by Eileen Glass
“Well,” he says, stepping down. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Alright! I like that spirit!” Stephanie thumps him on the back. “You’re a model omega. So, let’s get you changed.”
Rourke wraps his arms around himself. They gave him spandex shorts to wear so he isn’t completely naked, and they keep the room warm, so he isn’t cold. But everything else is off and the cameras are like hanging spiders with many eyes, a dozen or so alphas watching through them.
And yet, Stephanie is right. He opens the cage and climbs inside himself, for the second time, though the atmosphere is ominous and the cage swings freely, slightly from the chain it’s suspended on.
Rourke secures the door and stands in place, so it will settle. He’s sure the instability is all part of the scheme to make him look vulnerable. Somehow, he must cry.
Rourke played the Christmas tree in a school play once. A literal tree, which didn’t do anything except spin and wave its branches for the dancing part.
He tangles his fingers tightly in the cord around his neck, fidgeting.
When the lights go dim, Rourke takes a deep breath. She said he’d know when the auction started. This must be it.
He looks at each camera in turn, bringing his arms down so as not to hide. His balance wobbles and he catches himself on the bars. But he supposes he should stumble a bit and make his eyes wider than they technically need to be.
More vulnerability equals more money. He’s doing this for his mom, so he wants as much as possible.
The din of cheering makes him duck his head and cover his ears, but it’s just noise. The room is empty. It must come from speakers that he can’t see, surrounding him. It sounds like an auction, but he can’t make out specific words in the soundtrack.
Tiny projector lights appear in the ceiling. This must be the haunted house Stephanie was talking about. On the floor, the shapes and shadows of a bustling crowd appear. The floor vanishes with the optical illusion of extended space beneath him, the figures reaching with their arms far, far below. And the cage continues to sway uncertainly.
From the seemingly impossible distance, one of the shadowy figures jumps. It seems to catch the floor where he’s standing and pull itself up to the bars, hanging there. These are less convincing, and Rourke can stare hard to see through its murky shape. But it grins, and without explanation, the cage sways perfectly as if it’s weight is there, tipping the cage. Rourke clutches to his side so he won’t slide toward it.
He looks up. The cage top is solid, so he can’t see the place where the chain connects. But there must be a mechanism. The floor is two feet below. The hologram figure has no definition, much less weight.
But another jumps on, and the cage rocks like crazy. He almost shouts, having to relocate fast before it grabs onto him. But he notices no sensation where the inky fingers pass through his wrist briefly.
It’s not real. Just pretend. A haunted house in a very creepy place.
He shakes his head. That attitude won’t fetch a high price. Stephanie asked for a cry, and she’s going to get one. Hopefully both she and his mom will be very happy with the auction’s money.
Rourke stops rationalizing and engages in a little pretend. These are the alphas. He’s being sold to a harem, like in the history lessons. He makes expressions of being scared and upset.
The haunted house helps. A huge spotlight comes out from the wall, blinding him, and the ‘auctioneer’ gets loud. The ‘crowd’ laughs. The words are speech-sounding nonsense, but the tone isn’t nice.
It kind of works, but his emotions are mostly missing. And he isn’t anywhere near crying.
So, Rourke thinks about his mom. He doesn’t let himself think about her being dead, ever, and when it happens, it’s always in those quiet moments right before sleep. He pulls back from those thoughts as if having grazed against a sharp knife. But now he listens.
He thinks about her in a hospital bed, tubes in her nose, her face lined and sunken even though she’s so young. He thinks about going on without her, which is the mental equivalent of sliding his hand against the blade. Going on alone. Missing her so much and not having the option talk to her again.
His throat tightens. He blinks rapidly, his eyes prickling. He’s not quite in tears, but this might be as close as he gets. He looks at each of the cameras, then the cage spins, knocking him off balance.
He hits the bars, then the floor.
My mom might die regardless if I can’t get the money for her medicine.
He needs a fortune. His mother has told him repeatedly about the cancer cures restricted for the elite. The medicine’s cost is astronomical and not covered by insurance.
Tears come, and he looks at the cameras from where he kneels on all fours, waiting for the cage to even out. When he can, he stands. Murky figures reach for him, and he dodges as much as he can. He doesn’t try to avoid stumbling and falling so much. He covers his ears as if the rude jeering hurts him.
Is it supposed to last this long?
Fifteen minutes can take a long time when you’re paying attention to each of them, but he’s starting to notice the repeated gestures in the jumping figures and the crowd below. The spotlight turns off and comes on again. The cage alternates between still, swaying, and spinning. Rourke kneels because he can’t hold his balance.
This is the worst amusement ride ever, and he’s going to get a grade when it’s done.
Why is it taking forever? Are there no bids?
Maybe Rourke isn’t bringing in a good price. Maybe they will throw him out like spoiled meat. Alphas are sex crazed perverts in the history books, so it hadn’t occurred to Rourke that he might not be desirable…
No. I can do this.
But he doesn’t feel like acting anymore, and he’s unsure of his future. Rourke sits with his arms over his knees, waiting for the auction to end. It should be soon.
But it isn’t. Not nearly. Rourke has a lot of time to think about his mother dying, life alone, and not even the possibility of the escape offered on the breeder advertisements. Those signs make the crappy jobs more tolerable. Every man choosing to flip hamburgers does that over breeding.
Rourke wipes his eyes. He’s scared for real, but not because of the holograms. He doesn’t bother scooting from the shadow monsters anymore.
What’s taking so long?
There must not be any bids at all!
Stephanie said that most auctions are over in about ten minutes. Surely Rourke’s sense of time hasn’t been distorted that much.
A light explodes from the wall. It takes the clacking of Stephanie’s heels to make him realize it’s the door opening and not another hologram approaching him. She has the crowd projected onto her suit and face as she approaches him.
“Rourke, give me the key!” she says, reaching through the bars of his prison. She sounds mad, so he must have messed up. He didn’t sell somehow. He takes the key off his neck and passes it to her.
This is it. Our life’s over.
“What did I do wrong?”
She opens the door and glares at a camera. “I don’t care if we’re still on feed, I’m putting an end to this!” Her mad gaze softens somewhat as she gives him her hand and helps him out. The world pitches forward and his whole instinct is to resist as he’s lowering his foot to a ground that he can no longer perceive. But Stephanie is doing alright in the seeming midair. Feeling the floor under his shoe puts his senses to rights.
“Shut it off, Tyler!” she snaps at a camera.
With a short whir, it all powers down. The projector lights shut off and the crowd disappears. It’s silent again, just an empty, disturbing room.
Rourke dries his eyes on his arm and clears his throat.
“What happened?” he asks roughly. Stephanie’s arm comes around his waist and she guides him quickly toward the exit, muttering a curse. Whatever he did, she’s furious.
They get into the hall, where everything is bright and normal again. There’s
another woman and a man here, dressed in sharp business suits, and Rourke feels exposed and under dressed. He wants to cover himself.
“Rourke, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that to you!” Stephanie says, hugging him. The other two are smirking. Did they come out to laugh at him?
“I’m sorry?” Rourke says, wondering what went wrong. Was he just not convincing enough?
“Good job finding this one, Steph,” says the woman, holding a door open for them. Others are gathered at the end of the hall, and they’re all staring at Rourke. Stephanie pulls him through the offered door quickly.
“You’re going to get that promotion for sure,” says the man, clapping Stephanie’s shoulder.
“Ooo, Kate is going to be furious!” says the woman.
There’s large TV screen in here with the empty cage shown at four different angles. Over the image, several bars reach across a grid of dollar amounts, a name and a little picture tagged at each base. The man and woman join Stephanie in putting their arms around him as Rourke gazes at it.
The numbers are sorted in tens of millions.
“I… I don’t understand… did… did somebody bid on me?”
Everyone laughs, except for Stephanie.
“It’s not funny, guys, he was scared!”
She tucks his hair behind his ear, much like his mom might have done when he was a kid.
“Right. Sorry, Rourke,” says the man, giving him a pat on the back and going to a desk.
“We didn’t mean to scare you!” says the woman. “But I think you just bought all of us a Christmas bonus. I’m going to buy my kids the Perception console! Thank you.”
“That… that’s for me?” Rourke wipes his eyes again. The numbers he’s seeing could buy a spaceship. Not that he needs one.
“Of course,” Stephanie says questioningly, like he should have caught on my now. “Rourke, you sold for a lot.”
Three of the bars are visually the same height, their separation values differing only by tens of thousands. It’s weird to think of money as only tens of thousands… Like the difference of the bars isn’t more than all the money he’s going to make this year.
“Wow.”
“Wow, doesn’t cut it! You’re a record breaker!” The woman lifts Rourke’s hand in a cheer. The man at his desk is on the phone, bragging about the sale to someone.
“But we’re sorry we scared you. Rourke, I tried to get you out earlier, but these two held me back…”
“You were about to break the record,” defends the man, covering his phone. Then he adds, for Rourke’s benefit, after Stephanie’s glare, “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t really scared, you know.”
“What?” Stephanie says.
“Well, yeah. You told me to cry, remember?”
All three stare at him, dumbfounded.
“I didn’t mean… I wasn’t being literal!” Stephanie pinches the bridge of her nose. “Oh my god…”
The other two crow with laughter.
“Good job, Rourke!”
“Very convincing,” says the man.
“Ooh, my kids are gonna be so excited.”
“So, he’s the winner, huh?” Rourke says when they quiet down, gesturing at the bar on the very left. The accompanying portrait is small, but Rourke makes out straight blue hair and a serious expression.
No pink haired babies after all. Well, blue is pretty cute too.
“Technically not yet,” Stephanie says, pulling away from him and standing in front of the TV. There’s an undertone of annoyance. She must have been really worried about him. She picks up a thick binder from another nearby desk. “These are the profiles of the bidders involved. He did win, but you get the final say. The auction is just to ‘prove their worth’. Look over their profiles, and choose the winner.”
Rourke flips through the pages, but only scanning the pictures. His guy is handsome. The only pink-haired dude in the bunch is smirking cockily in his photo, and he seems the burly type. He doesn’t care for that at all.
“You’ll take this with you and choose your match on the shuttle.”
“No need,” Rourke says, closing it. “He won. I’m alright with that.”
“What, you mean the blue guy?” Stephanie looks between him and the screen. “Rourke, he doesn’t win unless you choose him. The whole point of the competition is to impress you. If you aren’t impressed—that means, if you don’t choose him—he didn’t win.”
Rourke scrutinizes the other portfolio pics on the graph. But the more he compares them, the more he likes the one on the left who bid the most. His expression is a little unfriendly, but his hair isn’t too bright. Rourke doesn’t want to hand his mother a baby that looks like a highlighter. Neon yellow guy is definitely out, and the hot purple-haired dude has the front of his shirt unbuttoned to the middle. That looks sleazy.
The blue-haired man is simple. Not too loud. Staring straight on like he’s in the military. And he’s dressed nice, in a business suit.
“No, I pick him. He’s the one I want. Definitely.”
The woman snickers and Rourke realizes how it must sound. Like he wants the alpha alien for more than his money. But he can’t make an excuse because of course that’s the way it should be.
“Well… alright then,” Stephanie says.
“Congratulations, Rourke!” calls the man, tapping another number with his thumb.
“Uh, yeah. Thanks you guys…”
Stephanie huffs. “Keep the binder. Look over their profiles. Just in case.”
“But we can inform the winner now!” says the woman, going to a computer.
“No!” Stephanie tries to stop her. “He needs time to finalize his decision—”
“No I don’t.” His clothes are in a pile on a chair, so Rourke goes over and pulls on his t-shirt. It should be okay now that his body has sold. “You can tell him he won. I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Rourke, this is a life-changing decision,” Stephanie says from where she guards the keyboard.
“But it’s my decision,” Rourke answers, picking up his jeans so that his underwear stays hidden. “I don’t want any of the others. He’s the best one.”
The woman clasps her hands and makes a little sigh.
“Can I put my pants on now?” he asks.
Rourke closes the bathroom door and leans against it, sighing at the ceiling. He puts a hand over his abdomen, acknowledging that technically the hard part isn’t over. But for now, it feels like it is.
He takes himself to the sink. No wonder Stephanie thought he was traumatized! His eyes are puffy and red. Rourke runs the tap and splashes cool water on his face, giving his tired mind something else to focus on. A physical sensation. Easy.
But not for long. He rustles into his jeans pocket for his phone. He had it turned off, so Stephanie and the others wouldn’t hear it ring. Pressure builds inside his ears as he waits for the company logo to finish its animation. All that money. Just picturing the graph again makes his head heavy like he could faint. He doesn’t know what he should tell her first.
We’re rich! I’m leaving! You can buy whatever you want now! I’m going to the moon—tonight! Also, you’re gonna be a grandma…
Some version of all that needs to get out. Thank god, the phone takes forever to ring. He thought he’d have an avalanche of missed messages by now, but she hasn’t woken up.
When she finally answers, her voice is croaky. “Rourke, what is it?”
He presses the phone with his shoulder and multitasks in getting his jeans on.
“Hey, I left a letter on your chair. I need you to read it.”
She’s sleepy and slow about getting to it. Rourke finishes dressing and takes a seat on the toilet lid. He rubs his thighs, feeling so nervous.
“What is this? Rourke, are you serious? Did you…?”
“I just had my auction.” He covers the phone to direct his voice, not wanting them to hear. If they have secret audio or video of
the bathroom this will turn out to be a very stupid mistake. Rourke peers around for cameras and then under the sink really quick, but he supposes that would be a weird place to hide a microphone.
“Your auction?!” she squawks after a very long time to process. “You already sold yourself?!”
“Yeah. And you’ll never guess, Mom, I sold for—”
“Get out of there!” she shrieks. “Oh my god, Rourke… I… I need to call the police. I need to… Are you in their building?!”
“Mom, calm down. And don’t call the police, they’ll get me in trouble. Mom, I signed all the consent forms and everything. I want this.”
He hears things knocking over on her end.
“Mom! Calm down! Listen to me!”
“No, Rourke, you made a mistake. They’re going to sell you. You’re going to lose your citizenship. Rourke, they’re going to… Oh I can’t even think of it…”
“I know what they’re going to use me for,” Rourke says calmly.
“And you want that?!”
She’s outright crying now. This is going all wrong. He tells her the amount.
“You can do whatever you want now! You go to that fancy hospital and get the medicine you need…”
She makes a choked sound.
“And live in a nice place, and yell at me for the rest of your life. I’m a record breaker, you know, it’s the highest bid they’ve ever seen. And that’s your money now. I mean, the society takes like 30%, but the rest is all yours.”
“Oh no. No, no, Rourke, no…” she moans.
She’s taking this worse than he thought. He knew she’d be sad about him leaving, but surely the shot at doubling her life should make up for it.
“Mom, it’s alright. Everything is better, and we’re going to see each other again. It just takes time.”
“No!” she yells, and her voice coming out of the phone is louder than his. Rourke covers the receiver. “Rourke, you get back here right now! I won’t have my boy selling his body to pay for my bills! You get out of that building, and… and… I’m going to call Cory. We’re going to pick you up.”
“Mom, I’m sold. It’s a done deal.”
