03

1. Stuck at the border

Melissa and Arbek arrive in Grabesh. But there is a problem.

"We are next," Melissa nervously pointed out. Her boyfriend Arbek was obviously aware of their position in the queue but he understood that she was nervous.

Everything had gone so quickly. Tensions in England had been building over the last few weeks but recently the situation seemed to be deteriorating rapidly. Wherever Melissa went she either saw riots or an unstable mass of people seemingly about to riot. The sounds of house alarms and police sirens in the background had recently become an unwelcome fixture of her daily life.

With a recent surge in violence they had decided to get out.

Melissa had wanted to go back to Germany but flights there had been sold out for the foreseeable future as had been any other reasonable place. It appeared that they would not be able to get a flight anywhere but then Arbek discovered that there were seats left on a flight to his home country Grabesh. So they spontaneously decided to go there.

The official at the passport control motioned them to approach.

Arbek and Melissa handed him their passports. The official returned Arbek's passport but held on to Melissa's. "Where is your visa?" he asked.

Melissa's gut clenched. This was the moment she had been afraid of. Grabesh had no visa free agreements with Germany. And she didn't have one. Arbek had told her he would handle this. "She is with me," he said and made his heart warming smile to the official.

"That doesn't matter. Rules are rules," was the stern reply.

"It was an emergency and we didn't have time. Could you not make an exception?"

The official stared unmoved at the two.

"I can make it worth your while. Arbek finally said and pulled out a few banknotes.

Beads of sweat were forming on Melissa's forehead. "Please, please, please take the money" she thought. "Let this uncertainty be over."

Upon seeing a sufficiently large amount of cash on the table the official's face relaxed and he smiled. "Well I guess I can make an exception here." He reached for the cash and smiled. "You are a beautiful couple and nothing should separate true love." He winked at Melissa.

"What is going on here?" A stern voice came from behind the booth. Unnoticed by the group another uniformed man had approached. By the timid look of the border guard this was likely his supervisor, Melissa surmised.

"Nothing," the startled border guard replied. His hand that had been reaching for the money abruptly pulled back. "The lady here has insufficient documentation to permit entry."

The supervisor, looking at his minion, then the banknotes on the counter and finally Melissa clearly knew what he had walked in on. He could sense these shenanigans from miles away and he was tired of them. He took Melissa's passport from the border guard and thumbed through the pages. "Miss Maurer, please follow me," he finally told Melissa.

2. A plan is made

Arbek comes up with a plan to solve their predicament.

Arbek joined the group and the three entered an office through a sturdy door. The supervisor settled behind a desk while Melissa and Arbek sat opposite. The door clicked shut metallically behind them, revealing no handle on the inside, only a knob, suggesting they were locked in. Melissa's anxiety spiked, her forehead beading with sweat.

"I'll keep this brief," the supervisor started, his gaze fixed on Melissa. "Without a valid visa, you can't enter Grabesh. You'll be on the next flight back to England. Until then, you'll be held in immigration detention."

Melissa's eyes brimmed with tears. "But England is unsafe for me now. Please, I can't go back," she implored, meeting a stony expression.

"There are no flights heading to England right now; they've all been canceled because of the unrest," Arbek interjected. "Just allow her to stay with me. She's my girlfriend, and I'll take full responsibility for her. She won't cause any issues. I vouch for her."

"Illegal migrants must be sent back. We can't simply accept people based on mere assurances," the official stated firmly. "Miss Maurer will remain detained until her deportation. She'll board the next available flight. Typically, there's a weekly service to London, but with those flights suspended, she'll remain in custody until service resumes, however long that takes."

Melissa was in disbelief, the situation far grimmer than she had feared. She had never ventured outside Europe, where her German passport had always sufficed without the need for a visa. She had thought she could sort out the paperwork upon arrival, especially under emergency circumstances. She'd never had a run-in with the law, and now she was facing detention in what felt like an airport jail. Tears began to fill her eyes.

Arbek saw her, feeling a pang of sorrow. He wished desperately for a way to stop the way this was going...

The official rose to his feet and instructed, "Stand against the wall and place your hands behind your back." Melissa, feeling detached, numbly complied. Behind her, there was the sound of clinking chains, followed by the cold touch of handcuffs snapping shut around her wrists, each click echoing her entrapment. He then opened a different door, not the entrance they used, but one leading to a corridor. Upon opening it, a guard in uniform was revealed, standing ready. "Please follow the sergeant," the official directed, gently steering her toward the door by her arm.

"Wait!" Melissa heard Arbek's voice behind her. "Don't take her. Melissa is my slave." Melissa couldn't process what she was hearing. Her mind was racing, the feel of the handcuffs was fanning a panic in her and the prospect of detention was spreading a sense of dread in her.

She vaguely remembered that Arbek had told her once that slavery was still a thing in his country. The way he said it showed her that he considered slavery as a practice from backward cultures and sounded like he was embarrassed that his own people were actually still doing that. Arbek was glad that his parents had left Grabesh when he was still an infant and that he had grown up in England where he could live in the modern world.

The supervisor looked at him incredulously. "Don't play games Mr Gurtan. What are you trying to do here? Miss Maurer is not your slave. And making false statements will only get you into trouble."

"Please give us five minutes alone. I'll talk to her and this will be cleared up."

The supervisor gave him a look showing he wouldn't have any of it. His hand was still holding Melissa's arm who felt gut wrenchingly helpless from having her arms restrained behind her back.

"Just five minutes, Sir," Arbek tried. "Then the situation will be resolved. Please. Think about the paperwork it will save you if we can resolve this."

The mention of the paperwork did seem to hold some sway in the man's mind. Gruesome thoughts flashed in the supervisor's imagination involving endless forms and files. This was no ordinary case; it involved a white girl, and her situation could attract significant attention. He envisioned the deluge of forms he'd need to complete, the statements he'd have to draft, and the ongoing communication with his higher-ups. Handling this could stretch over weeks, possibly months. In the worst case the press could hear of a pretty white girl being detained and her picture would be all over the news garnering her sympathy and making his beloved border police unit look like a gang of brutes on a power trip.

"Fine", he conceded at last. "You have five minutes."

The supervisor let go of her arm, left the room and closed the door.

Melissa couldn't hold her tears back any longer and began to sob hysterically. "Arbek, this is a disaster. What are we going to do? I'm so afraid!"

He stood up and held her in his strong arms in a hug. "Listen to me," he said. "I know how we can get out of here. It will sound crazy, but I have an idea."

Melissa reflexively wanted to return the hug but the handcuffs held her arms firmly behind her back. She looked up at him questioningly.

"Remember I told you how slavery is still a thing around here? This place is so backward, but in this case it may help us. We'll just tell them that you are my slave. Just play along. As my slave you don't need any papers like a visa."

"What? Huh?" Melissa gave a confused look. "Arbek, this is serious, they are about to lock me up because I don't have a visa..."

"And slaves don't need visas," Arbek repeated. "I know it is counterintuitive but these people - or, well - 'my' people don't see slaves as people but as property. And for property no visa is needed. Problem solved. You'll come with me. We will be out here in no time."

"This is absurd," Melissa countered. "What is this supposed to mean? I'm not a slave. I can't be a slave."

"Look. I think it is absurd as well. But it is this culture that is absurd. We'll just tell these guys that you are my slave and then we get out of here. Once we are out, nobody will care. We will just go back to normal. It is just to dodge the paperwork problems. Then we'll get out of here and forget this ever happened."

"No way!" - is what Melissa wanted to say. She wanted to gesture her refusal with her hands and once again felt the restricting tug against her movement from her handcuffs holding her hands in place. She swallowed what she was about to say. In a few moments the supervisor would return and take her into some kind of detention cell. That was where she was about to go, she remembered. She felt despair and her gut clenched again. She would be locked in a cell in an African country, separated from Arbek, the only person she knew here. She would be locked up for who knows how long in some third world prison. Stressed and conflicted she quietly whispered "fine" while she felt a wave of cold sweat beading all over her body. They'd put on a show for the supervisor, they'd say that she was Arbek's slave. Then, they'd walk out of the airport and forget about this incident.

"Great," Arbek said and smiled. "We'll be out of here in no time. I'm hungry. There is great food in town. I can't wait to take you out and show you authentic Grabesh cuisine." Melissa calmed down a bit. Mentioning food reminded her that she hadn't eaten since this morning. There had been no food on the flight. She hadn't noticed her hunger because of her apprehension and stress. But now that the prospect of this being soon resolved was dangling in front of her, she could feel her stomach rumbling.

The door opened and the supervisor came in. "Did you two manage to get your stories straight?" He looked at both of them.

"I want to declare that Melissa is my slave. Therefore she no longer requires any paperwork," Arbek declared, trying to make his voice sound official.

"So you are really going with this?" the supervisor said. Melissa wasn't sure but it looked like the supervisor was rolling his eyes. How unprofessional, she thought. The sentiment was definitely in his tone. He turned to Melissa, "So you, Miss Maurer, confirm that you are a slave and Mr Gurtan here is...", he sighed like an old man who has seen it all and is tired of the transparent fibs children make up to get out of trouble and then continued, "...your 'master'?" The supervisor said the word 'master' in a sarcastic tone.

Melissa felt his gaze on her. Here she was, handcuffed with a uniformed border guard waiting for an answer. Depending on what she said next, she could either be locked into a cell in an African detention facility for an open ended amount of time or she could walk out of the airport with Arbek, get some food and forget about all of this. Yes, it would be a lie, but who cared? The officer could not disprove them and it would get them out of here. They would never see this guy again. She saw the baton on his belt and all she knew was that she wanted to get away from this man. She took a breath and said in a tone as if she had rehearsed the words: "Yes, I am a slave and Arbek is my master."

The supervisor stared at her. "This is absurd. You are a German citizen. Do you even know what being a slave means here in Grabesh?"

Melissa, yearning to be rid of the handcuffs and getting some food into her mouth, declared: "Yes, I understand what being a slave means. Arbek... I mean Mr Gurtan... I mean Master Gurtan has explained it to me." She hoped that "Master Gurtan" was the correct title. She had never looked into Grabesh and its culture. She really knew nothing about this country, she realized.

The supervisor was still staring at her. Finally, he mumbled something that sounded like "ridiculous". He turned to Arbek, "Where is her collar then?"

Arbek looked startled. "Um, I don't have one... I mean, I don't have one right now, um, she is a new acquisition, um..."

The supervisor interrupted in a condescending tone, "Of course you don't have one. You are Grabesian Mr Gurtan. Surely you know that keeping a slave without a collar is a regulatory offense?"

"Um, of course, Sir, um... I'll get one for her as soon as possible..."

The supervisor gave him a stern look and Arbek went quiet. "Quit the pretenses Mr Gurtan. I'm not a fool. I see what is going on here. You talked this fine free lady into declaring herself your slave. And as much as I would like to, I can't stop you from pulling this stunt. Ok, fine, she is your slave. But then, I can't allow Miss Maurer to walk out of the transit zone without a collar, masquerading as a free woman. Then I would be allowing a regulatory offense to be committed. And I won't do that. I can't stop your stupid slave scam, Mr Gurtan, but if Miss Maurer is a slave then she will have to be in compliance with the regulatory code."

"Of course, Sir," Arbek said nervously.

He paused and looked at them both. First at Arbek, then at Melissa and finally he asked: "For the last time: Is this the story you are going with? You, Miss Maurer, are Mr Gurtan's slave?"

Melissa gulped and looked at the supervisor. His eyes were looking into hers. She lowered her gaze to the floor and nodded. This better be over soon, she thought to herself and whispered, "Yes, Sir."

"This is the dumbest thing I've heard all week," the supervisor said.

Making it official

Melissa is brought up to code.

Melissa sat at the desk of the legal officer of the airport police. Her hands still cuffed behind her back. The supervisor was sitting next to her and scrolling through his phone. The legal officer, a smartly dressed young man perhaps five years older than her, was filling out paperwork. On his desk was her passport from which he was reading her details and writing them into a form. The legal officer was wearing a name badge. Melissa read "Mr Mengistu". A large fan in the corner was humming while creating a gentle breeze.

Arbek had been dismissed from the supervisor's office. He was a citizen of Grabesh after all and his papers had been in order. The supervisor had unlocked the office door and let him out. Arbek had told her he would be waiting for her once the airport police were done processing her.

Then, the supervisor had brought her here. On their way through the corridors she had seen naked men with collars cleaning the furniture and mopping the floors. She was shocked at the sight of them. "Slaves" she thought to herself and shuddered. Despicable how they were being kept by the airport police, she thought.

They then waited outside the legal officer's office, seated in a line of chairs along the corridor. After a brief wait, a nude black woman wearing only a collar came up to them and inquired if the supervisor wanted coffee. He nodded yes, and she soon brought him a cup. She didn't engage with Melissa, likely due to Melissa's hands being cuffed.

Melissa had been shocked to see a woman treated like this. Surely this must be a violation of human rights! Even if these people were slaves there was no reason to deny them clothes. The police department was run by a gang of filthy perverts, she concluded.

Once in the legal officer's office the supervisor briefed him on the matter. She didn't understand what they were saying because they conferred in Grabesian. During the briefing the legal officer looked at her a few times with a surprised look on his face.

Finally the supervisor asked her to repeat her declaration as a slave in front of the legal officer, which she did.

The legal officer took his seat and started on the paperwork, methodically filling out and stamping documents. His work was briefly paused when the same enslaved woman from before entered to deliver what looked like a mug of iced tea. Melissa was again taken aback by the sight of the bare, collared Black woman in the office, while the officials carried on as if this were perfectly normal.

Melissa looked up at the legal officer as he rose from his seat and went to a cabinet to take out a collar. He put it on his desk, read a series of numbers inscribed on it and then wrote them into the form.

After thoroughly reviewing the document, he concluded, "Everything seems in order." He slid the form along with a pen across the desk. With her hands bound, Melissa could only inspect the form visually. She noted her name and personal information at the beginning, followed by a "collar id number," and her boyfriend's full name. The document was dotted with legal jargon which she glossed over. At the end, there was a signature under "Witness 1" already filled in by the legal officer, and an empty line for "Witness 2". The supervisor picked up the pen and added his signature there. The legal officer then retrieved the form, applying several official stamps to it.

"Alright, Miss Maurer," the legal officer addressed her, then instructed, "Please stand."

Melissa complied and stood up as the officer approached with the collar. He turned to the supervisor, saying, "If you could assist," with a nod toward Melissa. The supervisor rose, gently lifting her hair to bare her neck. The legal officer opened the collar and placed it around her throat.

With a clear, metallic click, the collar locked into place. He continued to adjust it, the sound of multiple clicks resonating as it tightened. The officer was holding the collar in his fist, making sure to have his fingers on the inside, to prevent it from tightening too far on Melissa's neck.

Once satisfied, he released his hold on the collar, pushed something on the inside, eliciting one final click. "To prevent further tightening," he said in a caring tone.

The supervisor let go of her hair and it fell back down. Then he took out a key and released her from her handcuffs. Finally she was free of them! Melissa brought her hands in front of her and rubbed her wrists. Then, she felt over the collar that was now locked on her neck.

"There is no lock," she noticed. "How do I get this off?" Then she reconsidered her question. "I mean, how can Arbek, I mean, my master, unlock this?"

The supervisor explained that "This collar has a magnetic lock. Once your master has a collar for you he can collar you with that and we will remove this collar."

Melissa asked, "What does it say on it?"

The supervisor read "Property of the State of Grabesh, id number 147389".

Melissa was alarmed. "What? No! Why am I 'Property of the State'?" This was getting out of hand. Arbek would not be able to take this collar off later. That was bad enough. But "Property of the State" sounded like Arbek would not even own her. Her thoughts were racing.

Mr Mengistu explained, "Don't worry, Miss Maurer. It is only temporary. As soon as your master has a collar for you we will remove this one. In fact, he can go to any major police station and they can do this as well. It is just a formality."