The Emperor's Concubine

by Killarney Sheffield

  “Tisk, tisk, tisk. You have such a jaded view, young lady.” He punches a couple of buttons on the tablet, his brows wrinkling. “Why do you think you tend to see the glass half empty instead of half full?”

  Is he really going to psychoanalyze me? I scramble to my feet. “So, there is something wrong with me for seeing this for what it is? Are all the officials as simple minded as you?” A flush stains his cheeks. Now who’s got a rise out of whom?

  “I am not an official, nor am I simple minded.”

  Placing my palms on the desk, I lean closer to look him in the eye. I’m the one pushing the buttons now. “Aren’t you in control here, of me, of my fate and that of the other girls?”

  “I am in control to a certain extent, yes. Would you like to be in control, Ocean?”

  “Yes.” That’s a dumb question. Every person in Imram would love to sit in the Emperor’s chair. His gaze takes on a strange light. “Sit down.”

  Instead of obeying, I stay as I am in silent challenge.

  He holds my gaze. “I think we need to start with some coping techniques. You are never going to win the war by openly fighting everything, Ocean. The key here is subtlety.”

  What war? It seems an odd thing to say. Unsure how to respond, I look to the ceiling. The little black eye usually watching our sessions is still, the red light no longer flashing. I drop my gaze back to Mr. White.

  He grins. “It is just us today.”

  “No cameras watching and listening?”

  “No.”

  “Why?” Unease rolls through me. What is he up to? Everything we do is watched, except when we’re locked in our dorm rooms at night.

  Instead of answering my question he puts the navigation stick behind his ear. “You have spirit, Ocean Delaney. I knew it the first time I saw you.”

  My legs are shaking and I sit so he can’t see. “Why are you telling me this?”

  He leans over the desk and lowers his voice. “Because I think we can help each other.”

  How can he help me? How can I help him for that matter?

  “Time is up, Ocean. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I stand still puzzling his words. “But—”

  The door opens and Mr. White nods to the woman in white. “See you tomorrow, Number Two-twenty-three.”

  * * *

  In the afternoon we are sent in groups to smaller classrooms specializing in our talents. I find myself with the red head who sits across from me in the dining room and three other girls I don’t know. We’re directed into a room in which five painting easels are placed. The case of rainbow color paint on the ledge draws me like a magnet. My fingers skim the case. A pretty, pretty rainbow. Are they all mine? Do I get to use them? Colours have always fascinated me due to their rareness in my grey/white world. It was a supreme sacrifice for me to give my precious colored wax sticks to Petie, but I have never regretted it.

  A short, rather obese woman waddles into the room. Her towering black wig makes me giggle. It looks as if she has stuck her finger in a light socket. What is with all the wigs anyway?

  The woman scowls at me and asks in a squeaky voice. “Is something amusing, Two-twenty-three?”

  “No ma’am.” Pinning my bottom lip between my teeth is the only way to keep a straight face.

  “Apparently you girls have some talent in the arts.” The woman snorts. “I shall be the judge of that. I am Madame Vealenza, renowned painter and sculptor. My art is displayed all over the Emperor’s compound and much sought after by officials.” She preens like a peacock in her red and black robe. “I shall endeavour to impart my expertise on you over the next couple of hours in hopes that you may impress an official. It will be a long shot, but it’s my duty, I suppose.”

  It takes all my restraint not to roll my eyes at the conceited woman. Despite her attitude, I am looking forward to a chance to improve my art. As horrid as this place is, I have found a couple of things that bring me a small measure of joy and I mean to take advantage of it.

  The madam lifts a sheet off a table to reveal a bright green bowl filled with artificially grown fruit. Plump red strawberries, sleek yellow bananas, round oranges, marble size purple grapes and heart shaped green apples fill the container to overflowing. My stomach gurgles so loud the red head beside me snickers. Though the meals supplied are regular there never seems quite enough to fill a person’s stomach.

  “You will paint the fruit.” The madam scans the room. “And, maybe, just maybe, if I am pleased with your efforts I might let you eat the subject of your creations.” Clasping her hands behind her back she wanders the room as we began the assignment.

  I focus on the strawberry. Painting a bowl of fruit is boring and the fact I’m not very good at painting doesn’t help. Before I know it the strawberry takes shape on the canvas, not amidst the fruit in the bowl, but on a vine decorated with others and delicate white blooms.

  “What is this?”

  The brush stills in my fingers as the Madame approaches.

  “This is not a bowl of fruit.”

  She has a grasp on the obvious, I’ll give her that. “No, Madame.”

  “Where did you see this?”

  I look up. The Madame’s face is an alarming shade of red.

  “I asked where you saw this, Two-twenty-three?”

  Swallowing I set down the brush. How much trouble am I in this time? “I saw a picture of it once.”

  She frowns. “Does your father work in the agriculture warehouses?”

  Technically Tofu isn’t manufactured in the produce building, but perhaps she doesn’t know that. “Yes, Madame.”

  The madam snatches the canvas from the easel. “Paint the fruit in the bowl.” With that, she tucks the painting under her arm and flounces off. For an obese lady that’s quite the feat too.

  * * *

  I’m drained, elated and strangely overstimulated at the same time by an afternoon of painting, and flop on the cot in my room that evening. “Who knew being trained as a concubine could be so exhausting?”

  Ashley smiles and stretches out on her own bed. “Tell me about it. I wish I have never mentioned I can sing. My throat feels like sandpaper.”

  Rolling over I stare at the plain white ceiling. “I saw Mr. White again today.”

  “And?”

  ‘And’ is exactly my sentiment. “He said something puzzling.”

  “Ocean, everything about this place is a puzzle.”

  “No.” Shaking my head, I sit and then get up to pace the room. My mind is churning with so many questions I can’t sit still. “I think something is going on. He mentioned something about a war.”

  “What war?”

  “That’s just it, I don’t know. He said I would never win the war by openly fighting everything. That I had to be more subtle.”

  Ashley frowns. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Even more confusing is the fact the camera was off today.”

  “What camera?”

  Pausing at the door, I peer out the little window into the corridor. It’s empty. “Haven’t you noticed them? Everywhere we go there are little black cameras in the ceiling with blinking red lights. The officials are watching everything we do, listening to everything we say.”

  Ashley tilts her head back to scan the ceiling. “There isn’t one in here.”

  “No, but everywhere else there is.”

  “So what do you think Mr. White meant?”

  I ponder it for a moment. “I think he was trying to tell me something.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” Turning around I fix her with an intense stare. “But I’m sure I’ll find out whether I want to or not.”

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning the screen in the dining room crackles and then glows with the image of the Emperor. The thirty-three remaining girls stand as he addresses us.

  “Congratulations, concubines, for being selected to bear in your wombs the future of Imram. Each one of you has
been determined to be of sound health and mind. Today you will be brought to my compound housing the great officials of our city and be prepared for your destiny. Until tonight, lovely ladies, go in peace, future breeders of Imram and may the universe smile upon you for your unselfish sacrifice to mankind.” The screen fades to black and everyone takes their seats. The room is abuzz with many whispers and excited conversations.

  “We are going to the officials’ compound, Ocean. Oh, my gosh, and meeting the Emperor himself!” Ashley giggles with glee.

  I try to smile as if I too am excited, but fail. I’ve passed all the tests and am one step closer to lying with a stranger to be a surrogate to an official’s baby. There has to be a way out. I have to escape, soon, before it’s too late. The tears welling up in my eyes blur the breakfast tray as Danika sets it before me on the table. Fear quickens my heart beat. The primal fight or flight instinct which has ruled animals and mankind for centuries is about to take over. The problem is fighting will get me nowhere and there is no place to flee. We are like lab rats in a cage. I know, I’m obsessed with animal analogies. Strange, isn’t it, when I live in a creature free world? Well, I suppose not entirely creature free, since I’m starting to see the Emperor as a sadistic, heartless thing one could hardly call human.

  “I’ve been assigned to you,” Danika whispers.

  Blinking back my tears I try and outwardly pull it together. Forcing a smile to my lips I return, “I’m glad.”

  “I’ll see you after breakfast.” With a grin she hurries off toward the kitchen.

  My appetite gone I toy with my mush, all the while casting covert glances at the others around me. Most of the girls are silent and pale. Have they come to the same ill-fated conclusion I have? A couple of girls at another table giggle as if it were a joyous occasion. The one looks over at me and smirks. What is the girl’s name again? Sasha. Is she and the rest of the population of Imram that brain washed? How can they not rally against being forced into prostitution? A brunette with green eyes catches my gaze. Hopelessness lingers behind the jewelled brightness before she blinks and looks away. My mouth opens before my brain can issue a warning to check what spills out. “We have to escape.”

  The red head gasps.

  Ashley scans the room and then leans forward to hiss, “Be quiet, Ocean. Do you want an enforcer to hear?”

  Lowering my voice, I hiss back. “Do you seriously want to be some whore to an official?”

  “Of course not, but what other choice do we have?”

  “We could escape.”

  “Be serious. Where would we go, if we could even somehow manage to elude the enforcers?” Ashley looks over her shoulder. “Let’s not talk about this here.” She redirects her attention to her meal.

  My mind is racing to come up with an idea for escape. Enforcers patrol every corridor. Every room and doorway is spanned by a tag reader. I pluck at the stainless steel bracelet on my wrist from which hangs a white, red, blue, green and yellow tag. The latter being the one which grants me access to Mr. White’s office. Maybe he can help me. He has the power to declare me unfit to serve.

  When the buzzer signals the end of the meal, I make my way to the door. After passing through the scanner I veer left, instead of going right with the rest of the girls and run. My footsteps echoed down the passageway as I sprint.

  “Stop!”

  Checking over my shoulder I spy the two enforcers hurrying to catch me. I know I should listen, but my flight instinct has kicked in on steroids. Even if I wanted to my legs have taken the matter into their own hands... or feet, I suppose you might say. With renewed determination I push my appendages to move faster, my breath coming in ragged gasps by the time I reach the waiting room. A siren sounds as I dart through the scanner marking the psychiatry centre. Without pausing I barrel past a startled woman with a tablet. Her screech follows in my wake as I yank open the door to Mr. White’s office.

  His eyes widen and his mouth drops open. After a moment he composes himself and sets down his tablet. “Ocean? What are you doing here?”

  Gasping and out of breath I clutch the edge of his desk. “You ... have to... help... me.”

  The two enforcers burst into the room. One look at their drawn Tasers and I scramble to put Mr. White and the desk in between them and myself.

  Mr. White addresses them. “Stop! Enforcers stand down, please. Number Two-twenty-three is no threat to me.”

  The closest enforcer doesn’t even glance at the psychologist. “She ran when ordered to stop, sir.”

  Mr. White rises from his chair. “That’s all right. I will take care of it.”

  The first enforcer lowers his Taser, but the second stays as he is. “She is unauthorized to be here, sir.”

  “I will authorize her to be here and personally escort her back to her assigned dorm, soldier.” Mr. White enters something into his tablet and the siren ceases its screams. “You may wait in the outer room if you wish.”

  “Yes, sir.” The first enforcer motions to the second one and they step out of the room and shut the door.

  Dr. White sets down the tablet and steeples his fingers over it. “Well, Ocean, to what do I owe this unscheduled visit?”

  With an audible whoosh, I release the pent up breath I hadn’t realized I was holding until then and come around to the other side of the desk. “You have to declare me unfit to serve.”

  The psychologist leans back in his chair and studies me. “Why would I have to do that?”

  It’s ridiculous I know, but his question takes me by surprise. “You have to because we both know I can never be a mindless vessel for an official’s seed.”

  He doesn’t bat an eyelash. “I can’t do that, Ocean, any more than you can shirk your duty.”

  Anger at the circumstances, his unemotional appearance and his refusal to help sharpen my tongue. I’m mad, scared and in panic mode... yet he doesn’t seem to care. Have I misjudged him as someone with feelings? “I thought you were my friend. Was it all a lie? Was it all a game of pretend to get me to open up to your psychiatric evaluation?”

  Guilt lines his features for a brief moment before he hides it under his usual passive façade. “Now Ocean, let’s not get all bent out of shape over something that can’t be changed—”

  “But it can!” I leap to my feet. “You could help me if you really wanted to. You said so.”

  A puzzled look crosses his face and then he glances up at the camera with the blinking red light. “I am afraid you must have misunderstood me, Two-twenty-three. I merely said I could help you learn to behave as is expected, nothing more. If you thought I meant any different then you simply misunderstood.” He stands, crosses to the door and opens it. “It is time you returned to your dorm.”

  Did I misinterpret his comment the day before? The two enforcers pin me with wary gazes, hands on their Tasers when I exit the room. After I pass through the scanner they fall into step behind us as we make our way down the corridor to the dorms.

  When we reach Number 101, Mr. White opens the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Before I can ask if he’s changed his mind and intends to keep me behind, he spins on his heel and marches off down the hall. An enforcer points to the door and when I comply he shuts it behind with a solid thump.

  Ashley bolts across the room and flings her arms around me. “Oh, Ocean, I thought for sure I’d never see you again.”

  “No such luck,” I mumble, prying her arms from around me. A flowing silver robe on the bed draws my attention. “What’s with the new robe?”

  Ashley twirls to model hers. “They’re our new outfits. I was told to change and be ready to leave in ten minutes.”

  With a sigh, I head for the bathroom. After climbing into the lukewarm shower I stand in the trickle and lean my head against the tile wall. What now? Sol, where are you? “This is so screwed up.” My verbal complaint bounces off the wet walls. Talking to myself isn’t going to get anywhere, so I hold my hand under the automatic shampoo
dispenser. Just as it ejects a blob onto my hand the water shuts off. I should have known better. In disgust I shake the blob from my hand and exit the narrow stall to dry off. My reflection in the tiny mirror above the sink draws my inspection. The pale face with eyes too big and bright stares back at me through grey rimmed sockets. Without much thought I pick up the beauty razor. There is no way out. I snap the blade from the handle. With a shaky hand I hold it to my wrist. I can end it all, right now. The image of my lifeless body in a pool of red blood on the purity of the white floor is tempting. The Emperor would be appalled. My hollow laugh startles me. As if he would care. I’m replaceable. The razor clatters into the sink and I brace my hands on the surface, staring at my reflection in the mirror, my mind in turmoil. No, I’ll make the bastard pay, somehow. If it is the last thing I do. If it takes my last breath I’ll make him suffer as he has made us all these years.

  A knock sounds on the door. “Ocean? Are you okay?”

  Am I? No. None of this is okay. I want to scream and cry, but instead I answer, “I’m fine.”

  “It’s time to go.”

  I turn away from the mirror. There has to be a way to escape...

  When I exit the bathroom I discover an enforcer waiting. Slipping my damp hair into a pony tail, I follow Ashley from the room. The trek back down the same corridor we arrived through takes longer it seems this time. Head bowed I scan the route behind lowered lashes for any possible means of escape. The long tunnel echoes with the shuffling feet of the surviving concubines, its eerie green lighting lending a sallow hue to all the faces. Most girls wear a look of resigned fate, others show fear flickering in their almost fixed stares. The earlier smiles are gone. If being a concubine to an official is such an honour, why are we all afraid? An honour should make you joyful, and perhaps even humble, not resigned to a terrible fate.

  When we come out onto the subway platform the sheer number of enforcers in attendance gives me pause. They stretch in a tight line from the mouth of the tunnel to the open doors of the subway car. My heart sinks. There is nowhere to flee. As we are prodded into the train compartment I remember Sol’s words on the roof top. “They own us, Ocean, they own us. We are cattle to be farmed and directed at their choosing.” Like cattle. Yes, those brown and black creatures driven by something called a cowboy I’ve seen on the tablet in school once. As I take my seat, the doors shush shut behind. Farmed like cattle. I clench my fingers in my lap. I refuse to be used for breeding. I do not belong to the Emperor. I refuse to be cattle.