My bracelet wakes me up with a relentless vibration on my wrist. I prefer this over music. Otherwise, it would make me lose my great taste, because I tend to hate what brings me back from my dreams. I recall one of my favorite songs is Tyler's, a soft melody with a grave voice plays in the back of my mind and puts all my defenses up.
I skim the surrounding place. Regardless of the comfy mattress and its cozy warmth, I thought yesterday was just a dream. But it's not. Region two houses look back at me from the outside showing off its fancy facades. The eagle pottery is misplaced on the lonely shelf beside me. It all occurred. Being saved from the global army, being offered a job in the Bluebird Movies Company, and being offered a counteroffer by Tyler Allaberk.
Reality seems off today. My nose misses the salt air of the coast, and even the grease dirt inlaid between my knuckles. I chuckle at my reflection on the mirror in front of my bed. I've wanted for the longest time to look more like them. We all try unconsciously. But they don't have to. They are born with perfection, while the rest try to follow their steps.
The truth is that I'm holding back the identification with my cleaned and fancy clothed status in the memory of Coral. How could I say I don't feel good now? How could I say I am not relieved to be here? How could I not say this all looks like a dream I am afraid of waking up? But in my dreams the people I love are not taken away from me.
I feel the stubborn brazing tear stream down my face. I can't do this. I can't bury her in my imagination when she is probably still in Pasargadae. The Global Army gives new recruiters a brief training that can take a whole week before sending them out. I have to do what is on my reach to try and save her life. She'd do the same.
The door slides open and a grumpy Charlotte enters the room. Her eyes focused on her table until she almost runs me over. "Oh, I see now."
She looks at me from above her glasses, to see me better, I guess.
"What?" I ask.
"Your problem." Her lips purses together. "What keeps you from looking exactly like Clara Vennozar."
"What is it?" I look at my reflection, looking for a mistake I can't identify. For years I thought my biggest problem was my round cheeks engulfing the rest of my face, but over the years the tendencies changed and new problems popped out on my body. It's hard to sum the up in just one.
"Don't worry. We are going to take care of this now." Charlotte says.
She scowls me saying I should be already dressed, that I was taking the opportunity for granted. After she finally finishes her lecture, I am able to walk to the closet. I tap to select which clothing I want on a digital bar, and a few seconds later, it appears on the open space under it. I wanted to select one of the beautiful glitter dresses that rolled down on the screen, but Charlotte said I should wear tight black pants and a long sleeved tunic of matching color. At least, they smell like roses, an addictive scent.
I get dressed and follow Charlotte out of my bedroom, already too big, into an immense mansion. She guides me through corridors and corridors. I notice it's a different path from last night. Our reflections accompany us throughout the way, making the mansion resemble even more a labyrinth. When we get to the first floor again, a flash of black sprints in front of me. I throw myself at the glass wall that shakes against my body weight. I heard these walls are impenetrable, but I wasn't trying to test them.
A large animal of yellow glowing eyes wanders around us. It looks at me like I am its prey. Do even their pets smell foreign on me? The jaguar approaches me and smells my hands. Its cold scout kisses my skin, leaving wet smudges behind. I am tempted to stroke its head, but I know his teeth could tear apart my hand.
"He's Mister Allaberk's," Charlotte says. It's a perfect match. A majestic animal like this had to have an owner like Lord Allaberk.
The animal leaves when he senses my hands are getting too close, and wanders back into the house. I must admit it's a beautiful animal. An immense cat. I've always wanted to have one.
"Let's go. We can't be late." Charlotte rushes me.
In region two, just like in one, the most important structures are at the top of the hills. There's always something more to make the powerful feel more powerful. I bet I will be given an elevated mansion one day, if they keep me on this path.
I've always wanted to know what it's like to see life from the hills. Now, being transported through the residents only lifts from one of the most important hills to the next makes me feel I am, indeed, in the clouds. The view is as beautiful as I thought it would be. I feel somehow more free than I've ever been, but I know it's just an illusion of being above everything.
I study Charlotte's face. She's a young woman, in her late twenties with a passion for old fashioned clothes. The difference from yesterday is that now she's wearing a pink matching suit. I notice the blazer has a red symbol with a heart from a deck of cards. The nation's flag. Maybe it's a uniform to differ her from the others, and her fashion taste doesn't suck.
The ride takes a few minutes and before I realize, Charlotte raises her eyes from her tablet and stares right back on mine. She doesn't seem bothered by my indiscretion, and just rushers me out of the lift.
The Designer Center awaits us. A big structure angled and wedged to look like it's going to lunch something away. A good metaphor. My bracelet starts to scream again, and I do my best to stifle the sound, but the global soldiers at the entrance block our way in.
"I think it's the glycemic alert," I mumble.
"Do you have diabetes?" Charlotte asks. I look at the global soldiers, wondering if I should remember to whom this bracelet belonged. "Never mind," She shakes her mind. "My mistake. I forgot to authorize your entrance here."
She taps her tablet, and the bracelet stops chiming. I step into the place a little wary of my surroundings. I can't help but feeling exposed, even though no one is looking at me. It is like I scream I don't belong in Pasargadae and everyone could listen. This place is cleaner than my old kitchen. And smells more like alcohol than street bars.
It screams technology. The kind of technology you won't find in Libra, and neither in the poorest areas of Pasargadae. The whole structure is sensible to the touch, even the floor. As I walk, small letters identify me and what I am here for. Designer appointment with Ford Lovestruck. Urgent.
"Your designer is waiting on the third door to your right," Charlotte tilts her head and follows my steps inside a room that looks like a doctor's office. Esthetic treatment is very expensive, even for nationals. In Pasargadae life revolves in two goals that seem to be always unattainable: technology and beauty.
A man with clean and glowing skin motions to the chair in the middle of the room between many machines I can't name. I walk in and place myself comfortably against the cold leather of the chair. My feet swing back and forth, my shoes making a low thud every time it hits the bottom of the chair.
"Mister Allaberk wants her to look exactly like this," Charlotte steps in, showing the screen of her tablet in which a realistic scratch shines. I crane my head in an attempt to see the figure again, but the man takes the tablet from her hand, and turns his back on me.
I remember she looked beautiful when Charlotte showed me the photo. But I was in a nervous state, too worried about my life and my friend's to examine a painting. Still, I remember I recognized many reassembles between us. She was beautiful, I think, wasn't she?
I know what they are going to put me through. The wealthy people, or who spend years saving money, all go to these Designer Centers where they can get their skin clear or darker, make their eyes bigger or thinner, that goes for lips too. Everything to look like the Darlings, like you were born beautiful.
The poor ones, and I come under this category, do whatever they can with their little budget. Some go to clandestine facilities and end up looking pretty much like monsters. I remember the story Coral told me about a woman who did a cheap procedure, and ended up with her skin green. I laughed for a good time then, but I am still suspicious of the veracity. I bet Coral only told me this because I had considered venturing in one of those facilities.
Now they will do a full treatment on me for free! I grip the arms of the chair, anxious to get through with it. I see how Ford zooms the image on the screen, and it seems like he's about to start his work.
"Are you ready, lucky girl?" He smiled. "My name is Ford Lovestruck. The procedure we are going to perform is simple, and you don't have to worry, but I'll answer any questions you have to make you feel more at ease.
"She has no questions, Ford." Charlotte answers for me.
"I thought that the newest person quoted to be part of the Darlings would like a little attention."
"She has enough attention waiting for her." The light gets dimmer, and Charlotte approaches us with her tablet firmly held in her hands. "I do not want to pressure you, Ford, but remember that she's Mister Allaberk's latest obsession.
The designer nods and approaches me with a little bowl containing a yellowish liquid. It's anesthesia. I take in his face, his blue eyes convey me security and his unwrinkled skin, expectation.
"Be careful," I say before I gulp all the yellow liquid. I know this place has edge technology and that his man is probably the best at his job, but still I fear. I guess that's what human beings do all the time, don't we?
My eyes focus on the man's blond hair. It's not any color tone. It's a specific one that I could spot in a crowd. It's a pale yellow hair with a hint of ginger. Coral's face comes to my mind, and I am suddenly gripping the designer hand's, as if my actions could now make me come back in time and not take the yellow syrup.
I am strong, and I still see his face properly. There are only a few blurs around his figure, as if it were wobbling. But I hold onto his arm, pulling him closer, and somehow it seems that all the strength was taken from my body. I feel my heart racing, drumming inside my ears. I swear my bracelet is blasting again. What if my friends don't recognize me anymore? And how can I explain to Coral my total submission to the life of a Darling?
"I still want to look like me," I whisper.
Before everything turns into nothing, I realize that maybe I'm jealous of a ghost. After all, my greatest wish has always been to belong to Pasargadae. I drop my head back on the chair, and a voice in the back of my mind disturbs my thoughts. Johanna Smith is the one being accepted, it says. But I can't care about this anymore.
I cannot care that they treated me like I was invisible for years. I cannot care that my peers are only good enough to be thrown to the trenches. I cannot care that I crave their approval and their asymmetrical faces, and I cannot care that Pasargadae is my home. It doesn't matter, because I will offer Tyler Allaberk my terms, and run back to Libra with Coral plus money falling out of my pockets. Her life is worth more to me than the acceptance of an entire nation.
When the bright white light in front of my eyes starts to fade and the darkness increases, I let it swallow me up. There is nothing they can do with me that could change my essence, or how my friends and family see me. Furthermore, obeying is part of the plan.
When I open my eyes again, I know I am in another room. A larger place with nothing but the bed I am laid on. And Charlotte, I realize, as my eyes catch a glimpse of pink to my right. I think I've never seen better in my life.
It may be the anesthesia delusionals, but I swear I am able to see filaments of the material the grey door is made of, even though it stands a good five feet from me. And then, there's Charlotte's face hovering above me. There's an unpolished pin on her glasses that seems about to break. I also spot one white hair in the middle of her brown brow.
"Magnificent!" She pipes. I put myself up immediately. She notices my mayhem, and carefully pats my shoulder. "Don't worry, you are perfect. Better than I imagined!"
"What did he do?" I ask, shoving my legs to the right. "I want to see it."
"You will see," She says, and taps something on her tablet.
As a consequence, a group of people with perfect poreless skin, and reddish cheeks approaches me with big sheepfold smiles on their faces. Their eyes rest on me, and I find their behavior odd. Perhaps they know that I am a foreigner. It would make them look at me differently. But then, I realize that they are focused on my eyes.
"This is an incredible masterpiece." One of them says. It's hard to difference one from the other because they are all very similar. "Mister Allaberk is outperforming himself. But, don't you think it's dangerous to show her like this?" He asks.
"They won't notice this." Charlotte says. "They will be worried with other things,"
"What they won't notice?" I grunt, and snatch Charlotte's tablet from her hands. At first, I don't see any difference in my reflection. I raise the device closer to try to spot something, but I can't. Charlotte takes her tablet back from my hands.
"Mirror down," Says the same man. I notice a different pattern on him. A wart in the middle of his forehead. It's camouflaged with foundation, but it's there. His name is Vert, or at least that's what is written on the pin attached to his uniform.
I drag myself back on the bed as a big mirror descends from the ceiling. My eyes stare back at me, surprised with my own reflection. They aren't dark like a starless sky anymore. They are a mixture of read and blue. Purple like the Enemy Nation's flag.
"They're...purple," I gasp with disdain.
"Clara Vennozar works for the enemy in the movie. It suits her character." Charlotte sticks her finger to her cheek. I knew it was an awful role.
"Don't worry," Ford says, standing out from the group. "We will cover this up for the broadcasts."
"Exactly, Ford. Fetch her some lenses." Charlotte demands."Let's leave the big surprise for the film debut. No one will ever question her dedication to the role."
As they didn't bother to make my features more asymmetrical, and only cursed my eyes with the color of the Enemy Nations, another group came to prepare me for an exclusive broadcast. They are working hard to make me look like one the Darlings. I bet all these cosmetics must cost an arm and a leg. They are amazing!
Once they finish pouring foundation on my face and curling my hair, they step aside and allow me to breath. I look like I've just woken up from a good dream, natural and irradiating like the sunlight. One of them walks forward with a dark dress, the color of mourning. I stand up and let them slide the fabric on me, helping them the way I manage. Although they painted my eyes purple, the enemy color, I am still impressed with their work.
I think that even if they didn't put a pair of lenses on me, no one would pay attention to my new eyes when they practically wrapped me up like a gift. The heavy dress makes it hard to manage equilibrium over a pair of high heels, but I do my best as I follow the group to another room where the broadcast is going to be filmed. It seems to have been set up on an urgent basis to be temporary.
Charlotte orders me to sit in a specific position, legs crossed and back straighten. The device facing me reflects the image of a woman, a famous hostess. The same who interviewed Moon Murthy for the last time. Her name's Melanie Stuart. Charlotte told me I must read whatever appears above her head in answer to the questions she makes me. I must not say any other different word. This worries me tremendously. What if I misunderstand a word, and the agitation within me leads me to pronounce it wrong? They didn't teach me how exactly they want me to read, but the years I spent as a foreigner trying to pass for a national might help.
"Good morning, Johanna Smith! I see you look spectacular!" Melanie says, and my eyes fly to the place above her head. What am I supposed to say? Are all interviews like this? No, they can't be, not live. "We own Mister Allaberk and President Harrison for the gift of having you here."
"Thank you," The sign even gives me instructions on how I should position myself. Now, it tells me to shyly look at my twined hands on my lap, and back to the hostess. "Yesterday I received the biggest gift one could receive. I was honored. The government honored all my hard work, all my dedication spent over years to this nation. There's not a greater pleasure for me than serving the citizens of Pasargadae."
"You are an awesome exemplification of meritocracy, Johanna Smith. You worked hard in the docks, scrubbing dirt off the side of vessel cargos, didn't you? And now you are in the heart of Pasargadae, collecting all the fruits from the seeds you sow."
I make a big effort to keep my face emotionless, or better, to keep a stamped simpering smile on my face. Meritocracy doesn't exist in my dictionary. It's a dead meaningless word for me. Of course, I can't say they have a bad life. I can't say I had a bad life. But the top of the hills is for those who are born with possibilities: the citizens of Pasargadae.
To be able to realize my old dream of being one of the Darlings, I would need more than just having been born in Pasargadae. There is a long selection process in which Mr Allaberk chooses who can try to apply for a role at the Bluebird Film Company. It is difficult to pass even for those who grew up training for this. And I am a foreigner, born and raised abroad. There is no meritocracy and mercy for us.
"Exactly, and I recommend every citizen of Pasargadae to do the same. Keep on making sure your score points are beyond average, keep on doing the hard work you do, keep on sharing how perfect our home is. But, mostly, keep on praising the Global Army and their patriot's hearts. All so we don't resemble the Enemy Nations in which sadness is part of a daily basis." I say, smiling.
"You are a great asset, Johanna Smith. I see the odds are in our favor for us to become friends. We share the same feelings, the same beliefs regarding the future of this great nation. Our equal ideals of defeating the Enemy Nations and their dark politics."
"Only through war can we guarantee our futures," I answer almost automatically. If they win this war, we might have to end up living like them. Without being able to choose a career, being told where to live, how many children to have, and the list goes on. There doesn't exist law, only what their Leader says and thinks.
"That's it! Can you imagine a world without our Darlings? Without our way of life? Without jarring performances and glitter parades?" I shake my head unconsciously. I couldn't. Thankfully, Johanna Smith doesn't believe it's possible too.
"I hope I meet Pasargadae expectations." I read the phrase.
"There's no doubt about that," Melanie answers. "Ladies and gentleman, that was Johanna Smith, the new Bluebird's Darling."
It was quicker than I thought. When the broadcast ends, and my face stops being shown to the whole nation, Melanie Stuart gives an important recommendation to the population. President Harrison is offering the money of a month's work for those who feed the government with new information regarding foreigners' hiding spots. This is a common practice, but this time it feels more personal than it ever did.
There are three ways through which Pasargadae assemble soldiers for the war. Through the patriotism of its citizens who fight in privileged and honorable positions, through the violation of any national legislation, these are sent to places of average security to learn how to be honored and later be reinserted in society, and through the capture of foreigners. We are sent straight to the trenches where the chances of survival are slim. However, if you manage to fight for three years, you get citizenship, but I've never met anyone who has made this accomplishment.
The square room becomes silent after the announcement as the program ends. I stand from the bench to search for Charlotte. The group has divided itself into many fast pacing people back and forth, getting their jobs done. The shooting begins in four days, they have a lot to manage at this point. And if everything goes as planned, they will have more very soon.