He had been waiting for hours, forced to sit on one of the uncomfortable, hard-backed chairs that lined the walls of the waiting room. He had been aware that there were forms to fill in, papers of ownership to be exchanged, but he had believed that all of that, much like his job title, was really just a formality. A polite way of discussing things that everybody knows about but likes to pretend isn't happening.
He looked at the stoic, cold looking government official who sat at the desk in the corner, shuffling and reorganising his papers endlessly. Kurt had begun to suspect that the man was just messing them up on purpose in order to give himself something to do, something to distract him from the other person in the room.
Not that Kurt was a person anymore. Not really.
He felt a sudden wave of nausea rush over his stomach as he was suddenly overwhelmed with a recollection of one of Teacher's lessons; "You don't have a self anymore. I, me, myself; these are dead concepts. You are barely even a single cell, working as part of a huge organism; the organism that will make this country great again."
He remembered the steely look in Teacher's eyes as he had said this. He had once tried to rationalise to himself that Teacher was some sort of maniacal horror; that he was a sadist who enjoyed telling rooms of people that they were worthless, that they were nothing. Kurt had thought that maybe if he could catch a glimmer of sick enjoyment in Teacher's eyes, that maybe he could understand. He never had, though. There had only ever been the ice cold determination of a man with absolutely no shadow of a doubt that what he was saying was true.
Kurt was ruminating on this, staring at the toes of his standard-issue shoes and thinking longingly of Gucci loafers made of leather so soft you could almost see every bone in your feet, when he was interrupted by a harsh voice demanding that he stand. He obeyed almost without realising he'd heard the command, it was almost like his body had been conditioned to respond with no intervention from his mind being necessary. He would have laughed at that, once, back when laughing was allowed. His body was becoming the automaton they desired, even as his mind still languished, trapped in his traitorous body like a princess in a tower.
He stood rigidly, his arms clamped to his side and facing straight on. The Officer who had addressed him had entered through the door beside the desk, placing him in the corner of the room. If Kurt had turned his head, or even just his eyes, slightly to the right he would have been able to see who was now discussing him in murmured voices in the corner of the room. Kurt knew better, however, than to do anything of the sort.
In time the Officer approached him, standing directly in Kurt's line of sight but not once glancing towards his face. He looked only at the man who stood with him, too far to Kurt's side for him to be able to distinguish much about him, but for dark hair, in his peripheral vision. The Officer continued to talk to the man about Kurt as though he weren't there or, at least, that Kurt couldn't understand him.
"...he was very troublesome when he first arrived at the centre but he soon acquiesed to the programme. As you can see he's physically fit, skinnier than is usual but he can be quite unnaturally strong sometimes, you should have seen the damage he did to The Meditative Learning Room the first few times he was in there." Here the officer gave a wry chuckle and Kurt felt his throat go tight at the memory. "Of course there was nothing of that sort after a short time with us. You know how we always get our boys straightened out and ship shape before they're ready for service."
"Quite." The second man said, offering neither comment nor encouragement to the Officer. Kurt noted the Officer's eyes narrow, whether in disapproval or discomfort he couldn't tell. He wondered if it was normal to forget how to read expressions. He supposed it didn't help that he hadn't looked anybody directly in the eyes for longer than he could remember. He suddenly realised that the Officer was handing over a folder to the second gentleman and was midway through a sentence.
"... so you have here all of the details about the contract, and the necessary contact details should you wish to register a complaint or make a return." Here he performed the incredible stunt of turning to face Kurt without looking into his face or even giving any indication that there was a person there to be addressed. "The Commander is in need of service." Was all he said before turning on his heel and leaving the room abruptly.
The door made no closing sound so Kurt assumed it had been held open by the Officer from the desk. He stood for a moment and realised that somewhere else, when he was someone else, that he would have felt awkward in the silence. As it was, he felt only fear.
He continued to stand, rigid in position, his anxiety erradicating any curious desire he may have to turn and look at the man stood by his side. He felt his feet and back start to ache, from holding the tense position for so long. At length, there came a cough from across the room. Kurt made no indication that he had heard it, but he heard the rustle of clothing beside him.
"Excuse me, Commander, but you're most welcome to leave now." The Officer holding the door said.
"Oh, I'm sorry," the Commander said, his polite, soft tones not matching the authoritative nature his title suggested, "and will he, will it...?"
"Your belongings can be delievered to your house if you prefer, sir?"
"No, no. I will take him now. Follow me." The Commander said, scarcely giving Kurt time to realise he was being addressed before striding out of the room. He obediently turned and trotted after him to catch him up and then falling into a solid stride, staying the regulation three paces behind.
They walked along several long and grey corridors, affording Kurt no more than a glimpse of a smooth, lightly tanned cheek of the Commander's face. Eventually they came to a set of large double doors which were held open by the two Officers flanking it and the Commander and Kurt emerged into bright sunshine. Kurt squinted his eyes; his pupils were struggling to adjust to the brightness after a long afternoon spent in a windowless, florescent-lit room.
"I took the governmental car service here. It will return me home. As of tomorrow, all driving and vehicle maintenance will be in your charge." The Commander said as Kurt blinked his eyes, trying to see where the voice was coming from. He caught a glimpse of the Commander's hand reaching out to pull the door closed, the tinted window obscuring him completely from view. Kurt hurriedly climed into the front seat of the car and faced determinedly forward, ignoring the desperate compulsion he felt to turn and look at the man in the back of the car; the man who's every whim, who's every minute requirement and desire it was now Kurt's duty to attend to. He would be looking at that face for the rest of his life, Kurt thought. Why start any sooner than necessary?
Kurt remained strictly upright in his seat, looking neither to his left at the driver nor to the right to watch the flat, Ohio countryside rolling past his window. He only watched the grey stretch of road ahead of him, the limitless path of his life laid out before him, but completely out of his control.
They had passed through four or five check points before Kurt had realised that the area he was in was starting to look familiar. He was gripped with a curious mix of emotions as he realised he was being taken back to his hometown; he felt residual affection for the place he'd always known, anxiety about the whereabouts of his friends and, finally, as always, fear. He felt his heart starting to beat faster, the desire to breathe heavier making his lungs ache. He kept his facial expression carefully stoic, however, gazing onwards as he had done all through the journey, not allowing any glimmer of upset or worry to show in his eyes or in tension of his lips.
They did not enter the centre of Lima, instead skirting the town to one of the recently built areas of upper-class suburbia that backed onto open fields. Electric gates opened and permitted the sleek towncar entrance to the large estate. Kurt could hear the gravel crunching underneath the car's wheels as it snaked its way up the long driveway before, at long last, coming to a halt in front
of the large, detatched house that stood at an imposing three storeys of pale brickwork. Kurt heard and felt the driver remove the keys from the car and exit. Behind him he heard the door open and a murmured "thank you" as the Commander slid out. Kurt steeled himself before taking a deep breath and opening the door to leave the car.
He was met by a short girl wearing a floor-length red dress and neat, white headscarf over her hair. She stood with her head bowed and her eyes downcast. In the background Kurt was vaguely aware of the car pulling away, and a door closing in the near-distance.
"You should follow me." She said to the gravel near Kurt's toes, before turning abruptly and walking away from the front door, disappearing around the corner of the house. He started after her, catching up to her fairly quickly because of his great height advantage, despite the steady and quick pace at which she skimmed the building. They shortly came to a smaller, and much less grand, entrance to the building, through which the girl slipped quietly, briefly pausing to hold the door for Kurt, who nodded and followed her, shutting the door behind him.
It was dim inside the door, but Kurt could see natural light was coming into the room from above. The girl lead him towards the base of a narrow staircase and proceeded to climb the uncarpeted steps.
In time they came out onto a small, narrow landing with only a small window, the staircase continuing upwards and a large, solid looking door before them. Kurt stood at stared at it for a moment before turning to the girl, whom he noticed was retreating quickly down the stairs.
"Wait!" He called, forgetting himself. He saw the girl's face flush bright red immediately, but she hesitantly turned to look at a spot quite near his left shoulder nonetheless. "Where are you going?"
"Downstairs. I'm needed in the kitchen. The Commander's wife told me to bring you to your room and then to return to help-"
"This is my room?" Kurt asked, not caring that he had interrupted and was talking out of turn. He had known not to expect a suite at The Plaza but this? A dusty landing? If he'd known this would be his living arrangements he would have chosen an alternate path.
The girl in red looked mildly confused before smiling softly, looking down at her feet again. "This is the door to the Commander's corridor. I'm not to enter, none of the women are. Occasionally one of the Marthas would, to clean or deliever a meal but now you're here..." she trailed off, before blinking herself back into awareness. "If you go through this door you'll find a corridor lined with mahogany doors. The door to your room is the third on the left. It is next to the Commander's rooms." She nodded and made a strange movement with her knees, as though she had attempted a courtsey but changed her mind halfway through. She flushed again and immediately turned to rush down the stairs, leaving Kurt to call his thanks to her rapidly retreating footsteps.
He followed her instructions and soon found himself in a small room with a bed, a wardrobe and a sink. There was also a bay window with a built-in window seat. This was where he went first, looking out to the beautifully maintained garden and the sprawling fields beyond the garden wall. He moved to open the window, a habit he had yet to give up, and tugged and rattled at the frame for a few moments before relenting to the fact that it was not going to move. He sighed and turned to sit down, staring around the blank, small space that he was to inhabit for the forseeable future. He walked to the wardrobe and opened it, ashamed of the glimmer of excitement that he held in his chest up until the moment that the doors were open and he saw the contents; one pair of standard-issue boots, several standard-issue white shirts and two pairs of standard-issue grey trousers. There were exactly two spare coat hangers, for the standard-issue shirt he was already wearing and for his blazer, he assumed. The blazer was standard-issue at the moment, but he understood that would change if and when the Commander decided he was to become a permanent member of the household.
He moved to sit on the bed and found it firm, but not uncomfortable. The sheets felt crispy and dry and the blankets itchy, but it's amazing how quickly you forget that sliding into bed could once be a pleasurable experience. Fat, feather pillows, cool, white eqyptian cotton sheets, a warm pair of arms reaching for you, touching your skin, pulling you towards them...
Kurt wrenched his eyes open and brushed harshly at the tears that had trailed down his cheeks, letting out a huff of breath as he shook his head to ground himself in his current environment. He wondered what he should do. He thought back to going to stay with relatives when he was young; being shown to his room and then excitedly exploring the house, determined to find hidden treasure or a poltergheist lurking in the attic, examining every corner of every room. Here he knew that wouldn't be allowed. For him to amble about the building as though he owned the place would mean immediate return. And immediate return was not an option for Kurt.
He thought briefly of the petite girl who had shown him to his room, the way she had smiled softly towards him, not in laughter or cruel mockery, but in gentle understanding. He wondered whereabouts in the house the kitchens were, and whether it would be acceptable for him to go down there and help the Martha and the petite girl. He suspected not, but he still longed to do so. He had missed female company so much, the giggle-filled exchanges of gossip and the companionable silences as a group stewed together over a particularly ripe morsel of information.
Eventually, Kurt decided to rest. His back ached as he lay down flat on his bed, still in his shirt and trousers but with all the rest of his clothing and shoes tidied away carefully into the wardrobe. He arched his feet back and forth, moaning as quietly as he could as he stretched the ache and discomfort out of his soles. After a while he grew still and, not before long, he slept.
Kurt awoke with a start to find the room cast in shadow, and the sky outside his window turning purple as night fell. He quickly realised that the light was a bell that he hadn't noticed before, for it hung above the wardrobe. He noted that there were five, and the one that was currently ringing was hung below a sign that said in neat italics "Parlour".
He hastily leapt off his slightly messed bed and began to frantically put on his tie, socks and shoes, grabbing his blazer before lurching into the corridor and realising he had no idea where the parlour was. He ran along the corridor, heading away from the un-carpeted staircase and instead towards what appeared to be a landing leading to a large, curving staircase. Upon reaching it's top he saw, across the foyer below, a girl dressed in a floor-length green dress moving swiftly and silently, as though on casters, towards two open double doors in the opposite corner. Kurt ran down the stairs before pausing to catch his breath, smooth his hair and his clothing, and then proceeding through the double doors, hoping against hope that he was entering the correct room.
He entered in the manner expected of him; meek but alert, rigid posture but acquiesing mind. He noted the green-dress girl stood before a grand, marble fireplace and, kneeling before her, the small girl knelt in her red dress.
Beside them both, sat in an elegant and comfortable-looking arm chair, sat one of the most beautiful women that Kurt had ever seen. Her face was delicate, with large blue eyes and perfect pouting lips. Her hair was blond, and expertly styled into soft curls that framed her face prettily. Kurt could tell that, below her shapeless blue gown, her figure would be petite, perfectly-proportioned and the envy of any woman anywhere in the world. The only thing that stopped her from being the most beautiful woman Kurt had ever seen was the look in her eyes; the cruel, calculating look that, combined with the tense set of her jaw, gave the impression of a woman eternally displeased and unimpressed with everything and everybody around her.
Kurt stood still, a few steps in from the doorway and stared distantly at the dust floating in the light around a lamp over the woman's shoulder. He knew not to address her or to draw attention to himself. It wasn't his place to do introductions.
"This is the best they had?" Kurt suddenly heard a cold, high voice snap from the armchair.
"Yes." A voice answered from behind Kurt; the soft voice that he recognised immediately as the Commander's. He felt his spine straighten unconsciously, and clenched his fists even closer to his sides.
"You cannot be serious. It probably can't lift a breakfast tray, let along your equipment." Kurt heard the Commander's Wife sneer from the armchair.
"That isn't anything you need to worry about. You requested an audience with the household, which I have provided. What was it you wanted to discuss?" The Commander said smoothly.
Kurt saw the Wife rustling importantly in her armchair, out of the corner of his eye. When she had finished arranging her layers of skirts around her legs she sat up poker straight and began to address the room as large. "As we know, we have not yet settled here in Lima. Despite having the kitchen and house adequately dealt with, and the necessary assistance, we have as of yet been unable to complete our family. The Commander has taken on a Manservant to help relieve him of his daily stresses, enabling our household to work in much better harmony and create the perfect environment for raising a child. This is he. The name...?" She said, directing the question vaguely at the Commander who muttered something Kurt couldn't hear in reply. "Well you should have checked the paper work, then!" The Wife snapped in return. Kurt felt her turn to him, her unsettling, hard blue eyes boring into his cheek. "Name?"
"Kurt." He replied, directing his answer to the lamp and feeling somehow aware that another set of eyes were boring into the back of his head. He wished the Commander would step into view.
"Very well. May our household flourish with your residence." She said formally. There was a brief pause.
"If that is all done with, I would like to speak to the Manservant alone, inform him of the duties. I will excuse us both to my office." The Commander said firmly. Kurt felt as though his heart stopped for a moment. He was about to be taken to this man's office. What if he wanted Kurt to answer questions? What if he carried on the punishments, or the rules were different here? There had been talk, back at the centre, that all sorts of things could happen when you went into service. He had been waiting, he realised, he had been waiting for hours. No, for weeks; months, even. He had been waiting for the moment that some stranger would choose his fate. Now the moment had come, he wasn't sure he was quite ready for the wait to be over.
His entire body felt incredibly tense and he didn't realise he had been holding his breath until he realeased it in a gasp when a hand touched his shoulder gently.
"Kurt?" The Commander said softly, his voice much closer than before. He had removed his hand from Kurt very abruptly, but Kurt could tell he stood very close behind him. Slowly he turned, keeping his eyes downcast, meaning the first thing he saw of the Commander were his generous, incredibly soft-looking lips. Without meaning to, Kurt allowed his eyes to run slowly up the Commander's face, taking in his lightly-tanned skin, his beautifully proportioned nose and finally, his eyes.
For the first time in over a year, Kurt found himself looking directly into another human being's eyes. And they were the most beautiful shade of hazel he had ever seen. Kurt gazed into their magnificent beauty, the way they shone, the way the colours varied from green to gold to brown and back again in a glorious hoop around the dark pupils that were currently staring right back into his own eyes. Kurt felt his chest constrict and he jerked his chin down, dragging his gaze away from that of the Commander's. He thought he saw the corners of the man's mouth turn up, slightly, before he turned and lead the way out of the room.
Kurt followed obediently, telling himself over and over that his heart beat so fast because of nerves, and nothing more. If he had learnt one thing at the centre, it was that if you tell yourself something enough times, it has to come true at some point.