Chapter 16 The Gilded Cage
THE GILDED CAGE, EVE
As I step into the Celestial Spire's Grand Lobby, the magnitude of alien opulence crashes over me like a tidal wave of tiny sparkling lights. I close my eyes momentarily to adjust and breathe in the alien floral scents that surround me. It smells like the cleanest place I’ve ever been in my life, which, after the stench of Falcon Station, is a welcome relief.
When I open my eyes again, I’m almost in disbelief that a place like this exists anywhere.
The Grand Lobby’s ceiling stretches up to an impossible height, like a galactic cathedral, and the floor beneath my feet resembles frozen silver liquid mercury that responds with red bursts with every step I take.
“Magnificent, isn't it?” Rae's voice drips with satisfaction. “Most humans find it overwhelming.”
But I barely register her words. My attention has locked onto the humans on leashes scattered throughout the Grand Lobby. I realize, to my horror, these aren't the provincial companions that I saw on the Igo, these humans are terrifying living displays of wealth and technological mastery.
A naked human man walks right past me, led by his master, and I have to swallow down vomit as I watch his muscular chest pulse to the beat of his heart with bioluminescent implants that have been carved into his chest in geometric patterns.
His eyes hold a dream-like quality, vacant of any thoughts, and I hope for his sake his mind is long gone.
Closer to the reception desk, a human woman stands motionless as her owner, a creature with too many joints and skin like polished obsidian, runs appendages over her exposed body.
Her pubic hair has been replaced with fiber optic strands that react to touch, creating cascades of color across her lower abdomen.
But it's her face that destroys me; she looks perfectly serene.
All around me, humans are simply not responding—not resisting, not seeing, not living. Only their physical bodies are present, but their consent is completely gone, and that absence makes me so nauseous, I close my eyes.
The bile in my throat tastes like the deepest despair. If there is a God, he has turned his back on these people. Or maybe this really is Hell? Sister Agnes always said the Devil was going to come for me, and now, here I am, in this magnificent place to witness the dehumanization of my species.
Just like with the earthquake in Lisbon in 1755, Not all these people could have sinned so badly to end up with this horrific fate… if there is a God.
But this is Hell regardless of whether it’s the mythological place turned real, or not, and I realize with a cold sweat, I am to play the part of a lesser demon at the front desk with a smile.
I stare directly at two human pets, identical blondes, and wonder for the millionth time, Does sin exist outside the minds of men on Earth?
If it does, I will be sinning every second of every day I work here, and my chains will be longer and heavier than Jacob Marley’s ever were for my greed at accepting this job.
I turn to Rae. “Are they aware of what's happening to them?”
Rae's diabolical laugh is cruel.
She’s a demon too, I think.
“Their owners have given them neural implants, which human pet experts say can overwhelm simple human minds. So I doubt they're aware of anything. Which is good, human pets can be violent and unpredictable.”
My hand moves unconsciously to my throat, feeling for a collar that isn't there. Then, I move my hand lower and clasp my identification necklace, which suddenly feels heavier and more substantial than it did before. It’s a reminder of how thin the line is between employee and property in this hierarchical alien society. And I begin to feel dizzy.
“Were they abducted from Earth?” I hear myself asking, selfishly thinking about my own situation.
“I’m sure some of them were. Others signed contracts much like yours. Desperation makes humans remarkably flexible about terms and conditions.”
Suddenly, I feel like I can’t breathe. Images flash through my mind: the rushed contract signing, the strange wording in my contract, and my eagerness to escape my life in the city.
Have I been duped?
Clay promised me this was a real job, but was he just saying that to get me on the ship without a fight?
“No, I'm not like them,” I state firmly, but even as I say it, I’m not entirely sure that’s true.
“Perhaps not yet,” Rae agrees with false sweetness. “But the Spire has ways of... helping humans find their proper place.”
I hate that she’s mimicking the hotel’s motto, ‘Where every species finds its place.’ But I don’t reply, I can’t, because I’m too overwhelmed with the state of the humans before me, and as we move deeper into the Grand Lobby, I notice the humans beginning to stir at my presence.
One human man rises quickly from where he kneels beside a being that resembles a massive crustacean.
His hair has been interwoven with emerald filaments that catch the light.
He looks directly at me, and despite the neural dampening that keeps his face artificially calm, his lips form a single, silent word: “Help.”
The response from his crustacean owner is instantaneous. His collar, a thing of terrible beauty that resembles jewelry more than restraint, activates with a soft chime.
And I stop, frozen with shock, as his body convulses with agony and he begins foaming at the mouth.
“Make him stop,” I say loudly. But no one listens to me. “Someone help him.”
Rae tries to pull on my arm to guide me away, but I can’t move.
I won’t move. Just as I wrench myself away from Rae’s grip, the man stops moving and his features revert back into an eerie serenity.
He looks away from me as if he couldn’t remember what he was looking at and sinks back down to his knees. His face perfectly serene.
Holy shit, his little rebellion was erased as if it had never existed. “What happened to him?”
“He was conditioned to forget he ever saw you or cared about why you’re different.”
I swallow hard trying to think. I’m a sinner, but not demon-level-service-sinner. Maybe I can go home. “What if I decided not to take this position? To return to Earth…”
“You can't leave, at least, not for the next seventy days.” Rae says like a door being slammed shut. “Your contract is registered with the IGC. You belong to the Ascendant Alliance for the time being. The only question is whether you'll serve wearing a uniform or a collar.”
I only half listen to her words because the floor beneath me seems to tilt as the gravity of what I signed comes crashing down around me. I’m such a fool. Earth might as well not exist given how far away it is. I have no galactic money, and I doubt anyone would help me break my contract.
From what I understand, the Sovereigns are dangerous and formidable men in the galaxy.
And I understand with clarity now that this gorgeous lobby is my new cage, complete with sparkling walls to reflect my own self back at me in a thousand fractured pieces.
To reflect my complicity in this. To showcase my sins, working in a place that keeps other humans as mutilated pets.
My God, what have I done?
Despite my world crashing down around me, just like when I read those two words, NO CONTACT, I hear the Commander's voice in my head, “Be brave.” And I remind myself, that I'm here not to agree with this, but to bear witness. To remember. To find a way to fight back. Maybe he was right; maybe my empathy will give me the strength I never knew I had. But one thing is for sure, I don’t feel strong right now. I feel physically ill.
I take a deep breath, wipe the cold sweat from my face, and straighten my shoulders.
Let them believe I'm just another human asset to be managed, but I will never unsee this. The Celestial Spire may be my cage for the duration of my contract, but I have to remember what the Commander said, that I am inside the lion’s den, and sometimes, that is the best place to start a revolution.
But what a lion’s den this is!
He was right. I wasn’t prepared to see this.
“Shall we proceed to the medical center?” Rae asks. “Dr. Veil is waiting.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of hearing me waver.
Rae leads me down a series of corridors, each more elaborate than the last. When we finally reach the medical center, she says, “Wait here.” Gesturing to a seating area where a holographic display shows a documentary about the Celestial Spire's construction.
“The physician will collect you shortly.” Then she walks away.
I don’t even care that she didn’t say goodbye or good luck. I hope the Celestial Spire is large enough that I never have to see her again.
As I wait for the doctor, I realize that I've never felt so alone in my whole life. I close my eyes and try not to cry. But my emotions will not be contained, and a tear slips down my cheek, then another. I keep telling myself to be strong. But I find it difficult to stop the tears. Have I signed my bloody name electronically in the Devil’s book?