling facility in Stenholme. I transferred for my first fellowship here. When we graduate, we have three fellowships, mainly to choose a suitable career for the future.”

  “Why would you want to come here? That doesn’t make sense.”

  Titan paused. 201 lowered her head, shaking it. Too many questions, Harold always told her not to ask too many questions. She idly wondered what her punishment would be this time. Cleaning the fight ring was a particularly gruesome task, according to her fellow Internees. There was blood, and sometimes there was more than blood, more than she cared to think about.

  “Sorry.” She attempted a smile, it didn’t seem to come off as she planned, earning a confused look from Titan.

  “No, that’s ok. I guess it is a strange choice. I wanted to help Internees and Vassals to improve themselves. My father thinks it’s a ridiculous idea, pointless considering that Vassals are mostly single-use and replaced so often. I guess he doesn’t really understand. He wants me to be a money lender, just like him, to follow in the tradition of my Grandfather’s business, the way it was before the war.”

  “Huh.”

  “That’s all? Huh?”

  201 blanched, stepping away.

  “No, I don’t mean.” Titan breathed out roughly. “I’m not going to punish you. I just thought it was interesting that you accepted what I said. All the Internees I have met tell me that Vassals are meant to serve, meant to be of service and obey, and maintain a physically pleasing appearance. They do not understand the concept of improving themselves, unless it is in a physical sense.”

  “But… you want to improve our minds.”

  Titan’s eyes widened. “Yes! You understand! You are the first one to understand! This is fantastic!” He clasped his hands together and began to pace.

  201’s hair began to bristle. A cold, creeping feeling started to rise in the back of her neck. She shivered slightly, hand reaching out to smooth down the hairs on her forearm.

  “Titan. I don’t know who you have spoken to about this, but I suggest you keep it to yourself.” Her voice sounded far away, almost as if someone else was speaking for her.

  Titan looked at her as if she had lost her mind. He tilted his head to the side, holding her gaze.

  “But why? I have always postulated in my theories that Internees and Vassals can think for themselves, can create, make decisions, even lead…”

  “Titan!” 201’s loud voice echoed in the silence that followed. Titan looked confused, waiting for 201 to continue.

  “I would not claim to be an authority on what goes on here at FERTS. I don’t know why I feel this, why I’m telling you this. But I must say this to you. What you are doing is dangerous. You must not discuss this with anyone, especially not here.”

  “But why?”

  “Because it’s true. All of what you say in your theories. It’s true.”

  Titan slid to the ground, settling himself in a cross-legged position. 201 lowered herself to the ground to join him, mimicking his pose.

  “I knew it,” Titan muttered. “I knew it was true… hoped it was. Now I hear you speaking and I know it to be true, even it you had not told me you believed me, you are exactly what I have been waiting for.”

  “No, you don’t understand. This is not all there is. Your theories are true, everything you say is true. The part you do not understand is that they already know. They already know about this, about us, about everything.”

  “Who?”

  “The Officers, the higher rankers, even some of the lower ranks, even some of the Vendees. They know. I tell you this is dangerous because they know, they just don’t care.”

  Titan looked horrified, then disgusted. “How can you know… That can’t be. Someone would have said something, done something.”

  “Who would speak? Who would disagree? The Officers? Their very existence depends on the Internees and Vassals being trained to serve. Or maybe the Vendees, the Resident Citizens? They have a Vassal to fulfil their every fantasy, their domestic duties. The Vassals provide Sires, all their needs are satisfied. Why would anyone speak out?”

  “I still don’t understand. How do you know this?”

  201 was silent for a moment. “I wish I knew the answer to that question.” She absently scratched behind her ear. “It’s as if I did not know until you started to ask me those questions. But it is also as if the answers have been there all the time.”

  Titan stared at her, shaking his head in astonishment.<
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  “It can’t be true. It can’t be. Intuition. You have it. You actually have it. Intuition,” he muttered excitedly, almost to himself, repeating the word once more under his breath.

  “What is that?”

  Titan’s eyes gleamed as he gestured excitedly.

  “You don’t know? Of course, what am I thinking? I have read about this, I never dreamed I could possibly meet anyone with this real, tangible ability. As far as I know, no Resident Citizen has ever shown signs of intuition, but I have heard stories, back from times before the war, when the likes of Internees and Vassals, though they weren’t called that back then, lived very long lives, had knowledge of the times before, knowledge of times in present, and knowledge of futures yet to come.”

  “They weren’t called… so what were the Internees and Vassals called back then?”

  Titan looked up at her, tilting his head to the side with a slight smile tugging at his lips.

  “Women.”

  – 25 –

  201 went to bed excited, mind swimming with all the things she and Titan had discussed. She was most excited about what she had discovered, what she had known without being told.

  How long have I been like this?

  Are there others like me?

  The piped music in her bedroom changed, slowing to a lethargic pace. Every night it had made her fall asleep almost instantly, the waves of soothing melody cocooning her in a kind of artificial warmth and contentment. As she drifted, voices weaved through her head.

  “It alters the Internee’s state of alertness. Just a simple process really, the regular pulse induces brain waves conducive to sleep. Switches their vitals to sleep mode, if you will. Added effects are slowed respiration, promotion of somnolence, that sort of thing…”

  “Hello?” 201 sat upright, wildly looking around the room for signs of who had just spoken.

  No answer came. 201’s mind raced, voices and thoughts layering upon each other until she could no longer understand the chatter. 201 did not fall to sleep for the rest of the night.

  – 26 –

  The next morning her results printed through the slot near her bedside table.

  Strength: fair

  Agility: poor

  Muscle mass: fair

  She rubbed at her eyes, the desire for sleep overwhelming her senses, trying vainly to understand the words before her. It was only now, with the morning light filtering through her chamber that she realized that Titan had not tested her, not once.

  She scowled at the results, insulted. Why would Titan assume she was not strong, not agile enough to fight? She had lost some muscle mass, it was true, but she was fiercely quick and her strength belied her small frame. She supposed her muscle mass would be somewhere around 26 by now, much closer to Vassal regulation.

  Perhaps Titan had a good reason to write her results in this way. She recalled Harold’s words to her.

  Once you are scarred, you cannot return to Omega.

  A scar would narrow her options even further. She would have no choice but to be forced to fight in Epsilon, put to work in Kappa, or, and this would be worst, relegated to Zeta Circuit. Nobody returned from Zeta Circuit, this was common knowledge. Perhaps Titan was trying to assist her in some way, though she could not understand why an Officer would behave in this manner. She had no desire to be a Vassal, but perhaps that was the only way out, the only way to get free of FERTS, at least for a time.

  Scanning the results, she spotted a recommendation scrawled near the bottom of the page.

  If muscle mass continues to fall, recommend transfer to Omega Circuit for Vassal training.

  – 27 –

  201 continued her efforts to reduce her muscle mass. At ration times, she ate only half of her regulation protein. She felt her strength reducing day by day, and each night, she compensated by going through some random stretches she had learned from Reno’s training sessions. She had taken to plugging the piped music with a towel during her nightly training to avoid distractions. She jogged on the spot and settled in to perform some deep stretches, testing her flexibility with each push. Somehow she knew, somehow she just knew why they wanted the Internees to be thin, delicate.

  They are easier to control that way.

  She gripped the stone beneath her, balancing on the balls of her feet, edging her body towards the floor in a slow, downward motion.

  They are easier to control…

  The voice came from deep within her. She could not ascertain the origin, but she knew these words to be true.

  Officer Reno’s voice filtered through her mind, the press of his finger marking her forehead.

  You have this. Use it.

  So to the Officers she would appear thin, delicate, fragile, even. But she would only appear so in a superficial capacity. Beneath the surface she would be strong, stronger than any of them might imagine. She would be lithe, sharp, and most importantly, she would be swift.

  – 28 –

  “Line check!”

  201 shuffled out with all the other Epsilon Internees as the roll was called, each Internee replying in turn. The suction lock to her chamber unlocked with a rush of cool air. She stood, dressed in her regulation red jumpsuit, aligning side by side with her doormates. The Officer stood above the railing, looking down on the walkways filled with Epsilon fellows. His face was dark, impassioned, his uniform neatly pressed and shoes brightly shined.

  The Officer read out the FERTS Requital, 201 mouthing the words as the other Internees answered the call with an enthusiastic response.

  “The following are to present to the testing rooms. 207, 275, 201, 254 and 255. The rest are to present for training after the scheduled ration room visit.”

  Fantastic, 201 mused. She briefly panicked, wondering if her efforts to lose muscle mass had been enough. She had eaten far less than standard ration for so long, even though her stomach cried out to be filled. She had also banned herself from the gym. Instead she had taken to actually using the unpleasant face creams, brushes and hair ointments and had even forced herself to practice the tedious eyelash flutters and coy looks in her evaluation mirror.

  She followed the hall to the testing room, finding the waiting area empty. She wondered briefly if she had followed the wrong marker but the precise testing room lettering, bright in burnished metal, stared back at her.

  The testing room was empty save for a large, broad shouldered Officer. 201 stiffened, feeling a coldness envelop her shoulders and ruffle the hairs on her forearms. Something was not right.

  The door sucked shut behind her.

  The Officer’s name was Morton, and his face was huge, with a pronounced jaw and a dark scowl ruffling his bushy brows. He held a clipboard that seemed pitifully small compared to his frame.

  “Strip.”

  “What?”

  “Strip.”

  “That’s not what the testers do! You’re supposed to test for muscle mass and…”

  201 felt the blow throb against her cheek after she hit the ground. The pain started quietly, growing to an unbearable intensity as she gritted her teeth against the wail that escaped her throat.

  “Don’t talk again. I think we understand each other now.”

  201 drew in a deep breath, stood to her full height and looked him directly in the eye. He would not see her cry. That would be for later, and would be only for her.

  Morton looked back, bored. He gestured at her clothes. “Strip. I won’t ask again.”

  201 slid off the jumpsuit, standing upright yet again.

  “You’re not very good at this, are you?”

  201 stared back, eyes intensely focused on the space between his brows.

  Morton pushed her to the ground and undid his trousers. 201 turned her head to the side, preferring not to see the repulsiveness of the Officer’s body up close. He tried to push inside her, even though her body closed up, refusing to let him in. After much swearing and pushing he forced himself inside, tearing her from within as she felt heat
and a horrible stinging, and the trickle of blood down her thighs. The pain grew with each moment, jarring her insides as she clenched her fists at her sides. 201 squeezed her eyes tightly against the image of Morton’s beard, sticky with saliva, as he panted into her face.

  – 29 –

  201 did not remember how she got back to her room. She awoke to find her sheets damp with sweat and her face sticking to her pillow. She slid carefully across the covers and edged her way to the bathroom, trying to ignore the stabbing pain inside her body as she moved her legs deliberately, one after the other. The light in the bathroom was too bright and hurt her eyes. She took two more steps into the bathroom before emptying her stomach into the toilet bowl.

  Turning on the shower she stepped inside, the water scaldingly hot until she adjusted the flow. She cleansed and bathed in regulation order to remove the stink of Morton on her body. First soap, then the regulation facial cleanser, the pungent smelling shampoo, a second application of shampoo, then conditioner. Another wash with the soap, lathering it up until it bubbled all over her hands, washing each part, each section in turn until everything squeaked with cleanliness. She staggered out of the shower to fetch her robe. She sat at the evaluation mirror, first combing, then smoothing her hair with fragrant oils. Then came the drying and shaping, and lastly, the brushing. She followed regulation step by step, using the skin creams, the eyelash oil, lip softener and body lotions. She trimmed her toenails and fingernails, and set about whitening the insides of her nails with the special crayon that she had never used before this day. Sitting at the evaluation mirror, she nodded, seated primly, dressed in her robe, hands shaking slightly, hair perfectly coiffed, skin smooth and each part of her body perfectly manicured. The moon filtered through her sliver of a window into the semi-darkness of her room as her reflection stared defiantly back.