Time And Again, a Dystopian story

Candles

1: Candles

“From here on out, you’re on your own. Have fun and good luck.”

It took time for Diana to stop thinking about her father’s last words to her before she entered the gates of her new home—almost enough that she’d forgotten someone was speaking to her. A firm tap on her shoulder brought her back to lucidity.

“Earth to Diana, you need to focus.” said Mary-Ann. “This is the kids’ medicine we’re talking about, so it would behoove you not to mix things up.” It was Mary-Ann’s job to bring Diana up-to-speed on the way Stepfordson Manor operated, and something like mixing the children’s medications would have been grounds for freedom for the both of them. Mary-Ann continued moving the various bottles, vials, and syringes to make their labels visible to Diana. “Now these vials, all the children are to consume once daily after their showers. Make sure they take it all; the concoction is not known among children for its taste.” Diana winced when she beheld the bluish-grey liquid in each vial, but not because of how it looked. Mary-Ann had seen this wince before and chose to be silent to let Diana ask the one question every new maiden did.

“Is this just Tranquilem?” Diana asked sheepishly, to which Mary-Ann nodded.

“It is. And if that’s what Master Stepfordson wants, that’s what they get.” Mary-Ann responded, not only answering one common onboarding question but preempting another. It was not at all unusual for Headmasters or Headmistresses to have a pediatric medical regimen involving Tranquilem. The medicine was marketed by its makers as a ‘safe, effective sleeping aid for the fussy and a dose of peace for the busy.’ This was how most people utilized it—including the Stepfordson family.

“I can’t see how this would…well…” was all that came from Diana’s mouth before Mary-Ann held up her left index to Diana’s lips.

She answered another question of Diana’s, one Diana’s eyes asked where her mouth did not. “Don’t think about it. Just give them what’s on their tray, wait until it’s gone and move on.” Diana nodded and straightened her apron and pleated skirt. As per the usual fashions of ruling houses, maidens’ wear defined their rank or position. All new maidens wore a simple white button-down blouse, red necktie, red blazer, and a red pleated ankle-length skirt with a pair of white penny loafers. This is what Diana would be wearing either for six months or until she proved competent enough to be more than the help among the help.

“I’ll take medication to Jasper, Kimberly and Wallace. You take medicine to Irene and Camellia. Irene’s room is up the stairs, down the central hall and a left at the east hall. It will be the third door on your left. Camellia’s room will be all the way down the hall in the center.” bowing to one another, Diana took the named trays she was tasked with delivering and made for the grand staircase behind her. However, she was stopped by Mary-An before she started her ascent.

“Yes, Head Maiden?” Diana asked, looking behind herself.

Mary-Ann caught up to Diana and touched the vial of Tranquilem on Camellia’s tray. “Make certain that Camellia takes all of her medicine.”

Diana gave a nod and bow before heading up the stairs as directed. The Stepfordson Manor was immense, but nothing Diana could not traverse in a minute or two—almost. An issue lay in its vexing layout. The front of the manor was oriented north, as most in the city were, but its rear—where most of the living quarters were—was a four-wing plan with each wing facing away from the other. Moreover, the rear of the building was oriented northwest, starting at the grand staircase. A new maiden could easily lose her way in such a place, and Diana already had once. Not wanting to further embarrass herself, she committed Mary-Ann’s words to memory and immediately went left when she should have gone straight forward. “Fuck…” was all Diana said before racing back to the grand staircase to reorient herself, then head down the central hall.

She arrived at Irene’s room and looked at the oaken door. “Gentle but firm,” she reminded herself as she knocked, waiting for Irene to pull the door open. When she did, she bowed and smiled. “Good evening, Irene. It’s time for your medicine.”

Irene squinted and took to opening the door happily. Her two medicines did not react well with Tranquilem and often resulted in bouts of diarrhea, nausea, and headaches. Thus, she was the only Stepfordson child permitted to forgo a dose of the ubiquitous drug. Irene happily drank her syrup and ate her pills before washing it all down with some apple juice, and just as quickly as she came, Diana was gone and on her way to Camellia’s room.

Diana knocked on the door and waited. She knocked on the door again and waited. After a few minutes, she decided to take a gamble and open up the door. She could have been freed if caught, but they’d understand when she told them Camellia wouldn’t open up. Pushing against the door, she walked in, and bowed. “Good evening, Camellia, it is time for your medicine.”

She did not get a response. Camellia was in the room, surely. So she thought to herself, at least. She stepped further in and confirmed her suspicion by discovering Camellia reading a book by the light of a candle. There were not one, but two overhead lights she could have used, but here she was with a tome and a candle. “Camellia, it is time to take your medicine.”

“My medicine just makes me forget. I don’t want to forget, miss Diana.”

Now what was she supposed to do? Mary-Ann had been clear in her instructions but compelling a child to take two vials of Tranquilem seemed wrong by any stretch of the imagination. It was already known for killing some children to whom it’d been overprescribed, and she looked at both vials immediately assuming it was far too much. She was certainly no pharmacist, and she did not have the authority to simply tell Camellia to take her medicine. Repeating herself twice, however, was out of the question, so she moved ever closer to Camellia—and ever closer to freedom should Camellia deem herself too disquieted by the maiden in her room.

“Camellia, can you hear me?” Diana asked.

“It’s strange.” Camellia said quietly.

Diana wasn’t here to start a conversation with a child about whatever it was children thought about before bedtime. She was here to deliver medicine, and that was it. she nevertheless could not fight the compulsion to answer.

“What is?” Diana inquired, to which Camellia responded by holding out the book to her.

The title seemed to be blacked out, and the author’s name written over many times. “It’s strange that the people in this book seem to think they can regulate thought. I have heard of silly concepts before, but the idea of a political monolith using ancient methods to control the minds of billions breaks the story’s immersion.” Camellia noted, earning naught but confusion from Diana.

“Well, that does sound odd, but wouldn’t you like time to sleep on the idea?” Diana asked, holding out the vials to Camellia. Camellia fell silent for two minutes.

“No. Sleep is a bit too close to death for me to truly sort out my ideas.” Camellia responded.

Diana had been told by every maiden about Camellia’s pre-bedtime regimen of reading several books before. Other maidens had noted it as something of a pain, often delaying them when they could and should have been tending to others in the Stepfordson brood. Three maidens—Erika, Katrina, and Catherine—were forbidden by Master Stepfordson from interacting with Camellia, for reasons unbeknownst to Diana. It was also unusual for maidens to be paired with a child in the family so soon into their tenure, and it was made all the more unusual by it being not only Diana’s first week, but her first night alone with any of the children.

Despite all this, she responded to Camellia. “Well, if not rest, at least a better light to read by?”

Camelia shook her head. “Candlelight is best.”

Diana just stood there. She did not know how else to respond, nor did she know where to go from that statement. She could have called Mary-Ann to force her to take the medicine, but her hand never budged toward the call button. She could have taken a gamble on freedom and let the vials sit for Camellia to drink of or not overnight, but her eyes found no space even on the empty nightstand next to her. No matter what her mind came up with, she found no scenario that did not involve outright forcing Camellia to imbibe the bitter elixir in the tray.

“I feel like this story is a warning humanity did not heed.” Camellia said.

Diana shook her head. “Camellia, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please take your medicine.”

Camellia turned to Diana and smiled. “I will if you will.” Camellia responded.

Diana then looked to the syringe on her tray. It was well within her power (and at this point necessary) to fill the syringe with fluid, hold Camellia down and inject it into whichever shoulder was free to move. She’d seen Mary-Ann do it already with Jasper, Kimberly and even another maiden named Stephanie. If they could handle it, even by force, Camellia could as well.

Diana reached for the large syringe, broke the seal of one of the vials and popped it off. After setting the top down, she checked the syringe for air, then slowly filled it to capacity, all the while taking steps toward Camellia, who…had rolled up her sleeve and used some water to wash the would-be injection site on her left shoulder.

Camellia held out her arm. Diana moved closer. Camellia crossed her legs. Diana took hold of her arm and began to search for a vein. Camellia kept reading. Diana moved Camellia’s arm up and pointed the syringe in, beginning to deliver the concoction when Camellia spoke.

“Miss Diana. Would you please stay with me awhile?”

Diana stopped the syringe millimeters away from Camellia’s skin, frozen for a few seconds. When her brain got back into gear, she repeated the facsimile of a response Mary-Ann taught her on her first day. “I’m sorry, but I have other maidenly duties to tend to. Perhaps later.” She then stood up and made for the door, only to be stopped completely by something Camellia said.

“Please.” Camellia whispered.

Diana could have been freed had one of her counterparts seen her turning around. She could have been freed for simply not injecting Camelia with her nightly Tranquilem. None of these consequences seemed to matter to her, because when she next knew it she was sitting at Camellia’s bedside. She could also have been freed by speaking to Camellia without permission, but that was exactly what she did. “Camellia, are you sure you want me to stay with you? I haven’t much time to spare.”

Camellia did not seem to pay much attention to that fact, as she simply tugged on Diana’s apron and pointed to a paragraph in the book. “We are much like the man depicted in this novel. We seek, but we never truly question. We love, but we never truly cherish anything. Do you think this is how men behaved three hundred years ago?”

Diana did not think about the past. No one did because no one could. As best as could be determined, humanity could trace its history back to about three hundred years ago. anything beyond that point may well have not existed. This left the world with no past and not much of a future. People were taught, however, not to dwell on this. they relearned how to obtain electricity. They remade vehicles. They remade houses, cities, and nations on the ashes of the men who gave them what little they could from their spots near the abyss. Since there was still something of a civilization, even with no history, almost no one gave much thought to what was lost.

Diana looked to Camellia and spoke softly. “I…well, I don’t really have an answer for that. The best I could say is that it must have been bad enough that no one wants to care about what happened so long ago. I’m sure people back then didn’t pay much mind to what happened three centuries before that.”

Camellia nodded, looking back to her book. “Most men in this book seem to think the same way.”

Diana looked out the window into the heavy rain. She, again, had no response that wasn’t identical to what everyone else thought when faced with the conundrum of the past. “Do you believe I think the same way?”

This time it was Camellia who was silent for a minute. “You do on the outside, but not on the inside.” She the yawned and began pulling the covers over herself. She also gave Diana a warm smile, one which slowly faded as the nearby candle died.

Diana rose from the bedside, capped the candle, and turned to leave when she saw Mary-Ann standing in the doorway. Frozen with fear at first, Diana flew over to Mary-Ann and began desperately explaining what happened. “Head Maiden, I’m so sorry. She wouldn’t take her medication and I had to use the syringe, but I…I, well…”

Mary-Ann just smiled, confusing Diana to no end. “Come on, it’s almost time for us to get what little rest we can before the natives become restless again.”

She took off her red apron and helped Diana undo hers before the both of them began down the hall, down the grand staircase, down another staircase and into the finished basement. It alone was more ornate than most homes, and so were the quarters of the Stepfordson maidens. Being a new maiden, however, Diana had not had her own room designated yet. She would thus be sleeping in the head maiden’s extra room. It was a glorified supply closet on most days, but for Diana the bed held her body and the dresser held what few belongings she brought to Stepfordson Manor on her first official day as a Maiden. It was enough for her, and she began to go into the room when Mary-Ann tapped her shoulder. She turned around, and Mary-Ann gave her one last piece of advice for the day.

“When you come from Camellia’s room, the Tranquilem goes in the garbage bin, not the toilet.”

3: No Past, No Present, No Future

No Past, No Present, No Future

2: No Past, No Present, No Future

Diana floated in the middle of the ocean, her face up. White, fluffy clouds dotted the air above her. She looked to one of them raised her hand and began to sink beneath the waves. No air left her mouth as she descended, the sunlight becoming dimmer as her heartbeat grew in volume. She could soon see naught but darkness and hear naught but the drumming of her own heart, the latter only growing in intensity as she went further down. “Diana. Diana. Diana?” the ocean shouted to her, until the beats of her heart became punishing knocks.

“Diana, get up!” Mary-Ann shouted through the door.

Without hesitation nor breath, Diana rolled out of bed, threw on her dress, and opened the door. Waiting for her was a head maiden with her arms crossed. “Did you have fun sleeping in?” Mary-Ann asked, motioning for Diana to follow along and giving her another piece of advice. “Rule zero of maidenhood: set an alarm.”

Diana wanted to tell Mary-Ann about the dream she’d had. She wanted to tell her how her own mind suffocated her to the degree that no noise from without could get through. She didn’t tell her because that wouldn’t help get the children ready for school.

Until now, Mary-Ann had kept Diana on evening activities. this was customary for a new maiden, as the children of the manor took care of themselves around this time in their bid for pre-bedtime freedom. Now, Mary-Ann had to get Diana acclimated to the most chaotic time of day: the morning, just before school began. The pair walked down the hall, out of the basement via the stairs and, when they got to the top, another maiden was waiting. Her outfit was identical to Diana’s except in hue—hers was the dark blue most other maidens wore. She also had a green sash around her apron. Her hair was also much longer as well, its jet-black color making it stand out more against the blonde, red and brown of the rest of the house’s inhabitants. This was a feature made more striking by her dark brown skin, something unseen across most of the city.

“Diana, this is Benazir. She will be showing you how to prepare the children for their school day.” Diana and Benazir bowed to one another, after which Benazir took Diana’s hand and began walking toward a room near the front door. When they arrived, Benazir took a green proximity card from her wallet, held it near a panel and opened the door after she heard a beep.

“This is the preparation room, where we store the children’s belongings and check them before and after school, as well as where they take their breakfast.” Benazir said. She then pointed to the right, sliding up a rolling window to reveal cooks feverishly working. “The children are roused out of bed at exactly six in the morning, by which time these people must have the children’s breakfast ready. While they are doing that, we must inspect their backpacks, shoes and clothing for any signs of wear, bug infestation or pathogens.”

Diana looked through the window for but a second before Benazir closed it and pointed to the left, opening a pair of sliding doors. “This is where we perform our inspections. When Erika comes up with the laundry, we immediately inspect it for wear or any stains that may have made it through the cleaning process. Any such material is to be sent back to Erika for special treatment at once. We then empty their backpacks. If we find any damage, bugs or dirt, we send the backpack down to Erika and the children are to use one of these instead.” Benazir then picked up a pair of shoes. “These are the most important. When you inspect the shoes, remove the laces, open the tongue and turn them upside-down. If anything falls out—living or not—send the shoes to Erika for special treatment and replace them with one of the pairs of white tennis shoes to the left.”

Benazir pointed to a list on the wall next to a backpack. “Finally, these are the lists for every backpack. Make sure each backpack contains exactly what is stated on the list and be sure to communicate with the children about any last-minute needs before you come in here.”

When Benazir stopped talking, Diana asked her something she’d wanted to know since she came into the room. “I noticed Camellia’s…well, she doesn’t have a spot in here. Where do we keep her things?”

Benazir smiled. “Nowhere. Camellia doesn’t go to school with the other children.”

Diana knew Camellia was the eldest of the Stepfordson children, so she assumed it was a matter of Camellia going to another school. “Where does she go?”

“Chandler Academy.” Benazir replied, earning a shocked gasp from Diana.

“Seriously?! She goes there?!” Diana quietly shouted, to which Benazir responded by covering Diana’s lips with her right hand.

“Yes—which is something that upsets Kimberly.” Benazir said, watching the young girl sleepily walk downstairs. Kimberly had a mind most children weren’t even smart enough to envy, but for some reason it wasn’t enough to get her into the city’s top primary school. She made a point not to bring that fact up around Kimberly, and to warn other maidens not to make the same mistake.

“Very well. How do we go about getting Camellia ready for her day?” Diana inquired.

Benazir smiled. “You don’t.”

Camellia was increasingly sounding like the odd one out, and that wasn’t something Diana wanted to deal with so early in her career. She thought of a question that, perhaps, could keep her away from such a high-maintenance member of the family. “How often are new maidens assigned to Camellia?”

Benazir shook her head. “No one is ‘assigned’ to anyone. Maidens just seem to gravitate to the children they feel most comfortable with over time. That’s what surprised me about you. Maidens usually take quite a while to warm up to Camellia.”

“Wait, I didn’t say I was warming up to her just yet.” Diana responded, to which Benazir giggled.

“You didn’t have to say anything. It’s written all over you.”

Diana blushed, unaware she was so easy to read. Over the week she’d been at the manor, she hadn’t really made a point of getting to know any of the eleven Stepfordson children. She didn’t have the time. Being a house maiden required every bit of one’s attention, at all times. Surely Benazir knew this too. Diana saw Benazir’s interactions with the children. They were short, concise and, while warm in their own way, still not in line with Diana’s connotations of how a child should be interacted with.

Benazir had an answer for that unsaid question too. “If you want, you can just go talk to her sometime. There’s no shame in trying to make your job easier.”

Benazir and Diana looked at the Stepfordson children making their way down to breakfast, and they both moved aside. Benazir then began ushering the kids into the room she’d just been in, patting each on the back to speed them up. “Good morning, my sweet things!” she exclaimed as they filed into the room to get their plates.

“Aww, there’s no bacon, miss Hadid!” Jasper said, genuinely sad at the revelation. In its place was beef sausage.

“Oh, pish posh. We only have bacon once a week and you know that. Onto the dining room with you.” Benazir said.

Heaven had shortages of just about all necessities, including food. While ruling houses were prioritized, this did not shield them much as the city board mandated food-sharing in times of ration emergencies—like now. There never the same two reasons for it. Last year, raiders on the far reaches of Heaven’s territory supposedly hijacked an incoming beef convoy. Last month, it was a server outage at one of the main meatpacking plants that led to hundreds of tons of food being improperly stored and thus spoiled. This month, it was bad weather forcing delays in frozen food deliveries, especially pork.

Despite all that, the children had to eat, so here they each were with a plate of beef sausage, oatmeal, raisins, milk, cube cheese, eggs and sugar butter. When they’d all finished grabbing their food, Diana began to follow Benazir into the room, only for Benazir to stop her.

“I’ll take care of this. I want you to wake Camellia up.”

Diana stood still for a bit, before nodding, bowing and moving up the stairs toward Camellia’s room. She couldn’t help but question why she kept getting paired with Camellia. She did come to like the eldest Stepfordson child a bit, but hardly enough to call for being put with her once a day. There had to be someone else both more able and willing to deal with Camellia.

Diana pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind when she knocked on Camellia’s door. “Camellia, it’s time to wake up!” she said through the massive door. When she received no response, she opened the door and found Camellia not in bed but reading another book.

“Good morning, Camellia. It is time to get ready for school. Have you eaten yet?”

Camellia gave no response. She kept reading her book.

“Camellia, it is time for breakfast. Please come downstairs with the others.” Diana said.

“I’ve already eaten, miss Diana. I want to take a bath.” Camellia responded.

Diana hadn’t noticed the empty tray on Camellia’s nightstand. When she did, her thoughts traveled to why, seemingly, Camellia was the only child allowed to eat breakfast in her room. She took Camellia’s hand and began for the bathroom just down the hall. They entered the bathroom, and Camellia took her clothes off before entering the bathtub. The wash itself was uneventful; Diana heard Camellia hated showering and was told to expect complete silenced while she washed Camellia’s hair. She was told correctly, with the exception of a huff from Camellia as she worked the shampoo through the child’s hair. When Camellia’s hair was rinsed, she took the towel from Diana—and tossed it right back in her face as she ran down the hallway.

After recovering from the surprise, Diana bolted after her charge. “Camellia, get back here!!!” Camellia stopped short of the main hallway before looking back to Diana and turning in its direction, seemingly on her way out the door. She managed to make her way past six children, two maidens and a cat before Benazir held out her arm and scooped her up, easily canceling her struggling with a hip wiggles of her own.

“I’m so sorry. I finished rinsing her hair and she just…took off.” Diana said to Benazir, once more eliciting a laugh from the maiden.

“I see you have been witness to one of Camellia’s famous streaks. Do not worry, this will put no dent in her plans to be ready for school.” She handed Camellia back to Diana, who in her utter confusion quietly took Camellia back to her room.

When she got back, Camellia put on her underwear and just sat on the bed while Diana sat on the nightstand. “Camellia, why did you do that? I am only trying to help you.” Diana said, saddened.

Camellia sat silent for three minutes before bothering to give a response. “Washing my hair is akin to sewing my mouth shut”

“Oh, that’s just nonsense. I can understand not liking hair washes, but that’s a really funny way of avoiding them.” Diana said. She could honestly say that was the first time she’d seem something like that, and by Benazir’s indication it would not be the last.

“I only do it once per day.” Camellia said, looking though her wardrobe and removing her uniform for Chandler Academy. Within three minutes, Camellia was dressed in a white button-down, grey blazer, grey necktie and grey skirt. She took her shoes, but made no effort to put them on, even when Diana heard the school bus coming down the street.

“That is small comfort for the people being inconvenienced.” Diana said.

“I am the only one being inconvenienced.” Camellia said.

“God fucking damnit, Camellia, you know that’s not what I meant!” Diana snapped back.

Camellia gasped lightly but did not seem to think much on what she heard before she started putting her shoes on and collecting her portfolio. She did not appear to have a backpack anywhere in sight.

Diana stood near the nightstand, her frustration having simmered over and down. “I am sorry Camellia. It’s just that…you really are proving a challenge. I’d rather be assigned to another child.” She then sat back on the nightstand and then she remembered that wasn’t how things worked in Stepfordson Manor. Diana still wished she hadn’t been put with Camellia this morning. A child who would rather streak through the house than have her hair washed seemed like the sort of thing only this ruling house had to deal with.

Camellia threw on her scarf. “Then I think we will get along swimmingly.” She then tossed Diana a set of car keys. “It’s time to go to school!” Diana took the keys and Camellia followed her out to the van, in which Camellia took shotgun.

The drive to Chandler Academy was a drive through time. Skyscrapers loomed in the distance on both sides of the freeway—bent, torn, twisted and blown out, some leaning against one another and some missing large sections of their structure. Even on the freeway itself, rusted vehicles lay in the way for drivers to work their way around. Once she drove closer to the city center, the freeway became less obstructed, the buildings became cleaner, newer and taller and the air smelled fresher. The city as a whole was still derelict, but the central district was at least as far removed from that as one could get. There were smiling faces. There was green grass. There were large, cool fountains overflowing with fresh water.

The Chandler Academy itself put Stepfordson Manor to shame with its size alone, and it showed when Diana had to pick up her jaw after a few minutes of letting it slack when she beheld the gates. It probably took longer to walk from here to the entrance than it did to walk from one end of the Stepfordson property to another. “I didn’t even know this place existed.” Diana accidentally said out loud. Based on appearances alone, it was no wonder Kimberly was angry at not having gotten into Chandler Academy.

Camellia got out of the car and took a deep, delighted breath. Then she hugged Diana, shocking her with the suddenness of her embrace. “Thank you, Miss Diana. I’ll be ready for pickup at four.” She then skipped through the gates and down the walkway to Chandler Academy’s entrance, after which Diana got back in her car and turned back down the freeway.

The way back was surprisingly clean, something to which Diana nodded. “Hmm. They usually don’t do this good a job. I wonder who’s in town that the CEO needs to impress.” She said to herself, continuing down the freeway as sanitation workers below threw garbage bag after garbage bag of human skeletons into their compactors.

Diana looked out the window to her right briefly and beheld the collapsed bridges in the bay. “Maybe they’ll get to cleaning that up one day, too.” she said, continuing down the freeway and barely remembering not to turn onto an exit leading to one of those bridges. That bridge still had a legion of traffic cones to block it off, along with stop signs, skeletons in bright vests and a phrase painted onto one of the bridge’s support columns:

THE PAST IS GONE AND THE FUTURE IS FUCKED.

4: Not For Sale

Not For Sale

3: Not For Sale

Diana’s drive home was not as long as the one there seemed. It was a matter, to her, of simply going back to the destruction that surrounded the small utopia of Stepfordson Manor. When she entered, she wasn’t greeted by a maiden, so she took to her room and began changing into her casual clothes to begin shopping for the children. Mary-Ann had told her to do this whenever she was not being shadowed by another maiden for onboarding to a specific task. “Okay…items in red are ones I need to buy new for school tomorrow. Items in green are for replenishing the school stockroom for Erika. Items in blue…fuck.” She’d forgotten what blue meant, so she began looking for Mary-Ann for an explanation. She found her carrying a vat of frying grease over to the kitchen. “Excuse me, Head Maiden Mary-Ann, but I do not know what blue indicates on these lists.”

“Oh, don’t worry about the items in blue. I’m the one who has to buy those.” Mary-Ann said, continuing on to the kitchen.

Diana left the manor once more, got in the family van and turned on the radio. As usual, there was only static to be offered unless one wanted to listen to the bone-dry goings-on of the Heaven Board of Executives. She turned the dial to the station, anyway, figuring boring sounds were better than no sounds at all.

“The Chief Executive of Heaven took to the podium this morning to address the ongoing ration emergency throughout the region. For the past six weeks, a bout of severely cold weather has allegedly killed off wheat and corn stores, as well as livestock, forcing citizens to hunker down into ration protocols and await the next move from leadership. For the time being, no one knows what is causing the weather or how long this weather itself is expected to last, but with multiple Military Police reports of fights over bags of grains and water at markets throughout the region, it seems the anger and desperation of hunger are setting in for Heaven’s people.”

Diana remembered some shortages well—she and her parents had barely gotten through some of them. But what struck her as odd was why no one ever simply went down to the piers. Every time there was a meat shortage, her parents would drive her down to the docks so they could either buy some seafood or go fishing themselves. Whatever ills existed on land apparently did not in the sea. She had no memory of coming home without a car full of lobster, shrimp, bass, cod, or some other catch of the day. She kept listening to the man’s broadcast.

“Heaven’s Chief Supply Officer, Daniel Stillwater, has said he expects the rationing to last well-beyond the weather itself, as it will take time to rebuild reserves. He has said that a typical city reserve warehouse would be depleted in about one year without consistent replenishment from the supply chain, but in a situation like this—where the supply chain has broken down—stores could be depleted in as little as three to four months as the city is forced to dole out supplies to citizens through more than one official rationing period. He has also said it is highly unusual for a ration period to be so long, which is also placing a strain on the city’s reserves.”

Diana kept driving through the north of the city, the naughty feeling of schadenfreude washing over her. She was going to a place where those supply issues didn’t exist. She was going to somewhere only the ruing houses were allowed to shop at, at least unofficially. She was going to Thistleberry’s. Thistleberry’s had its own supply network, its own labor force paid from the pockets of a ruling house, and—most importantly for Diana—it had everything the children of her manor needed in one place. Mary-Ann even said specifically to avoid shopping anywhere else.

“The executive office has not yet given a statement on possible opening of the piers to help alleviate the food shortages currently racking the city. However, we have with us one man who says he knows why the piers have not been opened.”

Diana knew what this meant and turned the volume up. She knew from childhood that the piers were never truly closed; some fisheries just stayed open year-round while others did not. She also knew who the radio host was going to have speaking on behalf of the pier workers. She turned onto the freeway as the man’s gravely, deep voice began speaking.

“Well, it ain’t about food, I’ll tell you that much. There’s food for eons out here; it’d take all of us a hundred millennia to catch all the fish and stuff in a sea with so many reefs. The problem is we ain’t got no one who’ll go out and catch the critters—and I don’t blame ‘em.”

Diana nodded. “Shit, I don’t blame them either.”

“The chief officer or whatever can’t open the piers because, for one, there just ain’t enough people out here to keep up with the demand without having to send multiple ships a day out on our dime. Second, who the hell’s gonna go all the way out there with the fuel ration going on?”

Diana smiled to herself while continuing her journey through the north of town. As everywhere else, this part of Heaven was dotted with tall, gleaming skyscrapers and flooded, derelict relics of stone, steel, glass, and wood. She approached the end of the freeway, turned right and almost ran an old lady down. “Jesus, woman, watch where the fuck you’re going!” Diana shouted out the window, an admonition to which the lady only shrugged before she continued her trudging across the boulevard.

Diana rolled her eyes, started her van back up and made her way a mile down to the Thistleberry’s Department Store. Parking was not an issue there and never was it wasn’t as though anyone, aside from the ruling houses, could shop at the store on a regular basis. She put on her coat, grabbed a shopping cart, and made for the store.

When she got to the entrance, a woman immediately bowed to her and introduced herself. “Hello, and welcome to the Thistleberry’s Central Department Store! I am Head Maiden Rebecca Thomas, and if you so wish I will accompany you on your shopping journey!”

“I would like that very much, seeing as this is my first trip and the store is…well, unbelievable.” Diana said, to which Rebecca nodded and took her shopping cart for her. Diana also handed her the eleven lists she’d taken from the children’s supply room.

“Ah, shopping for the house children!” Rebecca said, smiling brightly as she began toward the middle of the store.

Diana nodded, keeping close pace with Rebecca. “Trying to, at least. I didn’t even know kids needed all this stuff for a normal school day.”

Rebecca smiled to Diana and responded with what Diana could only guess was a generic statement meant for every new shopper. “Generally, children attending normal schools are required to keep a certain number of supplies in their closets in case of rationing, but that is not much of an issue with the children of Thistleberry’s customers.”

That sounded about right, considering what Mary-Ann told Diana about the store’s customer base. “I would hope not. If they can’t pay for their kids’ school supplies, how are they gonna pay me?”

“A very good point—one that, hopefully, you’ll never have to make to your headmaster or headmistress.” Rebecca responded.

The trip wasn’t taking as long as Diana anticipated. Rebecca was tossing in items without even looking at the lists she Diana gave her and making no mistakes along the way. “Wow. You must have been here quite a while to do all this so easily.” Diana said.

“Sixteen years next week!” Rebecca proudly responded. “I have been working here and for House Washington since before I was tall enough to push the carts!”

“Oh? Sweet!” Diana wasn’t actually surprised to hear that. She knew most maidens started their career at an early age, and given the benefits provided it was unlikely someone who’d become a maiden would ever consider switching jobs. Parents prepared their children, from infancy, to be ready for a ruling house’s selection day.

“How long have you been working for House Stepfordson?” Rebecca asked. Diana was taken aback at how she knew the house she worked for at first, but then figured she’d noticed by the names of the children she was shopping for.

“About two weeks so far, so just learning the ropes.” Diana said.

Rebecca giggled, releasing a gentle sigh afterward. “I remember my first fortnight. I was running up and down the aisles so quickly, it was a miracle I only ran a few people down!” Diana couldn’t help laughing, and the two of them shared a good chuckle before she heard a crash of glass onto the floor.

At first, Rebecca ignored it. Then came shouting and complaining. “One moment, ma’am. It seems like we have ourselves a bit of a brouhaha on aisle eighteen.”

When Diana blinked, Rebecca was gone, along with what she presumed were three other maidens, going toward the source of the trouble. She inched her way toward the noise and looked over the endcap.

“Excuse me, what seems to be the problem?” Rebecca asked in her best retail voice.

The customer, a small woman who looked not a day under eighty, replied. “I have told this woman that I cannot find the Nazareth Vases anywhere, and she had the gall to tell me she wasn’t going to look in inventory for it.”

“That’s because it isn’t in inventory—like I’ve said for the fifth time already.” A woman tagged as Leslie said.

“How do you know if you won’t go look?” the customer replied.

“I work inventory and I have to index every single thing in there every single night.” Leslie said, shaking her head. “If you had any patience, I’d go look, but I can’t go get the warehouse card if you keep hounding me every sixty seconds.”

The customer yelled in turn. “Then stop dragging your feet, maiden!” she said, pushing past Leslie, who shoved the woman right into one of the shelves.

“Bitch, who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?!” Leslie snapped. That was all she was able to do before two other maidens, tagged Shaun and Bernadette, took hold of Leslie, and pushed her back to where she stood before. Rebecca stood where she’d arrived the entire altercation and looked down as if she were contemplating deeply. Freedom wasn’t an option—maidens were too scarce a resource in this day and age. Even if she reported this incident to master Washington, she doubted anything but what she’d thought of would result, so she took a deep breath and helped the old woman up.

“Ma’am, I will check the inventory for your item.” Rebecca said to the woman.

“Don’t bother. I won’t be shopping here again if this is how your maidens behave.” She then walked past the maidens and out the door, not touching her cart.

Rebecca looked to Leslie. “Leslie, please go wait for me in the break room.” Leslie bowed and turned around, walking toward the room quietly. “Shaun, clean this up. Bernadette, return the items in the cart and the cart itself to where they belong. When you are finished with that, go to the supervisor hut and bring me my medical tray.” Bernadette bowed and set to work, after which Rebecca walked back to Diana and took the cart again, tossing things into it with as much ease as before.

“Sorry about that. That’s the first argument I’ve seen in months, and for it to be over something so trivial is baffling.” Rebecca said.

“Well, you know how people get in these environments. They come in with some money and think they call all the shots.” Diana responded. Rebecca only nodded.

The rest of the shopping took but fifteen minutes or so. When they were done, Diana’s cart was full. The glass from the recent argument had been swept away, and Leslie sat in the employee breakroom, staring out its window with a look of utter boredom on her face. Rebecca led Diana to the checkout line and took a deep bow. “I am afraid I must be apart from you now, ma’am. If you wish, you may ask one of the clerks to help you load your vehicle.”

The clerks rang Diana up for her items, the bill totaling just north of three thousand dollars. She handed the clerk the black credit card Mary-Ann handed to her before she left, paid for her items, and made for her vehicle.

When she was loading her things, she caught sight of Rebecca heading for the employee breakroom carrying a café tray, a pair of scissors, a roll of bandaging tape, a roll of gauze and a vial of Tranquilem. When she passed the indoor window, Leslie’s boredom swiftly turned to visible horror, and she tried to run for the back door to the employee breakroom. She failed, having been held down by Shaun and Bernadette, the latter of whom forced Leslie’s blazer off while Leslie flailed and screamed, beginning to cry in desperation soon thereafter. Shaun lifted up Leslie’s left sleeve and held her shoulder out, Leslie’s struggle continuing until Rebecca had stuck the syringe into Leslie’s shoulder and injected her with the Tranquilem. Over about a minute, Leslie stopped screaming. She stopped flailing. She stopped crying.

Over about a minute, Leslie stopped misbehaving.

Diana looked on as Leslie slumped slightly in her seat, her head lilting back and forth until Rebecca laid a pillow near it. two minutes later, Leslie was staring at the vending machines, eyes lidded and mouth slightly agape. Rebecca appeared to point to Bernadette and Bernadette sat next to Leslie, beginning to wipe her mouth with gauze.

Diana shut the rear door of her van, having loaded her groceries, and began driving back toward Stepfordson Manor, driving around a fresh corpse when she exited the parking lot. She looked at it, and immediately recognized it as the woman she’d nearly run over less than an hour before. She paid it no other mind and turned on the news radio to help provide some company on her drive home.

She didn’t recognize the voice on the radio now, except to note that its gravelly tone identified whoever it was as a pier worker.

“Like David said, you gotta consider that, along with this food problem, there’s a…well, that makes a labor problem too. Maidens are already hard to come by, let alone ones that’ll stick out their necks for the purpose of maybe catchin’ enough fish and things to feed themselves. And the fuel rationing? Hell no we’re not going out there to try to do all the usual work with a half, third or quarter tank of gas or however much less they think we can operate on.

And when it comes to the maidens, it’s the same principle. You don’t just tell your maidens “Welp, we gotta go hungry for a bit and we gotta not pay ‘ya until the city wigs decide the crisis is over. Maidens are a special breed of people in themselves, and you can’t be wastin’ them on a gamble like fishing those reefs without adequate supplies. We gotta conserve too, and that means conserving labor for when we really need until this thing has passed us by. You gotta understand that.

Diana kept listening and turned the radio off as she was getting a call from Mary-Ann right after the man seemed to wrap his statement up.

"Now I don’t know about you or anyone else, but my maidens’ lives ain’t for sale.”

5: Poor Little Maid

Poor Little Maid

4: Poor Little Maid

Diana got home from Thistleberry’s and began putting the children’s supplies away in the main supply closet. She thought back on what she saw happen to Leslie.

“That couldn’t have been over-the-counter; the poor girl was a zombie in ninety seconds.” She said this to herself as she arranged the items she’d bought according to the number system Mary-Ann had set up. Tranquilem came in over the counter, prescription, and chemist strengths. Almost everyone who used Tranquilem used over the counter, with a tight set of permissions needed for the prescription brand often used as a sleeping aid and sedative. However, none of those came anywhere close to chemist strength, only available to those who’d helped invent it and their descendants, who ran the ruling house that controlled the patents. Chemist strength was 99.9999% pure Tranquilem Compound, second only to the 100% original test batch kept under lock and key at House Jovanovich. Only the chemist strength Tranquilem could produce the kind of effect Diana saw in Leslie.

“There was no reason for them to do that.” Diana thought aloud.

Benazir giggled softly when she heard Diana speak. “No reason for who to do what?” she asked Diana.

Startled, Diana almost dropped a yardstick. “Oh. I was just thinking about some protestors I was trying to sneak past. I had enough of a delay getting Camellia to school, and those dudes were just…frustrating.”

Benazir nodded. “That’s why we try to get supplies as early in the morning as possible. If you don’t, you’ll have protestors for something or other blocking your route for hours.”

Diana took note of this as she finished putting up what she’d bought. When she was done dong that, Benazir motioned for her to follow upstairs. “After shopping, it’s time to make sure the kids’ rooms are straightened out—beds made, trash cleaned, floor swept and mopped, surfaces clear of dust and wardrobes in order.”

“Out of curiosity, is there any special protocol for cleaning Camellia’s room?” Diana asked.

“No, but there is a special protocol for cleaning Kimberly’s room.” Benazir responded, walking in that direction as she spoke. She slid a few items out of the way as she opened the door to reveal a mess of maps, toys, radios, charting tools, rocks and more. Kimberly was known for collecting many different things, and Diana saw that now.

“…wow. This is incredible. How do we organize all of this?” Diana asked.

Benazir pointed to the list she’d handed Diana, detailing what was to be done in each room, and smiled. “We don’t. We take the things she collects, place them in the hallway and do what the list dictates. We then put the items back. Kimberly gets dejected when we move her things around too much.”

That sounded odd to Diana, but if that was how things were to be done in Kimberly’s room, she wasn’t going to voice any complaints about it. While in the room, however, Diana’s curiosity was caught by something else: a trio of monitors, some oscilloscopes and over a dozen radios of varying sizes. Sound was coming from some of them, and to Diana it sounded like police communications or old jingles.

“What’s all that equipment over there?” Diana asked, more out of her own curiosity than any desire to know how to properly clean those items.

Benazir walked over the radios and listened for a few seconds before responding to Diana. “When you clean her room, leave this stuff alone. This is something Kimberly set up a few years ago, around her third or fourth birthday I think. She listens in on all manner of communications with this setup. Frankly, I have no idea what a mind like hers will be capable of in just one year, let alone when she’s an adult.”

Diana listened, and again she was left wondering how Kimberly did not get into Chandler Academy. If the ability to make things like this wasn’t enough, what was?

The pair moved on to Jasper’s room. “Now when you come in here, it’s imperative that you ensure there is no food laying around. He likes to sneak into the kitchen and make whatever his heart feels he should, and for some reason hates eating in the dining room. Keep an especially close eye on the underside of his bed.” Benazir explained, picking up a cookbook and placing it on the dresser.

“I thought the children weren’t allowed in there.” Diana said.

Benazir nodded, then giggled as she picked up a few more pamphlets and put them on a shelf. “They are not, but when we find him he usually has the raw ingredients ready, and it is best to let him continue. He always cleans his messes and, as much as Lady Stepfordson complains, I find it a fascinating alternative to him spending most of his allowance on junk food.”

Diana hadn’t thought of things in that light; she stood up and smiled. “How long do you guess it is before the children all end up cooking their own meals?”

Benazir gave that some thought but ultimately shrugged. “If the kids were all that good at cooking, we’d be out of a job.” She was joking, of course, but Diana’s heart still skipped a beat.

“…um, right. So, whose room next?” Diana asked.

“I’ll stay here and get Jasper’s room in order. You go back to Kimberly’s room, then we’ll tackle William’s room together. The poor kid’s gonna end up needing his wife to make his bed for him.”

Diana snickered when she heard that remark and bowed to Benazir before making her way back to the room down the hall. She’d only been in William’s room once, and it was enough to make her happy to let cleaning it be someone else’s job. When she entered Kimberly’s room, she began looking for any medium or large electronic devices to collect and put outside the door. Between having to take rusty batteries out of those devices and shooing away Kimberly’s cat, it took fourteen minutes for Diana to get through the room and start sweeping. Benazir told her to keep any sheets of paper she found, even if they were blank, so she did. After about four minutes of sweeping and collecting eighty piece of paper, Diana set to mopping the room, making the bed, and beginning the process of putting the electronics back where they were with the added task of making their derelict mess seem presentable.

“Okay, Benazir said to put the paper in the drawer just beneath the monitors.” Diana reminded herself. She grabbed the papers she found and opened the drawer to stuff them in, only to find there was nowhere to stuff them. Benazir didn’t give her an alternative spot, so she simply set them down in front of the center monitor. When she was walking toward the door, however, she noticed a small drawing on one of her radios. It appeared something like a woman performing a pirouette around a cross.

Diana picked up the picture and stared at it. “Is this the—” then the radio began playing a grainy tune, barely discernible through the static and background noise of the manor.

“I will sing you a song

And it won’t be very long

‘Bout a maiden sweet

And she never could go wrong…”

The radio went too deep into static after that for Diana to discern any more lyrics. That bit of sound was enough to draw her closer, and more than enough to get Diana to notice the same drawing on all of the papers she’d picked up—what she could see from the door, anyway. She took a breath, and again made her way for the door when the radio came in clear enough to hear lyrics once more.

“She never saw the streets of Cairo

From the midway, she had never strayed

She never saw the koochy-koochy

Poor little country maid.”

The radio gave way to static again, convincing Diana to leave the room and head for William’s. Benazir and Carolyn were waiting for her. “So, we ready to get this done?” Benazir laughed out, earning a shake of the head from both Diana and Carolyn. No one was ever ready to clean the room of William Stepfordson, but someone had to do it, and William being away at school was the only opportunity they’d get. In all three maidens went.

“Whatever’s on the floor, just toss it out. He isn’t going to miss it.” Benazir said. Diana and Carolyn were already throwing things on the floor that didn’t seem like clothing or electronics in the garbage, something which made Benazir giggle a bit. All three of them looked under the bed, looked to one another, then under the bed again, sighing as they dug in and began sorting trash from (supposed) treasure. Carolyn tended to the linen, tossing whatever she found into the dumbwaiter. Benazir took the electronics and pictures, placing them on the bed while she spayed a bottle of disinfectant over the now-bare bed and dresser sets. She then disinfected and wiped clean the vanity mirror. Diana was working on the underside of the bed for a little bit longer before she moved to dusting the cobwebs from the ceiling, door, and windows, after which Benazir disinfected them. The three maidens took turns sweeping, mopping, drying until the dusty brown of the floor had returned to a like-new varnish. Carolyn made her fellow maidens burst a seam laughing when she desperately ran over to open both windows and turn on William’s fan, after which she rushed back to them both.

“Can someone please tell me why we only clean this boy’s room once a week?” Carolyn said, a question to which Benazir shrugged.

“Don’t ask me. If Master Stepfordson tells us to clean it more often than once every Thursday morning, we will. Until then, I’ll not be putting any more work on my plate.” Both other maidens nodded and followed when Benazir motioned them to do so.

“Next up, the study—after I go piss.” Benazir said. “You two make over to the study and I’ll meet you there.”

Both maidens bowed to Benazir before she left, then made their way toward the study. According to Mary-Ann, the study was the place everyone wanted to have on assignment. It was cool, clean, and out of the way of the fracas of the rest of Stepfordson Manor. Master Stepfordson kept it up well enough that all a maiden had to do was sweep, mop, and do light dusting. It would be a welcome distraction from the four-hour nightmare that was William’s room.

When she walked past Kimberly’s room, Diana hear the radio coming in again, much clearer than she had previously heard it.

” She was much fairer far than Trilby

Lots more men, sorry will they all be

If they don’t try to keep away from this

Poor little country maid.”

Diana couldn’t help but stop and listen. Carolyn might not have minded had Diana’s little stop not caused her to bump into her. “Hey, Diana. You okay?” Carolyn asked.

It took about twenty seconds for Diana to answer. “Oh. Um, sorry. I spaced out for a bit there, no idea why. Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” Carolyn responded, the two of them continuing toward the study. “What is it?”

“When I was cleaning Kimberly’s room, I kept coming across pictures of a woman on a cross, dancing on it I think. Is she the Lady on the Bridge?”

Carolyn nodded. “I would think so. Kimberly likes to tinker with her radio to see whether the military police catch the Lady on the Bridge…well, on the bridges out of town. So far, no cigar.”

Diana knew about the Lady on the Bridge. She was a tall, lanky woman in a black, single-sleeved dress who somehow kept climbing the bridges in and out of Heaven, dancing to her heart’s content. It was illegal for anyone but bridge workers to be up there, so she had the Military Police called on her constantly. However, by the time they came, she was gone—despite hundreds keeping a close eye on her until the squad cars pulled up. She had long slipped into the city’s urban legends, most officers now ignoring calls concerning her.

“Figures. I remember hearing about her a lot as a child, but every time we got to the Orange Bridge, she was gone and there were just a bunch of annoyed cops everywhere.” Diana said, sliding open the study doors and waiting for Carolyn to follow her through.

“Me too. My mom eventually stopped letting me go down to the piers looking for her, especially after that big storm washed away a bunch of spectators.” Carolyn said, setting down her equipment. “Now listen closely—we’ve got freedom waiting on us if we fuck up something in this room.”

Diana nodded, and when Benazir joined them, she closed the door and Carolyn gave say over the study to her. As the door closed, Diana could hear, faint as moonlight before a storm, the words on Kimberly’s radio.

“She never saw the streets of Cairo

From the midway, she had never strayed

She never saw the koochy-koochy

Poor little country maid.”

6: Just In Case...

Just In Case...

5: Just In case…

Benazir had been in the study many times before, so she was the one assigned to clean it—a task she often delegated to other maidens. Today, Diana and Carolyn were the recipients of such delegation. “Listen closely, you two. If I say not to touch something in here, do not touch it.”

Carolyn took a look around and raised a brow. There were no books to read. There were no computers to use. There weren’t any chairs. There weren’t even any sculptures. “So, do we just dust up and get out? There doesn’t seem to be a whole lot to do in here.” Diana shared this sentiment, so she stayed quiet.

“You clean only what I tell you to clean. Carolyn, clean the cabinets. Diana, clean the vents and gather up any glasses into the dumbwaiter for Erica to clean. I’ll sweep and mop.” Benazir said, taking the mop bucket to empty out in a bathroom.

Diana and Carolyn just stood, staring at each other. “So, which kind of maiden are you?” Diana asked Carolyn.

Carolyn bowed before responding. “I’m usually a culinary specialist, but with the rationing going on there’s no need for five cooks in the kitchen at all times, so I’m shadowing Benazir to learn cleaning.”

“I wonder when I’ll get an assignment.” Diana mused.

“The best maidens never get an assignment, at least in my experiences.” Carolyn said. “I guess the way to really make it in a ruling house is to become a sort of jack of all trades. Y’know, make yourself valuable as opposed to just successful.”

Diana nodded. “I see. Well, here’s hoping I find what value I have to this house soon.”

Carolyn smiled. “You will. It’s how I discovered my passion for cooking!” she said before Benazir rolled the mop bucket to her.

“You mean to tell me I was gone that whole time and neither one of you bothered to do anything? We could’ve had this room done by now.” Benazir said, her tone irate and her left foot tapping on the floor. She said, handing both of them a pair of dishwashing gloves, a spray bottle, and a dusting blower. Benazir herself wrung out the mop and begin applying it to the borders of the floor, making sure not to touch the wainscotting.

“To be fair, you didn’t tell us to do anything.” Carolyn said, earning a roll of the eyes from Benazir.

“You mean to tell me you need an invitation to clean a room?” Benazir said. “Look, let’s just clean this room so we can go out to the orchard.” Benazir returned to mopping the borders of the room.

Diana and Carolyn remained confused but continued their duty. Everything went well, with the exception of Carolyn knocking over a vase and barely catching it before it crashed on the floor. Benazir looked to Carolyn and shook her head, taking the duster away from her. “You’ve been here too long for me to have to reiterate this to you, but apparently I have to anyway: watch where you’re dusting.” She said this with much less irate of a tone than she had when she found out Carolyn and Diana hadn’t actually started cleaning the room while she was away, but the fact that she said it at all made Carolyn hang her head.

“I am sorry, maiden.” Carolyn said sheepishly.

Benazir nodded gently. “I hope so. I don’t want you getting freed over a vase in a room that almost nobody in the manor uses.” When the trio were finished cleaning, Benazir ordered Carolyn and Diana out and used a long, thin pink key to lock the sliding oak door shut once again.

“So, to the orchard now?” Carolyn asked Benazir.

“No. you go back to the kitchen and take lead for lunchtime. Diana and I will go out to the orchard. I’ll take you out there after the kids have had lunch and get settled in for their homework.” Benazir said. Carolyn bowed and left for the main kitchen, sighing gently as she went.

“She seems a bit sad she couldn’t come with us.” Diana noted.

Benazir nodded in response. “Of course she is. She love being out on the orchards because she can pick fresh flowers and think of new recipes in peace. That’s my best guess, anyway.”

Diana nodded, following Benazir as she walked downstairs and to the right, then to the right again, then straight toward the rear of the manor. It took four minutes for the two of them to reach the rear staircase. Benazir pushed her hand against the meeting point of the two gigantic steel doors, causing them to fling open as easily as one moves a curtain out of their way to see the world outside.

What Diana saw astounded her. Looking to her right, she saw a hill bathed in parallel lines of pink, orange, white, black, purple, blue and brown. The flowers, which Diana assumed were tulips, were seemingly being watered by intersection blue pipes shooting a gentle mist into the air. Looking to her left, Diana saw vivid blue, red and green vines with round, full grapes on them. The vine holders seemed to stretch for miles, only appearing to end at the sea to the northwest. Looking sharply right, she saw a large shed filled with what she assumed was gardening and landscaping equipment.

Looking directly in front of her, Diana saw nothing. All that lay directly ahead were a large, steel sign that was so overgrown with dead vines that she could not see what it said, and steel doors that seemed like they hadn’t been opened since they were installed. Diana immediately went to inquire to Benazir about why the middle third of the orchard seemed to be dead land, but when she looked to where Benazir had been, she was gone. She did not get much time to wonder where Benazir went before she was startled by the sound of a horn.

Benazir drove up to Diana on what appeared to be little more than a motorized bicycle with a covered engine. Benazir had also switched out her maiden’s dress for a pair of rainboots, a pair of red denim trousers and a sleeveless shirt. “You done daydreaming yet?” Benazir asked, putting on a helmet and sliding on a pair of sunglasses. She spoke a bit louder to project over the sound of the engine.

“Oh! Yes, maiden. Your clothes…is this your casual wear?” Diana asked, walking toward Benazir.

“I’ll explain everything while I show you around. Hop on, hold on and if you start feeling sick, let me know so I can shove you off.” Benazir said, revving the engine as Diana boarded and held onto Benazir’s waist.

The duo then sped off to the tulips, following a dirt road that, for all intents and purposes, meandered wherever it pleased. Diana took the four-minute ride to admire the plethora of different colors before her. she wanted to reach out and touch some of them, and their shine did not help matters, but she did not feel confident enough that she wouldn’t fall off the bike if she tried that.

Benazir pulled up to the intersection of the irrigation pipes, disembarking the bike before pressing a button at one of the left corners of the intersecting pipes to momentarily shut them off. “These are the tulip fields. We come out here a few times a week to make sure they’re being watered properly and to remove any infected ones from the garden.”

“How can one person do all this in a day?” Diana asked. Even for an expert gardener, she thought, this type of job would require a lot of assistance.

Benazir shook her head, and grazed her nails on one of the tulips, Diana’s ears mildly ringing at the screeching sound.

Diana tilted her head. “Wait. These are…they’re all metal?”

Nodding, Benazir pointed to a small shed and opened it. it contained buckets of paint in the same hues as the artificial flowers. “Yes. If you come out here, your job is to paint over the rusted ones as best as you can, and for ones that seem to limp or broken to salvage, you use the bolt cutters.”

“I don’t see any black paint in there.” Diana said.

“That’s because the black ones are real, so instead of pain and shears you need pesticides and a good knowledge of how to prune weeds.” Benazir said. “I don’t have time to teach you how to do any of that right now, so onto the vineyards we go.” She patted her waist, indicating to Diana to board the bike once more, and off the went down the path, nearly all the way to the beach.

As they drove just a few hundred yards from the shore, Diana took in the sights of a time gone by. Huge cylinders jutted out of the water in some places, with rusted, twisted train cars hanging from some of their openings. Old, rusted-through cars lined the beach as well, slowly being swallowed up by the ocean along with the boulevard they sat on. This part of the water had fewer tall buildings in it than the ones along the freeway, and these were in far worse condition with little of their superstructure remaining. There were, however, hundreds of brick and concrete buildings whose form seemed to have easily withstood the test of time. As they approached, there appeared to be a six-lane road jutting out into the ocean from the vineyard’s southeastern portion, almost completely overgrown. The bridge it was attached to lay on its side, also overgrown, with the exception of a long span of it in the middle of the water. Among all the ruins were thousands of skeletons, both on the beach and in the vehicles.

Benazir drove up the ramp to the destroyed bridge and turned left, making her way into the vineyard, and stopping the bike. “These are the wine orchards. You do the same thing here you do with the real tulips. You prune the bad plants, spray down some pesticide, and make sure the irrigation pumps are working. Once every year, we all get together and go grape picking along with some other kids in the city. You’ll come to love that day of the year; it’s basically a day off for us.”

Diana followed Benazir as she explained what to do, admiring above all the smell of the vineyard as she passed through it. “Do we just eat the grapes or make wine of them? There seems to be more than enough for both.”

Benazir shook her head. “Neither. We freeze dry them and sell them to the city as part of their ration stores.”

Diana looked a little disappointed. Benazir then patted her shoulder, smiling.

“Don’t worry; we get paid more than enough from those ration sales to buy some nice liquor to celebrate All Angels Day with.”

Diana was unable to help snickering to that response. “I bet! Speaking of getting drunk, what are the drinking policies around here?”

It was a bit of an awkward question, but Benazir saw no harm in answering it. “As long as you get permission from Master Stepfordson, you can drink whatever you want. You just shouldn’t do it on working time; save it for Maiden’s Day or All Angel’s week or something.”

Diana was still laughing, but she nodded in affirmation before continuing to follow Benazir. “Do we have to come out here in the winter, too? Or will the cold keep us inside?”

Benazir removed a rusted white key from her chain, one which had a winged skull on its head. “In the winter, the main priority is making sure kids aren’t in here partying or trying to steal things out of our sheds. Speaking of keeping things out…” Benazir said, moving toward a rusty iron fence. She took hold of a bar and lifted a portion of the fence over her head, motioning for Diana to go through. When Diana had gone through, she set the fence portion back down with herself on the same end as Diana.

“…This is the Memory Garden. Do not come in here unless Master Stepfordson expressly tells you to.” Benazir finished.

“What about Lady Stepfordson?” Diana asked.

“Do not come in here unless Master Stepfordson expressly tells you to.” Benazir responded.

Diana looked around. There was some dead space in both areas they’d just visited, but this was a complete void of life. Nothing sprouted from the dirt. Nothing hung from the arches above. There were only twigs, rusted equipment and miles upon miles of dead vines blocking the sky overhead. “’Garden’ seems like a bit of a misnomer.’”

She said this as Benazir was stroking one of the vines, and Benazir sighed softly. “I know. I’ve only ever seen it like this, and it makes Carolyn cry having to come out and see…this. if I had her type of green thumb, I’d cry when see this, too.”

“Why does Master Stepfordson not allow anyone in here? Surely, with effort, we can restore this place to at least a degree of utility.” Diana asked.

Benazir kneeled in the soil, picking some of it up and rubbing it in her hands. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought the same thing. But Master Stepfordson has freed maidens before for being too pushy about the subject, so what will be will be.”

She said this with less lamentation than Diana expected, as evidenced by the worry on Diana’s face. “Wait. If we shouldn’t be in here, then we should leave now!” Diana pleaded, only to earn a shake of the head from Benazir.

“I’m allowed to come in here to show new maidens around, so don’t worry that adorable, speckled face of yours. I’ve only ever seen him free maidens for getting too uppity about this place, not for actually being in the place without his permission—since, with the threat of freedom and all, no one’s ever done that.” Benazir kept looking around, Diana following her deeper into the system of dirt paths, roots, and bones.

“Well, why are you in here now?” Diana asked.

Benazir looked to Diana and smiled. “Just in case…”

7: The Light Is Your Enemy

The Light Is Your Enemy

6: The Light Is Your Enemy

Diana looked around the van to ensure she had the keys and sunglasses. “Just in case…” she said to herself, mimicking what Benazir had said to her earlier.

The cars in her way on her first trip to Chandler Academy were gone, much to her delight. “Someone important has to be coming out here if they’re cleaning stuff up all the way out here.” Diana said to herself. Heaven had a robust sanitation department, but it was mostly focused on what waste the people living in the city were already generating, not cleaning up remnants of the distant past. She turned on the radio, more out of boredom than a desire to learn anything from the news.

“The Chief Executive officer of Heaven has come forward today saying the executive office has inked a deal with the Isles to begin importing more meat and dairy products in on the daily energy tankers. Many laud this as a necessary first step in alleviating the ongoing food crisis, but detractors say it’s nothing more than a bandage to tide people over until the weather improves and normal shipments across the sea to other regions can resume.”

“Oh, that’s who he has coming over.” Diana smiled to herself as she pulled up to Chandler Academy. She figured a foreign dignitary was coming to Heaven to sort the food situation out. She also thought more than the weather was at play in this shortage, but if it assuaged most of the citizens, she didn’t see fit to complain further.

Camellia hopped into the van and turned the radio off. “Hey, miss Diana! I’ve got to tell you all about my day!” she said as she placed her portfolio on the back seat and strapped herself into shotgun.

Diana drove toward the freeway, but soon found it blocked off by brown Military Police cruisers, whose users were just outside of them redirecting traffic. “Fuck. Well, looks like we’re going through the Piers.” Diana knew the detour would almost double the length of her trip, but she wasn’t quite sure her status as a member of a ruling house would get her past the blocks. She rolled down her window as a uniformed officer approached.

“Good afternoon, maiden.” the officer said. “I’m sorry, but we’ve got special cargo coming through on the freeway. Please detour to the West End Skyway.”

“What’s coming through?” Diana asked politely.

The officer thought on that for a bit. “I’m not sure, but we’ve got orders from the home office to keep the Gateway to Heaven open. Personally, I hope it’s some steak.” The officer looked back to the freeway as the van turned around. The Military Police had their own dedicated supply chains, warehouses, and production facilities, so they were often spared the problems that came along with ration periods. That didn’t mean they produced decent food.

Diana drove back down Chandler Avenue and merged northwest onto the West End Skyway, approaching the Eight Piers neighborhood of the city. Much to her frustration, there seemed to be thousands of protestors on the road, blocking most traffic and holding up signs pointed to the massive docks and warehouse/cannery buildings. “Oh, come the Hell on. How are we supposed to get past this?” Diana asked no one in particular.

“Well, we could go up Wharf Avenue.” Camellia suggested.

Diana shook her head. “Yeah and take even longer to get home when we’re already gonna be half an hour late because of this bull. Even if I wanted to, Wharf Avenue is three exits up.” There were Military Police in this location too, speaking over bullhorns warning the raucous crowds to back up off the freeway and let cars through. Traffic was backing up behind Diana as well, so by this point she had no choice but to keep crawling forward and making sure she didn’t strike a protestor or policeman.

There were even more people below the bridge, their yelling and chanting mixing with the Military Police orders to make for a veritable aural cacophony. She could see several brown vans arriving from the southeast, with those already there having men dressed head to toe in crowd control gear. These men began lighting flares and pushing north through the crowds, others in the brown vans driving their vehicles at a steady pace in order to force protestors to either move or risk being crushed. Of the crowd control men outside, only a few carried any weapons, mostly batons or shotguns. After a half hour of barely moving her van at all, Diana pulled onto the Wharf Avenue ramp. She then began a northeasterly route on Wharf Avenue, relieved to finally be getting back up to speed—until a man ran in front of the van, forcing Diana and a few other motorists to slam their brakes.

“Are you fucking serious?!” Diana screamed out to the man before continuing down the avenue. She then noticed scores of protestors crossing the thoroughfare at some points, the sight and sound of sirens bouncing off the factory walls. “Come on, is there any road these idiots aren’t block—” was all Diana was able to get out until she hear an explosion, the sound of the crowd rising to a roar of panic and fury as some rushed forward across Wharf Avenue, after which Diana heard gunshots and saw dozens of protestors beginning to scatter away from the street.

Diana at once pulled the car over and rushed to Camellia, unbuckling her, pulling her out of the seat and putting her on the floor between seats in the middle all in a near-blur of motion. Many other cars had people doing the same thing, some hiding behind other vehicles instead of returning to their own. “What in the Hell is going on out here?!” she said to herself, before taking hold of Camellia as protestors rushed by the car, some to escape the chaos and others to push deeper into the alleys between the massive canneries, warehouses, and indoor docks.

It was then a few more gunshots rang out, one of them cracking the windshield of Diana’s van and causing her to yelp and grip Camellia tighter. She then heard voices over what she assumed to be Military Police bullhorns.

“This is an emergency bulletin from the Heaven Executive Office. This gathering is now an unlawful assembly. All civilians are to return to their homes immediately. Repeat, this is now an unlawful gathering; all civilians must return to their homes immediately.” Diana recognized the voice as Major Henry Wilson, one of Master Stepfordson’s old friends.

Wilson’s cruiser slowly appeared around the corner of one of the alleys along with about a dozen others, one of which burst into flames when a cocktail bomb flew through its windshield. This prompted more gunfire from the Military Police and prompted their crowd control to aggressively remove people from the thoroughfare, in some cases pointing shotguns to peoples’ heads and threatening their lives. This in turn led to an exodus of people from the street, with fewer and fewer remaining as the Military Police began to establish control of the street around them. In the fracas, Diana heard screams aplenty as people succumbed to gunfire from both sides, were beaten off the road by Military Police, or accidentally fell into the water attempting to flee.

A Military Policeman banged on the driver’s door of the van, scaring Camellia, and causing Diana to jolt. “Is anyone in here?” the voice yelled.

“D…Diana Robertson, maiden for House Stepfordson!” Diana responded.

“Get your vehicle off the avenue right now. Divert to Shaftesbury Avenue immediately.” The policeman then went on to other vehicles along with over forty of his compatriots, yelling out the same warning.

Diana immediately let go of Camellia and rushed back to the driver’s seat, beginning east on Shaftesbury Avenue along with the other diverted vehicles. It was then she realized the ride had become bumpier and was getting worse with each second. “Are you…this has got to be the best day of my life.” Diana said to herself, causing Camellia to giggle. She realized the van must have gotten a flat tire somewhere in all the chaos and had to pull over to call the Stepfordson mechanic.

By now, there was a helicopter approaching the area, repeating the same warning Major Wilson was giving. There were still hundreds of people around, but the Military Police were rapidly gaining hold of the situation. Because of this, Diana felt safe enough to come out of the vehicle to survey for damages.

“Hey Diana, what’s up?” Tomas said when he picked up the other line.

“I have a flat on the driver’s side of the van. I’m in the city, just between Wharf and Shaftesbury. I think I’m near exit three on the West End freeway, by the piers.” Diana responded.

“Okay, I’ll let Master Stepfordson know and I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” Tomas replied, hanging up the phone before Diana could say anything.

Diana got back into the van and slumped in the driver’s seat, sighing. It wasn’t going to matter to her employer how late she came back, but it would certainly matter to her coworkers. “Well, at least most of the children should be settled in by the time we get back.” She wasn’t talking to anyone in particular, but Camellia responded.

“Except for me.” Camellia subsequently snickered at her own miserable joke.

“I’m learning that.” Diana said. “I’ve only been here two weeks and, with every new thing they teach me about the Stepfordsons, it’s always ‘except for Camellia.’”

“Of course. I’m the best.” Camellia said, kicking her feet onto the dashboard.

Diana just rolled her eyes and tapped the windshield. “Oh, fuck. I forgot to tell him about…well, it’s not like it matters right now.” Diana looked out the window and beheld the mess the protestors and Military Police had left: burning cars, bewildered dock workers, and plenty of dead bodies being picked up by the coroners.

“It’s always worse when you see it in person.” Camellia said.

“I know. I’ve been there. When you’re dealing with all those hungry people, it’s a special kind of warzone.” Diana responded, looking off toward the West Harbor.

Diana held her stomach gently for a while after she spoke. She remembered what it was like to come down here and not find anything, or even be able to buy something. She remembered begging her mom to at least try fishing herself instead of resigning the family to a few nights of hunger. She was safe from such dire circumstances so long as she remained in the graces of House Stepfordson, but she still couldn’t help the worrying pangs she felt when witnessing the protests. Before she too much lost herself to thought, a Military Policeman approached her.

“I saw your flat, ma’am. Are you okay?” the policeman asked.

“Yes, sir. Help is on the way for us.” Diana said this before realizing the man in the brown trench coat was Major Wilson. She rushed out the van to hug him.

Wilson was taken aback for a bit, but he soon returned the hug. “I missed you too, Diana. I haven’t seen you since you were too short for the driver’s seat!”

Diana just rolled her eyes, releasing the hug and sitting back in the driver’s seat. “Oh, this is Camellia, one of the children I work with.” She said, with Camellia giving a light wave.

“Oh, I know Camellia. She’s been making quite the splash at Chandler if my own kids are to be believed.” Wilson said, a smile coming to his face. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure no civilians were stuck out here, and it looks like things aren’t going to flare up again with Special Patrol around. Small comfort for the officers we lost, but big comfort for the ones who don’t have to spend the night getting homemade bombs tossed at them.”

Diana was silent, remembering the two police cars burning a few minutes ago. “What’s going on over here? Are the food shortages really that bad?” she asked.

Major Wilson shook his head. “They’re bad. The fuel shortages are worse.” He took a breath, looking up to monitor the helicopter flying over the outer harbor. “According to the home office, there hasn’t been a shipment of fuel to Heaven for about three months now. No one knows what’s holding them up, or if there’s anything to be held up at all.”

Diana thought on that statement for a bit. “The home office said the ships have been stymied by the weather.”

Major Wilson shook his head. “The home office thinks ships are being stymied by the weather, so that’s what the media is running with, just like they run with everything else.” Wilson said, earning a giggle from both Diana and Camellia.

“I was listening on the radio, and they said they can’t go out because of fuel shortages.” Diana said.

Major Wilson nodded, lighting up a cigarette as a squad car moved up to him.

A policewoman began speaking to Major Wilson, after saluting him. “Sir, the northern perimeter is secure all the way to the docks.”

“Very well. Send out the news to the rest of the Dock Ward police and set up rolling patrols for the night over the north harbor. When you’re done with setup, come back to me and we’ll scur the central streets for any stragglers.” Wilson responded. The policewoman saluted once more, got back in her car, and drove westward.

Wilson then took a drag of his cigarette. “There are always some people down here asking questions and stuffing up the roads—this ain’t exactly the best part of town on a normal day. But this is the first time in a while that things have boiled over to the point where people are dying.”

“How long do you think this is going to last?” Diana asked.

“I honestly don’t know. I would hope the convoy that’s coming in has fuel on it, because if it doesn’t we’re looking at yet another month of rationing—and another month of shenanigans like we saw today.” Wilson said, tapping some ash off his cigarette and looking to the harbor.

The harbor was freer of the debris most of the city had lying around, its waterlogged buildings actually a boon to the city because they served as massive reefs. The only blemish, according to most, was a massive, grey whip of some kind. It had a flat deck, a large bridge with its windows blown out and over a dozen small planes littering its perimeter. It floated into the West Harbor around the time Diana was born and ran itself aground, having become something of a tourist attraction in the time it’d been in Heaven.

“They also said the sailors won’t go out not only because of those shortages, but because some ruling houses actively refusing to send boats out to catch fish. Is that true?” Diana asked.

Major Wilson shrugged when faced with that question. “Yes and no, as far as I’m aware. The ships have fuel, but only enough to keep them running bare and not to operate any equipment, as far as we’re told. Atop that, the plants are running out of fuel too, so the houses need to conserve to keep the lights on.”

Diana sat silent for a few minutes but got herself and Camellia out the car after noticing Tomas’ tow truck coming down the street. “Well, there’s our ride, Camellia. Again. It’s been super nice talking with you, uncle Will!” Diana said, before walking off to talk to Tomas about what had happened.

Major Wilson got in his squad car and left over the skyway. Tomas was laughing uncontrollably when Diana told him about how she got into the situation she was in. “Well, I hope lunch isn’t cold by now!” Tomas said, causing both Diana and Camellia to groan as they got into Tomas’ tow truck and drove off with the van affixed to the rear of the truck.

“Central patrol to Lieutenant Wilson, I’m coming up to check the perimeter.” Wilson said into his radio as he drove down the freeway. Wilson’s path across the protest perimeter took him past the grey ship in the harbor and forced him to drive around a few large obstacles on his way to meet his subordinate.

When his squad car drove by the wreck, the lights in one of the rooms switched on. Shortly thereafter, a proximity alarm began blaring across the entire ship, repeating the same warning:

“ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL. ORBITAL ACTION DETECTED. ORIGIN UNDEFINED. ALL PERSONNEL MOVE BELOW DECKS IMMEDIATEY.”

8: Hope

Hope

7: Hope

Diana brushed her dress off when she got out of Toma’s tow truck. “Thanks. What were the other maidens saying about me?” she asked.

“Not much. I’m sure everyone knows about the situation on the docks, so no harm done.” Tomas said, shutting the passenger door of his tow truck and driving off with the damaged van.

The kids were in the midst of lunch, and Diana could tell what it was: seasoned shrimp and rice with fish tacos and lemonade. A smile crossed her face; her childhood had given her a love of seafood and she didn’t often get to exercise her flair with it in the kitchen. “Man, the cooks are really livening things up in there.” Diana told Stephanie.

“Yeah, I think they don’t really get to cut loose to often thanks to the rations and stuff, so it’s nice to give the kids meals like this every once in a while.” Stephanie said. “Speaking of which, what’ve you got planned for lunch?”

Diana had spent the last ninety minutes trying to make sure she and Camellia made it back to Stepfordson Manor in one piece. She hadn’t given any thought to lunch or how lunch worked around the estate. “We…um, we don’t get an allowance or that or anything?” she asked Stephanie.

Stephanie shook her head, almost laughing. “What? No. I mean, you’ve got the two hours after the kids get home as a time limit, but as long as you can whip it up and eat it in that time frame, you can just walk into the kitchen and make whatever the heck you want!”

Diana looked at her watch and saw she had less than thirty minutes remaining of that span, and sighed. “Just my luck I find out now. Eh, I’ll just order some Quad B’s for later.”

“Aww, I don’t get any?” Stephanie asked, giving Diana her best pout.

This time, Diana was the one to laugh. “Hell no; would you share your Quad B with me?”

Stephanie looked up for three seconds and giggled. “You know what? No, I wouldn’t. You win this round, miss Robertson.” Stephanie took a bow and walked away.

Diana took out her phone and dialed Burger Brisket Brothers Bar. “Hello? Yes, I’d like two Big Brisket Burgers, a Mighty Milkshake, vanilla flavored and an order of fri—” Diana had almost completed her order when she doubled over, dropping the phone. She then stumbled into a wall—or would have had Benazir not caught her. blood was running down her leg and her fingers were twitching.

Benazir hailed a passing maiden. “Erika, call Esmeralda now and tell her I’m bringing Diana up.” Benazir said, all the while Diana sat on the floor with worried maidens surrounding her.

“Wh-what in the hell is going on?” she asked, wincing whenever she tried to move to her left. Benazir tore a piece from her dress and used it as a torniquet on Diana’s thigh, which she just realized had a small hole in it when Benazir lifted Diana’s skirt to apply the impromptu wrap. It was only now Diana realized she must have been shot at some point during the protests.

Benazir lifted Diana into her arms and began carting her off to the infirmary on the third floor. For expedience, she used the lift at the west end of the central hallway. When she got to the infirmary, the door was already open, and a maiden was waiting. She was dressed all in white with the exception of a pair of red stockings and a red sash around her waist.

“Two weeks? Now that has to be some sort of record.” Esmeralda said. Benazir rolled her eyes.

“Not the time. She’s been shot in her right thigh.” Benazir said.

“I can see that.” Esmeralda rebutted, lifting Diana out of Benazir’s arms, and shutting the sliding steel doors behind her.

Diana looked around the infirmary as Esmeralda prepared herself to work on the bullet wound. The facility itself had ceramic tiling where most of the Stepfordson estate had deep oak flooring. It also had narrow windows whose opening mechanism, if it existed, could not be seen from her vantage point. It held sixteen beds, four of which she recognized as inpatient gurneys. Bright, clean medical machines abound, few of which Diana could name and all of which were clearly labeled. They all also had smiling faces drawn onto them with the exception of the four inpatient beds, which had long red ribbons tied across their span, two on each bed.

“How did I not…” she whispered to herself, only to be cut off by Esmeralda.

“Don’t beat yourself up, no one notices much the first time they take a hit. The adrenaline and anxiety do the job of masking a lot of that pain.” Esmeralda said.

“But something like this? I still don’t understand how I got all the way home not noticing.” Diana said.

Esmeralda rolled her eye and began sanitizing the wound. “I literally just told you why. What, your ears don’t work or something? Now hold on to the rails, this is gonna hurt…a lot.” She began to sanitize, which Diana did not pay much attention to, and then out came her x-ray to determine where the bullet was.

“Looks like you got lucky; this thing missed your femoral artery by millimeters.” Esmeralda noted, putting her machine away and getting out her surgical tools.

Diana laid back on the pillow as Esmeralda worked. “Those protests did end up with a lot of lead flying around. I’m surprised I didn’t take a more noticeable hit now that I think about it.”

Esmeralda nodded and unwrapped her tools, setting them on a stainless-steel table. “Hey, honey.” She held Diana’s head up and tied around her had a rope consisting of two braided leather lengths wrapped around one another. She then set the rope to rest partially between Diana’s upper and lower jaw.

Diana was nothing but confused now. In muffled words, she tried to ask a question. “Ma’am, what in the name of everything is th—OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!” Diana screamed out, biting down on the leather as Esmeralda began to cut into the wound in order to get to and remove the bullet. It did not help that the machine cauterized and scraped off bad tissue as it went along, increasing Diana’s pain by an order of magnitude.

Esmeralda just kept working and Diana just kept screaming. She had no idea when this was going to end. Esmeralda patted Diana’s shoulder to get her attention. “Honey, please stop screaming your goddamn lungs out, ‘kay? I get it hurts, but it’s just a bullet wound.”

Through muffled breaths, Diana appeared to shout out “Oh, fuck you!” in response, to which Esmeralda nodded and kept working on the wound. This wasn’t the first gunshot wound Esmeralda had dealt with and it likely wouldn’t be the last, given how even ruling houses seemed to be getting swept up in ration protests. While Esmeralda worked, Diana yelled and cried to her heart’s content, prompting Esmeralda to throw on a pair of headphones and start playing music.

“Seriously?” Diana said, her breaths pained.

Esmeralda looked up to Diana, then back to her work. “What? I told you to pipe down and you didn’t. Can’t do a whole lot of concentrating with you trying your best to rupture my eardrums.”

Diana groaned in annoyance for a whopping six seconds before the pain overtook her again.

Esmeralda continued her work, sighing when she heard Diana moan again. “The more you concentrate on this, the more it’s going to hurt.”

Diana’s eyes held the look of a woman ready to tell Esmeralda to fuck off, but her body lacked the energy. She knew Esmeralda was right. With her mind swinging between wondering how she’d not noticed being shot and the pain she was in right now, she saw best to simply try to calm down and let Esmeralda work.

To distract herself, Diana turned on one of the televisions nearby. When she switched it on, she saw convoys of trucks filling up the Gateway to Heaven. There were motorcycles on either side of the four lanes of traffic being occupied by the trucks, flying a flag featuring a simple black field and red stylized heart, pierced with a sword.

“Figures they’d show up now.” Esmeralda said to herself. Pirates of all kinds roamed the outskirts of the city and its greater region. Their main targets were cargo vessels, but they patrolled the inner lands looking for truck convoys and unguarded trains just as often. This time, apparently, they had hit paydirt on one of the supply convoys heading into Heaven and were coming to the executive office to negotiate a ransom. These were common events, with the executive office most often paying the enormous markup in exchange for immediate release of the goods, much to the detriment of the city’s coffers.

Diana looked on silently. She was unsurprised at the turn of events, as were most who grew up in the regions just outside the city. She was also familiar with piracy. Her parents had ben subject to it when they went out on the open waters, though she only remembered them once paying a ransom as pirates tended to leave smaller vessels alone.

After Esmeralda had gotten the bullet out and began stitching where she could, Diana saw fit to untie the leather gag in her mouth. “I see the Maternity is at it again.” Diana said, wincing between Esmeralda’s applications of sutures and sanitizing liquids.

Esmeralda looked up to the television and then back to the wound she was working on. “You don’t see them too much anymore. Nice to see they’ve still got it.”

Diana took a deep breath before she spoke. “Looks like it’s all good catch, too. I guess we know what that ‘winter storm’ was all about now.” They both huffed, at the television and at the executive office’s propensity for either lying or jumping the gun to a hilarious degree.

On the television, Military Police were inspecting some of the trucks. Pirate groups had bait-and-switched the executive office before, most often giving them trailers full of expired perishables and rotted clothing only revealed to be such after the pirates had long made off with their money. The inspections took about twenty minutes for each truck, with any trailers that failed being ordered to break off and exit the freeway for further scrutiny. This time, however, no trucks seemed to be failing the inspection. The more ‘prestigious’ pirate groups knew not to bring faulty goods to a place that had, if it so focused its resources, more than enough power to track down and destroy the defrauders. The Maternity was one of those groups; not once had it had any trailers tossed or any captains arrested. For all the problems they caused Heaven, the Maternity upheld its own high standard of conduct, which many other groups tried to emulate with mixed success.

Esmeralda finished patching Diana up, leaving some of the wound open. “Now remember to wash that spot regularly and keep it dry, unless you want to see me again soon.” Her humor earned no laughter from Diana.

“How long am I going to be out of commission with this?” Diana asked.

“Oh, you’re not going out of commission, honey.” Esmeralda reassured her. “That said, you’re gonna be doing some pretty menial stuff for a week or two.” She then rolled her chair over to a red oak cabinet, itself locked behind a plexiglass wall, which was further locked electronically. She typed in a forty-digit code which granted her access to the inner wall, then used her proximity card to access the cabinet. She looked around for six seconds, afterwards tossing Diana two bottles: one with large brown pills and the other small white pills. “Take the white ones every eight hours, and the brown ones every six. Make sure you finish the white ones; those are antibiotics.”

Diana nodded and tried to climb out of the bed when she almost tripped over herself.

Esmeralda just laughed, pulling a steel crutch from the lower cabinet and propping it up under Diana’s left armpit. “Here you go, sweetie. Just in case you forgot, you’re not going to be doing much with that leg.”

Diana stumbled a bit after taking her first crutched steps, but soon got a hold of herself and was walking toward the infirmary door. When it opened, she was greeted by Mary-Ann.

“Well, you’ve gotten the Fortnight Special, I see.” Mary-Ann told Diana.

“Which, for some reason, I spent an hour not realizing.” Diana admitted, hobbling along with her Head Maiden. “What do I do now, Head Maiden?”

“You’re not ‘doing’ anything but heading back to your new room.” Mary-Ann said, Diana following close behind. “It’s good that you got your Fortnight Special out of the way now; you’ve still got the benefit of the doubt.”

Diana took what Mary-Ann said on face value and kept following her to the basement. When they got down there, they took a left instead of a right, and Mary-Ann pointed to a room at the end of the hall, at the point where it met two other corridors. “That’s your permanent room.” Mary-Ann said. “You’ll find Erika has already brought up and organized your belongings.” Mary-Ann bowed, then left Diana to see her own way through her new room.

Diana had seen maidens’ rooms before, but the beauty still shocked her. her room was easily the size of most apartments in Heaven. It had a king-sized bed, two large mahogany dressers, red carpeting, a kitchenette and a full bathroom. The bed was perfectly made in blankets and sheets of orange—Diana’s favorite color. The curtains bore the same hue.

Diana shook herself out of her state of awe and sat in her bed, allowing herself to fall back onto the plush, cool mattress. She then removed her necklace from around her neck, gently placing it on the nightstand next to the bed. The necklace was silver, with twenty-two inlaid diamonds and a locket hanging from the center, fashioned from red iron and into a hexagon.

Diana opened up the locket and chuckled. “Not getting off to a great start, am I sis?” she spoke to the picture inside the locket.

She held the locket for what felt like hours before she heard four hard knocks on her door. “Yes?” she called to whoever might be on the other side.

“Can I come in?” Benazir responded.

“Sure. Not like I’ll be going anywhere else today.” Diana said, putting her locket back on the nightstand as Benazir entered.

When Benazir came in, she had a tray of food in her hands: two Big Brisket Burgers, a vanilla Mighty Milkshake with cherries blended in, and an order of Serious Stack Fries, complete with gravy and extra mozzarella curds.

Benazir set the tray on the nightstand, next to Diana’s necklace. “Just in case you forgot you were hungry.”

“I almost did, with all the nonsense I’ve been through today.” Diana replied.

Benazir smiled. “It’s not nonsense. It’s hope.”

9: The Light Is Your Enemy, Part 2

The Light Is Your Enemy, Part 2

8: The Light Is Your Enemy, Part 2

“Excuse my interruption, Chief Executive Officer Chandler. The Maternity’s delegation is here to see you.” The maiden spoke quietly and calmly, keeping herself bowed at the waist the entire time she spoke.

John Richard Chandler III kept looking out his window, from which no part of Heaven was out of his sight. “Thank you, Gertrude. Prepare the escorts and signal the delegation to lift number thirteen.”

“Yes, Chief Executive Officer.” Gertrude said, turning around and making her way toward the lift. Any other maiden wouldn’t have been sent to handle greeting the pirates, but Gertrude was like no other maiden. She was dressed as any other businesswoman in the building, with a dark grey blazer, a white blouse with a red necktie, a dark grey pencil skirt and black loafers. The look was completed with a fabric that denoted her position in the house: a red belt around the waist.

When Gertrude opened the lift, there were five maidens waiting on her. during the trip down the tower, she delegated their tasks. “Candace, inform the security corps to increase their patrols in the lower levels. Horace, coordinate with the military police to ensure those inspections are moving forward as planned. Minerva, call all the secretaries and inform them they are to switch over to inventory control calls only. Shandra, make sure the executive cabinet is listening on every line during the Chief Executive Officer’s conversations.”

As the maidens reached their assigned floors, they dutifully filed out of the lift. Soon, the only two people in the lift were Gertrude and Akiko.

“Head Maiden, where am I to go?” Akiko asked.

“You are my shadow.” Gertrude responded, motioning for Akiko to follow her out of the lift onto the atrium floor.

The floor was packed with reporters, spectators, Military Police and, at the road entrance, pirates. As Gertrude had expected, they had cut off one of the supply convoys heading into Heaven and kept it over the winter for ransom. It showed in the faces of the pirates she walked past on her way to meet the delegation. Many had gaunt forms with sunken eyes and scraggly hair, the norm for raiders either tasked with guarding the wares with little for themselves over winter or those who’d violated the codes of conduct, earning themselves one of the worse billets in the force. These people proved the most violent and difficult to deal with, hence the Military Police with rifles drawn in their direction at all times.

“They seem hungrier than usual, Head Maiden.” Akiko quipped as she walked close behind.

Gertrude looked to some pirates, then straight forward again. “Of course. Pirates and raiders have to play the long game with such a large haul. The reward for any lack of discipline with their booty is pleasure now and poverty later.”

“It sickens me how they steal, demand and steal more.” Akiko said. “I would find it overjoying to see them burn for what they have done today, or at least thrown out with none of our money for them to lay upon.”

“Yes, we could…and the award for our abstemiousness would be starvation.” Gertrude responded. “Don’t worry about punishing the pirates. That is Chief Executive Officer Chandler’s job.”

When Gertrude was done speaking, she was standing in front of an all-black carriage, from the horses to the wheels to what Mother Superior was wearing when the passenger doors were opened for her. The pirates stopped whatever harassment they were up to and lined up between her and the lift. The Military Police lined up in front of the pirates, weapons at the ready. Eight seconds later, the lift opened.

“Gertie! It’s been so long, sweetheart! My, my, you’ve grown into your muscles so well…” she said, touching her right arm and kneading her bicep for ten seconds.

Gertrude did nothing but turn around and point to the lift. “If you please. We have no time for witless banter.” She then began walking back to the lift along with Akiko, prompting four pirates to follow before they found themselves on the business end of Military Police shotguns. The trio entered the lift, and Gertrude pressed the button for Heaven’s Door, the top floor of the building.

Ninety seconds into the journey, Mother Superior broke the silence. “I see you’ve become Head Maiden.” Mother Superior said, noting the red belt Gertrude wore. “Does it also entitle you to your new pet?”

Gertrude ignored her words. Not only did she see no reason to answer her but doing so would have acknowledged her verbal jab at Akiko. She was known for her sharp tongue, and Gertrude had come to expect such talk whenever they met.

Akiko, however, was not content to remain silent. “Careful. You might slip and impale yourself on those words.”

Mother Superior’s brows raised. She was genuinely impressed at the swift and harsh retort. “Nice one. That had bite and meaning dripping from it—almost enough to scare me, if I were a few years younger.”

“I wasn’t brought into House Chandler to scare people.” Akiko responded.

“I would hope not. It would be yet another way in John managed to disappoint.” Mother Superior said, just before the doors opened up to his floor. She stepped out of the lift, but Gertrude and Akiko remained, the latter kicking at the train of Mother Superior’s gown to be rid of her faster. The lift closed, and Mother Superior was alone with the leader of one of the last remnants of humanity.

Chandler’s office held none of the trappings one would expect of the leader of Heaven. There were no ornate chandeliers, just florescent office lights. There were no massive, decorated desks or wall units, just some filing cabinets and four monitors positioned throughout the office. His own desk was steel and wood, with his chair being little different from the ones his supervisors and directors used every day. In that chair sat John Richard Chandler III.

Mother Superior smiled. “All this time and you still haven’t learned how to properly decorate a room.”

“All this time and you still have not seen a doctor who can help with the nasty case of foot-in-mouth syndrome you seem to develop around Gertrude.” Chandler responded, turning his chair around and focusing on her instead of the scene eighty floors below him. “My inspectors are almost done. So far, we are ready to release up to four hundred and forty million in bullion or direct deposits.”

Mother Superior picked at her nails. “There’s six months of food on those trucks, along with a year of fuel at least. That’s not worth at least six hundred million?”

“We don’t get six hundred million in total wares on a normal shipment, and I’m supposed to give you that plus a markup for eighty percent of what we would have had you not interfered?” Chandler replied, placing his elbows on the table as he spoke.

Mother Superior saw things a bit differently. “Are your appraisers doing their homework? Nearly everything we seized has been accounted for and presented to them.”

“Yes…everything remaining of what you seized.” Chandler said, before receiving an update from the inspectors.

“We’ve got almost everything down here looked over. The last fuel truck is being inspected for octane content now.” The voice on the other end of the radio replied.

The end of the inspections were the tensest time of the exchange. With no more cargo to leverage for money, it became more difficult for the delegate to bargain in their favor. It was made worse by the fact that pirates rarely brought their haul to Heaven without having previously cherry-picked it. This was not an issue before the Chandler family took power, but with them at the helm inspections became tighter and longer, with appraisals using preseason manifests to determine the value of the goods brought in—and whether it was close to all that was on the original orders.

Mother Superior knew all this and had adjusted her negotiation tactics accordingly. “I thought they’d never get done. As assured, all the fuel we took is there.”

“I see. Then can we say five hundred million?” Chandler asked.

“You can say five hundred fifty million.” Mother Superior replied.

Chandler was about to reply when he received a transmission on his radio from the Military Police stationed downstairs.

“Sir, we’ve got a few biters down here. Authorizations?” the voice in the radio asked.

“Use of live ammunition and physical force is authorized.” Chandler said, resulting in a glare from Mother Superior. The Military Police were his trump card in previous negotiations, and they proved to be his trump card now. Tired, hungry pirates would attack the Military Police in delirium and, in doing so, reveal just how long they’d been forced to guard a slowly dwindling store of materials. Chandler looked at one of the monitors as the situation in the atrium unfolded, six pirates darting toward the Military Police buffer between crowds, one managing to take a policeman to the ground and the other five being shot and killed long before they could touch anyone.

Mother Superior may have outsmarted the patrols outside the city, but within the city the Military Police commanded resources enabling the executive office to act as both God and state. The simple matter was, no matter what she demanded or commanded, the ruling house of Heaven had more. And in this case, it was people with guns.

“How about five hundred twelve million?” Chandler asked.

“That and in turn we keep one of the fuel convoys.” Mother Superior replied.

“I see no problem with that. Your funds will be wired to you in six days. You and your men have four hours to leave this city.” Chandler said, holding out his hand to shake. When he did, the lift behind Mother Superior opened, Gertrude and Akiko still inside.

Mother Superior saw an opportunity and took it. She got up, slid herself across the table and pulled the Chief Executive Officer of Heaven into a kiss for everyone looking up into their window to see, refusing to abate her lips for twenty seconds.

As she was doing that, Akiko was walking toward Mother Superior, loading a shotgun and leveling it right for her head.

“Akiko, no!” Chandler said, causing the maiden to stop with her finger millimeters away from pulling the trigger on her weapon. “Take Mother Superior back downstairs. We have finished our negotiations.” He wiped his mouth off and leaned back in his chair, watching the atrium abuzz witnessing what just happened.

Mother Superior stood for one minute, swishing her tongue around before giving the leader of Heaven a grin. “Hmph. You know I like the cinnamon mouthwash.” She huffed facetiously before turning to leave. As she walked away, she gave Chandler a wink of her right eye. “See you next year, darling.” She pressed the atrium button and waved as the lift door shut.

When the lift closed, Akiko still had her shotgun loaded and ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Gertrude was silent for the first minute of the trip downstairs.

“Your new pet is quite a spitfire.” Mother Superior said.

“Matsumoto.” Akiko said to Mother Superior. “My name is Akiko Matsumoto.”

Akiko seemed to be struggling not to wrap her finger around the trigger of her weapon, at least until Gertrude placed her hand on it. “Unload your weapon, Akiko. Now.” Gertrude turned around and looked straight at Akiko to ensure she did as she was told.

Mother Superior couldn’t help a laugh. “Fierce, fast and obedient—just the traits I like in my men.”

Gertrude sighed in exasperation. “Please stop antagonizing her.” she asked.

As the lift approached the atrium floor, Mother Superior took Gertrude by her chin and looked her straight in the eyes. “The day you make me stop is the day I stop.”

Mother Superior was the first out of the lift, and she ran back to her carriage. She climbed atop it, in the process snatching a bullhorn from a Military Policeman. All at once, the atrium fell silent.

“Five hundred twelve, and twenty trailers of liquid gold!!!” she shouted, inciting uproarious applause from the pirates she’d brought with her, along with some beeping of vehicle horns. “Now let’s take our haul and get the hell out of here!” she shouted, jumping back into her carriage as it turned back in the direction from whence it came. As she filed out, her raucous compatriots followed her. None risked spoiling the moment by engaging the Military Police, fun as it might have been, and within about half an hour all the pirates were out of the atrium and starting up the fuel trucks they’d been allotted to take back outside the city with them.

On the lift back up, Gertrude stood silent until Akiko spoke.

“Why do you keep letting her do that?” Akiko asked. “I do not enjoy seeing my head maiden so cowed.”

Gertrude kept looking forward as she replied. “It isn’t about that, Akiko. To lead such dangerous and morally bankrupt men, you have to develop a disarming personality. Part of that is the psychological screen she always does, poking and prodding at people until she has enough information.”

“Enough information on what?” Akiko asked.

“Enough information on who to press and who to pass over.” Gertrude said. “It’s a game of control. And that game is all about two things: winding up people to see how they tick, and then laying out the right bait for them—bait you almost bit on tonight.”

Akiko lowered her head when she heard Gertrude say that. “I am so sorry, my Head Maiden, but I…I cannot stand the sound of her voice. The sheer condescension makes me want to put a bullet in her head.”

“Exactly—and she would’ve been happy to let you make her a martyr.” Gertrude replied.

Akiko kept her head down as Gertrude spoke. “I can only apologize and work on my discipline in her presence from now on, my Head Maiden.”

Gertrude smiled and nodded as the lift opened. “No apology needed; it’s not your fault. She’s right, you are a spitfire—and with those types of people, she knows exactly which buttons to push. In time, you’ll learn how to put those buttons under lock-and-key.”

The two exited the lift and bowed before their headmaster.

“Desperation must be setting in out there.” Chandler said, looking out his window.

“Indeed.” Gertrude said. “They all seemed more worried about the fuel than the money—which I don’t understand; why can’t they buy more fuel with their haul?”

Chandler sat back down in his chair before responding. “Simple—there may not be any more fuel to buy.”

Gertrude nodded and sat in a chair with Akiko standing by her side, the three of them sitting in silence before a buzzer began repeating throughout the room.

The Chief Executive Officer of Heaven flipped open a communications channel to the Military Police, located just to his left. “Brigadier General Ratzinger, what’s going on out there?” As he spoke, the lights in the room began to flicker and dim, as did those all around the city. The cameras began producing worse images, and in some cases flickering out.

“Looks like the Daylight is back, sir.” Ratzinger responded. Soon thereafter, air raid sirens began to blare throughout the city.

“Gertrude, executive protocol three.” Chandler said, prompting Gertrude and Akiko to bow before moving on to enact the order he’d just given.

By now, the pirates were about ten miles outside the city limits. Most were still celebrating their haul. Mother Superior, however, had noticed the sky become slightly brighter over the past hour, bathing the land in a soft, red glow. When her driver looked up, he spotted about a dozen red points of light across the sky, from directly above all the way to the horizon. Almost as soon as he looked up, a buzzer in the carriage started going off—and all the celebration died out.

Mother Superior looked out her carriage and up to the sky, particularly to the brightening red lights. She muttered to herself as she looked up. “Oh, shit.”

The bright red buzzer blared and flashed, repeating a warning as it did so.

“Operation Daylight is active in your area. Seek underground shelter immediately.”

10: There Is No Sky

There Is No Sky

9: There Is No Sky

Mother Superior had the carriage stopped. “Driver, do we have a fix on any tunnels or caves around here?”

“Just a second…” the driver said, poring over the digital charts he’d been using to navigate. “From the looks of things, there’s a bunch of tunnels around here, but their entry points are almost all back in Heaven.” He showed her the map, which featured tunnels moving outward from the city center. He then zoomed in to point out a series of tracks branching out from a dark spot in the map.

“Okay, we’ll make for this tunnel. Split the convoy up and tell them to head off north, west and south and then make their way back to the tunnel.” Mother Superior ordered. She abhorred having to disperse her cargo, but she had no choice in this situation. It was either disperse and risk losing it bit-by-bit or keep it together and risk losing all of it at once. Mother Superior looked around and noticed the stones in the dirt beginning to sparkle, the air warming against her face—a sign that the sky was about to start falling. “Patch that order through now!” she yelled to the driver, who nodded and made for his computer.

The driver picked up his phone, dialed out to the others and repeated exactly what Mother Superior said. When he hung up the phone, the sky filled with red light for four seconds, forcing him to cover his eyes. When he was able to open them again, he saw a mushroom cloud behind the distant mountains, felt the ground rumble beneath him and then saw the blast wave cresting the mountains and heading for his position.

“Get under!!!” he screamed, hopping back into the vehicle, and shutting the door just in time for the blast wave to slam into the convoy.

Mother Superior’s carriage was blown off the road and dragged for one half-mile, screeching on its side the whole time. When the carriage came to a halt after hitting a boulder, she got up to survey the damages. Thankfully, the tankers had dispersed as ordered, causing her to only lose one of them, which exploded when it was knocked over along with the carriage. There was no sense looking for the men who were in the cab—it was gone and so were they.

By now, Operation Daylight had struck three more times, all increasingly distant from the city. The rumble of the strikes was still felt, and the location of each strike was made obvious by the bright red beam that appeared until the projectile used hit the ground, whatever that may have been.

Mother Superior knocked on the driver’s door of her overturned carriage. “If you’re still alive in there, tell me where the other trailers are.”

She waited about sixty seconds for the driver to open the door, his head bleeding and his right arm apparently broken. “Uh…” he said, still regaining himself. “Our coms are out, Mother Superior, but last I checked fifteen trailers were close to entering the tunnels you designated.”

When he finished speaking, another blast wave struck them—this one, however, bore little of the strength of the first, having struck over 100 miles to the north.

Mother Superior looked out over the mountains at flashes of red light, some brighter than others and the closer ones producing stronger shocks. One beam struck over the ocean, its force almost sending Mother Superior off her feet again and causing ocean water to rain over the flatlands for a few minutes. “Three-quarters of a haul is better than none.” she said to herself as undid her dress and let it slide off her body. “But this outfit? Now this, I’m going to miss.” She pulled the driver up and the two began walking toward the tunnels.

“The bastard really does know how to play his hand, eh?” he asked Mother Superior, who shook her head.

“He’s up there reaping the benefits of a happy accident.” Mother Superior replied. “If he cared about making the daylight his friend, it wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Well, it seems all fifteen trucks have made it in; we can squeeze the stragglers into the northmost tunnel.” The driver prodded at his tablet when its screen went black for a few seconds. He tapped at it a few times, and when its screen became visible again, nothing showed up on the proximity alarm. He and Mother Superior continued their walk, both watching as the four fuel trucks remaining outside were making their way into the tunnels. One broke off formation and began heading for the pair, stopping about twelve feet away and opening its cab passenger door.

“Y’all need a ride?” its driver asked, before clearing the seat of things so the two could sit inside. His stop was serendipitous, for as soon as he’d finished making his offer, the truck’s own proximity alarm began to blare. The only problem was that nothing showed up on the chart, and none of the tracking programs were detecting the dreaded light over the sky anymore.

The systems used to detect Operation Daylight overhead were prone to false alarms because they relied on old telemetry networks to sort out the powerful weapons from anything else in the sky. As these systems got on in years, those qualified to maintain them became fewer and far between. The pirates of the region, without access to Heaven’s scientists, had to make do with the old, unfixable programs they pilfered off the internet.

Mother Superior and her driver hopped into the cab of the fuel truck and began for the tunnels. When they arrived, four dozen men were working to remove rocks and concrete slabs from one of the tunnels’ entrances. Mother Superior hopped out of the cab.

“Come on, ladies and gents. We got a big haul today and I’m not about to let the daylight take most of it away!” she shouted in the workers’ direction.

It seemed she shouted not a second too soon, because as she did, the massive, domed energy shields of Heaven began to undulate, sparkle, and glow red—a beam was about to strike from directly overhead.

The other workers stopped at once and looked up, a moment passing by before panic set in, and they began working frantically to get the rocks moved.

In Stepfordson Manor, the maidens hand long since taken the children out of their rooms and down to the basement—except for Camellia. Benazir ran up to her room, sometimes struggling to keep her footing as Operation Daylight destroyed the land outside. She flung open Camellia’s door.

“Camellia, we have to get down to the basement! The daylight is back!” she told Camellia.

Camellia shrugged. “I know. It’s a little more intense than usual, wouldn’t you agree?” she said, turning a page in the same book she’d shared with Benazir a few years ago. Almost immediately afterward, she found herself in Benazir’s arms and being carried down the hall.

“Not the time for this shit, Camellia.” Benazir said, continuing down the stairs and sometimes almost fumbling with Camellia as the strikes outside continued. When she arrived in the basement, she pushed Camellia into Diana’s room, where all the Stepfordson family and staff waited. Mary-Ann opened her laptop, waited for the roll call file to pull up and began calmly going down the names of the children first, in birth order, then the maidens in alphabetic order. All of them said their own names, in full, as they were called—except for one.

“Helga Sigmundsdottir?” Mary-Ann repeated before closing her laptop and squeezing the bridge of her nose. She looked through her taskmaster list to see where she’d assigned Helga for the day, and much to her dismay the result came up as “Property Zone 11”: the beachheads on the back forty of the Stepfordson property—a two-square-mile strip of rocky sands located just outside of Heaven’s shield system. “Oh, for the love of God. Benazir, get Helga off the beach.”

As soon as Mary-Ann finished talking, Benazir was on her way out of the room and back up the stairs to the first floor. She was mildly annoyed, but as adjutant maiden she often got sent out to pick up stragglers in lockdown situations, so any disdain she had was redundant.

She opened the main rear doors of the manor and ran toward her motorbike, quickly revving it and speeding off toward the beach. “I fucking hate driving this thing in a dress.” Benazir said to herself as she dodged tulips, skulls, and vines on her way to retrieve her compatriot. Unable to drive onto the rocks, she hopped off her motorbike and looked around the beach. “Helga?! Helga!!” she shouted, mostly to sound a bit louder than the projectile that just struck about fifty miles out in the ocean. She was about to move further up the beach after having explored its eastern half when a hand weakly gripped her right ankle—one barely attached to its user.

The impact wave crashed against the decrepit buildings in the sea, causing some of them to collapse and others to list further. The wind forced Benazir to stand still for a few seconds before she took Helga into her arms and began walking carefully over the shattered glass and twisted steel the blast wave swept onto the beach. When the wind died and the dust settled, Benazir was looking at a motorbike with its front seat torn off and without one of its wheels.

“Of course my bike gets destroyed.” Benazir said. All she could really do was roll her eyes and start walking toward the manor. When walking, the fastest route was direct through the middle of the Memory Garden, so Benazir set Helga down and removed a part of the fence around it for easier entry.

“Wait…we could be freed for this.” Helga said, coughing up some of her own blood as she did.

Benazir kept moving inward, picking Helga up after she was beyond the gate and putting the portion she’d lifted away back into its original spot. “Worry about freedom when we’re not getting pummeled by whatever’s up there.” She kept Helga close to her as she made her way up the Memory Road—which began to show a reddish tint and sparkle. Something was coming from directly overhead.

Helga gasped. “Benazir, do you see—”

“I know. Just our fucking luck…” Benazir said as she looked up and then to the manor.

Benazir knew there was no way they were going to make it back to the manor before that projectile struck. The situation now boiled down to two options: stay where they were and hope the impact wave didn’t vaporize or blow them away or run into a shed and hope the shaking did not cause the shed to collapse and crush them. Neither carried a reasonable chance of survival, so Benazir picked the lesser of the two options and began running back toward the makeshift entrance she made. If she was lucky, she could make it through the vineyard and get into the shed by the time the projectile hit. If she wasn’t, at least she wouldn’t live to regret her choice.

In the outskirts of Heaven’s territory, the pirates had almost half the rocks cleared. The wind began to pick up and the ambient temperature went up as well. Another deployment by Operation Daylight was seconds away.

Mother Superior jumped out of the cab and began racing toward the tunnels, along with a few other pirates. “Get inside! The sky’s about to fall right on our freaking heads!” she shouted.

“What about the other tankers, ma’am?” one pirate asked, only to be slapped across his face by his commander.

“Get the Hell inside the tunnels!!!” she exclaimed, her loudness convincing enough for those who hadn’t stopped working to do so and follow her inside as the alarms blared. She regretted leaving some trucks behind, but with the sky raining fire in all directions, it was her or the fuel—and the fuel could be replaced.

Mother Superior’s driver stood aside so she could get through, and then began climbing the rocks to get to safety with his compatriots.

Then the entire region was doused in red light for six seconds. Nothing could be seen. Nothing could be heard. Little more could be felt. The energy shields of the city wobbled and undulated under the force of the blow, and the ground shook enough to dislodge all the obstructing rocks in the front of the tunnel the pirates had hidden in. Mere meters away from safety, the driver screamed as his body was torn apart by the oncoming blast wave. For thirty more seconds, the ground shook so violently that pirates began holding each other in the belief that the tunnel walls would not stand, bracing themselves for imminent death. Beyond the tunnel’s entrance was a maelstrom of dust, wind and debris that seemed like it would never end.

On the Stepfordson property, Benazir closed her eyes and covered Helga’s as she made her way into the shed just outside the rear gates—and, thankfully, within the safety of Heaven’s shield network. The shaking of the ground easily caused the shed to fall apart, forcing Benazir and Helga to hunker down in the foundation pit. In the manor, children screamed in the arms of maidens as lights broke, windows blew out, ceiling tiles collapsed, and doors swung open. For miles upon miles, nothing could be seen but wind-whipped dust. Out in the ocean, buildings were ground down to the sea level and a wave was generated that knocked over most of what wasn’t destroyed by the wind. All of the Stepfordson property outside the shield was blasted clean, old cars and sheds flung dozens of kilometers away.

After about two minutes the dust settled, and the red glow cast among the land became clearer. Mary-Ann stood up with Kimberly crying softly into her chest. Tomas and Charles left the room to perform the post-impact damage assessment, while Benazir arrived with Helga in tow. Esmeralda took Helga away to the infirmary, and the other members of the house stood still.

“No one else moves until the damage assessment is done.” Mary-Ann warned.

Master Stepfordson began toward the door, so Mary-Ann repeated herself. “No one moves until the damage assessment is done.”

Master Stepfordson nodded and smiled, walking back to where he was.

In the tunnels, Mother Superior picked herself up, as did the few dozen pirates remaining. She’d lost all but four of her fuel trucks, and 400 men, but she still managed a smile as she dusted her shoulders off. This was a perfect excuse to start another recruitment campaign.

She then left the tunnels with the others to see if, on a wing and prayer, anything they made off with had survived the blast. Following their post-impact protocol, the pirates looked up to see if anything might still be on its way. To their relief, the red lights had disappeared from the sky and the alarms turned themselves off.

With the rocks out of the way, moving the remaining fuel trucks out was much easier than having moved them in, and with fewer people left it was easier for Mother Superior to jump onto a passing truck. They turned on the radio and tracker to listen for any automated updates on the light’s location.

“Through our history, we have witnessed the degrading of God. We lit our first bonfires, and God had no more flame to roast our souls. We took to the seas in our first rafts, and God had no more water to drown us. We cast our image upon the walls, and God had no more beauty. We split the atom, and God had no more clay.

We drank of the Sun, and God had no more power.”

The automated message ended as most other automated messages did: with its file information.

“File name…auto-Shetland-Island. Two

Sent from: Station, Naval Norfolk, Virginia, USA

Sent to: information-not-available

Date received by this station: Monday, March 15th, 2128”

11: Dirty Dishes And Red Boxes

Dirty Dishes And Red Boxes

10: Dirty Dishes and Red Boxes

Diana sat in her room with her leg elevated on three pillows. Her necklace was right next to her, and her phone was in her hands, providing some respite from the droll morning hours before Erika came to show her around the subbasement. Over the two weeks since the light came down, she’d been able to learn a lot about the inner workings of the manor thanks to the lowest-ranking maiden and had come to have a new appreciation for the ‘little’ processes that kept the Stepfordson Manor from falling apart at its seams.

What Diana hadn’t been able to do, however, was put anything she learned to practical use thanks to her leg injury. When she walked, she did so with a hobble—one which, while small, was still enough that she sometimes lost her balance when carrying more than a few pounds or walking any faster than a casual stroll. So she was glad when she heard a few light knocks on her door, knowing Erika was there to take her back to the subbasement.

“Morning, Diana! Come on, I want to show you the dumbwaiter system!” Erika called out from the other side of the door.

Diana slowly pulled herself out of bed and grabbed her crutch before opening the door, giving Erika a small hug. “Good morning, Erika!” Diana spoke through a yawn. She promptly caught herself and apologized to Erika. “Sorry, honey. I just…I haven’t been sleeping too well since my injury.”

“Oh, you haven’t gotten something for that from Esmeralda?” Erika asked.

Diana shook her head as she began following Erika down the hall. “She says anything effective would screw with my immune system, and that’s already being suppressed by my antibiotics.”

Erika frowned a little. “Well, I’m happy to share some of my Winter’s Joy with you if you ever want it!”

Diana stopped in her tracks. “Wait, you have that? But how? Don’t you need a special prescription for Winter’s Joy?” she said, trying to make sure she heard what she thought she was hearing.

Erika just kept walking. “Yup, you do! I think you do, at least.”

Diana thought on it for a few seconds but chose not to press the matter. In about 90 seconds, they were in the subbasement and Erika was taking the clothes out of the dryers. By now, Diana had learned to identify the clothing by the special marks Erika used, saving her a good deal of time on sorting them. When she was done sorting the clothes between what did and did not need tailoring, dry cleaning or some other kind of special attention, Diana set to work on loading the dishwashers. The general rule was that there should never be a moment where something was not running, and the workload of the cleaning specialists held them to that principle well.

Stephanie came to get the freshly cleaned clothes and waved before she left to Erika—who caught Diana just before she was about to do something that could get her freed. “Hold on, champ. Remember: clean stuff never, ever goes back in the dumbwaiter.”

Diana bowed. “I’m so sorry! I keep forgetting, with all this grogginess and pain.” She lifted her bow and found Erika holding out something to her: two small white, circular pills. She stood still and looked at Erika, shaking her head. “Erika…no. I told you I can’t take Winter’s Joy, remember?”

Erika let out a giggle, rolling her eyes as she did. “Yes, I know. This is to deal with the reason why you can’t.” Erika said. “If it makes you feel any better, there’s only a mild risk of a heart attack.”

Diana’s laugh hid well her belief that what Erika said was not reassuring—for a little bit. “And just where did you get these?” she asked.

“Esmeralda, of course.” Erika said, somewhat confused Diana didn’t conclude that. “If your leg is bothering you enough to get you to zoning out on duty, you can just go to the infirmary and, you know…ask for some more painkillers.”

Diana nodded, and accepted the painkillers, downing them with a glass of water. “With as busy as things have been around here since the light came back, I guess I have been letting a lot of supposed basics slip my mind. Speaking of things slipping my mind, you wanted to show me the dumbwaiter belts today, right?”

Erika immediately perked. “Oh, yeah! It’s really cool! Tomas just installed these a few weeks before you came on!” she said. “Before this system, I had to walk down to each shaft and collect stuff. Now it all comes to me!”

Diana looked at the sleek, black belts currently carrying dishes to the main cleanroom. “So the order is body wares, then kitchenware, right?”

“And then private requests. Those, you can do at your leisure.” Erika reminded as she stacked plates coming out of the belt closets. “Usually, I’ll get down here at between four or five in the morning to get a head start on things, but today I was up at three!”

The city’s shielding took the brunt of the light’s blows, but it still decimated areas just outside its protection such as the beaches, industrial slums and, most importantly, the ports. All of those areas could be repaired to full function in about two months, but for that period of time there were going to be supplies coming in from the south ports, which were not nearly as capable of processing freight. Thus, for that 60-day period, the entire region would be in a state of emergency, with school cancelled, rations decreased, and Military Police patrols greatly reduced. This didn’t mean much to the Stepfordsons. They brought Helga on six years ago as a homeschooler. Charles and Tomas were they handymen of the manor 10 years running. Any medical problems they had could be solved by a family doctor with more years of servitude to House Stepfordson than its leading couple had of marriage, and Mary-Ann had kept everything in line for 20 of the 30 years she’d been under the Stepfordson roof. House Stepfordson had almost everything it needed to weather the worst times in Heaven.

Erika had been playing her part as the custodial lead of the home for 22 years, and it showed in the speed with which she cleaned the dishes and loaded the washing machines. She patted Diana’s shoulder as she was loading fine china into one of the special processing machines and smiled.

“Wow, you already know how to use this thing?” Erika asked.

Diana nodded, continuing to load the sensitive plates and cups. “We had one of these back at home. Not the best model, but it got the job done.” She lifted one of the plates up and flicked off a spider, which climbed up the cabinet and into one of the dumbwaiters.

Diana went after it, but Erika shook her head. “Leave it be. It isn’t doing anything to anyone. Anyway, where’d you get the fine washer?”

Diana had to stop for a little bit to think about that. “If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say we bought a refurbished one from Sudbury’s Appliances. My mom said she took advantage of the chaos of a pirate raid, but only remember us doing that kind of scavenging twice, if that much.”

“My parents were career pirates. They sent me here as a prospect after their fun ended with a bunch of jail time.” Erika said. “I remember us bringing some pretty jewelry home when they raided a ship full of stuff bound for Thistleberry’s. That was the closest I ever came to shopping at that store before I landed here!” she said, a statement to which she and Diana roared with laughter.

“Speaking of which, did you do any raiding yourself?” Diana asked.

Erika huffed. “I wish. I went on some scouting with my dad, but by the time I was old enough to start stealing things I figured I was, you know, old enough to get an actual job.” She took some more clothes out of the dryers as she spoke.

Diana closed the fine washer before getting to work on the pots and pans. “Fair point. It seems like a promising path until the Military Police lob a shell your way.” Diana had to concentrate on the pots and pans since house rules dictated they be cleaned by hand, freedom being the punishment for send any such wares back into the kitchens dirty. In the meantime, Erika focused on labeling garments for tailoring and dry cleaning.

When they were done, nothing was coming out of the dumbwaiters, and nothing was coming down the kitchen or big laundry chutes.

It was time for a break. Erika took off her apron and headed back to the ground floor of the manor. Diana followed close behind, knowing there was going to be no appreciable work for about an hour. She went out the front doors and joined Erika, Stephanie, Carolyn, and Benazir in the gazebo.

Erika tapped on a pack of cigarettes just before opening it, lighting one up and taking a draw of it. “What do you think so far, Diana? Not bad for your first month?”

“I would suppose not, aside from being shot and having to deal with the light all in the span of a few days.” Diana quietly said. “And Camellia, of course. Every effort I make to make sense of her only makes me look nonsensical.”

Benazir spoke up after drinking some of her tea. “Granted, none of that was your fault. As for Camellia? She’s a deal in herself. If she were the only Stepfordson kid, I think our jobs would be more difficult than they already are.”

“Yeah. It’s why none of the stuff that would get you freed with another kid is a problem with Camellia.” Stephanie added. Once you get the rules of dealing with the kids down, the only thing left to learn is that none of that stuff applies to Camellia.” Stephanie spoke with a slightly droller tone in her voice—one Diana noticed.

“Is she that difficult to deal with?” Diana felt compelled to ask. She knew most of the maidens had more than a decade of service with House Stepfordson and she thought their casual tone toward dealing with Camellia Lee Stepfordson came from memories of an easier time, perhaps before Camellia was born.

“Not in any way that doesn’t already apply to other children with high Settings.” Carolyn told Diana. “I think the disconnect we tend to have with her comes from none of the other kids in the house being anywhere near Camellia in any regard.”

Erika took another draw of her cigarette before adding her bit to the discourse. “I think she’s a big fish in a big pond, so we’re skewing things where she’s concerned. No other House I know of has ten kids. Five or six, at the most.” She finished her cigarette and was about to toss the butt into the grass before she remembered she’d be the one cleaning it up in the morning.

Benazir kicked her feet up onto the table. “Makes enough sense; it’s probably why, when it comes to her, we get a long leash.”

Diana remembered another Stepfordson child when Benazir said that. “Speaking of kids and Settings, how in the heck did Kimberly’s not get her into Chandler?” she asked, having meant to field that question since she was brought on as a maiden.

Stephanie answered that question. “Oh, it’s not that she didn’t get in. She’s just way too young. Chandler is grade five and up.”

Diana was going to say something, but just as she opened her mouth the mail truck pulled up to the front gates. She was the designated mail taker, so she had to get up and greet the mailman. When she got to the front gates, the mailman gave her twelve envelopes and a red box.

The mailman held out a clipboard to Diana “Sign for postage, please.”

Diana put her signature on the bottom line and went back into the house to sort the mail. Most of it was for either Master Stepfordson or one of the maidens, to whom she gave their respective mail before heading into the manor to distribute the rest. Master Stepfordson’s mail was to be let in front of his master room door on the table to the right looking out of the room, so that was where Diana put it. when she finished, she had only the red box in her hands.

That box was addressed to Kimberly, so she made for the child’s room. When she got there, the door was closed—and locked. She knocked on it softly, presuming Kimberly was taking a nap. “Kimberly? Kimberly, I have a package for you!” Diana said softly, not wanting to wake Kimberly up.

“Oh! I almost forgot! Thanks, miss Diana!” Kimberly said from the other side of the door. “Just leave it on the floor. I’ll get it in a few minutes.”

Diana nodded and set the box down. She did so none too soon, as she then answered a call from Erika.

“Hey! When you’re done, meet me back in the main cleanroom.” Erika said.

“Got it. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Diana hung up and made her way back to the subbasement.

Shortly after Diana left, Kimberly opened her door and took the red box into her room, shutting the door immediately thereafter. “Finally. I ordered this thing ages ago!” she said, ripping open the box and taking out its contents: a few dozen yards of copper, eight resistors and two antennae. She ran over to her table and turned one of the oscilloscopes over, unscrewing its rear after unplugging it from an electrical outlet. Just as she was about to start repairing it, however, one of her radios received a signal. She dropped her project and began to listen to whatever came from the device.

“This is Command Station Shetland Islands. Is anyone there? Repeat, this is Command Station Shetland Islands. Is anyone there?”

Kimberly took up her speaker, excited to finally receive a live call. “Yes, this is Kimberly Stepfordson! How are you—” was all she was able to say before the transmission continued.

“If anyone on the main islands can hear us, seek shelter immediately. Repeat, if anyone can hear us, seek shelter immediately.”

Kimberly put the speaker down, sighing and turning it off. She went back to fixing one of her oscilloscopes, but kept listening to the recording as it bled into incoherent static.

“This is Command Station Shetland Islands. We are under attack.”

12: In Case You Forgot

In Case You Forgot

11: In Case You Forgot

Since the schools were temporarily shut down, the dinner rush at Stepfordson Manor wasn’t much of one, given how highly regimented things were. As with breakfast and lunch, the children went into their supply closet, waited patiently for their meals and ate at one table. A higher degree of autonomy for the children also took weight off the maidens’ backs. One place where this was not the case was the subbasement. Erika, Diana, Stephanie and Carolyn raced throughout the manor at all times of day. Erika kept the cleaning machines running. Stephanie and Carolyn distributed clothing and dishware to the rooms of the manor. The task of handing back private wares was up to Diana.

Diana first made her way up to Jasper’s room. She loved going up there because he kept his room by far the cleanest out of any of the children’s, with Camellia’s only being cleaner because she barely used it at all. “Jasper, I have your cookware ready!” she said, slowly opening the one door in the manor that was never locked. Jasper was not inside. “Oh. He must be bothering folks down in the kitchen.” She set down his pots and pans on a stainless-steel shelf and made for William’s room.

William’s only private item was his phone, so she just slid it under his door and moved on to Camellia’s room, only to remember Camellia almost never put her private objects into the cart for any sort of processing.

Onto Daniel and Patrick’s room it was. She liked coming to the twins’ room; the two were little balls of energy who hugged her whenever they saw her, and that’s what they did today. “Miss Diana!” they both shouted before basically bowling her over with hugs.

“One at-a-time, you amazing little things!” she told them, picking Daniel up first. “Okay, so the little ribbons and the sewing equipment are yours, Daniel, and the arm brace is Patrick’s.” she set Daniel down, then picked up Patrick to fit his brace back onto his arm. “I really hope your arm gets better so I can swing you around some more!” she said to Patrick.

“Me too, so I can go bug Benazir in the vineyards!” Patrick said to Diana. That made her chuckle a little, especially since she knew Patrick liked to hide in the vineyards and jump-scare Benazir sometimes. She hugged the two boys again and began heading back downstairs.

For lunch, the children were having battered cod and cheese sandwiches with tartar sauce and freshly fried potato chips, with a glass of iced tea. Knowing her break was coming up, she’d ordered two such lunches so she could enjoy them out in the gazebo during what was the only free time she got until after the children went to bed. When she went to get her lunch, however, there was an addition to one of the plates: ten big, juicy shrimp drenched in butter pepper sauce.

She looked around for a chef to make sure she wasn’t getting the wrong plate. “Hello? Ma’am, is this the plate I ordered?” she said, trying to get the attention of a passing cook…and getting Jasper’s instead.

“Yup!” he responded jovially. “And Benazir told me how much you love shrimp, so I whipped this up for you!”

Diana opened her mouth to speak, but the last time she had butter-and-pepper shrimp was almost too far back to remember. Refusing to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth, she smiled to Jasper and picked up her lunch. “Wow! Thanks, sweetie! I bet these’ll be delicious!” She wrapped up her lunch and headed down to the basement to finish up some dishwashing, so she’d be caught up when the lunch break was over. She then went back to her room, removed her necklace, and placed it back into her nightstand drawer before making her way out to the gazebo on the front lawn.

It was just as dreary a day as any in Heaven, with an overcast sky and light rain coming down. it did little to dampen Diana’s mood, and Benazir’s presence helped since she now had someone to talk to when she sat down.

“If you keep eating fish, you’ll eventually become one.” Benazir said.

Diana giggled and sat down, beginning to eat her sandwich. “I wish. Getting to swim around in all those reefs sounds awfully nice sometimes. Speaking of which, you want a sandwich?”

“No, thank you.” Benazir said while going to lean back in her seat.

Diana ate quietly, only looking up from her meal to watch Tomas drive by with the van. When she was finished, she curled up into her seat and watched the clouds go by. For twenty minutes she stared up to the sky, seeing naught by grey—not even a bird flew through her field of vision. During this time, she sipped on her tea and occasionally looked Benazir over. At two meters tall, Benazir easily towered over everyone else in the house, and a full 25 centimeters over Diana. She certainly had more muscle on her form than anyone else in the house did, a feature made more striking when she had her sleeves folded up—like she did now. When her sleeves were rolled up, they revealed a long scar down her left forearm. Diana wanted to speak of it the moment she met Benazir but did not want to possibly upset her to the point of violence, or the much worse prospect of freedom.

Now, however, she felt no reason not to. “Benazir. If you don’t mind, how did—”

Benazir placed her arm out, almost as if she wanted Diana to touch it. “Well, what are you waiting on? I promise I’m not going to bite you.”

Diana obliged, rising from her seat and touching…synthetic skin. Beneath that, she could feel the dense network of wires, tubes, gears and pistons. She looked at the shoulder to find a vent, which she did, glowing green at the edges. “Oh my God. What happened?” she said in a near-whisper.

Benazir slowly retracted her arm and sat back in her chair. “I honestly don’t know. The closest I can come to an explanation is that one moment I was flying kites with my mother one day. The next day I was in intensive care, and she was dead.”

“I’m…I’m so sorry.” Diana said.

“Don’t be.” Benazir replied. “In a world like this, trying to make any use of the sky is a bad idea. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were partially my fault I had to be so extensively repaired.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t.” Diana said in an attempt to reassure Benazir, one to which Benazir shook her head.

“Regardless, my Settings went up enough for me to land a job here, so I look at it as things having a habit of ultimately working themselves out. When I start falling back into those memories, I’ve got my work to help me out of them.”

Hearing that, Diana couldn’t help but smile. “That’s quite the optimistic way to look at things.”

“It’s how you have to look at things for while you’re processing pain.” Benazir said. “You can’t count the hours, minutes and seconds you’re down. You’ll go crazy.”

As the two spoke, the rain began coming down more steadily, eventually reaching enough intensity that Diana, who was standing up to leave, sat right back down. “Well, looks like I’ll be here until my break is over. Or when the mailman comes, I suppose.”

“Oh, good. When my package comes, you can give it right to me.” Benazir said. She then began to watch some children in the homes across the street race outside to play in the rain, a few beginning to hurl mudballs at each other. William, Wallace, Patrick, Daniel and Jasper all ran outside to join in the rain-soaked fun, with Jasper taking his shirt off beforehand. Benazir stood up and was going to say something, but ultimately didn’t. “The kid slaves away for himself in a hot kitchen all day; the least he can get is some natural refreshment.”

“He’ll be thinking otherwise when we’re curing his cold.” Diana said, standing up to go retrieve Jasper.

“No, he won’t. If he had half a mind for anything besides cooking, he wouldn’t be out here.” Benazir rebutted. “I say let the big guy have his fun. If he gets sick, we’ve got stuff for that because he gets sick all the time. This, though? He doesn’t get to do this a lot.”

Diana was about to keep going, but Benazir had a point. Perhaps Diana was sometimes too engrossed in her own duties to realize that, between the structure of school and the structure of home life, the Stepfordson brood got just as little free time as the maidens did. Diana sat back down and finished her iced tea, using the lemon to squeeze onto her fish sandwich and tossing the used slice in the trash nearby. “I never thought of things that way.” Diana said. “I guess I’d want some of the same little things if I were in their position.”

Benazir smiled to Diana, finishing her own tea as she did. “See, now you’re getting it. I’m a big proponent of letting kids be kids while it matters.”

Diana looked at the boys chasing one another, as well as one boy’s pathetic attempt to push Jasper over into a puddle. It was a well-known game to go out in the rain and try to push others into the puddles, with the winner being the last man standing. And it was a game Jasper had, since toddlerhood, always won. “Oh my. I used to love playing puddle king when I was a girl.”

“Me too.” Benazir replied. “I’d just pick up the nearest person and hurl them right in the ocean. To the best of my memory, I only lost once—and that was because my dad caught me while I was compromised trying to scoop someone else up.”

Diana winced when she heard that. “I think that shouldn’t’ve counted.”

“Oh, so you grew up on street rules puddle king, huh?” Benazir inquired.

There were, generally, three kinds of puddle king: street rules, pool rules and lake rules. While pool rules—which did not permit picking people up and instead relied on tricking an opponent into falling or being pushed into the pool—was what most children played in the summer and spring, lake rules—where this was permitted—dominated at the oceanside, with street rules being what most of Heaven’s poor played. In street rules, shoving, tripping and pulling were permitted, but “intercepting” someone—picking them up whilst they themselves were picking up an opponent—was not. Thus, street rules was by far the most dangerous form of puddle king, and parents often punished children they caught playing it.

Diana nodded to Benazir’s question. “The best and only.” She said this with quite a bit of confidence as she rolled up her right sleeve to reveal two surgical wounds. “Broke my arm twice falling into Fisherman’s puddles. You’d think they would be deeper given how little maintenance those streets get.”

Benazir laughed. “Go figure. I only played in Fisherman a few times; kids there got too whiny when they lost.”

Diana nodded. “Yes, I remember getting into quite a few fights with people who just could not believe I grounded them.”

Benazir laughed again, this time more heartily. “I bet a paycheck some of those guys are Military Police right now.”

Diana could not help doubling over with laughter. “Maiden! Your propriety!” she said, or at least attempted to between bursts of uproarious laughter. “I…well, that’s one way to…” and that was all she got out before laughing again. “I’m sorry, Benazir, but that was fucking priceless.”

Benazir patiently waited for Diana to stop splitting a seam. Everyone in the manor knew that, for some reason, Benazir wasn’t fond of the Military Police.

“Oh, Jesus. I’m going to die if I don’t take a breath.” Diana said, finally finding the time to compose herself. “I have to say, though…you make those jokes a lot.”

Benazir picked her nails as Diana spoke. “It helps me cope with how useless they and their handlers are. Chandler, Wilson, the lot of them. Hell, I think Kimberly would be dodging a bullet if she didn’t get into Chandler Academy.”

“Wait, why?” Diana asked.

Benazir stood up and stretched. “Simple: those two institutions are the biggest meat grinders in the city.” She sat back down and gave a deep sigh to her counterpart. “People go in, neat little balls of obedience come out.”

Diana tilted her head. “That’s some comparison, but by that same logic so is maidenhood.”

“”The irony isn’t lost on me, Diana.” Benazir said. “That said, I think maidenhood acts more like a filter. People go in, better people come out—most of the time.”

The boys moved out of the way as the daily mail truck pulled up to the gates, and Diana stood up to stretch before she left. “Well, looks like I’ve got to make my mail runs. You said you had a package?”

“Yes, last name Hadid.” Benazir said before she watched Diana run off in the pouring rain to get the mail.

Diana met the mailman, went into the van to sign for Benazir’s package, and ran back to the gazebo. Despite the blur of speed she was for most of those three minutes, she was still soaking wet when she got back to Benazir. She set the mail down for a bit to give Benazir her package: a small, red wooden box that had suffered considerable wear. “Here you go, maiden, sealed and signed for.” Diana said, before picking the rest of the mail up and heading indoors.

Benazir put the box in her dress pocket and looked about. She noticed, above all else, that Diana forgot to take her other sandwich and her shrimp back into the manor when she went in. but, most peculiarly, she saw a sheet of paper underneath the plate. She went to slide it out from under said plate, taking a few seconds to read the words scribbled on it.

‘Just in case you forgot you hungry.’

13: The Lord's Children

The Lord's Children

12: The Lord’s Children

“Diana! Diana!” Erika shouted gleefully on her way down the hall. “Come on, we’re gonna hold everything up if we take much longer!”

Diana opened up her door just before Erika got there, holding her shoulders in a vain attempt to calm the bundle of energy Erika was. “But I haven’t even chosen a tailor yet!” she replied to Erika, knowing fully this would do nothing to deter her.

“Oh, pish-posh. You can do that in the meantime!” Erika said, pulling on Diana’s arm and leading her to the maidens’ conference room.

The conference room was the one room in the house where maidens held all the power. It was where the head maiden coordinated her subordinates from. It was where prospects went to be absolutely grilled before being accepted—or rejected—by the head maiden. Even Master and Lady Stepfordson stood quiet in this room, their opinions secondary to that of a woman who’d been commanding their employees longer than most of those employees had been alive.

Tonight, however, it was the maidens’ catwalk.

Diana could already hear whistling and cheering as she approached the room, thus she wore no surprise on her face when she saw Stephanie sauntering from the doorway to the south wall. Stephanie was wearing a pink, one-shoulder gown with a one-meter train, a high collar, and a deep slit in the left-leg side. She also wore shining, white high-heeled shoes, two pearl necklaces and a platinum arm band.

“Hey, Diana! What do you think? Did Triple-T knock it out of the park or what?!” Stephanie shouted confidently, pirouetting once to show herself off to the other maidens.

Diana took a seat next to Helga, making sure not to touch Helga’s sling, and rubbed her chin in thought before responding to Stephanie. “That depends on how obvious you want it to be that you got it off the rack!”

Stephanie responded with a nice, big huff. “Don’t hate me because you’ve probably got some terribly tack two-bit threads in that bag!” she said.

“You paid for Thistleberry’s Three-Thirteen, but you couldn’t get a Three-Thirteen tailor?” Carolyn asked as politely as possible.

Stephanie just kept strutting up and down the long, black rug. “Split a potato in two and shove it up your asses, because y’all are just full of salt this evening!” she said. Stephanie always bought the loudest, proudest outfit in the manor and showed it off with the loudest, proudest attitude. Most maidens altered their dresses for the annual Maidens’ Ball in some way, but Stephanie went above and beyond both in procurement and presentation, with no dress she bought for the occasion eating up less than half her savings.

Mary-Ann was slightly less enthused. “You know there are no slits or dips below ten centimeters from the neckline allowed unless you’re head or adjutant, Stephanie.”

Stephanie just rolled her eyes, as she often did when someone critiqued her outfits. “What’s your point? It’s not like I’m staring down the barrel of freedom with this flex.”

“Get that dress altered or get another dress.” Mary-Ann replied.

Stephanie balked. “How about you get a sense of humor or—"

And then Mary-Ann waved her right hand.

“My apologies, Head Maiden. I’ll make the alterations right away.” Stephanie left the now-silent room, not so much as walking loudly enough for her head maiden to hear.

“Now that she’s out of the way, it’s my turn!” Esmeralda said, walking up to the rug and throwing her arms out to reveal her outfit: a midnight blue ensemble through-and through, from the sleeves to the bunched fabric to the blue sash she wore around her waist. Onward she stepped up and down the rug, ready to hear it all from her counterparts.

“Your eye patch! You forgot to match your eye patch!” Tomas shouted.

“Oh, you mean like this?” Esmeralda snickered out, before tossing off her usual black patch to reveal a silken one beneath. After that, she kept on strutting, gleefully moving her hips in the direction of the praise. Her zenith came when she slid her gown up and undid the straps holding her weapon: a ten-gauge shotgun.

Her counterparts cheered, but Mary-Ann didn’t. “We’ve been through this, Esmeralda. You wear the twelve-gauge on official activation.”

“But what if I’m not activated by then?” Esmeralda protested.

“Switch your weapon. And don’t think I missed that overlength knife.” Mary-Ann said.

Esmeralda snapped her fingers and uttered a quiet ‘damn’ at having been caught with an outsize load on her. Esmeralda knew what her loadout for formal events was to be, but she just couldn’t help trying to get some modified weapons beyond her head maiden’s scrutiny, despite the prospect of freedom for being caught.

Up next was Erika, who immediately stole the show with her little black dress and red sash, the former modified with a midriff-length dip. “How can you go wrong with a staple like this?!” she shouted, earning uproarious praise from her fellow maidens—except for Mary-Ann, who put a stop to that show almost as soon as it’d begun.

“You are attending The Maidens Ball, not a nightclub.” Mary-Ann said. “Bring that skirt down to your ankles and move that dip up to ten centimeters. From the neckline.”

“Sounds like jealousy, but fine!” Erika said, strutting off to call her tailor.

Diana watched the goings on and had to ask Mary-Ann a pressing question. “Excuse me, Head Maiden, but when do I exhibit my outfit?”

“In a little bit. The showings go in order of precedence of title. As the newest maiden you do not have a title yet, so you go second-to-last.” Mary-Ann said. “In the meantime, I suggest you go get dressed.”

“Yes, Head Maiden.” Diana said, promptly rising and going back to her room to change her clothing. When she arrived, she turned on the television for some distraction and took her Maidens’ Ball outfit to press and clip.

“We are all-too-aware of the pain the parents of the missing are feeling, and the anxiety of the parents all over the region.” Major Wilson said on the television, speaking to a group of reporters from a podium in front of the Military Police Headquarters. “That said, we cannot and will not give the parents false hope or the executive office false promises of a speedy resolution, even accounting for the urgency we’re already working under.”

Holding her recorder a bit closer, a reporter with Worldwide Waking News asked a question. “Do you think the kidnappers are using the recent coming of the Daylight to sow chaos and facilitate their crimes?”

“Until we can transfer all suspects in this case over to the information bureau, any speculation about what they’ve done in the wake of the Daylight is just that.” Major Wilson responded.

Another reporter, with Hastings Press, spoke up. “Sir, will the military police be reinstating the curfew for minors? Are there any plans to broaden it?”

Major Wilson took the question. “At this time, given the limited resources we have in the wake of the Daylight, the Military Police have no plans to extend the length or scope of the current curfew of eight PM for minors living inside the city proper and eleven PM for all living in the greater jurisdiction. We advise all citizens, regardless of whether or not they are affected by the curfew, to practice caution in these frightening times. Keep track of where your children are at all times. Be mindful of any offers from strangers to help with groceries, repair work or tutoring. Those witnessing suspicious activity are advised to contact us immediately.”

Another reporter with Hastings Press spoke up. “Sir, what will you do with the current kidnappers?”

“Current suspects, ma’am. All individuals apprehended in the case so far have reserved to them all rights under the Heavenly Charter and are presumed innocent until proven guilty in a court of law.” Wilson responded. “I am afraid that’s all the time we have. Good evening, and Godspeed.”

When Major Wilson left the podium, the screen cut to the Hastings Press newsroom. “Right after this, a Hastings Exclusive commentary session with the liaison for the executive office.”

“Pretty rough, eh?” Esmeralda said while standing in the doorway of Diana’s room.

Diana jolted a bit, but quickly regained herself. “Definitely. I can’t imagine what those parents are going through right now—and they won’t extend the curfews? Why?”

Esmeralda chuckled and crossed her arms, knowing the answer to that question easily. “Simple: that’s not going to help people. In a way, it’s not supposed to. They need the curfew to make the lower number of patrols they can afford more efficient. It’s gonna be awhile before the boys in brown are back up to full strength.”

Diana nodded as if she understood, yet her face told Esmeralda she had yet another question. So she got it out. “Okay. That much I understand, but why keep holding things like the Maidens’ Ball if there are a bunch of people getting kidnapped?”

“Because, as best as I can tell, maidens aren’t being targeted.” Esmeralda said. “There doesn’t seem to be any bigger rhyme to these crimes…but there has to be a reason.”

Diana felt an anxious chill creeping up her spine, and figured it was high time to change the subject. She shut the television off. “Speaking of reasons, is there any particular one Mary-Ann seems so…well, particular about our outfits? It seems like, well, micromanaging.”

Esmeralda laughed for a few seconds before sitting on Diana’s bed. “Sweetheart, she’s the head Maiden, remember? Micromanaging us is her job. And there’s little more apt a place for her to do that than the Maidens’ Ball.”

Diana nodded, now having a deeper understanding of what Esmeralda meant. She’d heard through the grapevine that Master Stepfordson laid everyone bare on that night—he’d allegedly freed well-tenured maidens for embarrassing themselves at the ball, and severely punished Mary-Ann atop that. “Understandable, but what’s the point if we don’t get to have a little fun?” she said, placing her outfit onto a hanger as she spoke.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Esmeralda said. “The Maidens’ Ball is one of two parties that happen on Angel’s Day Eve. The second one is the one that separates the ladies and gentlemen from the boys and girls.”

“Oh…so it’s, um, THAT kind of party.” Diana said.

Esmeralda grinned and patted Diana’s shoulders. “And it’ll knock those pretty little freckles off your face if you’re not careful.” Esmeralda quipped. “Well, it ought to be your turn, roundabouts. Break a leg, Diana!”

“Very funny.” Diana said, rolling her eyes as Esmeralda left the room.

“I’ll be here all week!” Esmeralda said as she strode off.

Diana looked over her outfit. It was a much simpler ensemble than other maidens had shown back in the conference room: an all-sapphire, off-sleeve, cathedral-train dress with an identically colored ribbon to tie her hair back. “Considering all this orange I’ve got sprouting from my head, I think this’ll pop nicely.” She put her outfit on and headed back to the conference room for praise and judgement.

“Good Lord, Diana!” Carolyn shouted among some whistles from the other maidens. “With all that orange you’ve got sprouting from your head, that thing really pops on you!”

Diana confidently made a twirl to show the rest of her outfit off, and Tomas shouted over the other cheers. “You got the fire of the north going on!” he said, earning quite a blush from Diana as she strode toward Mary-Ann.

She got a little bit nervous as she walked up, but the confidence instilled in her on her little walk through the room shone through.

Mary-Ann didn’t seem to mind it, either, as she was smiling when she saw her subordinate twirl her dress before her. When she saw her feet, however, Mary-Ann held up her hands for Diana to stop spinning. “Your heels are three centimeters too high. Besides that, your outfit is all good.”

“Thank you, Head Maiden. I’ll change my shoes right away.” Diana said, giving a deep bow to Mary-Ann before walking back out the room. It was late at night, and Diana was getting sleepy. The children had long ago been put to bed, so all she had to do was put up her outfit and take a shower before hopping into bed. On her way back to her room, she saw Esmeralda doing something, but did not pause long enough to see what before continuing to her room.

Esmeralda looked to the radio she had on while preparing herself and grabbed it before walking out of her room and toward the freight lift at the north end of the basement. She pressed the ‘T’ button, which slowly brought her up to the roof, where a small console was waiting for her. she flipped eight switches, each activating a pair of floodlights. When she was done, the front lawn and rear grounds were bathed in light, and a lock to a gazebo on the roof had opened.

Esmeralda stepped in and shut the door. “Thanks for holding the fort down, Mister Wuggles!” she said to the massive teddy bear on the other side of the bench. She then turned on the radio and spun the dial, willing to hear whatever came out of the speakers.

“Don’t you cry, poor little child.

Don’t you look down, I’ll look down and scream for you.

Don’t you hide, little Lord’s child.

I’ll be here till my dying day.”

Esmeralda removed her sniper’s rifle from under her dress and adjusted the sights on it.

“Don’t you cry, poor little child.

Don’t you worry, I’ll walk out and cry for you.

Don’t you frown, little Lord’s child.

I’ll be here till my dying day.”

Esmeralda took off her eye patch, cocked the rifle and held it at-the-ready.

14: Scale The Broken Mast

Scale The Broken Mast

13: Scale the Broken Mast

Major Henry Wilson looked out his window onto the sprawling campus he called his workplace. The only people out in rain as heavy as he was seeing were the recruits, marching and exercising under their commanders as if nothing were falling from the sky at all. Ten recruits, he noticed, were being forced to carry a massive, lantern-lit log from one end of the campus to the other: Missus Misery, or ‘grandma’ as those tasked with carrying it had come to call it over the years. “Thank God I never had to do that.” Major Wilson said to himself, sipping from his black coffee mug.

“And in weather like this, no less.” Sergeant Caroline Wilson said. “I can’t give them too much flak for it, though—I had to do it twice.”

That made Major Wilson chuckle as he returned to his chair. “Now that’s a feat in itself, Segreant. Anyway, you said you have and update on the Sheffield case?”

Caroline nodded, giving the customary house bow instead of a salute before continuing. “Yes, sir. We have received the updated surveillance list from the information bureau. Of the twenty-five individuals on the list, we have ascertained the current whereabouts of twenty. Of those, we have taken twelve into custody, six currently being questioned and six awaiting transfer to the information bureau’s examination and receiving division.” Caroline placed the red folder onto Major Wilson’s desk for him to look over.

Wilson pored over the pictures and notes, nothing sticking out to him except the one-man new suspects list. “I’m not seeing a lot of intake info here. Still in processing, I assume?” he asked his subordinate.

“No, sir.” Caroline responded. “This man was arrested at twenty-three- and forty-seven-hours last night for failure to abide a lawful order, in this case to disembark executive property. So far, the suspect has not cooperated with any attempts to gain identifying information. He’s being held in the receiving block until further notice.”

“Nothing? He isn’t even giving a name or age?” Major Wilson inquired.

Caroline shook her head. “No, sir. He has refused to speak to us except to state that he will not do so without his lawyer present. We’ve been trying to contact his counsel at the number given and have not received a response.”

It was typical for lawyers to take awhile to get in touch with clients for criminal cases, so Major Wilson saw nothing to press further about. “Alright. Well, we can’t keep him more than twenty-four hours without access to counsel, so book him out under surveillance, last known address.”

“Um…about that sir.” Caroline said. “We do not have any address information for him on file.”

“Okay, then. stick him in the transient quarters for now.” Major Wilson said.

Caroline bowed once more and turned to leave Major Wilson’s office. When the door shut, he continued looking over the red folder.

This folder was special and had made itself the bane of the Military Police’s existence in recent months. In any other scenario, it contained a menagerie of suspects for major crimes against Heaven. In these times, it almost exclusively contained suspects in what had been dubbed the Sheffield Kidnappings by the media. No one liked having to devote most of their time to a single category of crime when Heaven was full enough of all types of crime to keep the average Military Police member busy. It did not help that suspects in the case were, by and large, proving uncooperative, adding a sense of frustration to the anxiety millions across the city felt whenever the executive office was approached for an update into the kidnappings. As with most kidnappings, it felt to everyone investigating that two steps back was the price for every step forward.

That feeling came about again when Major Wilson looked through the folder and saw no new information on any of the suspects. The best he could do now was “update” the system with the same information he had a few days ago and arrange yet another meeting as to what was to be done with the suspects. It was going to frustrate the executive office, anger the flag officers, terrify the people, and strain an already stretched patrol system, but protocol was just that.

Major Wilson kept sipping his coffee and looking over other case files. “Well, I might as well see what cases I can make actual progress on.” He grabbed a manila folder from the top of a filing cabinet and set it on his desk, opening the case file of Linus Turner—whose name just happened to appear in the same case file as some of the Sheffield suspects. “If it isn’t my lucky day.” he said to himself, beginning to look over the case file.

According to the file, Linus Turner was the son of a maiden, Leslie, and he went missing on or about the third of March. The last adult he was known to have interacted with was a man named Jason Buchanan. Major Wilson looked over phone metadata, shopping transcripts, surveillance footage and alleged witness statements. Finding nothing, he set the file aside and went to the restroom to wash his face. He lathered it with some hand soap, dumped a few mugs of water on his bald head and reached for some paper towels. When he looked into the mirror to dry himself, though, he could feel the weight of the Sheffield case pressing on his shoulders.

“We can’t go on like this.” he said to himself, letting the cold water drip from his face. “There has to be something in all this nonsense that keeps piling up on my desk.” He dried his face and went back to his desk to find Lieutenant Smith waiting for him, a salute at-the-ready, which Major Wilson returned.

“Sir, we’ve gotten a development in the Sheffield cases. Two of the suspects have agreed to go on record about their alleged roles in the kidnappings, particularly where Linus Turner and Jessica Stillwater are concerned.” Smith said to his superior.

Major Wilson leaned forward in his chair. “Finally. Who are they?”

Smith looked through his notes for two seconds. “Let’s see…they give their names as John Carl Vincent and Marie Kennedy. Vincent is a suspect in the disappearance of Linus Turner and Kennedy is a suspect in the disappearance of Jessica Stillwater.”

Major Wilson stood up and put on his brown relaxed-fit jacket. “I’ll be down there for prelim examination in a bit. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Lieutenant Smith saluted and left the office. Major Wilson grabbed the red folder, as well as the case files for Linus Turner and Jessica Stillwater, and walked out of his office and across the enclosed bridge to the information bureau’s holding center. when he got there, he had to wait for Lieutenant Smith to finish his discussion with one of the suspects. Lieutenant Smith walked out, and Major Wilson walked in, setting the files on the table. “Good morning. My subordinate tells me you are ready to go on record and talk to an information specialist. Can you confirm this?”

“Yes.” The man spoke in a dry, gravelly voice.

Major Wilson nodded. “This is a preliminary examination before your transfer to the information bureau. Any information provided before you arrive in the interrogation suite is inadmissible in a court of law. Any information you provide will be used for the sole purpose of investigating the crime of which you have been accused. The information bureau does not have the right to relay this information to the public without your permission, and neither do you. Do you understand this?”

The old, bald man nodded without saying anything. A few seconds passed by, then he said ‘yes’.

Major Wilson continued. “You have the right to silence and legal counsel. Should you choose to waive either of these rights, anything you say may be used against you in a court of law at the prosecutors’ lawful discretion. You have the right to represent yourself. Do you understand this?”

The man nodded. “Yes, but I would like to wait until my lawyer arrives before answering any questions.”

Major Wilson figured he’d say something like that. The man had rights in this situation, too. “I understand. If so, you’ll remain in custody until he or she arrives. Do you understand this?”

“Yes, I do.” the old man affirmed.

Major Wilson removed a small recorder from his pocket and activated it. “This is Military Police Major Henry Wilson, speaking on official record. Sir, state your name for the record.”

The man was silent.

“Sir, your name please.” Major Wilson reminded.

The old man, seemingly distracted in his own thoughts, snapped out of himself. “Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Carl Vincent, Junior.”

“Very well.” Major Wilson said. “I’ll have a team from the information bureau come for you in a few minutes.” He got up to get his things when the old man rose his right hand.

“Sir, may I listen to the radio?” he asked.

“Sorry, but no. There aren’t any speakers for you to use, anyway.” Wilson said. “I’ll be back in about ten minutes; Lieutenant Smith will sit with you until I return.” Wilson lifted himself out his seat, to be replaced by Lieutenant Smith, and left the room, making sure to buzz-lock it before he did so.

The old man laid his head down and listened instead to the half-buried noise of a radio across the hall, singing along with the lyrics.

“I will sing you a song

And it won’t be very long

Of a maiden sweet,

And she never could do wrong.

She was not long in the city

Everyone said she was pretty,

All alone, it’s such a pity, poor little maid.

“That’s a pretty popular song.” Lieutenant Smith said. “Do know the whole thing?”

“Not all of it, admittedly. I have the fortune of hearing it bleed into static whenever I try to tune in and hear it, and my memory ain’t what it used to be.” The old man put his elbows on the table. “I know, I think, the chorus and the first and last verse; that’s about it.”

“It pops up on the radio all the time when no one’s paying attention. Cruel irony, I guess.” Smith added.

“Hey, I can’t have this used against me, right?” the old man asked politely.

“Hm? Oh, no.” Smith said. “You’re not under official examination by the information bureau, and until then anything said in here is inadmissible. But your lawyer—we can’t reach them. Are you sure they’ll show up in time for your examination?”

“They will.” The old man spoke with assurance, a smile crossing his face. “I hate that it takes so long to get in touch with her, but she’s definitely coming.”

Lieutenant Smith accepted that on its face and waited for Major Wilson to return. “This dude better hurry, my shift is over in a few minutes and I’m not getting voluntold for overtime like last night.”

“She never saw the streets of Cairo

From the midway, she had never strayed

She never saw the hootchy-kootchy

Poor little country maid.”

Just as Lieutenant Smith was about to say something, Major Wilson buzzed back into the room, causing him to stand up and salute before leaving. “I thought I was going to have to pull more overtime.” Smith said in relief.

Wilson shrugged. “Please, you know you don’t have the rank to do that with interrogation. Tell the missus I said hello.”

“Will do, sir.” Smith said before gathering his coat and walking toward the exit near which his office stood. He went inside, made sure to gather his suitcase and cover, and made his way out into the pouring rain to start his car.

Major Wilson put the old man in handcuffs and, along with a squad of armed rookies, he walked further north in the building to one of the examination rooms, with the designation 7058. He buzzed himself in and waited for the escorts to place mister Vincent the younger in his seat. The squad saluted Major Wilson, and the last one out buzzed the door shut and nodded to two men in grey business suits, who went into room 7059 and shut the door. When Major Wilson turned on his recorder, it was set to normal radio, so he—for a few seconds before he switched it to the proper channel—he was hearing the same song the old man was half-reciting earlier.

Lieutenant Smith turned on his radio as he began to cross the East Side Skyway, raising a brow at the tune coming out of the speakers:

“She was engaged

As a picture for to pose

Appearing each night

In abbreviated clothes

All the men were in a hurry

For to catch her they did hurry

One who caught her now is sorry

Poor little maid.

The song then cut out for a few seconds, resuming as he merged onto the skyway.

She never roamed the streets of Cairo

On the midway, she had never strayed

She never saw the hootchy-kootchy…

…poor little country maid.”

15: Scale The Broken Mast, Part 2

Scale The Broken Mast, Part 2

14: Scale The Broken Mast, Part 2

“So, what’s the verdict?” Major Wilson asked the forensic psychologist.

The psychologist sat down and looked through his notes, shaking his head. “There seems to be two narratives going on in his mind: one of the kidnapping itself and one of never having participated in same. He keeps talking about ‘The Streets of Cairo’ as well, and we have so far been unable to ascertain what relevance this has to the kidnappings, if any.”

Wilson sighed; mild frustration was evident in his voice. “So we can’t put this guy under interrogation until we find out.”

Under Heaven’s law, a suspect deemed mentally or mentally disabled, or whose such evaluation is inconclusive, could not legally be interrogated. Thanks to this, one of two Sheffield suspects they had who were willing to cooperate was just going to have to stick around in the transient quarters until his evaluation was complete. Wilson—and most other officers—considered this a waste of time and effort, especially with children missing. It would only be a matter of time before the executive office began asking more questions, and they wouldn’t be kind to the specter of zero progress being made on the Sheffield Disappearances inside a week. The reporters would probably have a field day with this stall, too.

And, as misfortune would have it, there was a woman with a blue reporters’ tag standing at his door. “Major Henry Wilson? I’m Juliana von Trachtenberg, with Hastings Press. Do you have some time?” Major Wilson motioned to a chair near the water cooler, and Juliana grabbed it, sliding it over to the front of Wilson’s desk.

“Not much, but yes.” Wilson said. “I assume you’re here to talk about the Sheffield cases?”

Juliana nodded, then shook her head. “I’m actually here to divulge some information you may find useful. Are you familiar with the song ‘Streets of Cairo’, perchance?”

“Who isn’t?” Wilson said, grabbing the Sheffield files to look over as the two spoke.

Juliana nodded and continued. “A popular song, indeed. Has that song been playing during any of the suspects’ custody? And if so, how did they behave?”

Wilson thought on her question for a few seconds. “I don’t think we’ve been paying much attention to what’s on the radio lately. Our psychoanalysts brought it up a little while ago, but they’re just as stumped as to what it might mean to us as I am, if it means anything at all.”

Juliana reached into he bag and pulled out an orange tape—which Wilson immediately recognized as an emergency or security camera recording. Juliana slid the tape across the desk, closing her bag as she did so. “I was able to obtain this from the Thistleberry’s market on Second Street, but on one condition: I had to hand it over to the Military Police before immediately after viewing it, without showing anyone else in the interim.”

“This looks fairly…dated.” Major Wilson noted. “How long did you have this before you decided to hand it over to us?”

Juliana smiled. “Two weeks, Major.”

“I’m going to have to ask why you felt the need to hold onto this tape for a fortnight. It couldn’t have taken you that long to watch it; there’d only be forty-eight hours of footage on it at the most.” Major Wilson asked Juliana as he stood up with the tape, looking into the closet for a security tape player. He found an orange machine with the correct slot and began hooking it up to the television set nearby his desk.

Juliana sat silent.

“Well? I don’t about you, miss, but I feel I’m asking a valid question.” Major Wilson said.

Juliana looked at Major Wilson hooking the machine up. “I just wanted your full attention before I said anything. Digressing, I did not immediately turn in the tape because I wasn’t sure if anything usable was on it. In a sense, you could say I’m just doing my due diligence as a reporter—I would rather not risk my reputation handing off bad information to the Military Police in such an important investigation.”

“Fair enough.” Major Wilson said. “It’s gonna take me a few days to get the psychologist guys in here with me to study this tape admissibly, but for now I guess I can go over highlights. Are there any frames I should be looking at in particular?”

“Pay close attention to what happens when the ‘Streets of Cairo’ song begins playing at minutes nine, nineteen, eighty-two, one hundred thirty-six and one hundred forty-four.” Juliana said, moving her chair over to get a better view of the screen.

Major Wilson turned the tape on and began watching, quiet and intent as the recording went on. About eight minutes in, he pointed to something and paused the tape, taking out a sheet to write it down.

“That’s quite early.” Juliana said.

“I know.” Major Wilson responded. “But when you’ve been fighting crime as long as I have, you learn the principle of intelligence: once is a coincidence, twice is happenstance and three is enemy action.” He wrote down the timestamp and where on the superimposed map the man was when he paused the tape, pointing to a woman in a blue shirt and white leggings. “The woman over there has been waiting at the head of aisle one for three minutes now, and whenever someone comes by, she seems to look in the other direction. What I’m trying to see now is what, exactly, she’s staring at so hard.” He continued watching, noticing that she was staring at the sign for aisle 3.

A few more minutes of tape viewing went by, and he paused it again. This time, Juliana did not seem surprised. “The woman in the blue shirt again. But this time, she’s staring in another direction.”

Major Wilson kept running the tape, looking to see if anyone was attempting to communicate with her. for ten minutes of footage, it seemed no one was contacting her either verbally or physically, save for a woman who walked up to her and seemed to be asking a question. When she got up, she and the retail worker walked into aisle 1.

“Does she fit the description of any of your suspects, sir?” Juliana asked politely.

Major Wilson nodded and sighed in mild exasperation. “Yes, a woman called Griselda Platchkey. So far, she’s been one of the only two people we’ve arrested willing to tell us anything other than their name. She mentioned being at Thistleberry’s on Broderick Road, but not this one…” he said, continuing to study the tape. He then paused it again, at minute seventeen.

Both Juliana and Major Wilson saw the woman walk into aisle 13, walk to the end, and sit down near an end cap, apparently waiting on a worker. “You’re pausing the tape a little bit before the song starts playing.” Juliana noted.

Wilson kept his attention on the tape as he spoke to Juliana. “That’s because I’m not looking for that song to start playing. I’m looking for any instance where she and another person start moving at the same time and in the same direction. Like right here…” he said, pointing to the woman meeting a retail worker for canned goods at minute eighty-one. At that minute, she took down the canned goods aisle—aisle 12—and walked the aisle up-and-down twice before asking a retailer something. At the same time, the retail worker she eventually talked to was traversing aisle 5. Wilson wrote this information down, along with the timestamps, and kept watching the video along with Juliana.

For about nine minutes, nothing happened except one frame dropping out. Wilson fast-forwarded the tape to minute one hundred thirty-two and continued watching, despite Juliana’s protestations. He then noticed the woman in the blue shirt move once more down aisle 9, then back to aisle 1, where she looked through her things before heading to checkout and leaving. He shut the tape off and gathered what he had written, putting it in the folder containing Griselda’s file.

“Sir, are you sure you don’t want to watch any more of the tape?” Juliana asked, a little confused that he did not watch either the middle third or the last thirty minutes of the recording.

Wilson stacked the Sheffield files neatly atop one another, with Griselda’s file at the top. “This is gonna be a lot for us to take in, especially since this is probably going to be at the top of the evidence pile for a while. Plus, like I said, I don’t have the time to watch the whole thing right now.”

Juliana nodded and stood up. “I understand. My apologies if I seemed to be imposing, Major.”

Wilson waved his hands. “It’s okay, I would be more worried if you didn’t ask why I didn’t view the whole tape. But, you know, security purposes and all that stuff. I gotta discuss evidence with other cops in order to get anywhere.”

Juliana tucked her tag in and gave Wilson a smile. “I understand, Major. In the interim, what would you suggest I do with any more discoveries?”

“Keep them to yourself.” Major Wilson advised. “I know it sounds counterintuitive, but until we have all our persons of interest in custody, we need as tight a lid on new info as possible. There’s also no telling who’s listening to what—the brass may not be particularly accepting of the idea, but I know damn well we’ve got leaks in this department’s information pipeline.”

Juliana listened and responded with a giggle in her voice. “I do hope I’m not contributing to that.”

“Me too.” said Major Wilson. “I get the press means well most of the time, but when it comes to investigations they tend to flood the pipes with too much bullshit.”

Juliana gave a nod to Major Wilson. “As I see is the case with virtually anything at Hastings Press. As luck would have it, I must be on my way. I wish you good luck in your investigation.” She said, opening the door to find two armed policemen waiting for her.

Wilson stood silent for a few seconds, while Juliana looked back with shock on her face. “Take her down to processing. I’ll be down there after I make a few calls.” Major Wilson said to the two privates.

“Um…excuse me, Major. Is this some sort of joke?” Juliana asked, irritated.

Wilson shook his head and walked around his desk to grab his jacket. “I’d think so if you hadn’t made it so obvious you misappropriated this information.” He said, grabbing his hat and making for the door. “Honorable as your intent might be, the only way you could get tape like this without executive permission is if you stole it.”

Juliana had no choice but to smile when she heard that. “Sometimes, the truth is resting beyond the law.”

“That’s a really cute platitude, ma’am.” Major Wilson said, making his way past the two officers charged with taking her to processing. “You two know the deal. Read her rights, put her in lockup and get her booked.”

He continued down the hallway, activating the lights and siren on his cruiser remotely as a warning to anyone in his way to get out of it as quickly as possible. When he got into his car, he shut off his built-in radio and turned on the police radio, speeding out of the parking lot and down Heaven’s Gate, heading northward into the more derelict part of the city. The rain was coming down hard at this point, so he had to slow down considerably when he got on the main span of the highway, but other cars were lawfully pulling over to allow him emergency passage. He continued down the highway for just shy of fifteen miles, veering off the Fisherman’s House Avenue exit and down the street as quickly as he could without his wipers being unable to keep up in the pouring rain.

When he came up to the end of the boulevard, he turned left and began driving up Beachwood Drive, shielding his eyes as he could from the floodlights ahead before pulling over in front of Stepfordson Manor. He put his hat on, left the car with its lights flashing, and ran up to the massive iron gates to ring the bell.

Within about sixty seconds, Diana ran out to the gate to meet Major Wilson, giving a bow before speaking to him. “Good morning, Major Wilson. Welcome to the Stepfordson Estate. How can I assist you?”

Major Wilson took out his badge, showing he was on official business. “I need to speak to Master Stepfordson immediately.”

16: Keep Looking Down

Keep Looking Down

15: Keep Looking Down

Diana placed the dishes she’d done atop the clean cart for Erika to inspect. The two were working quietly tonight, getting some extra work out of the way after most of the others, including the maidens, had gone to bed. Diana hadn’t asked what Major Wilson wanted to see the Stepfordson couple for, and she felt it best to leave things at that.

Erika didn’t. “Hey, Diana. You know why the Military Police stopped here earlier?”

Diana put some stacks of glasses on the clean cart. “I don’t, but the Major said he needed to speak to Master Stepfordson as soon as he could.” She seemed as worried as the other maidens when she said that.

Erika let out a little gasp when she discerned the concern in Diana. “Oh my god. You don’t think it’s about those kidnappings, do you?”

Ever since the first child disappeared, the Sheffield kidnappings had gripped the city in a state of silent panic. No one knew who was doing it, despite daily arrests by the Military Police. No one knew how to protect their children, even the ruling houses. No one felt safe walking the streets anymore, whether or not the executive office promised to beef up patrols or gave more advice on how to train Retrievers in advanced security protocols. The fear had gone so deep as to impart an arcane tranquility on the city—everyone knew who the victims were, and no one wanted to be the next.

The sense of dread was no different in the ruling houses. Maidens slept and worked in shifts. Maidens had to pair up to go shopping for the house and to get children to and from school. Headmasters and Headmistresses threatened freedom for any maidens who traveled to unapproved neighborhoods, as well as for any maidens who broke curfew by even a few minutes. Children were not allowed to go anywhere without a maiden present, some houses taking this to the degree of arming maidens tasked with transporting children or even designating their Retriever to accompany them. All maidens were to provide an hourly confirmation of their location to the Head Maiden, freedom being the punishment for failure to do so.

None of this was preventing more kidnappings, and the maidens knew it. “It can’t be about anything else. I mean, wasn’t a…you know, didn’t it happen again?” Diana responded. Master Stepfordson had not forbidden speaking of the kidnappings, but there had been developing in the stead of such an order an unwritten code the maidens were using in an attempt to prevent the children from panicking.

“By God, I hope not.” Erika said as she loaded more dishes onto the clean cart. “What are we supposed to do, though? It just seems like, for every new rule we implement, another innocent kid goes missing.”

Diana looked away before she spoke. “I wish I had an answer for that.” Diana continued loading dishes until the clean cart was full, then pushed it into the hallway to make room for another clean cart, this time the children’s private things. As she loaded them into the cart, she heard her name across the walkie-talkie she and the other maidens now each had.

“Diana, your presence is required in the study.” Mary-Ann’s voice sounded though the transceiver.

“I’m on my way, head maiden.” Diana responded, placing Jasper’s cookware into the clean effects cart before starting her way upstairs. Thankfully for Diana, it was the middle of the night and no other maidens or children obstructed her when she walked up the grand staircase, making a left and eventually stopping before the sliding doors of the only room she needed express permission to enter. “Good evening, Master Stepfordson and Head Maiden Mary-Ann. This is Diana Robertson, untitled maiden. May I have your permission to enter?”

A few seconds later, the sliding doors of the study opened to reveal Master Stepfordson sitting in his reading chair, Mary-Ann sitting across from him in a large, pink chair and Esmeralda standing near the window, a submachine gun at the ready. Benazir sat near Esmeralda. Diana kept her bow until Master Stepfordson stood up and motioned for her to enter.

Master Stepfordson sat back down. “What you are about to be told is entirely confidential. Any breach of this confidentiality on your part will result in immediate freedom, understood?”

Diana lifted her bow and nodded. “Yes, Master Stepfordson.” She tried her best to remain calm when the possibility of freedom was broached, but her fingers still shook.

“Earlier this evening, the police spoke to me about a spat of kidnappings in the city. No mention was made of this manor being a target, but I refuse to take any chances with the lives of my children.” Master Stepfordson began, before sliding a small envelope onto his table. “I have activated Esmeralda as Retriever until further notice, and maiden Head Maiden Wilson has been fully briefed on my conversation with Major Wilson. As well, I have discussed the security needs of the children with both them and Adjutant Maiden Hadid.”

Diana listened intently, knowing not to speak unless she was spoken to. The rain had died down, making it much easier to focus on what was being said as opposed to attempting to drown the sound of the rain out in order to do so.

Benazir took over where Master Stepfordson stopped. “While I have no lack of confidence in my skills as childcare specialist, I cannot be with the children at all times. Thus, I am requesting to Master Stepfordson to deputize you as a childcare learner. However, I need your permission to proceed.”

“I am sorry, but…my permission?” Diana said, more in a manner of requestion clarification than outright challenge.

“A maiden’s position is permanent.” Mary-Ann said. “If you say yes, this is what you will be doing for however long you stay with us. You will be with the children at all times in the manor and know where they are all times outside the manor. You will know their clothing choices. You will know their restroom patterns. You will recognize their footsteps. You will recognize their ills. Should you say yes, the well-being of the Stepfordson children becomes your direct responsibility.”

Diana’s eyes widened momentarily as she was being told all this. “I am…humbled, to say the least, my Head Maiden.” Diana said when she’d finally gotten enough of herself together to mount some sort of response. “But…would another, more experienced maiden perhaps be better suited to such a task?”

Master Stepfordson spoke, the tone of his voice causing Diana to jump a bit. “This is NOT an argument about who would make a better childcare maiden, Miss Robertson, it is a discussion which ultimately can be framed as a question posed to you. The only thing you need to be saying right now is ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

The room stood silent for one minute before Diana spoke. “I must decline, Master Stepfordson. I simply do not feel I am ready for such an important position within the manor at this time.”

Master Stepfordson took a swig of his rum. “Very well. You may return to your previous duties.”

Diana gave the customary long, deep bow before exiting the room and returning to the subbasement. When she got there, Erika had already organized the private effects of the children on a clean cart and was busy loading dirty clothing into a washing machine.

Erika perked when she saw Diana coming back into the cleaning area. “Oh, hey! What’d Mary-Ann want from you?” she asked.

Diana shook her head. “I can’t say, sorry.”

She took the private effects cart and made her way upstairs to the children’s wing. When she got there, she took to giving the children back their now-clean items, making sure not to disturb the sleeping little ones on her way in and out of the rooms. As usual, Camellia had no private effects—or such it should have been. When she was done with her distribution, she noticed something at the bottom of the cart: a necklace identical to the one she wore around the manor, tagged with Camellia’s name. It was now that she was embarrassed that she’d chosen to take such a common jewelry item as her last effect before entering House Stepfordson. She picked up the necklace and made for Camellia’s room, opening the door slowly in case she was asleep.

Camellia smiled to Diana when she came in the room, and she put her book down. “I was wondering when you would come.” Camellia said, sliding out of bed and holding her head down.

Diana did the only thing she felt logical and put the necklace over Camellia’s head and around her neck, after which Camellia walked back into her bed. When she was back in bed, Diana took the now-empty effects cart…and should’ve left the room but didn’t. She just stood there, staring into the cart. She just stood there, looking down the hallway.

“Miss Diana, can you sit with me awhile?” Camellia asked.

Diana snapped out of her apparent trance and looked back to Camellia. “I am sorry, but I’m busy at the moment. Perhaps when my work is…” she said, unable to finish her sentence before looking over at Camellia’s necklace.

Camellia smiled. “Please? I like your company more than Erika’s. She is an insult to those of us who know how to tie our shoes.”

Diana snorted, but ultimately stopped herself from full-on laughter, quickly recomposing herself. “Camellia, Erika does her part as we all do. You shouldn’t be talking about her like that.”

Camellia simply patted a spot on her bed, and before she said much of anything Diana was seated by Camellia’s side, looking out the window which distorted the land outside thanks to the water patting against it.

“Miss Diana, are you worried about the other children?” Camellia asked.

Diana was silent for ten seconds as she gathered her answer. If Camellia was asking a question like that, she knew about the kidnappings and there was no sense hiding her apprehensions. “Of course. I have no idea what’s going on in full with these crimes, and it seems like nothing people are doing to stop them is working.”

“I am not particularly worried.” Camellia said. “After all, Esmeralda is a tad too insane to let her affinity for shooting things be tarnished by someone nevertheless overcoming the security she provides.”

Diana nodded but shook her head too. “Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean make the situation any less worrisome.”

Camellia laid her head on her pillow, continuing to read her book for a few minutes before placing it down on her nightstand and looking up to the ceiling. “Fair enough. On the mention of fear, I’d like to share something with you.”

Diana adjusted herself until she was facing Camellia. “What is it?”

Camellia kept looking up at the ceiling, her arms out at her sides. “I kept falling into an ocean, but it didn’t get darker as it got deeper. It didn’t take more of my breath away as I fell further into it. I watched the bubbles escape my mouth without my having to draw in or out at all. I could see the sky shrinking as I sunk, yet when I looked down there was another sky opening up.”

Diana’s attention was immediately locked, a quiet ‘no’ crossing her mind.

Camellia continued. “I talked, but no sound I made would echo. I shook, but my hands and limbs ultimately went nowhere. All the while, the surface I fell into became a pinprick, and the bottom of the ocean opened up, I thought to swallow me whole. During the entire ordeal, I heard—”

“A single, distant voice.” Diana interjected.

Camellia’s eyes widened, and she now bore a big smile on her face. “So you have the dream too, Miss Diana?!” she asked excitedly, scooting closer to Diana to hear her answer.

Diana was frozen for a good while before she responded. “I…yes, but…it can’t possibly be the same dream you’re having.”

Camellia touched Diana’s hand, continuing with her recollection of the dream she had. “I kept falling, and the voice kept telling me to keep looking down. ‘Keep looking down, and you’ll find daylight again. Keep looking down, Camellia. Keep looking down.” It’s all I hear for so long, days on end. I ‘keep falling down’…and I gasp for breath when I leave the ocean’s grip, holding onto—”

“A steady rock, with nothing but the glow of a lighthouse to keep me from washing away.” Diana once again interjected. “But…how? We can’t possibly be having the same dream, Camellia…right?” Diana did not seem frightened now, but her confusion was palpable.

Camellia said nothing. Diana took the clean effects cart and left the room silently, making sure to close the door behind her as she went. When she got back down to the subbasement, Erika was waiting for her.

It was almost time to call it a night, so it seemed Diana had gotten down there just in time for a final equipment inspection. “Oh, I was wondering where you were. I’ve got the laundry machines down. Can you write down for the dumbwaiters and the belts?” Erika asked, a request which Diana promptly set about fulfilling. For thirty minutes, she and Erika quietly wrote down notes and checked off inspection boxes, flipping pages back and forth as they needed to in order to avoid losing their place. When the inspection was done, Diana gave the binder back to Erika.

“Okay, I’ll get these sent over to Mary-Ann. You’re free to go to bed if you want.” Erika said.

“I will. I’m a little more tired than usual.” Diana said, undoing her apron as she walked out the cleaning room doors and back to her room. Within twenty minutes she was out of her daily clothes, fully showered and dressed for bed, making sure to slide her bed curtains closed as she tucked herself in. Just before she did, however, she took off her necklace and placed it atop her nightstand, kissing the locket before she pulled the covers over herself and turned on the radio to help lull herself to sleep. As usual, she turned it to AM1100, a station known for playing soft, droning tunes with occasional spoken word in between.

Within about ten minutes, Diana was asleep, her ears barely catching a phrase from the old radio station as she drifted away into her dreams.

“From here on out, you’re on your own. Have fun, and good luck.”

After the song she fell asleep to played through, the radio uttered one phrase before the signal faded into static forever.

“All I can say now, sweetheart, is keep looking down.”

17: Sleep, Diana

Sleep, Diana

16: Sleep, Diana

Diana looked out her window, holding the curtain close to her chest and doing her best to help the cold sweating abate. Her breath was quick but slowing to a manageable level. Her legs, however, would not stop shaking. It took quite a while for her to reach the shower, and when she turned it on she opted to sit down and lather herself up. While she was washing, she took notice of the radio chatter—or in this case the lack thereof. It did not usually take so long for the station to resume playing music or commercials, but it was eight o’clock in the morning and she hadn’t heard anything. The conundrum was moot for the time being, as she needed to ready herself for the day. She stepped out the shower, dried herself off and began dressing, only to turn her head to the dead radio station again. Before long, she was out of her room and back in the subbasement with Erika…or, she should have been. Instead of Erika, Diana found Stephanie working the dumbwaiters.

Stephanie waved to Diana. “What’s up, sweetie! You sure like sleeping in, huh?” she said to Diana. It wasn’t an offense to sleep in, but it wasn’t a boon to a maiden’s reputation, either. Stephanie knew that, and whether she was reprimanding Diana or not was unclear given the tone of her voice.

“I’m sorry, maiden. I just…I didn’t get much true rest last night.” Diana said before beginning to unload the dryers.

Stephanie just smiled and kept filling up the clean carts with dishes. “It’s okay. No one really sleeps a lot having to work in a place like this. It keeps you too on-edge for too long, which is why I like to get my work done as early as possible. The more time I have to wind down, the better.”

Diana laughed as she placed some dirty linen in one of the washers. “I’d like to know how to find enough time between all this and bed to ‘wind down’.” she said.

Diana seemed a little out of herself when she spoke, and just went through the motions of her duties for the better part of an hour with no words leaving her lips. She gave the children back their personal effects, put up the dishes, refilled washing chemicals, and performed just about every other subbasement duty she could over the proceeding four hours. When that was done, however, she didn’t go outside with her lunch as she typically did, nor did she order her usual seafood platter. She ordered a pair of peanut putter and jelly sandwiches along with a glass of iced tea and made her way to her room. She opened the door and gasped lightly upon seeing Benazir sitting on her bed, legs crossed.

“No seafood today, huh?” Benazir said to Diana.

Diana started to answer her. “I’m not much in the mood. I guess it’s because—”

Benazir held up her left index. “Because you’re not sleeping, I know.”

Diana nodded in affirmation. “Not much at all. I am so sorry for inconveniencing everyone two days in a row, but I simply cannot seem to fall asleep and rise when I must.”

“Use an alarm clock.” Benazir said, standing up and walking past Diana, though not far past her. “In the meantime, you can come watch me prune vines in the back.” Benazir then kept walking, as if she knew Diana would soon be close behind—and she was, the two making their way out to the mansion’s backyards in four minutes.

Diana waited on Benazir to change into her yard clothes, and then followed her into the vineyards where Benazir began to prune. Until she finished one sandwich, she said nothing. When she was done, she’d taken notice of how many stretches filled with juicy, healthy grapes Benazir had thrown into the portable compactor next to her. “Hey, why are all those good grapes going into the trash?” she asked Benazir.

Benazir said nothing for a few minutes, continuing to clip some leaves and spray some chemicals until she got to a vine with two rotten grapes on it. “This is why.” she said, tossing about two feet of vine into the compactor. “When one becomes poisoned, it threatens everything we’ve worked for over the last six months.”

Diana looked over the vines as Benazir continued, idly seeing if she could identify a few rotten grapes as she drank her iced tea. The second before she managed to do that, however, Benazir had plucked the problematic area away and placed it into the compactor. She also noticed Helga and Carolyn plucking at the vines elsewhere in the vineyard, with Helga using an electric scooter to get about. She remembered the condition Helga had been brought into the house in when the daylight returned, and found it little short of astounding she’d survived, let alone recovered enough to return to the vineyards so quickly. “She really can’t be kept inside, can she?” Diana asked Benazir.

“She really can’t.” said Benazir. “I actually think that was a boon for us all. It usually takes, like, six months to see where a maiden would do the best possible job for the manor, but with Helga we knew she wouldn’t suffer being anywhere but among plants all day from the moment she walked into the mansion. Seriously, her hands were dirty when she came in here and, when we asked why, she said she was on an ‘expedition’ to see some bugs. Dirty hands, dirty dress, the whole nine—we just gave her a shovel and sent her out there with Carolyn, and she’s been manning the yards ever since.”

Diana giggled, and soon her giggling turned into full on laughter. “I’m sorry, but that sounds positively adorable.” She stopped giggling long enough to take a draw of her tea.

“Oh, definitely…” Benazir started. “…as long as she doesn’t spend too long exhibiting her ‘findings’ to me. The last time she did that, I woke up with a pill bug on my nose. I freaked out, she laughed her ass off, I reprimanded her, and she laughed her ass off and went back outside to show more pill bugs to Carolyn.”

All the while they were speaking, Benazir kept pruning, and as the devil may speak, Helga was running toward their position to do what else but show off a bug she found. “Hey, hey! Benazir!” she shouted, huffing a bit as she stopped before potentially bowling Benazir over by mistake. “I found a snake today!!!” she said excited to the degree of jumping up and down.

Benazir backed up a little bit, continuing to prune. “Helga, I told you already to keep shit like that away from me.”

Helga huffed, holding out her hands despite Benazir’s protest. “Oh, come on, it’s just a garter snake! Look at his little head and stuff!”

Benazir may have been nonplussed, but Diana seemed pretty interested in learning more about the snake. “Oh, sweet. Are they common around here? Do they live in the basement too? I think I’ve seen one in the washing area before.”

Helga was all to happy to explain. “Oh, they’re super-common. I usually find one or two hitching a ride on my backpack when I head up the beaches. I don’t…um, I don’t think they live in the basement; they don’t have access to prey down there. When I see them down there I just relocate them outside or occasionally near Benazir. She doesn’t like it, but it’s hilarious because they’re harmless.”

“Harmless and wanted are two different things.” Benazir noted, continuing to prune her vines.

“You’ll warm up sooner or later.” Helga said, setting the little snake down and letting it go about its business. “Oh, oh! I know this really cool spot on the beach to find crabs. You wanna come check it out with me, Diana?” she asked elatedly.

Diana shook her head. “I’ll check it out some other time, but thanks.” And with her rejection, Helga was on her way back to the other side of the yards, stepping carefully along so as to leave any known bugs unharmed. When she was gone, Diana returned to watching Benazir cut vines as she needed. “I wish I had as much energy in the morning as she seems to have all day.” she said to Benazir.

Benazir turned on the compactor, as she had run out of room to place bad vines. “You’d think she was hopped up on Winter’s Joy or something.” She turned off the compactor after about thirty seconds, opening it up to continue pruning.

Diana finished her tea. “I’d like to think of a more benign explanation. One that doesn’t have a fear of bugs tainting it.”

“Very funny, ma’am.” Benazir said, rolling her eyes and refusing to look in Diana’s direction as she kept up her work. “Speaking of explanations, why, exactly, can’t you sleep?”

Diana could sense an attempt to change the subject and chose to roll along with it. “I would guess it’s because of my dreams. They’re so vivid. They’re so involving. I honestly think I’m being transported to another world when I’m sleeping, one which holds my eyes open and refuses to let me go until I’ve seen all there is to see. By the time I realize I’m not awake, my alarm’s been going off for twenty minutes.”

“So much for ‘set an alarm’ then.” Benazir replied. “How often do you have this dream, or anything like it?”

Diana sat in an old wicker chair. “Just about every night. When I don’t have the dream, all I see is darkness, unbound but for a mote of light in the middle that I can never reach before I wake up…clinging to whatever I can.”

Benazir kept listening, pruning vines as she did. “Sounds like some kind of night terrors, and if that’s true I can see why you turned Master Stepfordson’s offer down.” She kept on pruning, finishing one side of vines, and beginning on the adjacent wall. “I know the kids tend to have them from time to time, but not as intensely as you’re describing. My best suggestion? Don’t overburden yourself during the day. Technically you can’t go to bed until your designated work is done, so instead of rushing to get it done early, see the other hours in the day as extra time you have to gradually get and stay ahead of your work. You haven’t even been here six months, so you may not have settled into your lot just yet. Give it some time and space.”

Diana finished her second sandwich and stood up to return to the manor. “Thanks. I’ll try my best.” Diana said, walking away to the manor before Benazir called out to her.

“I don’t get a sandwich today?” Benazir asked.

“Nope.” Diana promptly replied. “I don’t like you enough to give you my food THAT often.”

Benazir let out a fake huff and giggled as she went back to pruning. Diana went back into the manor, and for the rest of the day did her duties at a much more measured pace. She walked, as opposed to running, when gathering afternoon loads from the manor. She swept slowly and deliberately as she went through the children’s wing. She ate her dinner outside, albeit with nobody to talk to thanks to the pouring rain at the time. When her day ended, she almost turned on the television to hear if any updates about the Sheffield Disappearances were forthcoming, but she opted against it. She also opted against a short shower this evening, drawing out the affair with hair washing and extra attention paid to her hands and feet thanks to the time she spent outside with Benazir.

After her shower, she wrapped her orange towel around herself and walked to her radio, turning it on. “Damn, still nothing? Is there something wrong at the station?” she asked herself about AM1100. She tapped the radio a few times, before shaking her head. “Never mind, this is much ado about nothing.” She turned the radio station to AM1240 and began dressing for bed. Twenty minutes later, she was in bed and reading herself to sleep over the sports talk of the day coming from the radio.

Diana fell asleep, and woke up sitting in a shallow body of water, stretching infinitely. There was a beach, made of pebbled glass. There was an overlook, upon which a bright yellow lighthouse complex stood, its beam active and guiding nothing to shore. The water felt cold, but she had no goosebumps. It felt relentless, but she did not falter. She walked toward the beach for what felt like miles, and once on the beach she pressed toward the lighthouse for what felt like miles more.

When she got to the complex the door was unlocked, and no one was there to greet her. “Hello?” she said into the house, her voice echoing far beyond the walls of the home itself. She looked around the home, finding no source of the neon light the walls were bathed in, even going up the stairs.

“Hello?” she said again, the sounds of her voice echoing further into nothingness as she stepped up the stairs of the tower itself. No light bathed the walls of the tower, except for the reflection of what came from the beacon room. That room was empty when she entered too, but the lighthouse continued to beam deep red light into the world around her.

“Keep looking down, Diana. Keep looking down.” said a child’s voice, as if from underwater.

Diana looked around in an attempt to locate the sound, but only noticed water rushing in from the bottom of the spiral steps. Gasping, she hurried to the edge of the room, only to see from outside that the water was rising inexorably, and soon penetrated the windows. She screamed as loud as she could for help, but by the time she opened her mouth to make a second plea, she was underwater, and the lighthouse around her was falling apart. Soon, she broke free of the beacon room, and began falling through the water as easily as if she were falling through the air. She could do nothing but panic, scream and grip at whatever she could, however little hope it offered her in this freefall into the infinite, watery darkness.

Then, she heard a much more familiar voice.

Diana’s eyes snapped open, her cold sweating in full force and her sheets disheveled from her writhing and twisting through them for what must have been hours. She wasn’t gripping the curtains this time, however. She was gripping Benazir’s left arm and waist. She seemed asleep, but the grin on her face proved otherwise. Diana’s response was all it could have been in that moment. “Holy shit. How long have you been here?" Diana asked, noting it was still deep into the night.

Benazir kept smiling, and she sat Diana up in the bed after peeling out of Diana’s grasp. She pulled the windows up, then leaned over to the nightstand and turned the radio off. “Let’s start with some fresh air and a fresh mind.”

18: A Handful of Rain

A Handful of Rain

Diana laid on the beach, trying to see if any clouds were breaking up enough to reveal a star. The manor’s floodlights made it difficult, but she did manage to spot one, which she soon pointed out to Benazir. “I wonder how long it is before we’ll see another one.” Diana mused, idly tossing some rocks into the ocean as she spoke.

“I remember doing this with my father a lot, at least before…well, whatever happened to me.” Benazir said, skipping stones along with Diana. “I’d say we saw a star about every three weeks.”

Life in Heaven was life under clouds. The sunniest days featured a few crepuscular beams to warm the homeless and maybe even a little bit of clear sky to tantalize the children. It always ended the same way: dreary, downpouring and cold. No one paid any attention to the forecast, as it was always the same: mostly cloudy with thunderstorms or heavy rain in the afternoon. Floods were more common than any other phenomena, and the children had taken to playing in the puddles more often than by the oceanside.

“We were always basically going shopping when we went into the ocean, so I couldn’t really stargaze like I wanted to. Sucks, because there’s none of the light pollution of the city once you get about twenty miles out.” Diana said. “Sometimes, though, we’d stay out to sea overnight and I’d catch some shooting stars.”

“Did you ever make a wish?” asked Benazir.

Diana threw another three stones before she gave her answer. “Twice, yeah. I wished for two boatloads of shrimp the first time. The second time, I wished for love.” She was silent for about a minute and threw a few more stones in that time. “The two days after that were the best shrimping days we ever had.”

Benazir laid on her back to look up at the clouds, rubbing a blue rock in her left hand. ““How’d things go on the love front?” she asked, tossing the rock into the water.

Diana thought on that for a little bit and tossed another rock into the ocean before she responded. ““Uh…well, I finally got with this boy I’d been crushing on since my freshman year, and we even both presented ourselves to the same ruling houses. He didn’t get selected by any of them, though, so he joined the Military Police and…I guess that was that. I haven’t heard from him since my selection day.”

“I say ‘bullet dodged’.” Benazir quipped. “Poor boy has probably had any ounce of individuality he had thoroughly drained from him by now.”

Diana held a stone in her hands and studied it idly. “I prefer to think of it as his choice. He always said he’d wanted to help the whole city, and there’s little better a way to do that than serving in the Military Police.”

Benazir giggled. “He could accomplish more by being a garbageman.”

Diana looked over to Benazir, dropping the stone she was looking at. “That again. Do you mind keeping whatever beef you have with the Military Police to yourself when I talk?”

“Beef? With the brown boys? That’s a little presumptuous.” Benazir said, rolling over onto her left side to see Diana.

“Not when you can’t seem to mind yourself whenever someone mentions them.” Diana said, rolling over to see Benazir as well.

Benazir just laid there, a light grin on her face as she pondered her response. “I’ll work on it.”

“Fair enough.” Diana said, placing a small rock on her nose to see if it would balance. It did not.

The floodlights atop the manor soon shut off, indicating the activation of a newly installed infrared system. The maidens had protested it since their pay would be docked to cover the costs of installation, but installed the system was. When the darkness fell, the only thing accompanying Diana and Benazir was the sound of the ocean crashing against the buildings in it. looking up revealed only growing clouds. Looking anywhere else revealed only oncoming rain, not that it mattered much to either woman.

Diana flicked some rainwater off her nose. “Well, the whole stargazing thing was worth a shot.”

“You always come out hoping for stars, but then you just have to lay down and enjoy the rain.” Benazir said, closing her eyes as the precipitation began to pick up. “At least that’s what my father always said.”

“Funny you should say that.” Diana said, looking out to the sea and sighing softly.. “I remember my dad would wake me up and we’d go out on a little boat to see the storms rolling in. We never took the fisher, even though it was way faster and, y’know, safer. Whenever I asked him why, though, he’d just…hold my hands together and let them collect the rain. When our hands were full, we’d just toss the water back into the ocean. Pretty weird guy he was, now that I remember things from the bird’s eye.”

“I always liked storm watching.” Benazir said after hearing Diana’s recollection. “I lived right on the oceanside, so the view was little short of breathtaking—when we had the time to enjoy it, that is. I was storm watching with my father when we got the call that House Stepfordson had selected me. I got dressed, came here and I haven’t been storm watching since.”

Diana kept her silent watch over the ocean, listening to Benazir speak. She knew Benazir had come on as a maiden in 2304, and recollection of that fact caused her mind to skip back to her own selection ceremony a scant six months ago. She immediately disliked the thought of going over a decade without doing something she enjoyed. “Is that why we’re out here? Am I just a third wheel for you and the storm?”

Benazir kept her eyes closed, letting the rain pour over her. “I knew you’d want to come out here just as eagerly.”

Diana raised a brow. “And just how did you know that?”

Benazir kept her position for one more minute, before opening her eyes to look at Diana. “Your screaming told me everything I needed to hear.”

Diana ‘s mouth fixed to say something, but she froze when Benazir completed her statement. “I see, and now you see why I turned down childcare. I’m a bit too much of a mess right now.”

“I know. I never expected you to say ‘yes’.” Benazir said.

Diana looked slightly confused at that moment. “Wait. If you knew what I’d say, why did you ask me?”

“I wanted to see where your heart is right now.” Benazir responded. “And right now, it’s clear your heart is still at home.”

Diana laid there, silent. What Benazir said was true and she knew it. She sat up and cupped her hands together, letting the rainwater pool and overflow. “I wish it wasn’t. I don’t want to keep messing up small things because my heart and mind don’t want to play nice with each other. No one wants to make their own case for being freed, right?”

Benazir leaned over toward Diana’s lap and pulled Diana’s hands apart slowly, placing them on Diana’s lap. “I’m going to tell you what Mary-Ann told me: let the rain fall where it may.”

Diana watched the water fall from her hands and onto the rocks. She sighed and just laid back down on the rocky beach, watching the storm as well as she could as it poured over the edges of the city.

Benazir did the same thing, but when she tried to lean back she had a slight problem: Diana had fallen asleep with her head on her shoulders. Benazir simply smiled, and began scooping Diana up in her arms, earning a mild gasp from her fellow maiden.

Diana looked around groggily, only realizing she was off the ground about thirty seconds after she woke up. “Shit. I’m…uh…I didn’t realize I fell asleep.”

“I know. That’s why we’re headed back to your room.” Benazir said, beginning toward the manor just as lightning began flashing in the distance. “Everyone has to have their little handful of rain before they can truly rest, right?” Diana did not bother responding, opting instead to just go back to sleep while Benazir was carrying her. When the two got back to Diana’s room, Benazir opened the bathroom door and placed Diana on the edge of the tub, stroking some errant hairs out of Diana’s face.

Diana turned on the water and began to wash her face, but it seemed she spent more time staring at the running faucet. She then looked to Benazir, a smile forming on her face as she did. “Thanks. I didn’t know how badly I needed to just sit in silence for a little while.”

Benazir stood up and wrung a little water from her dress. “We all need to reset our buttons every once in a while, especially in a profession where your fate depends on how well those buttons work.”

“Hopefully mine work well enough to keep me here.” Diana said, beginning to strip for her shower.

“I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. A Headmaster can only diagnose his own incompetence by gambling on a bad Maiden to become good.” Benazir said, beginning to walk out of Diana’s room.

“You saying I’m a bad maiden?” Diana asked, a mild giggle leaving her mouth as she did.

Benazir kept on walking. “That’s entirely up to you, miss Robertson.”

Benazir looked toward her own room but had to put any thoughts of retiring for the night aside for the time being. She still hadn’t done her nightly rounds in the children’s wing. Thus, up the grand staircase and to the children’s rooms she went. In the wake of the kidnappings plaguing the city, the hallways were retrofitted with bright white lights all over, giving the effect of walking through a space more akin to a hospital or office than an old mansion. All the maidens complained it was disorienting at first, but they soon grew used to it. As was tradition, she checked on the children according to their age, beginning with the youngest: Matilda. As luck would have it, Matilda was not in her room, a fact which caused Benazir to squeeze the bridge of her nose—a bit tighter than usual this time since she knew full-well where the girl was: messing around with Kimberly when both of them should be asleep. It was the only place she’d ever be besides her own room.

Benazir turned around, walking toward Kimberly’s room. She couldn’t complete her rounds until all the children were in bed, and with the kidnappings seeing no apparent end it was grounds for immediate freedom to not know where a child was at any given time. When she got to Kimberly’s room, the two were surely enough sitting in Kimberly’s bed and listening to old radio broadcasts.

“It is well past lights out time, you two.” Benazir said. “You do not have to go to sleep, Matilda, but you must return to your own room immediately.”

Matilda pouted, and so did Kimberly (for reasons entirely unknown to Benazir as Kimberly wasn’t the one being chided at the moment.) “My room doesn’t get good…uh, radio. The radio people are way quieter in there!” Matilda complained.

Benazir tapped her foot twice. “Off you go, missy. Here, I’ll even carry you.” She had to wait a minute for Matilda to pretend she had a choice, but soon enough the little one was in Benazir’s arms and waiting for her free ride back to her own room. When she deposited Matilda in her bed, Benazir waited for her to ask the question she always asked.

Almost on cue, Matilda spoke. “Miss Hadid, what is Kimberly listening for?”

Benazir gave her usual reply. “I have no idea. Kimberly just likes to mess around with radios and other machines, I guess. I honestly wish I was as good at tinkering with stuff as she is.”

“One day, I’m gonna be even better! And then I can have all her stuff.” Matilda said, in full assurance of her own destiny.

“One day, you will. When that day comes, I hope I’m there to award you both personally.” Benazir said, easily gaining Matilda’s smile as she shut the door to Matilda’s room and continued her rounds.

As soon as Benazir left, Matilda took out her own little transceiver and calibrated it until she could hear Kimberly giggling like a madwoman through it. “Did you find anything cool yet?” she whispered into the radio to her older sister.

“Hold on! I found a station where it sounded like some old dude was giving a speech. Lemme see if I can find it.” Kimberly responded, changing the channel until she hit AM1220. The messages came in grainy, but Matilda listened intently all the same.

“…and what would you say your view on education is, mister President?”

The conversation began to be crowded out by static until Kimberly adjusted the dial a bit.

“…I think the fundament of a well-formed and prosperous society is a competent, wise education. And what I mean by that is an education that not only prepares our children and students for the present, for the workforce, but for the future and to inflict positive change upon it.

Kimberly sighed as the radio signal went dark once again. “Damnit. Hold on, Matilda. I gotta switch radios. This one keeps dropping out, and I know it’s not the station. I checked the tower on the computer yesterday.” After she swapped out the old, dirty radio for a slightly cleaner radio, she continued relaying the transmission to Matilda.

“…if that makes sense. I feel that, ahead of a strong military and ahead of a strong economy, we need a strong body of well-learned and wise citizens. And what I mean by wise is that we have to teach them things like how important the military is, but also how heavy the chains of the military-industrial complex can be. We can teach them about the principles of American equality, but we also have to teach them that those principles are not the reality for millions of other Americans just like them. We must be vigilant in our efforts—we cannot allow the interests of businessmen, commanders nor even ourselves to stymie our children’s efforts in the classroom. We are too often goaded into believing these are one in the same, and they’re not, nor could they possibly be in a free society. We—”

Again, the transmission cut out. Kimberly had no way of getting it back without disturbing everyone with the main transmission setup, either, since this interruption was because the handheld radio had burned out. She had no choice but to use the one she’d began listening with, and thus reactivated it.

“…something or other, we have to wrap those feelings up and toss them into the dustbin of history where evil feelings belong. If we don’t, we are inherently undermining every aforementioned effort we make. The past must be known. The past must be respected. But above all, we must improve so we do not repeat the mistakes of the past—especially the ones written into our own laws and ingrained into our ways of life. The quintessence of what I’m saying, I suppose, is that education is the key to both starting and preventing wars, and both engaging in and preventing unyielding destruction of our world. Wisdom is the knowledge of how to use that key—and to ensure it does not fall into the hands of—”

“Hey, sis. I’m tired. I’mma go sleep, ‘kay?” Matilda said to her older sister through the radio.

Kimberly smiled and dimmed her own desk light. “Me too. I’ve got my recorder going just in case I miss anything. Night, Tilly!”

“Night, Kimmy!” Matilda responded before shutting off her radio.

Kimberly deactivated every piece of equipment in her room save the radio she was recording on and scooted over the floor in her swivel chair and jumped into her bed, taking a receiver along with her so she could let the broadcasts from AM1220 lull her to sleep as she always did. She slid her stuffed octopus up to her chest and wiggled under her blankets, slowly drifting into sleep as the transmission continued.

“Education is the key and teachers are the smiths. Let’s all learn to…hm?” the man on the other end said, seemingly interrupted by someone whispering to him—as best as Kimberly could hear, anyway. It mattered little, as soon enough the receiver slipped out of Kimberly’s hands and beside her on the bed.

Through the receiver, the man’s words were, upon that whisper, slowly beginning to be drowned out by the blare of air raid sirens. Soon, even those sounds were inundated by static and other white noise, only one phrase audible over the aural mess and delivered by a calm, matronly voice not unlike what Kimberly once heard from her own mother:

“And she took upon herself to raise her handful of rain to the clouds, parting only when the rays of the sun began to touch her face. She’d ridden through the rain, day and night, and now she had everything she’d been looking for.

Now she had the light of God in her hands, and whether to keep or bless the world with it was a secret only she would ever know.”

19: Scale The Broken Mast, Part 3

Scale The Broken Mast, Part 3

Major Wilson’s car pulled up to the atrium of the Heaven Executive Office. He’d come to hate being here, especially since the Sheffield disappearances began—it’d become a circle of being grilled by the chief officers, going back, finding barely more information, then being grilled by the chief officers in yet another meeting. This was to say nothing of the frenzy the media had become over the issue. “Excellent. I get to go up there and tell them nothing new, and they get to work the public into a quiet panic all over again. I’m starting to think we’d be further along in this case if these meetings and conferences weren’t happening.”

“It is good that they’re happening, though. Right, sir?” his driver said, pulling the car down the bridge to the executive security gates.

Major Wilson kept looking out the back passenger window, beholding the gleaming, sterile beauty of the Executive District. The streets were filled with fresh, fragrant markets. Children played and their parents chased after them. Bicycles sped by in their lanes, some pulling cargo and some pulling only their riders. The buildings shined in the evening light, most of all the Farringdon Tower at the center of the immense financial ward. “Do you think anyone in the Executive ward’s been kidnapped yet, private?” he asked his driver.

“By God, I would hope not.” he responded. “Anyone who can get into a place like this and pull a kidnapping off probably has way worse intentions for us than just snatching up kids. I guess that’s what’s worrying the big wigs.”

Wilson smiled when he heard that comment. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” When the vehicle pulled up to the main gate, Akiko greeted the driver with a bow and then outstretched her hand. The driver then gave her a pink envelope, which she opened and read. She walked back to the gate and activated its lift mechanism, returning to her kiosk afterward. The driver pulled through the checkpoint and continued on until he could find a parking space, with no expectation of getting one near a main entrance until he saw a free space just 50 meters short. “Alright, I’ll call back on the secure line when we’re done.” Major Wilson said to the driver, who nodded and walked off to enjoy some of the amenities of the Executive ward. While in the elevator, Wilson stared up to the ceiling. What was he supposed to say or do that he hadn’t before? What were the executives going to say or do that they hadn’t before? He was going to get his answer when the elevator doors opened and he stepped out to sit before the Executive Board. As always, thirteen people were there—the nine-member board of directors, along with the four charter department heads: the police commissioner, the fire Marshall, the chief justice and, of course, the CEO of Heaven.

Chandler gave Wilson a salute, which Wilson returned before sitting at the other end of the conference table. “Good morning, Major. Given the circumstances, I suppose it is best we get directly to the business of the day: your department’s progress on the Sheffield disappearances.”

Wilson nodded, setting his briefcase down and beginning to hand out a manilla folder to each of the people present. “So far, things are moving forward if but slowly. We have twenty suspects in custody so far, and fourteen transferred down to the information bureau for further questioning.”

“What have they provided so far?” asked the director of financial services.

“Not much, but we’re piecing together what little we’re getting into a more coherent picture by the day.” Wilson said as he finished passing out the folders. “We’ve modified our understanding of the case to assume the suspects are working with a much higher degree of coordination than we initially thought—but be advised, this is not an endorsement of the theory that they are all working under a single organization or toward a common goal.”

“If they are not believed to be working toward a common objective, wherefrom comes the thought they are acting in coordination?” the police commissioner asked, addressing the elephant in the room.

“That’s where the evidence is pointing so far. The suspects all came from different backgrounds and lived in different areas of the city. What makes me think they’re following a similar path is on page two of your folders.” He pulled his own red folder out of his suitcase, pointing to the venues from which many of the children now missing were believed to have been taken. “So far, all of the kidnappers have asserted they’re not responsible, but these tapes reveal them to be behaving in ways that seem to indicate their next target to whoever’s supposed to be viewing them at the moment.”

One of the directors, for Fisherman district, spoke up. “And who, besides them, is ‘supposed’ to be viewing those tapes?”

“That’s another angle we’re approaching. But seeing that none of these people have been officially interrogated yet, we’re working cautiously and taking anything coming out of their mouths with a grain of salt.” Wilson said, turning the page of his folder and waiting on others to follow suit.

Another director, for Hawthorne district, spoke in response. “And in the meantime, more children are disappearing and possibly dying. We can’t afford a ‘patient’ approach anymore, Major. We need action and we need it now.”

Wilson had to stop himself from unprofessionally squeezing his temple in frustration, taking a large breath before he continued speaking. “Ma’am, I understand your frustration and we’re working under the same urgency the very parents of the missing feel, but that’s a panic-inducing way to tackle the issue. Everyone’s enough on-edge with the kidnappings themselves; let’s keep the speculation of murder away until we’ve got more concrete evidence.”

“And when, generally, do you contend those scum you’re holding in the information bureau will give you the information needed to press charges against them?” the same director asked, her tone more impatient now.

“I can’t comment on that at the moment.” Wilson said, continuing to look through the files until he uncovered that of another missing child: Katie Rottenmeyer. “We are trying to keep the web of information transfer as tight as possible.”

The director for Fisherman district spoke again. “Tight enough to refuse to inform your superiors of crucial information?”

“Yes, director.” Major Wilson responded. “Both in our department and this one, we have to be careful about the information we disseminate. The truth of the matter is there are already enough media leaks in the Military Police. We can’t assume leaks aren’t a problem here, either—especially not with the kidnappers always seeming a step ahead of us.”

Chief Executive Chandler raised his hand in order to quiet the growing din in the room. “Major, is there any common thread you have that you feel would not compromise the information of the case?”

Wilson slid forward the file of Rottenmeyer, the first child to be taken. “Yes. From the interrogations we have so far, all of the suspects seem to recall listening to a popular song called ‘Streets of Cairo’. It may be some sort of aide-memoire for them. When we played the song, they stopped cooperating with the investigation and focused solely on the nostalgia brought on by the song. When we stopped, they returned to giving us information on how and when they met the children they were suspected of kidnapping.”

“I also see you have one…let’s see here…Juliana von Trachtenberg in custody, correct? Is she a suspect as of this moment?” spoke the director for Paramount district.

“No, but I had her detained because she possessed audiovisual information from Thistleberry’s security network. Without the permission of Headmaster Washington, she could only have had that information if she stole it.” the Major replied.

A small conversation began between the district directors, the director for Sizemore district raising her hand to speak when the chatter was done. “You mean the retail correspondent for House Washington? Why would she steal information she could easily have accessed if she’d just asked her Headmaster?”

“That’s what we’re figuring out now.” Wilson said in return. “I’ve put out for my department to get in touch with mister Washington, but so far we have not received a response.”

The small chatter began again. It was unusual for even a Headmaster to shirk a request by the Military Police, but for them to attempt to contact the head of a ruling house several times and not get a response? That hadn’t happened before. The director of Reddington district raised his hand to inquire further. “How long has it been since you made the request, Major?”

“About two weeks.” The major said. “We’re preparing another request soon, in case this day goes by and we don’t—”

At that moment, Gertrude stepped in, easily making her way past the security, and walking toward the television.

“Gertie, we are in the middle of a meeting. Please do not interrupt us.” Chief Executive Chandler said.

Gertrude simply ignored his plea and turned on one of the television sets and proceeded to look out the window to the gaggle of people and reporters beginning to descend on the atrium along with a platoon of news trucks and their equipment. What they saw on the television was exactly what the cameras of the office were capturing.

“What’s going on down there?” Chief Executive Chandler said to his head maiden.

“The news. Apparently they have their own update on the Sheffield kidnappings.” Gertrude responded to her headmaster. She then tuned the television up in volume as the other directors made their way to the television screen and to the window.

“This is Kathy Benning with Hastings Press! We’re live at the central district atrium, awaiting the update from the Military Police on the Sheffield kidnappings. We see one car coming now.” And within seconds, that car was swarmed with reporters surrounding Colonel Isaiah Mutombo as he walked to the massive, gilded gates of the atrium itself. “Sir! Sir! We’ve received reports of a new disappearance in the Southpier district. Can you confirm this?”

“At this time, we can neither confirm nor deny the kidnapping of another child anywhere in the city. One of my lead detectives on the case is up there with the brass as we speak, and we’ll take the direction the meeting points to.” Colonel Mutombo said as he pressed on to his podium at the front gate.

The resulting dull roar of speculation could be heard on the televisions upstairs as well. Everyone was watching, including Major Wilson—who had his fingers on his nose in quiet frustration. “Great. The media had to show again.” Wilson knew the Colonel would be up to the office in but a few minutes, so he took a folding chair and sat, pondering his next move.

He didn’t have long to do that before the Sizemore director spoke up once more. “Major, we appreciate the patience and accuracy you have dedicated to this case…but now, it seems like things need to get moving at speed.”

Major Wilson spoke in return. “I understand the sense of urgency, but this is enough of a circus as it is, director. Steaming along with this case as quickly as possible is only a disservice to anyone involved.”

“And what about the missing children?” asked the Shaftesbury district director. “What about their right to be with their families? To go to school safely? Do you think the parents of the missing children appreciate your snail’s pace on this issue? You were brought on this case to root out and destroy the terrible element striking fear into the hearts of the population. That’s what we expect you to do!”

Before another round of conversation could dull out Major Wilson, Chief Executive Chandler banged his gavel and stood up. “That will be all for today, ladies and gentlemen. Gertrude, please escort these men and women back to their lots.” He then sat back down, Wilson among the departing until Chandler spoke once more. “Except for you, Major.”

Gertrude ferried the men and women into two lifts, getting into one and going downstairs to lead the directors and board members back to their cars. In the meantime, Chandler gestured to the Major to have a seat across from him. “The directors are right—we are running out of time. It is because of this that I am seeking your counsel on how to proceed. What resources would enable the Military Police to perform the duty of solving this case as completely and expeditiously as possible?”

Wilson almost felt the ticking of the wall clock on his shoulder. He’d made no mention of what he’d wanted to do so far, but what he was doing was getting the investigative team nowhere. The wall clocked ticked on for what felt like hours before Wilson gave a response. “In light of the current circumstances, we would need the return of the short gag in order to hold onto information and get inquiries completed. We would also need Military Police patrols increased twofold, and greater authority to acquire security footage. But…”

Almost immediately, Chandler knew what the Major was going to say. “I know, Mister Wilson. We’ve worked hard for what we have today—especially the liberties the people of Heaven enjoy. But what good is the freedom to fear?”

Wilson had no choice but to nod in agreement. “Fear is killing this city. But a long gag would put it firmly into the grave. I’ll take a short gag on this case’s information, under the condition it last no longer than six months. Any longer without bringing children home and I’ll hang up my uniform in front of you.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Major.” Chandler said, pressing an intercom button on his office phone. “Gertrude, go to Shandra when you’re done and ready the soapbox room for a regional announcement.”

Major Wilson stood up and began heading back to the elevator, his breathing indicating a sense of defeat—one Chandler also caught onto.

“Do not worry, Major.” Chandler said. “I have every faith you will succeed. Not because you won’t let me down, but because that’s just the kind of man you are. It’s why I spent some of the best years of my life calling you my commander.”

Wilson said nothing as he entered the elevator, Akiko quickly moving to the side as he pressed the button to return him to the lot the vehicle was located at. “Driver, I’m finished. Meet me at the squad car in sixteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir I’m—damn these are good—on my way.” The young man sounded like he had a mouth full of food, a possibility the Major chuckled at as he waited for the lift to reach its destination. When it did, he stepped out to go to his car, only to have his left hand held back by both of Akiko’s hands. “I’m sorry. can I help you, miss Matsumoto?”

Akiko lifted her head, tears running down her cheeks.

“Please, Major Wilson. Please find my little boy.”

20: Flowers in the Attic

Flowers in the Attic

19: Flowers in the Attic

Diana stared at the screen watched the empty podium along with everyone else in the manor. It was the first time since she’d begun working for House Stepfordson that she’d seen all its maidens in one room. Mary-Ann, as awaited, took this time to brief the maidens on the upcoming broadcast.

“What we’re about to see is an executive broadcast from Chief Executive of Heaven, Master Johnathan Richard Chandler the Third. You are to listen to the broadcast in its entirety. Do not speak or leave the room during the broadcast. Any adjustments we must make to our duties as maidens begins immediately after the end of the broadcast. The punishment for any failure in this regard will be freedom.” Mary-Ann then turned to the television herself, hopping into her pile of pillows and soon thereafter joined by Kimberly and Matilda, who took up Mary-Ann’s lap. Patrick and Daniel made their homes on Diana’s lap. Wallace, Jasper, and Irene, unable to agree who would sit on Benazir’s shoulders during the broadcast, opted to stuff themselves between Benazir and Stephanie. Wallace and Matilda had built a pillow fort and were probably already asleep in it.

The maidens hushed the children as the broadcast began, Chief Executive Chandler taking the podium amidst a sea of people.

“One hour ago, I was briefed on the current status of the Sheffield kidnapping case by Military Police Investigative Information Services head, Major Henry Wilson. It is with a heavy heart that I announce the confirmation of public suspicion of another kidnapping.” When he finished speaking, the atrium became a dull roar of questions, demands and camera flashes. He waited one minute for the noise to die down before continuing. “At the current time, the Military Police are not releasing any information to the public concerning this latest case.”

Some gasps came from the maidens in the Stepfordson conference room, and Irene hid on Benazir’s lap, prompting the adjutant maiden to stroke her hair softly. Wallace and Matilda popped their heads out of the pillow fort to see what all the shock was about. Walla went back inside the fort while Matilda snuck over to Diana’s side.

“We in the executive office and the Military Police understand the public’s frustration with the lack of progress on this case thus far. However, it has also been brought to my attention that crucial information is slipping out of both offices and spoiling leads in the investigation, leading to more children put in danger and, ultimately, more time wasted backtracking. With what is at stake, we can no longer afford for such holes in our efforts to go unpatched.”

The maidens were already squeezing their noses, knowing the order that lay ahead.

“It is with this in mind that I hereby publicly declare the activation of executive protocol five. For regular citizens, please consult your local military police precinct or district office for further information; this order will be effective for you in six weeks. For ruling houses, this order is in place effective immediately. We ask everyone’s cooperation in this matter. If you feel compelled to leave your children at home, please make proper plans with their school, daycare or early care facility. If not, please follow all given protocols under this executive order as closely as possible.”

The sound coming from the crowd was almost enough to drown out the small discussion that had begun among the Stepfordson maidens. Mary-Ann quickly quieted it, pointing to the television set she’d told everyone to pay attention to before the broadcast began. Chief Executive Chandler passed the microphone to Brigadier General Ratzenger and stood beside him as he spoke.

“The following basic rules are effective today for the houses in standing of the city of Heaven and their direct affiliates, and the second of January next year for all other individuals. All nonsecure telecommunications will be monitored by the Military Police Information Bureau, with metadata available upon request. Approved routes for private and public transportation will be set up over the next month. All school communication and transportation will be monitored by the Executive Branch Information Department. The curfew of twenty-hundred hours—eight PM—is effective for all citizens immediately. Any suspicious activity, excessive grouping—eight or more individuals—or continued breach of curfew should be reported to the Military Police as soon as possible.”

It was hard to hear the commander over the growing jeers of the crowd, and harder to see him between the camera flashes. No one liked the gag protocol—people didn’t like obeying it, the Military Police didn’t like enforcing it and the press didn’t like having to report on it. In the wake of the kidnappings, however, the short gag’s being reinstitution had become a foregone conclusion. Over the course of the next hour, various district executives and some directors spoke. They essentially repeated one another: they did not personally support the gag, but their concern was nonetheless great enough to justify having voted for the gag order’s reinstitution.

Chief Executive Chandler gave a final address before leaving the podium, flanked by Akiko and Gertrude. “I know many of you sit with resentful hearts at the order I’ve just given. I know many of you feel none of this is going to bring your children back to you. But rest assured the best of the best of Heaven are struggling day and night to bring a full, timely resolution to these heinous acts and bring the scum responsible to justice. It’s not going to be easy. It will require patience, discipline and, most of all, compassion. Remember that, even in these trying times, we are friends and family one and all. Peace be with Heaven and its people.”

When Chief Executive Chandler left, Mary-Ann turned the television off and stood up. The other maidens stood up as well, after getting various children out of their laps of course. “Benazir and Catherine, contact Chandler Academy and arrange homeschooling papers and correspondence for Camellia, then the East Pier School for the rest of the children. Tomas and Charles. I need a complete list of maintenance priorities for all structures and vehicles under the Stepfordson name. Helga, revise your survey of the Stepfordson family grounds and report back to me immediately upon finishing. Constance, Robert, and Giselle, reach out to our suppliers and arrange for at least three months of forward purchases. Erica, give me an exact report of every single cubic centimeter of this house you clean on a daily basis from now on, written and typed into the system.” As their names and additional duties were called out, the maidens bowed to their leader and filed out of the room. By now, the only maidens left in the room were Katrina, Esmeralda, and Diana.

Mary-Ann snapped her right fingers once, and Esmeralda left the room, switching the bow on the ribbon across her waist from the center to the left. “Katrina, it is your responsibility to see to the full completion of their new duties on a daily basis.”

“Yes, Head Maiden.” Katrina said, bowing deeply before walking out of the room, leaving Diana and Mary-Ann alone.

Diana just stood in the sun while facing Mary-Ann, her freckles brightening in the light. “What of me, Head Maiden? I know I don’t have a position yet, so my place in all this is a bit confusing.”

“About that…” Mary-Ann said, patting a pillow next to her.

Diana went to sit, but her pace was glacial. She didn’t know what she was going to hear next. She didn’t know whether this was a talk about finding her a position in the manor or finding her new employment. Thousands of thoughts ran through Diana’s head, and it showed when she stumbled on her way to sit next to her head maiden. “I’m so sorry, my Head Maiden. I…I’m just…”

Mary-Ann slid the pillow beneath Diana, who promptly planted her bottom on it. “You’re scared. I know. The first couple months are always the toughest time. I know you can’t sleep, too. I’ll address that.”

Diana nervously adjusted her sweater as she listened to her head maiden. It unnerved her how easily the more experienced maidens could seemingly pick her mind apart. Was this some sort of requirement to be one of them? Did she too have to become this good at reading people in order to keep her job? She tried her best to calm down, but the redness in her face betrayed her. “…yes, my head maiden. I swear on my life I am trying my hardest to become an asset to both you and House Stepfordson every day, but ever since…ever since…”

Mary-Ann cracked a smile. “Ever since you brought Camellia home that day, everything’s been different. It’s all upside-down and backwards.”

Diana nodded, unable to stop a laugh from escaping her lips. “Yes, it has. I wash everyone’s hair with no problems except for Camellia. I go over everyone’s homework in the lounge except Camellia’s. No matter how hard I try to make sense of that girl, it always comes down to three words…”

Mary-Ann, almost presciently, finished Diana’s sentence. “Except for Camellia.”

Diana sat there, twirling her bright red locks, before bothering to continue the conversation. “If I might ask, Head Maiden, how did you react when Camellia was born?”

“I didn’t.” she said. “I’d spent the previous eighteen years of my life preparing for her arrival. It’s the whole reason I was brought on as a Stepfordson maiden. Every moment, from her first word to her first poem to whatever the hell she’s up to right now, was preordained in my onboarding. It was the twelve kids that came after her that kept throwing me off balance until more help started trickling in.”

“I feel the exact opposite way.” Diana admitted, still messing with her hair a little bit.

When Mary-Ann saw this, she softly placed her hand on Diana’s lap. “Goodness, you’re practically a leaf in the wind right now. Is there something else you feel you need to say?”

Diana sat silent and looked away from Mary-Ann. It took a few minutes for her to respond to her head maiden, during which Mary-Ann waited patiently. “When I turned down Benazir’s offer, she took me outside and we talked about it. She…she said she knew all along I wouldn’t accept it, and she even told me why. I guess, right now, I still don’t understand it.”

Mary-Ann, before anything else, noticed Diana’s eyes darting side to side, as if she were struggling to keep hold of the information she and Benazir shared that night, and she began a forward-and-back lilt that, to any other eye but Mary-Ann’s, might have gone unnoticed. When she looked at Diana, she took her right hand up to Diana’s shoulder and moved herself until she was eye-to-eye with her. “Diana, look at me.” Mary-Ann said in a firm, but soft tone. “Look at me. You need to breathe. Breath with me, Diana.” She kept Diana’s face looking straight at hers for sixty seconds, never so much as moving her eyes as she did.

For sixty seconds in Mary-Ann’s view, Diana felt alright. She relaxed her shoulders, slumped forward a bit and took a big, long breath before continuing. “Did you…did you know too?” she asked Mary-Ann.

Mary-Ann let Diana go. “No and yes. I didn’t know what your answer would be, but I knew you weren’t ready.”

Diana had to laugh at herself on hearing that. “Seems like everyone knew I wasn’t cut out for childcare before I knew I wasn’t cut out for childcare. I just…feel like such a disappointment six months in. I don’t know how much further I’ve got—or how much further I can go.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Mary-Ann said. “The doors of tomorrow are opened or close by the choices we make today—which is why I don’t mind you making the choice to stay in custodial duties. It’s no offense to plop yourself down where you feel the most comfortable in a ruling house. Beyond that, there’s no real rhyme or reason to where I put people. There doesn’t need to be anything more than that.”

“Speaking of ‘anything more’ I think I’d best get back to my duties.” Diana said, standing up and giving a deep bow to her head maiden.

“Alright then. Just remember…you can breathe around me.” Mary-Ann reassured her newest maiden.

Diana walked out of the room and began back toward her working place in the subbasement. She hadn’t eaten lunch, but she also wasn’t hungry, so she continued on. “Breathe. Yeah, that’s super easy in front of your boss.” She kept going down the hall, but when she approached the grand staircase she stopped. She stopped and stared down the steps for what felt like days. Then she looked to the left. For some reason, she felt she had no need to go down there. She felt she had no need to go back to Erika or Stephanie. For whatever reason, she felt in her own mind she had no reason to go to the subbasement anymore. So she didn’t. she turned left and walked into the children’s wing, then made another left for Camellia’s room. When she got there, she wanted to open the door, but something told her ‘Why bother?’ She did not even call Camellia’s name to see if she was inside of the room before she turned around and headed up the stairs on the opposite end of the hallway. “Camellia? Camellia, are you up here?” Diana asked as she wound her way up the stairs and came to a pair of dark orange doors. These doors, she had no trouble willing herself to open.

When she opened the doors, she saw Camellia in a bright red dress and sunhat, her figure somewhat obscured by the abundant sunlight coming from the roof. This roof was made of glass, unlike the near-entirety of the rest of the manor. The room was warm to the touch and soft on the mind, made easier by the myriad plants lined throughout on windowsills, tables, chairs and towels. Diana stood there and watched Camellia water a few large ferns.

Camellia stopped after about two minutes, smiling when she looked in Diana’s direction. “It’s about time you made your way up here.”

21: Plants Are Better Than People

Plants Are Better Than People

20: Plants Are Better Than People

The first thing Diana thought to do was ask Camellia what any normal maiden would’ve asked. “Camellia, where have you been? You missed the entire executive broadcast.”

Camellia just kept watering plants.

“Camellia, I know you hear me. We have to go back downstairs for a briefing.” Diana said.

Camellia set her watering can down and sat on her knees. “A briefing for what? The Chief Executive isn’t telling anyone anything they don’t already know.”

However true that may have been, Diana still had a job to do. “Camellia, please. I have to get to this briefing so I can get back to the custodial area.”

“No, you don’t.” Camellia said, giving her maiden a light smile. “All that aside, how have you been? It’s been quite awhile since you last came up to my room. Erika’s been keeping you that busy doing so much she could do on her own with a bit of Winter’s Joy?”

Diana wanted to say something about that, but when she gave it some thought, she realized Erika tended to go on about Winter’s Joy a bit too much to not at least be a recreational user of it. Since that was something that could get Erika freed, Diana kept her thoughts to herself. “Camellia, come on. We need to get back downstairs as soon as we…” she said before she found herself trailing off into silence. She stood up and looked at the plants around her. She took in the petrichor of the room, filling her senses with it for a few seconds before she realized she’d drifted off.

“A divine smell, isn’t it?” Camellia asked. “It took some getting used to after I found this room, but Helga started letting me in here more often as she started spending more time outside, and now the scent’s kind of grown on me. Don’t worry, it will grow on you, too.”

Diana looked around. She hadn’t heard of this place from any maidens—Helga included—and she wasn’t told about it on her Selection Day. The room was massive and contained a corner indicating much more than was visible existed just a few seconds’ walk away. Yet, in six months, she’d never seen anyone enter the doors to the mansion’s turret. “Do any other maidens beside Helga know about this place? I mean…they have to. This is too big to miss.”

Camellia shook her head. “Come, miss Diana. I want to show you something.”

Diana shook her head. “Maybe later, sweet—Camellia. Maybe later, Camellia.” She went to scoop Camellia up and spirit her to where she belonged, but her arms seemed to slowly pull themselves back when she got close to the child. After ten seconds, she set her arms back in her lap. “Well, let’s make it quick.”

“Splendid!” said Camellia as she took Diana’s hands and stood the both of them up. “I’ve been wanting to show you this one plant since I first laid eyes on you.” she said, working her way through the massive ferns hanging from the ceiling. She made sure to tickle each one as she went by.

Diana followed close behind Camellia. She didn’t take as close a look at the various plants as Camellia did, but she did take some deep breaths now and then to enjoy the myriad scents the flora were sending here way. When the two stopped, they were in front of a plant with two sets of petals, one red and one blue, whose soft hexagonal and pentagonal patterns seemed to run concentric with one another. It was a bit bigger than most plants in the room, and its soil was a deep, vivid blue. Most of the plants had short descriptions on slips of paper nearby them, but not this one—it just had a big question mark on the pot, drawn in bright pink permanent marker.

Camellia picked the plant up and set it on the floor between her and Diana, sitting down soon thereafter. “As far as I know, Helga likes to come up here and mess with the labels as she finds out more about the plants, but not this one. She just drew this on it and, besides watering it like all the others, she leaves it alone. She doesn’t even talk to it.”

Diana sat down, reaching for but ultimately deciding not to touch the plant. “She…uh, Helga talks to the plants?”

Camellia nodded. “Of course she does. She says it’s the best way to make sure they don’t miss her.” she responded, reaching out and patting the blue petals on the plant.

Diana sat wordless for thirty seconds before touching the red petals. “Helga likes to talk to just about anything, now that I think of things. Bugs, rocks, plants apparently—she seems to enjoy talking to just about everything except actual people.”

“I can’t say I blame her. Plants are so much better than people.” Camellia said, sifting through some of the dirt as she spoke.

Diana kept stroking the plant’s blue petals. “People can be pains in the ass sometimes, but at least you’ve got something speaking back to you, letting you know it’s…y’know, alive and whatnot.”

“What life do we have that plants don’t?” Camellia asked quietly.

“Plenty. We’ve got art, music, science, things like that. Plants may be tranquil, but in their lives they go nowhere but up and out.”

Camellia giggled upon hearing those words. “So do most people. That doesn’t make each life any less important.”

“Plants are plants and people are people, Camellia.” Diana said. “I guess it’s fun to commune with nature every once in a while, but there comes a time when you start to forget yourself among plants, rocks and bugs and you’ve got to come back to civilization.”

“Says who?” Camellia giggled out, turning the pot around so she could study the question mark Helga left on it.

“You’ve just got a rebuttal for everything, huh?” Diana said, scooting a bit closer so she could pat the red petals. “Now I’m starting to see why everything is ‘except for Camellia’ around here. You’ve got more answers than a library and more questions than a reporter.”

Camellia shrugged, taking her hands inside the soil once more. “I merely like to believe I think of myself more than most do. I find it a fun pastime in a place like this.”

Diana did nothing to the plant, opting to feel some ferns nearby. “The more I think of places like this, the more I start to believe there are no other places like this. I know every ruling house is different, but you alone make House Stepfordson an entirely different beast to tame.”

“I don’t think I’m any different from my siblings.” Camellia responded, flicking some dirt onto Diana’s dress. “Well, I do not believe I am different in any way that matters.”

Diana stood up and began looking throughout the room once more, and Camellia brought the odd plant along with her when she began to follow Diana across the corner and into the other part of the room. “I still don’t understand. Like, does Master Stepfordson even know this room exists? How does Helga find time to come up here and tend to all these things without—”

Camellia just laughed at Diana’s confusion. “She’s the groundswoman, silly. It’s her job to take care of plants and stuff.”

“Not like this…” Diana said, looking at some aloe plants at the far end of the room. “This isn’t a collection any one man could keep up without committing their day to it. Whoever has all these plants here isn’t doing it just to have them taking up space and looking pretty for visitors.”

“Of course not.” Camellia said. “Helga has been working on this collection since before she got here.”

“Before she got here? What, did her parents send some of this stuff to try and score some points with the Stepfordsons before Helga came up for selection?” Diana asked. “It seems to me there were plenty of other, easier ways. Hell, I would’ve just made a cash donation for all the effort this takes.”

“Which is why you’ve never been able to find this room.” Camellia said softly, placing the plant down to study it some more. “To be here, you have to, well, be Helga.”

Diana gently rolled her eyes and picked the weird plant up with the intent to return it to where they’d found it. “No offense, but Helga’s starting to sound a bit screw-loose when it comes to these plants, especially the whole plants-over-people thing you mentioned. If she thinks that, why doesn’t she just stay up here and commune with the plants forever?”

“We desperately need to find you something to obsess over.” Camellia said, shortly before Diana scooped her up. “It might help you watch what you say about other people more closely.”

Diana carried Camellia out of the room, making sure to shut the doors before she began back down the stairwell and across the hallway to Camellia’s room. “I have to do enough of that around your parents. I’d rather not hold my tongue about a woman who just messes around with plants in her free time.”

As soon as her mouth closed and her sentence finished, Diana was staring back down the hall at Helga. “How in the fu…” Diana mouthed to herself. She quickly figured Helga, if she’d really been hiding somewhere up there with them or was crossing paths with them on their way out of the room, heard everything Diana said about her. She thusly made no point of trying to awkwardly apologize or redirect the subject, and simply walked past Helga with Camellia in tow.

When she got to Camellia’s room, Diana just bowed and turned around to leave when Camellia asked something of her.

“Miss Diana, please try to be a plant for Helga—if only sometimes.” She hopped into her bed after making her request.

“I can be Diana Robertson.” Diana replied before walking out of the room and back to the subbasement, sighing heavily as she rejoined Erika in her duties.

Erika did not ask where she’d been, possibly because a massive backlog had generated while Diana was away, and Erika was clearing it along with Stephanie. Stephanie, however, found space to speak. “Well, did you have fun with Camellia?”

Diana grabbed a load of dishes from the dumbwaiter and placed them in one of the sinks.

“Hello, Ground Control to Diana Robertson.” Stephanie said.

“Diana Robertson to Ground Control, shut the fuck up.” Diana said, continuing to wash dishes as her counterpart gasped and rolled her eyes, plucking a load of dishes out of the dumbwaiter to wash as well.

“Jesus Christ, just…be a bitch, why don’t you?” Stephanie said, with no response from Diana except a stare and a shrug.

That caused her to begin walking toward Diana, and Diana to stop what she was doing with her fist clenched. Before things went any further, Erika snapped her right fingers. “Hey. You two can go out in the back forty and beat the shit out of each other when we’re done working up here. Before then, let’s clear this jam.” The three promptly began getting back to work, none too keen on saying anything to the other, if not for the tension than for the sheer amount of work left.

Helga, in the meantime, went through the red doors of the mansion’s turret and back up to the plant room. “Wow, they didn’t even have the courtesy to lock the doors when they were done messing things up.” Helga said to herself as she locked each of the three pairs of doors behind her. When she got up to the plant room itself, she looked around to see if there were any flora out of place, excessive dirt on the floor or insects who might have made their way in. She saw nothing out-of-place as she walked, until she came across the two-flowered plant. She immediately ran to it and wiped the dirt off its pot with a spritz of cold water and a paper towel before resetting it to its exact former position.

After she took care of the odd plant, she walked throughout the rest of the plant room, continuing her inspection and, much to her relief, finding nothing out of place. She took out a broom and began sweeping, of course making sure not to touch some moss that’d begun growing between some floorboards in the northeastern portion of the room. After that, she took out her watering can, only to huff at learning it was but half-full. ‘Ugh. At least I’ve got a sink up here.” She said to herself, walking over to it and filling the can up before she began watering the plants. After about an hour, she only had one plant left to go—the odd plant out—and began watering it as well. When she began, she turned on the radio and began repeating the lyrics she heard coming from it.

“…If ever you need a sign to believe

That plants are better than people,

Spend time with the masses, look through the store glasses,

And you’ll see trees are wonderful.

If ever you need a sign to believe

That flowers are more kind than humans,

Spend days in the walls of the homeliest church,

You’ll see now flowers discriminating.

If ever you need a sign to believe

That rivers move more than the boats,

Swim ‘neath the waves, walk ‘neath a desert haze

And you’ll see the rivers’ true face.

If every you needed signs to believe

That trees, more than men, are holy,

Spend time in the snow, on the ridgelines

And you’ll see they’re better than people…”

As Helga watered the strange plant, some salt was added in the form of her tears. Helga whisphered to herself. “Plants are better than people.”

22: Home

Home

21: Home

Diana sat on her bed, reading a book. Well, she wasn’t reading it so much as she was picking through the words like unwanted food on a plate. “Plants are better than people? What kind of drug is Helga on?” she thought to herself, continuing to aimlessly rummage through the pages of her book until she heard a knock on the door. The four hard, rapid knocks told her it was Benazir—not that it mattered right now.

“Just leave the food on the table outside.” Diana said, loud enough to be heard from her bed.

“I would, if I had any food.” Benazir said from the other side of the door.

“Well, just…I’m not in the mood for chit-chat, or a lecture or whatever.” Diana said, continuing with her book even as Benazir opened the door.

“I know. That’s why I’m here.” Benazir said, shutting the door behind her as she approached Diana’s bed.

Diana huffed as Benazir sat down on her bed. “Is there even a point in telling you to get out?”

“No.” Benazir said, folding her legs on the bed. “I’m just here to listen to you, and maybe get out of dealing with Erika.” Benazir scooted back until she was leaning against the window. “So, what’s got you so fired up today?”

Diana didn’t say anything.

Benazir didn’t say anything either, at least not for a few minutes. “If you want to get anywhere, you’re going to have to step out of the hole your heels are digging you into. What’s wrong?”

“Do you think plants are better than people?” Diana said, patiently awaiting an answer.

“Helga does, and that’s what matters.” Benazir replied. “I get she can seem…unique in her methods and ideas, but we all are in this crazy-ass mansion. Those are her ideas, and it’s her unique mind. Making fun of her in front of Camellia is one thing, but right in front of Helga herself is not only uncalled for, it’s something that’ll get you in trouble if you keep letting it happen.”

“Okay, so my option is to ignore how insane that thought is or risk freedom.” Diana said, huffing softly afterward. This earned her a flick of the nose from Benazir, to which she narrowed her eyes. “Look, did I not just tell you I don’t want a lecture?”

“Stop thinking of it like that.” Benazir said. “Think in Helga terms, or at least think about how she might feel right now. If you worked on something for six years and someone made fun of it, you’d feel a bit down on yourself regardless of how you tried to shrug things away. If you see her again, at least apologize for—”

“I’m not apologizing for just calling the plant room weird.” Diana said.

Benazir got up and dusted off her dress. “I’ll be back when you’ve gotten some time to sleep on things.”

When she left, Diana locked her door and hopped back into her bed. She then screamed into her big, orange pillow as hard as she possibly could, not stopping until she had tears running down her face.

It was a bit too much. working in the subbasement was a bit too much. Learning how every maiden worked was a bit too much. Screwing things up was too much. It was all just too fucking much to her, and by the time she stopped screaming and crying she was too hoarse to really go to sleep. She just threw herself onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, wondering why everything in the manor had to be happening at once and all to her. She shut the radio off, closed her curtains and tried her best to fall asleep.

When she woke up, Diana smelled herself—and she didn’t need to raise her arms to do it. In all the fracas of yesterday, she seemed to have forgotten to take a shower. So she bolted out of bed and right into the bathroom, towel, rag and soap in hand. But when she turned on the shower itself, she just stood there. It took about twenty minutes for her to actually start cleaning herself, and even then she took her sweet time. By the time she was finished and dressed to begin the day, she was ten minutes late to the subbasement, but she said nothing and went about her usual morning duty of checking the dumbwaiters for dirty dishes.

When she was done with the dishes, she took the children’s things and went up to their wing. Instead of starting with the youngest, however, she reversed order and began with Camellia—despite the fact that she had nothing to be given back. She went into her room without bothering to knock and peeked around to see if Camellia was in there. She was, since within ten seconds of looking around, Diana had a dab of whipped cream on her nose.

“Hello, miss Diana!” Camellia said, hopping onto her bed and continuing with her apple pie. “So, how long do I have you for?”

“I’m just here to…” Dian tried to respond, but then remembered she had nothing to give back to Camellia. Her words began drifting off, and she simply left the room.

“Okay, so that’s a few minutes with her, then. Bye, miss Diana!” Camellia shouted as Diana went down the hall, given the other children back their things as she’d planned.

When she got to the twins’ room, she could tell they were asleep by the silence of the area: nothing was being thrown out of the room, neither of the twins were shouting and there weren’t a bunch of toys piled up in a box near the room. When she got inside the room, she quietly put some of their toys back and gave each brother a hug before she quietly shut the door and bounded down the hallway only to nearly run down Helga.

“Oh, damn. I’m so sorry.” She said, helping Helga up and dusting her skirt off for her.

“Oh, it’s okay! I tend not to look where I’m going when I’m on my way back to the plant room. You know how you lose yourself to excitement sometimes!” Helga was about to turn around and keep going to wherever she was headed, but she saw Diana standing there and looking out one of the stairwell windows. “…Diana, you okay? Lost in thought or something?”

Diana looked to Helga. “I’m sorry about yesterday. My mouth likes to run ahead of me sometimes.”

Helga gave Diana a little smile…and a hug. “It’s okay. That’s a lot of peoples’ reaction to seeing my plant room for the first time, especially the polyploid plants.” She let Diana go and began back up the stairs, adjusting her diving suit as she went. When she was halfway up the stairs, however, she gasped to herself—she’d just found a way to make her day one of the best ever. “Hey, Didi! The twins and I are going to the beach to look for crabs, and we might even go underwater for a few hours. You wanna come with?”

“You mean in that huge diving ship you’ve got?” Diana queried, to which Helga just nodded and hugged her again.

“Thanks! I’ll even show you some of my favorite wave watching spots when I’m all done!” Helga said, walking off without a word from Diana.

Diana just turned around, shrugged, and continued giving the children back their personal effects before she returned to the subbasement. She trudged through her duties somewhat, not caring to speak with Erika, Stephanie or Carolyn while she was refilling dumbwaiters with clean clothes and dishes and pouring washing fluid mix into the laundry machines.

Lunch came around, and she just grabbed some cheesy French fries and headed back to her room, still not in a mood to talk to or listen to anyone. She idly picked at the lunch she had before deciding eating it was definitely not happening right now, and she just laid her head down and stared out her window. As usual, it was dark and rainy outside even at one in the afternoon, so she just closed the curtains and turned around to activate her radio, only to yelp when she saw Helga standing right at the edge of her bed.

“Hey, Diana! You still want to go out to the ocean with us?” Helga asked.

Diana sat up, figuring she may as well try to eat some of the food she’d gotten for lunch if Helga wasn’t going to let her take a nap. “Us? I thought it was just going to be you and me.”

“This time Patrick and Daniel want to come along, so I’m going to show them where the best crab spots are before we head out to the old docks!” Helga said, still just as excited to be going outside in general as usual.

Diana kept eating. “Well, I’m not doing anything else, so why not?” she said, taking her plate with her as she followed Helga out to the rear of the estate.

No one save Diana brought an umbrella, and no one save Diana seemed to care much that it was raining. Helga kept stopping the trip down the field of black tulips to look for frogs, worms and other such things. Patrick and Daniel got in on the fun too, never missing a chance to point out centipedes, spiders, or just about anything they saw on the ground that wasn’t a plant. Diana more than once had to chase after the twins so they wouldn’t accidentally run off the property, and Patrick seemed to forget he had a broken arm. To stop him from making his injury worse—or potentially breaking his other arm—Diana scooped Patrick up and off they went along with Helga. Patrick, being Patrick, repeatedly leapt out of Diana’s grasp in order to pick up and identify snakes he saw along their path to the sea. After about the eighth time, Diana opted to simply hold his hand. “You sure love your bugs, huh?” she asked the little boy, who just nodded and had no visible reaction to a house centipede skittering across his feet.

For all the animals they were seeing, Diana didn’t spot any crabs. “Hey, Helga. Is it not crab season or something?” she asked her fellow maiden.

“Sometimes they come out and sometimes they don’t.” Helga said. “There’s tons more out there on the reefs, but we need one of my boats to go see them all and it’s a bit too stormy out for that today. But we can go to the old pier and see if we can pick up any clams!”

Diana smiled a little when she heard that but didn’t respond until after she’d once again wrangled Patrick out of some bushes. “Oh, sweet. I haven’t had homemade clam chowder since I was selected for this place. Speaking of food, do we actually use any of the animals down here to cook?”

Helga shook her head. “Too many regulations on wild fishing to make it worth the while. Even if there weren’t, there’s no way the clams out here ain’t gonna make you sick without proper processing—besides, I don’t think the clams would like being eaten too much, you know? They live through so many centuries that it’d just be weird to scoop them up and haul them away for dinner.”

“…uh, okay.” Diana responded. “Well, I guess it’d be cool to see some clams anyway. I remember we would go out to the water to see this one huge cl—” she tried to say before having to pick Daniel up after he got pinched by something and started crying. She ran off to a big boulder where she could assess the damage, and thankfully only found a red spot where whatever-it-was had gotten Daniel. “Don’t worry, sweetie. It’s nothing much; we’ll put some salve on it and have Esmeralda take a look when we get back, ‘kay?”

Daniel stopped crying and sniffling after he was reassured—well, a few minutes after. “Okay, miss Diana.”

“You ready to keep going now?” she asked Daniel.

Daniel just shook his head. “Nu-uh. I’m cold and your legs are squishy and warm because your thighs do the thing when you sit down.”

Helga immediately began giggling when she heard what Daniel said. Diana, however, kept her thoughts to herself and slid off her jacket to place on Daniel’s body. “There we go. How about I keep you up until you’re warm enough to go back to bugging Helga?” Daniel nodded to this, and Helga rolled her eyes. Diana’s only response was to blow Helga a raspberry.

Onward they went across the northern coast until Helga stopped them. By this time, they were just shy of a low tide area where a few dozen people were picking through the mud for…things. Some seemed to be collecting clams, some crabs and some any little trinkets that seemed to have washed ashore. “Okay, my little clam bakes—remember, if it’s living, show it off and then put it back!” Helga told the twins, who by this point she had to shout the caveat to as they were already running around in the mud and playing with some of the other children. She then turned to Diana and grabbed her hands. “Come on, I wanna show you something.”

“What about the kids?” Diana asked.

Helga shook her head, pulling Diana along with her. “They’re way too young to go where we’re going.” For about three minutes, Helga and Diana walked toward the rockier part of the beach close to Stepfordson Manor, and when she reached the shore Helga just…dove into the ocean and started swimming out to sea.

Diana stopped right at the shore. “Helga, where are you going?!” she shouted out.

“Come on, Diana! It’s right down here!” Helga shouted back before continuing to swim.

Diana dipped her feet into the water and immediately shrunk back. She had on a pair of sneakers, a warm pink sweater and a pair of black leggings, hardly something anyone should swim in. figuring Helga wasn’t going to stop until she got where she was swimming to, however, Diana took off her sweater and dove in after her fellow maiden. “Fuck, this is cold!” she said to herself before pressing on, finding herself close to catching up to Helga but ultimately not doing so until Helga stopped about 500 meters out. All told, the swim took about twelve minutes for Diana. For Helga, it took only about two-and-a-half.

“There you go!” Helga said, giving Diana a little hug.

“How…in the ever-loving fuck…can you swim that fast?” Diana said as she treaded water.

“I get some practice in after bedtime. Now let’s dive!” Helga said, handing Diana a mouthpiece with a capsule about the size of a box of cards and fitting it into her mouth before going below the waves.

Diana shrugged and followed Helga beneath the water, and after about two minutes diving straight down Diana’s saw something that made her gasp so deeply, Helga—who wasn’t wearing one of the devices she gave to Diana—had to pat her back. “Careful, you’ve only got about ten minutes of air.” She said, before letting Diana gawk at what had been found. The vessel was a gigantic, black tube with rudders, propellers and a metal tower extending upward from the bow. The low hum of the ocean was almost enough to drown out the hum of the vessel’s own engines, but Diana could still very much tell they were on and running. She tried to look for any signs of a name imprinted on the hull, but all she could see were the dark markings SSBN323. Beside that, Diana saw a few larger, sunken ships surrounding the vessel and no shortage of ruined clothing, twisted metal once belonging to cars and concrete blocks.

Shortly after Diana was done being amazed, Helga tugged on her and the two began moving slowly back to the surface. When they were up, Patrick and Daniel were waving to them from the shore. “Holy fuck. What kinda ship is that, Helga?” she asked her fellow maiden almost as soon as she hit the surface.

“I’ll tell you once we get back to shore! Race ‘ya!” Helga said, already well on her way by the time she finished her sentence.

“Yeah, I’m gonna win a race with a girl who can swim like THAT.” Diana said, cruising along to the shore and clocking in well-behind Helga as she expected. She left the water and was no later piled on by Patrick and Daniel.

“Miss Diana, Miss Diana! I found a clam, like, THIS BIG!” Daniel shouted, holding out his arms as far as he could.

“Nu-uh, I found one almost the size of miss Helga!” Patrick retorted.

“No you did not! All you found was a super-big lobster.” Daniel responded, to which Patrick shook his head.

“I never said I found a big clam, dum-dum!” said Patrick.

And just as soon as Patrick and Daniel were properly ready to go for each other’s throats, Diana picked Patrick up and Helga picked Daniel up. “Annnnnd it’s time for you two to have dinner and get ready for bed.” Diana said, helping Helga carry the twins back to the manor through the cloudy, dark-blue dusk that’d befallen the city.

When the four of them reached the manor, Diana knew she had to get back to the subbasement…but she didn’t. She looked to Helga with a small smile on her face. “It must be weird, huh? All this bouncing around I’m doing, that is.”

Helga hugged Diana. “No, it isn’t. You’re just being Diana Robertson.”

Diana nodded, and then held Helga’s left hand for a little bit. “Speaking of which…I, um. I really am sorry for being such a…well, such a bitch to you. I see now how much this stuff really means to you, and even though I don’t get it all it still isn’t my place to make fun of you for it.”

“We all have our days. But you did really well out there on the sea. I’m impressed!” Helga said to Diana, moving some soaked hair out of her own face and grinning. “Maybe you should come out here and soak those squishy thighs of yours on the coast more often.”

“Yeah, I—hold on, HEY!” Diana said, huffing in a manner utterly betrayed by the blush on her face. “But yeah, I’m sorry for being mean to you today. I guess I’ve got more of myself to work on than I thought I did coming into this place.”

“Apology accepted. Just don’t make a habit of it; conversations like this are super-awkward.” Helga said, walking off for a second before Diana gave her one last bit of words.

“Helga?” Diana asked.

“Yeah?” Helga responded.

Diana smiled. “Please don’t ever call me ‘Didi’ again. It’s just…it just doesn’t work.”

Helga nodded. “Deal. It sounded dumb when I said it anyway.”

Diana scooped up the twins and took them to their room. “Okay you two, time for dinner. Go hop in the shower and I’ll have your stuff brought up to you before I head back down to the cleaning quarters.” The twins nodded, and within seconds they were both streaking to one of the bathrooms down the hall.

Diana was going to say something to the two, but they were heading for the shower while she could go change her clothes, so that was two birds killed with one stone. She headed back to the basement and opened the door to her room, heading for her wardrobe to find the generic maiden’s outfit she usually wore. It was gone. “What in the…” she said to herself, looking around her room to see if she possibly left it on a chair or countertop. She didn’t see it anywhere, so she went into the bathroom to see if she possibly prepared it for after her shower. It wasn’t in the bathroom, either. When she faced her bed, however, she found a new outfit, still in its packaging.

It was the same kind childcare dress outfit Benazir wore throughout the manor, albeit with no sash. Diana gave off a smile, sitting down to admire the new outfit…and feeling her legs squeeze together on their own, some water draining out of her soaked leggings as she did. Diana looked down to her legs and her eyes widened a bit. “Oh wow. They really do the thing.” She shrugged and kept looking over the package.

On the wrapping was a message, in Benazir’s handwriting:

“Welcome home, Diana Robertson.”

23: Have Fun, and Good Luck

Have Fun, and Good Luck

Benazir opened the children's medical cabinet. “You have to be careful about the children’s medications. Regardless of how fussy they get, they have to take all of it, when they have to take it, for as long as they’re told to.” Benazir said, laying out a golden metal tray.

Diana immediately saw that only one of the children’s trays did not have a vial of Tranquilem on it, and she looked away.

Benazir took hold of Diana’s shoulders. “Look at me Diana.” Diana refused, so Benazir moved until she was looking at Diana. “I know what you’re thinking. If I had my way, there’d be no Tranquilem in this world, but…”

“But…” Diana said.

“You know where I’m going with this. They have to take their medicine, Diana. All of it. Don’t—”

“Think about it, I know.” Diana said. “Kinda hard not to. And don’t act like it’s that easy for you, too.”

Benazir continued organizing the medications, setting Camellia’s tray down when she was finished. “Before taking the trays to the children and when you’re finished giving the children their medicine, take the trays up to Esmeralda so she can inspect the medicine and do refills. After that, make sure each child’s medicine goes back into its proper cabinet. If any medicine is out of place on inspection, you will be freed.”

Benazir and Diana left the bathroom and walked down the hallway. They stopped by Matilda’s room. “Matilda is the child I would focus on in the morning. She’s the most difficult to wake. She likes to spend all night on the radio and there’s pretty much nothing we can do about that.” Benazir opened Matilda’s room to reveal a few transistor radios and receivers set up around the area.

“Looks a lot like Kimberly’s room. Erika says they hang out a lot.” Diana said, picking one of the radios up.

“Before I saw them with my own two eyes, I was thoroughly convinced Kimberly and Matilda were the same child and that the Stepfordsons were playing some sort of sick game with us.” Benazir said, laughing at herself as she beckoned Diana out of the room. “But, over time, you can tell they’re very much different people. Matilda absorbs all the curiosity her siblings leave behind and Kimberly is…well, Kimberly. Speaking of which…” she said, opening Kimberly’s door. “I know I already told you this at some point but be careful to not mess around with Kimberly’s electronics too much. If she complains, you could be freed.”

Diana took a look around the room and rolled her eyes at the prospect of being freed for something like that. Benazir shut the door and walked across the hall to Jasper’s room. “Now, for this room, you barely have to do anything besides making sure there are no food items under the bed—and that his pots and pans are clean. I’ve seen Master Stepfordson free maidens for letting Jasper sleep among dirty dishes.”

Diana scoffed. “That really sounds like something Jasper should be making sure of himself.”

Benazir shook her head and pointed Diana’s face to look at hers. “I’m only going to say this once: if you keep worrying about what you think should be the case, you’ll be free before you realize how little what you think matters here. Are we clear?”

Diana would’ve slapped any other maiden’s hand away, but she didn’t seem to mind Benazir’s. “Crystal clear. Speaking of cooking, do we get freed if he gets caught in the kitchen?”

Benazir shook her head. “Only if he’s in there after hours.” She closed Jasper’s bedroom door and the two were making their way over to Irene’s room when they noticed several Esmeralda, Constance, Erika, Stephanie, and Tomas looking at the television screen.

“Hey, guys, come get a load of this!” Tomas said, trying to beckon Diana and Benazir over.

Benazir shook her head and opened Irene’s door. “Not now, I’m showing Diana around the children’s wing.” She shut the door and pointed to the windows. “Now, Irene likes to wander off into the gardens and get herself lots of scratches. If nothing else, just make sure she’s all patched up by the time she gets into bed. Also, please make sure she takes a shower. And that she doesn’t just sneak out all over again because that’ll get you freed.”

“Well, how am I supposed to do that when she—never mind, I’ll just lock the windows.” Diana said.

“That won’t work.” Benazir replied. “Just make sure she takes her melatonin before she hops into bed. Better she be too tired to unlock the windows than for you to have to check them every ten minutes all night.”

When Benazir and Diana left Irene’s room, Mary-Ann’s voice came across the closed radio. “Benazir, I need to speak to you in the study.”

“Yes, Head Maiden. I’m on my way.” She said, giving Diana her radio before she left. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Diana nodded, and when Benazir left she walked over to the television to see what all the hubbub was about. She saw that Colonel Mutombo was about to take the podium, again amidst flashing cameras and a dull roar of reporters. “Well, this ought to be fun.” She said this none too soon—Benazir had run back to the children’s wing.

“Erika, Tomas, get off the wing. Diana, come with me.” Benazir said. When Tomas and Stephanie stood there in mild confusion, she shouted back down to them. “Both of you, get off the wing now.” When they were gone, Benazir took Diana’s right hand and began walking toward the south end of the wing.

“Hey, Benazir. You mind telling me what’s going on?” asked Diana.

Benazir said nothing, opening up the doors leading up to the plant room and motioning with her arms for Diana to follow, which she did. When the two were at the opposite side of the plant, she removed a key from her keychain, slid a plant out of the way and stuck the key into a small hole. She turned it to the left and grabbed a keychain containing ten keys and a red hand bell, wrapping it around Diana’s neck. “Go back downstairs, ring that bell, and when the children come, get them into their rooms and lock the doors. Drag them into their rooms if you have to.”

Diana, still bewildered, pressed her question. “Benazir, what’s going on?!”

“The next person you ask that question to, Diana, will be Master Stepfordson—and you don’t want to hear his answer. GO.”

And with that, Diana was gone. She made her way down the stairs and began ringing the red bell she’d been handed, whilst Benazir ran past her and to the left, heading down to the first floor. She tried to focus on what the television was saying, but the sound of the bell was drowning its speakers out. Over the next few minutes, all of the children save Camellia had come to Diana’s side. “Okay, kids!” she said to the brood. “We’ve got to get you all situated in your rooms right now.”

“Miss Robertson, what’s going on?” Matilda asked quietly.

“I don’t know, swe—I don’t know, Tilly.” She said, picking the youngest Stepfordson child up and taking her across the hall to her room. “All the rest of you get back to your rooms, and quickly!” When she set Matilda down in her bed, she noticed just how dark the room had become. Figuring the child could at least enjoy some light in her room, she went to open the curtains, only to find the windows covered by steel shutters. “What the…” was all she could muster from her mouth before Jasper began trudging out of his room. “Jasper! In!”

“But miss Diana, I forgot my cast iron in the kitchen!” he whined, earning a shake of Diana’s head.

“Jasper Lee Stepfordson, get in your room and stay in there!” she shouted, to which Jasper rolled his eyes and shut his door. Once he was inside, she used the keys she’d been given to lock the children’s doors. After that, she wanted to move back to the only place she knew to go after her work was done—her bedroom—but she remembered Benazir told her to remain in the children’s wing, so she simply sat on the floor.

By the time the children had been rounded up, the broadcast was over and the television had gone back to its scheduled programming. “Well, fuck.” Diana mouthed to herself. “Hopefully somebody’ll let me know what the hell’s going on.” She then had to readjust her eyesight for the lights of the wing when the windows on either end were slowly covered with steel shutters. She stood up, and none too soon as Mary-Ann ran down the hall to retrieve her.

“Are the children secure in their rooms?” Mary-Ann asked.

“Yes, Head Maiden.” Diana responded, keeping herself bowed until Mary-Ann touched her shoulder.

“Alright. I’ll report that to Benazir when she’s brought Camellia home from school. In the meantime, I want you to go back to your room.” Mary-Ann said.

Diana nodded and went back down to her room in the basement. She turned the television on, but there was no news being broadcast across any channel except the executive station—and that was simply reporters being asked their thoughts on the newest development in the Sheffield disappearances. With no new information, Diana switched the television off and waited for…whatever was going to happen next. Across the span of an hour, all the other maidens had been ushered back into their rooms. Diana decided to grab herself some fresh air and went to open her windows—windows which, when she tried to unlock them, began to be covered in sliding steel shutters just as the ones in the children’s wing had. “Oh, come on.” Diana said to herself, moving her thumbs back to avoid having them crushed as the windows slid shut.

It was then Diana realized she still had a radio, so she turned it on and tuned it to the executive station, hoping they at least had some answers for her.

“…so far, it seems like citizens are doing their best to remain calm and bring their children home in an orderly fashion, but there have been some isolated incidents of violence just outside the Metropolitan Academy. We haven’t received reports of any arrests, but the military police are clearing out the area as fast as they can. We don’t seem to have authorization to approach the school itself, so for now what you’re seeing at the line is what we’re seeing, Jerry.”

Diana turned the radio up.

“Once again, we’re coming to you live from the Metropolitan Academy in the West End District. Military police have received so-far-unconfirmed reports of a disappearance and are clearing out the entire school to take an official head count. As of this moment, there are no children missing, but we have not seen them empty out classes on the third floor just yet, so we’ll be waiting and updating the head count as soon as we can.”

Diana quietly gasped to herself. “Oh my God…not another one.” She wanted to leave her room and go check on Camellia, but quickly reminded herself Benazir was going to pick her up from school, and she’d been told to stay in her room for the time being. She sat back down, and kept listening to the radio, Colonel Mutombo’s voice sounding into reporters’ microphones as she laid down on her bed.

“We are, at this time, doing everything we can to ensure the safety of the students of the Metropolitan Academy, and would like to ask the public and media alike to keep away from any rumors of a disappearance; at this time we cannot confirm there has been a disappearance of any children from the academy, and we are performing a head count.”

The longer Benazir was away, the harder Diana found it to keep herself from jumping to conclusions. Was Camellia the one who disappeared? It couldn’t have been, she thought to herself—Camellia attended an entirely different school. What if she had been in a daily exchange and was kidnapped enroute? What if one of the teachers were a kidnapper in disguise? What if one of the parents were?

All of these thoughts and more would have to wait as Mary-Ann sounded through Diana’s walkie-talkie. “Diana, I need to see you, Esmeralda, Catherine and Katrina in the conference room immediately.”

“Yes, Head Maiden. I’m on my way.” Diana responded through the radio before she got up and left for the conference room.

When Diana and Catherine arrived, Mary-Ann locked the door. “I’ve already told Benazir the same thing I’m about to tell you two. Telling anyone else what I’m about to tell you will result in freedom, understood?” she said to both maidens, earning a curt nod from both. She took a deep breath and continued. “Earlier this morning, they found one of the children mentioned in the Sheffield case dead at the Metropolitan Academy. The Military Police don’t have any suspects.” Katrina and Diana gasped, holding themselves together as best they could with the terror of what they’d been told setting in.

Esmeralda picked up where Mary-Ann fell silent. “From now on, the six of us are to remain on the childcare wing in shifts. When one person has less than ten minutes remaining on their shift, the other should be there to relieve them. Any tardiness, and whoever is responsible for it will be free as a bird. Mary-Ann will take the mid-mornings, Katrina will take the early afternoon, Catherine will take the late afternoon, I’ll take the early evening, Benazir will take the late evening, and Diana will take the early morning.”

Mary-Ann continued speaking. “We are to check the children’s locks at ten minute intervals when they are inside their rooms, and to follow them throughout the house when they are not. There should be no time of day when one of us does not know where the children are. I’ll be keeping record of every single thing that occurs on that wing—and whoever does something outside that record will be freed, understood?”

“Yes, Head Maiden.” The others responded.

“Very well. For now, go back to your rooms. When Benazir arrives, the shifts begin. Diana, you’ll be taking Camellia back to her room.” said Mary-Ann.

“Yes, Head Maiden. I’ll be waiting on Benazir.” Diana responded, before bowing deeply and heading back to her room. when she did, she turned off the radio so she could hear any transmissions through her own walkie-talkie without ambiguity. She tried to surf the internet on her phone, but she couldn’t take her mind off the fact that children were dying now. How was anyone supposed to feel safe at this point? It was now, louder and clearer than ever, her father’s last words to her before selection rang through her mind.

“Remember, sweetheart: from here on out, you’re on your own. Have fun and, most importantly, good luck.”

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