Prologue
Nostaliem
Calian’s eyes fluttered open as a beam of artificial light, highlighted by flecks of dust and soot, lit up her bed mat. The dimmers in Krevax were being brightened. An ad for accessories irritated her eyes outside the window as its neon green glare brightened. “The highest rated Doxies use Whippy ribbons in their hair!” She slowly lifts her head to gaze at the sleeping figures that crowd the floor around her. Some of them rustle in response to the noise that Calian makes as she rolls up her bed mat. Calian walks across the room and shivers as the cold stale air in the concrete brothel crawls over her exposed body. On the opposite side of the room from where Calian had slept is a row of small cubbies with each of the girl’s belongings carefully stowed away. As Calian reaches her cubby most of the other girls start to rise from their sleeping places. It was quite early, but it would be nearly noon by the time the girls would be ready. She removes a brush from her cubby and then sits in her designated spot in front of a long mirror that spans one wall. The concrete is cold on her skin. She runs the brush methodically through her hair, working out every knot until her long fire red hair shines smoothly in the mirror. She tightly braids her hair, pulling the loose ends forward, until her hair looks like a lions mane. Cracks in the glass obscure parts of her visage as she pauses to look herself over. She sneers at her reflection. What’s the point? She now loathed her pale skin that would never be freckled by the sun, her thin body that would never bare children. She exhales deeply and gets up from the concrete floor. Calian grabs two long and glossy ribbons from the wall of cubbies and then tiptoes back behind the line of other redheaded girls. On her left Shoelle, a younger girl with a small nose and ears that were too big for her face smiles and moves slightly forward after their knees bump. She ignores the smile, feeling too gloomy to react. Crossing her legs, she puts the ribbons in her lap and picks up the long shiny baby blue one. She pulls the ribbon through her braids leaving large loops in between each braid, which stick out on the sides and top of her head. Next she ties the dark purple ribbon into her hair. This ribbon loops out just in front of the blue one. After the ribbons are secured with pins she twists the loose ends of her hair into small buns inside each of the purple ribbon loops. Beside her Shoelle chooses a yellow ribbon for the side and an orange ribbon in the front. Calian angles her face up to catch the light from the lines of fluorescent bulbs on the ceiling and applies thick black liner to her eyelids. It feels cold and wet on her skin. She extends the black paint down the sides of her thin nose and loops under her cheekbones to meet in a triangle point on her rounded chin. She exhales deeply again. It was only recently that she realized she was an animal. Girls in Krevax were slaves, but until a short time ago she had thought girls everywhere had always been and always would be. She now believed that this was a lie so deeply woven into their society that it had become truth. Her new found credence began after using a curious substance that had been making its way around the city. Nostaliem was still only a whisper in the ears of the wealthiest men in Krevax when Calian had accidentally acquired some. The drug had fallen out of a well-dressed man’s navy blue suit pocket while he was putting his pants back on in the brothel. Calian hadn’t seen the tiny bag filled with fine black powder fall to the floor, but when she was getting dressed she had spotted it and made her own assumptions. Rumours had been going around about a black powder that let you live in a dream. Calian had never been that interested in altering her reality. She had always taken a certain amount of pride in her work and beauty. So it was quite out of character for her to try nostaliem. If it hadn’t literally found its way into her hands she certainly would have never searched for it, but once she had it curiosity convinced her. Everyone in Krevax knew about the sun as an annual lottery chose one person to join those who lived in the plastic globes that orbited the planet. And like most she had always dreamed of seeing a blue sky like the one on the lottery posters. So that night after all of the girls were locked in the sleeping area for the night Calian snuck to the bathroom, shut the bamboo door behind her and poured what was left of the drug directly into her palm. She took a deep breath and swallowed the entire quantity of it. After swallowing the powder Calian lay down on the concrete floor and closed her eyes. Nothing happened. She shook out the little bag in an attempt to get more black powder, but instead a small piece of paper with an address on it fell out. Disappointed Calian got up from the bathroom floor and walked back to her mat to go to sleep. She hid the piece of paper with the address on it in her pillowcase. Once asleep her whole body tingled with warmth and she felt relaxed and cheerful. In her drug-induced state, she started to see flashes of images, she became an old woman swimming in an endless amount of water. The woman’s skin crinkled around her eyes and lips as she smiled. Her cheeks and nose spotted with brown freckles. Above her the sky was perfectly blue. The water was icy cold, but the heat of the sun made it comfortable. She breathed in the salty air and then dove under the water as a wave rolled over her. Immediately after the wave the fleeting images disappeared and Calian woke up. Calian's heart was beating very fast.Was that a dream or the drug? Calian had, had dreams about a blue sky before, but never so vivid. She started to quietly cry to herself. Could that have been real? It felt so real. It all happened so fast she hardly knew what to make of it, but it was in that moment she decided she needed to find more nostaliem. Over the next few weeks Calian couldn’t think about anything other than nostaliem, but she wasn’t alone, it was becoming quite the popular topic in the city. The government had even recently banned it. Which was not surprising, as nostaliem had been blamed for some high profile deaths in the last week, all men of course.
Brixton, the brothel director snapped Calian out of her dazed state. The Foxe Brothel where Calian had been assigned as a Doxy would be opening for the night and he was already making his rounds to make sure all of the girls were getting ready. He was quite the curmudgeon considering he was so young.
“I expect the lot of you to bring back at least ten clients each today. We’re low on credits this week.” His voice was rough which suited his temperament. “If you want to eat, you’ll have to fuck.”
The girls ignored him as they put on their decorative metal uniforms. All Doxies wear metal in Krevax so that they can be easily identified. The Foxe was not the highest end brothel, but it held its own. Generally the girls at the Foxe were considered eights, this was a respectable rating, but most Doxies were at least a seven. Calian put on her uniform, which looked like a silver metal bathing suit. Only the breast cups didn’t cover her nipples. Instead thin chains were pulled over her breasts and tied around the neck in a knot. Calian lined up at the door behind a few of the other Doxies. Once all of the girls were queued, Brixton handed out plastic tubes filled with nutrient paste for breakfast and sent everyone out. Calian swallowed the salty concoction as quickly as possible and followed the girls out through the main part of the brothel where beds were lined with black hanging curtains for the client’s privacy. After a short walk through the admittance room where Brixton held his post, the girls stood under an awning with a logo of a red fox. Calian found her position slightly to the right of the glowing sigil and tried to strike her sexiest pose. The other girls whistled at the men and made pouty faces when they walked by. A few of the girls even played with themselves and moaned loudly with their legs spread apart. Calian didn’t want to take part in any of this though, not anymore. She’d always brought in a respectable amount of clients, but she didn’t care about that now. Some of the interested men would walk over and touch the girls' nipples. Insert fingers into their openings. Push their erect penises against the girls' thighs. This was all considered quite acceptable. It was only penile penetration that had to be paid for, but it was rude in pleasant society to tease a Doxy with credits. Standing behind the prospective clients, Peons would follow obediently. Most would make rude gestures with their hands as they considered themselves to be above Doxies in social standing. Calian thought this was absurd. No girls got to choose their role, and at least Doxies knew when they were going to be recycled. A Peon was always living on the edge. Some wealthier men would even recycle their Peon’s yearly, though this was discouraged and considered wasteful. An older man walked over to Calian and stuck his decaying hand into the side of her metal uniform. Feeling around her folds he pushes two fingers into her. Calian tries to smile. The man grunts and tells his Peon to wait outside for him. The Peon nods, her eyes narrowing in anger through her white painted mask. That was the main trouble of being a Peon, some of them would fall in love with their masters. Jealousy was a common problem among them, which often lead to early recycling. Peons were not considered sexually attractive, they were only used by men for daily chores, such as scheduling, shopping and cooking. Most of them would be recycled as virgins. The man grabbed Calian’s hand and led her into the brothel. Brixton grinned grotesquely upon seeing the couple standing at the front desk. Brixton negotiated a price for the visit and then led them to a mattress into the corner of the room.
After Brixton’s footsteps strut back towards the entrance, Calian takes off her uniform and lies on the bed naked. The man removes his clothes and sits beside her on the bed. He does not look her in the eyes as he climbs on top of her. Pushing himself into her, he begins thrusting back and forth. Calian closes her eyes, disgusted. After a couple of minutes of his hot breath hitting her face he finally comes and pulls out. Calian lies frozen and covered in his stale sweat. He rolls off of her, dresses, and leaves without a word. Calian takes a short intake of breath and sits up. His musty smell sticks to her skin. Normally at this point she would clean up and get dressed to go back outside and attract another man. But today she had decided was the day to escape. On the first of the month Brixton would deposit all of the credits the girls had earned at the brothel. Today was the last day of Eleven, so if she was going to find and buy nostaliem this was her best chance. Calian grabs her metal uniform and sneaks back into the sleeping area hiding it in a cubby. Next she grabs the address out of her pillowcase and heads back into the main room. Standing there naked she looked past the doorway to make sure Brixton is still at his desk. Taking a deep breath she walks into the centre of the room and tiptoes up a staircase. Semen drips down her leg and on to the stairs. Once up the stairs she is surrounded by Brixton’s possessions. She pulls a white suit and green dress shirt out of the closet and quickly dresses. Stepping into Brixton’s bathroom Calian grabs an electric razor and shaves her head. The noise makes her nervous and sweat is dripping down her forehead as the last strands fall. Next she starts searching through drawers in a side table. She finds the stack of credits and leaves the room. Calian tiptoes back down the staircase and exits into an alley. She walks towards the centre of the city barefoot. The roads narrow as people push their way onto the street. The lights above her are already starting to dim. She spots a cab and throws her arm in the air to grab the driver’s attention. The orange and black-checkered bike pulls up beside her.
“Where to.”
“The address is 9008 101 Avenue.” Calian says in her manliest voice.
“Green.” He hands her a helmet. Calian anxiously fastens the helmet. Girls were not allowed to go on bikes. Awkwardly she lifts her leg over the seat behind the driver and grabs onto a bar in between them. She’s barely centred herself when the bike lurches forward. Calian giggles to herself, this is the most exciting thing she’s ever done. After some time the bike stops in front of a large white house with a white fence on the outskirts of the city.
“Would you mind waiting? I’m only stopping for a minute.” The driver stairs at her confused for a moment, she had forgotten her manly voice. “You can charge me for your time.” She adds in a deeper voice. He nods that this is fine and she jumps off the bike and walks briskly up to the front door as she removes the helmet. After knocking twice a Peon immediately opens the door. Her white mask is strewn with copper lace, a sign of wealth.
“May I help you?” She says sweetly.
“Is the man of the house here?” Calian asks sternly, remembering her manly voice.
“To what does this house call pertain?”
“Nostaliem.”
The Peon pauses uncomfortably, “I’m sorry, you have the wrong address.”
“Really? Well, a piece of paper with this address on it fell out of a bag of nostaliem.” Calian said. The Peon started to close the door, but then a man in his mid-thirties stuck his foot in the way and pulled Calian in. The front entrance was made of marble. He must be extremely wealthy.
“Then you must have stolen that bag!” The man looked at her angrily as he pulled her in by the collar. His well-groomed moustache was much too large for his features. He moves to shut the door, but then sees the cab driver waiting.
“I didn’t steal it,” Calian squeals. “I found it.”
“Listen, I can provide you with nostaliem this one time, but you are never to come here again or mention this address to anyone.” He snapped his fingers at the Peon and she disappeared into an unseen room. Upon her return moments later she handed Calian a small metal box engraved with an eye. “For your silence.” Calian nods and the moustached man shoves her outside and slams the door. Calian grabs the handrail to steady herself and sprints down the steps. The cab was still waiting for her and she quickly put the helmet on her head and jumped on, her heart racing.
“Where to now.”
“The closest motel.”
The cab driver pulled away from the house and headed back into the city.
By the time they got to a motel, Calian owed eight credits, a hefty fine. She paid the cab driver and walked up to the service desk.
“How long will you be staying?”
“One night please.”
“That will be four credits.” Calian nodded and handed him a pile of quarter-point credits. He looked annoyed, but handed her a key. “Room twelve, it’s on the second floor.”
Once in the motel, she made her way up the stairs and walked down a decrepit looking hallway to room twelve. The door creaked when she opened it, but it looked clean enough once inside. The room is small and cold, and the only light emitted is from the window on one wall.
She locked the door behind her and took off Brixton’s suit. Standing there uncovered she wanted to shower, but she knew she would have to wait until the morning, so she decided to go to sleep. Lying down on the mattress she rubs the rocks and dirt off of her feet. Next Calian opens the metal box. Inside were five small bags of black powder, a metal razor and a metal straw. A straw? You snort the powder! She shook her head at herself. She put the box down beside her laughing to herself and rolled into the fetal position on the old mattress. The mattress had an intricate pattern of black damask that could be seen through the white sheet.
The next morning she woke up to the alarm blaring across the intercoms outside. She normally ignored this as girls showered at night, but not today. Bleary eyed she walked over to the shower pressed the on button and waited for the water to start. After a few minutes the cold water began to flow and she soaped up her entire body and head rinsing off just as the water stopped. Water was an expensive commodity in Krevax and for that reason its use was strictly monitored. After her shower she walked into the drying tube and moved in a few circles. After she was dry she lied back down on the mattress and again opened the metal box. Pulling out a bag of black powder she dropped the contents out on to the concrete floor and used the razor to separate it into thin lines. She was nervous and her hands were shaking. Taking a deep breath she picked up the straw and snorted the first line.
Calian stares at the ceiling as the drug immediately begins to alter her reality. She closes her eyes and wakes up in a dream. In the dream she is an old man holding his granddaughter for the first time. The room has hardwood floors and is lit up with the light from a chandelier. Outside it is raining softly. He laughs and kisses the sleeping baby’s forehead. The baby smells kind of sweet, kind of earthy, with a faint smell of milk. The baby begins to cry. A woman dressed in a white cotton shirt and blue flowing skirt walks over smiling and lifts the baby out of the old man’s arms.
“She’s beautiful Jennifer.”
“Thank you Dad.” She says as she rocks the baby.
“So when are you going to have the next one?” The man laughs. The daughter rolls her eyes smiling.
“Certainly not for a while.” She sits down on a purple couch as the baby falls back asleep in her arms.
“Are you hungry honey? I can make you a sandwich.”
“Actually that would be great Dad! I’m really not sure how you’re supposed to do anything normal with a baby.” She laughs.
“Don’t worry, it will get easier.” He gets up and walks into a small rectangular kitchen. He opens the fridge and takes out one tomato, a block of cheese, some mayo, a jar of mustard and a bag of lettuce out of the fridge. He pops four pieces of ancient grain bread into a toaster and starts by cutting a few pieces of cheese. Next he slices the tomato and cuts up an avocado that was on the counter. Grabbing some plates he slathers the toast in mayo and mustard and stacks on the cheese and vegetables. Finally he cuts both sandwiches diagonally and carries them into the living room.
“Here you go Jenny.” He says as he hands his daughter a sandwich.
“Thanks Dad.” She says as she bites into one half holding it with her left hand.
The man smiles as he sits down and begins eating his sandwich. The sandwich crunches from the lettuce as the sharpness of the old cheddar hits his taste buds. He swallows the first bite and begins to say something, it must be funny because Jenny is laughing, but Calian can’t make it out.
Her eyes open and she finds herself back on the mattress. She begins to cry. Her mind scatters through a million thoughts and she suddenly feels angrier than she had ever felt in her entire life. In the first dream Calian could feel everything the old woman felt physically in that moment, but this one was different. Not only could she feel everything that old man felt physically in the moment, she could also hear his thoughts. She new everything about him and in that moment she essentially was him. It was hard coming back to her reality where she was a slave. Where that perfect world in the dream was gone. She felt overwhelmed. That man had to be real. He loved his daughter and she was free. Calian was overcome with emotions, she would never be free or know love the way that man and his daughter did. Life wasn’t like that in Krevax. Families were considered a threat to the Government mantra. Calian lies on the mattress crying. She didn’t want to be a slave anymore. Calian screams and punches the wall aggressively, she rolls her self into a ball and rocks herself back and fourth. We killed the sky. She can barely breathe through her tears and her head is ringing. We killed the sky. She rocks back and fourth, back and fourth, back and fourth. We killed the sky. We killed the sky. We killed the sky. She pauses, drops her hands in her lap and stares through the window at the ceiling made of advertisements. We killed the sky. She picks up the razor. Next Calian pushes the razor against her wrist and slides it lengthwise up her arm. Blood begins dripping down her hand and onto the floor. She then snorts the remaining lines of black powder with the straw. Pushing herself back on the mattress, she stares vacantly at the ceiling with her wrist hanging off the side. She closes her eyes as the drug trickles into her mind. This time in her dream she is running through a row of bright green pea stalks. The sounds of robins fill the blue sky. White puffy clouds move quickly with the breeze far above her. Beams of sunlight flash on her chubby face as she moves quickly through the stalks, her scalp tingling from the heat of the sun. Reaching out she touches the vines with her tiny fingers. Pausing, she picks a bright green peapod and crunches through its shell to the sweet fruit. She laughs and continues on, her small blue shoes crunching the flattened stalks.
“Lucy.” Her brother calls from the back of an old yellow house. “Mom says it’s time for dinner. Where are you?” She giggles and crouches down into the stalks, hiding from her brother’s view. Her brother sighs, grinning and begins walking down the creaky porch. Suddenly he bursts into a run and disappears into the pea field. Lucy starts to crawl through the stalks in an effort to confuse her brother, but he’s too quick for her. Sneaking up behind her, he picks her up with a gleeful yell and spins her around in a circle. As she opens her eyes Lucy sees the bright green turn to eerie neon. She hears the robins chatter turn into screeching cries and the blue sky begins morphing into swirling smoke. Lucy’s heart is pounding and soon the whole place is swirling in a ball, which turns darker and darker. The now black smoke swirls faster and faster until it stops and begins to pale. Calian takes a shallow breath and opens her eyes again on the mattress. She begins to cry as her heart starts to slow. She stiffens for a moment and in a convulsing slouch her heart stops.
After a couple of hours Calian’s face has twisted into a grimace as rigor mortis sets in. Outside the broken down motel the advertisments remain unchanged dimming slightly as time passes. Hours tick by, but there is still no sunlight or moonlight to be seen, only advertisements. Back in the room Calian’s head, neck, abdomen and shoulders begin to turn a discoloured green. Her eyes and tongue protrude. Blisters now cover her marbled complexion. Fluid oozes from her eyes, nose and mouth as her insides liquefy. Finally the escaping putrid smell attracts the attention of the owner whose keys jingle the doorknob. The door creaks open and an older heavy-set man with dyed-blonde hair takes a sharp intake of the rotting air and his keys drop to the floor.
Chapter One
The door is closed and again the room left undisturbed. Sometime later the doorknob twists, this time three men dressed in official police uniforms enter the room wearing white facemasks and blue gloves. Upon seeing the body the men physically stop in surprise.
“A girl?” Whispered Doug Remi, the tallest and oldest of the three men. Remi liked to gossip and boss others around, but he had neither the charisma nor the wit to succeed at either. He was an older cop stuck under the rules of younger and brighter applicants, and because of this he usually had quite a sour demeanor. Today, however the dead girl in the concrete block had peaked his interest and he couldn’t hide the look of glee on his face.
“Nothing surprises me anymore,” Farrell Pratt slurred in his usual way. Pratt’s face was sprouting a two-day-old beard and had the same appearance as an underfed rat. He was a scrawny looking man in his early thirties with greasy black hair and broad shoulders. Pratt spent more of his time at work inebriated than he did sober and it was for this reason that his coworkers new entirely too much about him. In Krevax though, this was usually tolerated.
When Tanner Blackwell, the youngest man, saw the body his expression was emotionless. He listened to Pratt and Remi’s conversation, but did not partake or feign interest. A gangly man with broad shoulders he moved awkwardly, but with purpose towards the body. Leaning down beside the mattress he picked up the metal box with an eye engraved on it. He opens it and grabs one of the bags of nostaliem, hiding it in his pocket.