Beyond the Rim

It was cold without any clothes whatsoever, so I paced the room to feel warm, and then began to feel self-conscious, as if I was being watched. So I sat down beside the fountain, which might afford some shield from holocams. The cold of the marble seeped into me; droplets of water misted onto my skin, but I stayed there, arms wrapped around myself, shivering.

Then they came. Two bots this time; they were identical, so I couldn’t be sure if they were the same ones from before or not.

They gripped my arms, one on each side, and pulled me out of the room. They took me down a lift fifteen floors and emerged into a large room, in the center of which sat a bed.

On the bed lay Navarre. She wore a red robe, shimmering like silk, one leg protruding from beneath it seductively. But her eyes were cold.

“Inject him,” she said. The one on my left jabbed a needle into my neck, dispensing fluid from one of its metal fingers. Warmth spread through me; I staggered with the impact of it.

“Leave us,” she commanded. The bots disappeared into the elevator, and I stood before Navarre.

“Come,” she said, and patted the bed beside her.

I could hardly believe this was happening. I shook my head, struggling to gather the defiance I’d felt earlier.

But the drug was already affecting me. Something stirred inside me; I fought it.

“Come here,” she said, more forcefully.

I stepped forward before I knew what I was doing. I shook it off and stepped back again, but then I wondered why I was resisting her. She was beautiful, lying there, the red silk complementing her brown skin. Her dark eyes drew me toward them like twin galaxies.

She smiled, and my resistance fell from me like a cloak. I walked toward her, my heart burning with the desire to please her, and I knelt down beside her on the bed.

Her eyes gazed into mine, hypnotizing me. Heat coursed through me; I wanted to rip my heart out and present it, beating, to her.

After that, everything blurred into a frenzy of fire, a heaving, burning passion. Dark eyes, skin smooth as chocolate, lips like cherries. Above all, I had to please her, give her everything—

Then, slowly, the drug shook out of my system, and the haze burned away into horrible clarity.

I could see every fiber on the red silk sheets; the drops of sweat and pinpricks of blood standing out on my chest, which was still rising and falling rapidly. A dry emptiness, a deep exhaustion, shivered through me, along with a vague sick feeling.

Beside me, she lay languorously on her side, smiling. She ran her hand down my chest as if in reminiscence, scraping my skin with her red fingernail.

“Yes, you were very satisfactory. Even without the drug, I suspect, you will make one man or woman very happy.”

She rose, slipped on her robe, calling the bots back in.

They took me to a suite with a bed and a red uniform laid out for me on a chair. The very sight of the color red made me sick, and I ran to the bathroom and threw up into the sink.

In the suite bedroom, I pulled the bedspread down to the floor and wrapped myself in it. I sat, shivering; my senses were still heightened, each line and color jumping out at me.

But at the center of me burned the truth of what had happened. What she had forced me to do.

It wasn’t my fault, I told myself. But then, I should have fought harder. Perhaps I could have resisted the drug…

No, I couldn’t have. It was created for that very purpose and I couldn’t have done anything to stop it—

She had grasped me in her hands, and ripped me open. She had forced me—

Raped me.

I shrunk from that word; I shrunk from myself. I didn’t want to face it. I turned to face the wall, and huddled into the corner.

I woke with a feeling of horror in my throat, not knowing its source. Then it dawned on me what had happened, and I felt like throwing up again, even though the effects of the drug had worn off completely.

I got to my feet and methodically pulled on the red uniform, the only clothes available.

A window looked out onto the city. Ships flew past, mostly pods and skimmers, some airtrams stuffed with commuters or schoolchildren. The sun was nearing its zenith.

I sat down at the desk and watched it all pass by without thinking, without feeling. Constant motion, glints on metal, silver-gray-black city, concrete and tyranium and steelglass.

At one point, I had wanted to live here, on this marvelous place called Center. At one point, I had wanted….

But what I wanted didn’t matter. I was never going to escape.

I don’t know how long I sat there before a girl walked in. A man came in behind her.

Kassia and Viam. I recognized them from the holograms. Her hair was knotted all over her head, and she wore a low-cut jumper. Viam wore a red uniform like mine.

She ran her gaze over me, in an imitation of her mother’s. Then she said, “I wanted to come in and see you in person. Our uniform looks much more striking on you than that blue one of Zodiak’s.” She motioned Viam forward. “But you still don’t hold a candle to my boy.” She reached up and caressed his ear. “He’s got it all, but of course he’s genhanced like crazy. You’re pretty good for being mostly natural, though, and Mom says you were excellent in bed.”

My breath hitched in my throat. I wanted to clamp my hand over her mouth and throw her out of the room.

But I was frozen. It—what she had done—had affected my ability to move, to think—

I struggled to shake it off. I would not let her win by thinking she controlled me. Whenever I wasn’t under the influence of drugs, I would fight her, and her daughter if need be.

“Maybe I’ll make you give me the same performance,” she said. “Viam’s good, but I like to shake it up a bit sometimes.”

Horror ran through me. I looked back at the window, considering breaking it, jumping through—but that only happened in old holos. Steelglass, of course, would not break.

Was there a way I could remain myself without suicide? Could I endure this without breaking, becoming a slave in mind and body?

“But I bet Mom’s watching, and I don’t think she wants me playing with you before the banquet tonight.”

“Banquet?” I said, forcing the word from my mouth.

“Yes. That’s why you’re here, didn’t you know? You’re going to be the main attraction.”

“What does that mean?”

She smiled slyly. “That would be telling. I really wish I could go to it, but Mom always keeps me from all the fun stuff. Oh, well.” She gave me a wistful look. “I have to go to voice lessons now anyway. Viam, why don’t you stay here for now, keep him company.”

She flourished out the door, and left Viam alone with me.

He just stood where she’d left him, looking down at the floor. I might have been annoyed with him if I didn’t know what he must have gone through. Who knew what that drug did to you after experiencing it over and over?

I had a small taste of what that was like now. I rose, put my hand on his shoulder. He flinched, but did not move otherwise.

“Viam,” I said. “Remember me?” His eyes flickered up, then back down again.

“I’m Devlin,” I said, almost having to think to remember who I was. “We met as holograms, remember?”

His eyes darted up, and he nodded before looking away again.

“Look, you don’t have to be careful around me. I’m a fellow slave. Though, technically, I’m supposed to be free.”

Viam jumped as if he’d been shocked. “Don’t say that word.”

“What? Free?”

“It is forbidden.”

“Well, I will say it anyway. And until they make a machine that can read thoughts, you can think it without punishment.”

“To think it would be wrong.”

“Listen.” I grabbed his arm. “We don’t have to be slaves. They might say they own us, but if we don’t acknowledge that, our minds are free. And maybe, if we think like that, it might be easier to escape.”

The words were a revelation as I said them.

Viam shook his head. “Escape is criminal.”

“Keeping slaves is criminal. They might be senators, but they are going against the law. If we escape, we can tell the authorities, and they’ll punish Zodiak and Navarre for what they’ve done.”

Viam looked at me dubiously. “I am the slave of Kassia Navarre. I must not escape. I must please her all of my life.”

I knew he wouldn’t change overnight. But perhaps...eventually…I could help him escape. In two months, if I could talk to him, I might be able to break through the wall he’d constructed in his mind.

I motioned for him to sit on the bed beside me, and I told him about my childhood, about college, about my capture and escape attempts. I hadn’t talked so much in two months. Then I asked him where he had come from.

He said he had been born on Rimworld 1669, and then orphaned at the age of five, like me. He hadn’t had a sister to protect him, though, and he had had a rough time of it in the 1669 Facility.

According to him, a man had “rescued” him, and had molded him into a proper slave. This was by the time he was ten.

He spoke so dispassionately, but at some point, he must have felt the horror and shame of it.

Was there anything of himself left? Was it possible to retain your humanity in a setting like this, or must you inevitably succumb?

Was this what I would be like, after two months of the drug?

I would not let her drug me again, I decided. And if she did, well, I would try to separate that from reality, because I would not be in control of anything I did under its influence.

Kassia returned and took Viam away with her. Despite his listlessness, I felt a certain kinship with him, partly because he’d spent years in a Facility, like I had.

I watched the stars appear over the silent city, which I knew to be noisy beyond the steelglass. The city lights twinkled in harmony with the stars, like a song that I couldn’t hear.

And then, four bots came, took my uniform off, and pulled a glittering black suit onto me, so tight it felt as if it were cutting off my circulation. For some reason, they deactivated my transponder. Then they took me down, down, down 300 floors and stopped at the fifth floor. It opened up onto a room of grand proportions, with a cathedral-like ceiling hung with hundreds of chandeliers, their crystals splashing faint rainbows onto the floor.

White-clothed oval tables sat around the room, one large black one in the center. A spotlight shone down on it.

They led me to this middle table. Navarre came up to me, followed by several techs with control pads.

My heart clenched at the sight of her; I tried to wrest my arms from the bots’ grip. But then she looked at me. “Put him up. The force field is ready.”

Before I knew what was happening, the bots rose on their antigrav units, lifting me with them. I struggled, but it was no use.

And then, they let go. I hung in the air, as if I were floating in a bubble of water. I could still breathe, but my movements slowed.

“Now, Lava,” said Navarre to a tech, “keep things interesting throughout the dinner. Move him, but not too quickly. A slow, elegant shift, showing off the best of him.”

“Yes, Senator,” said the tech. She manipulated the field so that I stood, one leg in front of the other, arm raised in the air like some kind of victorious statue.

Then they left, Navarre giving instructions to them as she went.

Throughout the next hour, preparations went on for the dinner, and I was mostly ignored. Food was laid out on the tables; plates were set. Perhaps a hundred of them.

Would they know I was a real person? A slave? And if so, this would mean—How many more elite knew about slavery, and were so okay with it they allowed this? I nearly choked at the cosmic humiliation of being displayed before all these people, wearing this outfit that barely concealed anything.

The guests began arriving. Laughing, dressed in spectacular costumes, some with rather obvious genhancements. I concentrated on looking straight ahead. My mind is still my own, I told myself, over and over again.

Some sat down at my table. They looked up at me, laughed, joked at my…attributes. I tried to tune them out, but I couldn’t shut my ears. Heat coursed up and down my skin. If I was allowed to move, I would strangle each one of them; their laughter would die in their throats—

Perhaps I would get out someday, and I could expose the ones who were here. With this in mind, I kept an ear out for their names and collected some of them. The man below to the right was Senator Luwan. The one across from him with the swan feather dress was Governor Tamarack. This table was full of VIPs, with Navarre at its head, directing the conversation.

And it appeared that corruption was more widespread than I’d ever thought. How could people have been so duped as to the integrity of their government? I still couldn’t believe what all these senators and other elite were accepting as a matter of course. Their conversation revealed a complete disregard for the law they were supposed to uphold, and a widespread disdain for the common people. The few elite who actually insisted on “standards” they derided as radicals.

“The radicals in the Senate would not approve of this,” said Tamarack, jerking her thumb up toward me. “Good thing you didn’t invite them.” She laughed as if she’d said something especially witty.

“Yes,” said Navarre. “They would have spoiled everything, as they tend to do.”

“Look! He’s moving!” squealed a young woman, Zest, on the other side of me.

The force field turned me, pulled me; I couldn’t resist it. I dreaded what would happen, trying to close my eyes and shut it out. It pulled my legs apart, my arms crossed over my chest.

“Wow,” said the Zest. “I can see him better this way. I wish I could touch him.”

“You can look, but you can’t touch until after dinner,” said Navarre, smiling.

The dark-haired young man beside Zest, whose name I hadn’t caught, looked up at me thoughtfully. He was quiet throughout the dinner; I kept catching him look at me. I tried to tune the rest of it out; they all disgusted me, and the sooner the dinner was over the better.

They plowed their way through piles of desserts, the sweet smell of them making me nauseous. The food was probably thousands of creds worth, but after this, I wondered if I would ever want to eat anything again.

Bots swarmed over the table and lifted the plates away, tucking them into their metal torsos and zipping off with them. They brought back bottles of wine, and poured them with complete synchronization into each glass.

The guests slowly got more and more drunk, and then Navarre tapped her glass with a knife. “You’ve all been enjoying our centerpiece throughout the night. But he is not just an untouchable piece of art; he is also for sale. The highest bidder will win a month’s sublease of him, and the proceeds will go to benefit my new research project, which has the potential to be a real game-changer.

“And so I will start the bidding at one hundred creds. Who wants this magnificent piece of male flesh?”

Zest raised her hand, almost jumping out of her chair.

“We have one hundred. This is a very satisfactory slave; I don’t say that lightly.”

The dark-haired man raised his hand.

“Yes, Dagan. Two hundred.”

The bids increased. Fear clasped my heart. I wasn’t going to stay here? Not that I wanted to, but as bad as Navarre was, who knew what the winning bidder would do to me? The fact that they were bidding so high in itself filled me with dread.

Soon, only Dagan and a woman at the far end were competing into the thousands.

“Four thousand,” said Navarre. “Going once—going twice—Sold to Dagan.”

The force field then moved, pulling me down to the ground, setting me beside Dagan. Everyone congratulated him. Zest leaped out of her chair, and stepped up to me. “Can I touch him now?”

Dagan raised a hand. “Wait. He is mine, and only with my permission can anyone lay a hand on him.” He dabbed his mouth with a napkin and got up to stand in front of me. He was of medium height with medium brown skin, handsome in a nondescript way, with dark green eyes. I forced myself to look directly at him, but he glared back at me, and I looked away.

Was I so soon defeated? Only if I allowed myself to be. I had to keep telling myself I was free as long as I believed I was.

“Can you take away the force field?” said Dagan.

Navarre nodded. I staggered to my knees with the release of it; Dagan grasped my hand and pulled me back to my feet.

“Now you can touch him.”

Zest laid her hand on my arm, ran it down my sleeve. She touched my hip and slid her hand lower.

Dagan slapped her hand. “Now, now. We can’t be getting too familiar yet, especially when he’s not yours to begin with.” He glared at her. She backed away.

“In fact,” he said, “I think I will take my leave of you now, so I can enjoy my new acquisition.”

“Of course,” said Navarre. “Very understandable. I wish you good luck.”

“Thank you, Senator.” He grasped my arm. “Let’s go.”

I yanked my arm away from his. “I am not your slave, or anyone else’s.”

There was a collective gasp.

Dagan grasped my arm again.

I swung my fist into his face, and he stumbled backwards, lip bleeding.

He wiped the blood off, smiling, and came toward me.

I lunged for his throat, focusing my hatred of all of them on him.

A swift pain shot through my arm. Another in my shin, and then my back. I lay on the ground, looking up at Dagan’s silhouette against the light of the chandeliers.

The crowd clapped, and he gave a small bow. Then he took me by the arm again, and pulled me toward the elevator.

Well, maybe I would have a chance on the way out. Also, I wanted to retain what little dignity I had. I stepped in front of him and walked into the lift on my own.

He stepped in behind me, and stood beside me as the lift went down. He smiled, rubbing his jaw. “That was a good punch you gave me back there,” he said.

“Want another one?”

“You wouldn’t be able to land another. I half-let you land that one.”

“Half-let me?”

“Yes. I was taken off guard, but I did see it coming. I just let it go the rest of the way.”

“Yeah, sure.” It was rather liberating to treat these people with disrespect.

The lift opened onto Sublevel Three, and we emerged into a dimly lit garage. A white car sat waiting for him, its engine thrumming.

“I’m not going with you,” I said.

“No?” He thrust a gun into my back. “You can go conscious, unconscious, or dead. Your choice.”

Well, I’d been unconscious too much in the past two months. I didn’t want to die, even though I had no idea what he had in store for me.

I slid into the back seat of the car, he in the driver’s seat, and the car sped up and out into a glittering, gleaming rainy night.