PROCESSING
I clutch the little booklet tightly as the screams grow louder the closer I came to the table.
Sunlight streams through the windows set high above the gym floor, falling upon the long lines of women from the town. I recognize many of them, some I had graduated with, others owned shops and stores and farms. All of us unmarried.
Most of the men walking in between us wear face shields, hiding their identity. Their uniforms are new, crisp, dark red and marked with the signs of the new government. They held their weapons loosely, eyes hidden behind black lenses. I wonder if I knew any of them, the True Order's draft had been voracious.
'You can't do this, you can't!'
I glance upward. Ms. Sandra was being dragged away by two guards.
'The old cow has some big udders, she should understand what she is,' one of the guards says.
His companion shrugs, 'I guess she will be going for re-education. Hey, eyes down whore!'
I quickly drop my gaze as we shuffle forward.
Around me I can hear soft crying, whimpering, prayers whispered softly and repeatedly. Loud nasty laughter comes from the guards as the screams grow more shrill and the pleading more desperate. Despite this, something in me giggles, aroused at the thought of being treated like this.
My turn comes, I step up to the table and an older man sits there. His aide leers at me.
'Pull your shirt and bra up whore,' his smile is ugly as he comes around the table. I've seen what disobedience brings, I quickly do as I am instructed, my hands grabbing the bottom of my shirt and I slide it up, catching the cups of my bra. My breasts fall out and the aide laughs, my face red with both shame and something else that is enjoying this.
He grabs my tits and squeezes hard. I grit my teeth in pain. 'You got some great tits slut. You and I are going to go fuck.'
'Wait,' I stammer, 'I have this.'
I hand the booklet to the older man. He seems disinterested in all this as he looks at the document.
'Let her go,' he says, checking the booklet against a list of names. 'She has a work permit.'
The aide spits in my face, a thick hot gob of phlegm, angry at not getting his way. 'Fine. Watch yourself cumrag, you fuck up once and I own your ass.'
I am handed my permit and I rush out of the gym, confused and conflicted, feeling relief that I was able to leave and shame at how I liked the pain, that man's spit still hot on face almost a badge of honor. I don't even bother to pull down my shirt, lost in my thoughts.
I barely have the spit wiped off as I pass an open door and a hand reaches out, the grip savage and steel strong, dragging me into a darkened room. I can only let out a shrill cry as I am tossed to the floor.
The door slams shut, a single light bulb illuminating a dirty, windowless little room of cleaning supplies, with a rickety wooden chair and a desk that would have been old in the 1950s, shoved against the wall. I come to my hands and knees on the grimy concrete floor, holding up the little booklet.
'I have my permit,' I wave it absurdly like a cross before a vampire. My eyes slowly adjust as I hear a cruel bark of laughter.
'Who fucking cares,' he jerks the little booklet from my hand and tosses it to the side, his boots clicking on the floor as he circles me. Too scared to look up, I hear him unbuckle his chin strap and his helmet hits the floor with a sharp report. I cringe and shrink back, finally glancing up at him.
It takes a moment, the light is so dim but I recognize him. His face is sharp angles, harsh and eyes full of hatred. I know him and that his son now serves on the Korean Front.
'Mr. Dane?'
He reaches down, his gloved fingers entangling with my long black hair as he savagely pulls my head up, bringing me off my hands and wholly on my knees. I yelp in pain as he smiles.
'So glad you remember cocktease.'
I know better than to fight back, The True Order has harsh penalties for any women that does anything but submit. But, I realize I don't want to fight back, this is how it is now and I want to submit.
