Many years after the turmoil of the next sexual revolution, instigated by a combination of viral plagues and advancements in bio-tech, humanity has fractured even further into extreme dystopian enclaves. This story is about one bleak corner of the endgame state of hyper-capitalism, where the feudal barons have regained supremacy over a populace more than willing to sell themselves into bondage for a sliver of hope.
Part 1 — New Hires
Greasy smoke billowed up, forming a haze that covered the horizon of the trashed urban landscape. Maybe this gauze gave the sun, orange and bulbous, a golden hue but it gave little comfort despite the false promises of another, better, era. The treasure of the Sierra Madre was based on a dream, long gone by this exhausted age. There weren't even sexy robots and flying cars, just the decay. Instead, the fears foretold by cynics not only had come true, it was made to be, as if real life had used those old tales as a blueprint rather than a warning. There had been hope for a while, but it had all been dashed like a broken spaceship giving one last effort before succumbing to the gravity well of inevitability.
They say that the suit makes the man; if so, he was a stiff and uncomfortable one. His collar was bone white and bit into his neck like a belligerent canine. It was the first time he had ever worn such a conceited thing, but he had to bear it for his final interview. He absently tugged at the pass badge clipped to a lapel on his jacket. On its matte surface there was a photo of his face and the name Matthew Arnold printed underneath in a basic typeface. The badge also had the Flagstone Group logo embossed on it and various symbols which meant nothing to him. Cheap as it was, this badge was his golden ticket out of this hellhole. Shit, in the old sci-fi books there were supposed to be orbitals to aspire to, hope of a golden city in the sky. Well, the Enclave of the city would have to do.
Matthew turned his head to look through the shuttle bus window. The bus was travelling on an elevated toll expressway over the smoky slums that stretched as far as the eye could see. He had grown up not far from there, in a slightly less bleak suburb of cold concrete and desolation. Trying not to crease his brand new suit, Matt took the time to look at his fellow passengers: other new hires or hopeful applicants making their first trip to the Flagstone Group Media City, sometimes called the Enclave. The international conglomerate was the biggest employer in this region so the sheen of desperate hope on everyone's faces was no surprise.
All the men wore almost identical, cheap business suits probably bought from the same e-tailer, shipped from the same garment factory by the same grey delivery trike to some shanty out there in the hazed distance. There were several women also seated among the charcoal suits, but instead of formal outfits they only wore simple one-piece dresses made from recycled fabrics. The items were meant to be disposable.
The women's faces ranged from apprehension, hope, denial, or fierce determination. Matthew knew enough about the order of things that he did not envy their lot. The Flagstone Group was the world's biggest entertainment provider, controlling a huge stake in all media markets across the globe. Even in these depressed times, the shanty-town was dotted with sat-com receivers or wide-band repeater towers that provided the masses with their daily dose of fantasy, much of it created, distributed and controlled by the Flagstone Media corporation.
One of the most profitable arms of the Media group was the massive pornography division which produced a significant return on investment. Once the conglomerates had secured their control over the interweb, they took full advantage of consolidating profit centers under their umbrella which included the age old trade of selling skin. Even supposedly independent cam operators were actually streaming under the approval of the media giant, usually from subsidized apartments mocked up to look like they were unique and not something mass produced.
The shuttle was headed to the center of the media empire where a singular, crystalline tower ruled over the landscape. Before they reached the outer gate to the vast complex, the bus made one more stop to pick up passengers. More recruits for the voracious media machine.
A flash of blond hair startled Matt from his thoughts. A surprisingly cheerful voice asked, "May I sit here?" He nodded automatically.
She sat her petite frame into the seat next to his. He couldn't help but take stock: Her small face helped emphasize a nice set of azure eyes that weren't dimmed, yet, by the bitter disappointment of life. Her curls luxuriated around her thin shoulders. Her chest was a bit small for his taste, but pleasing under the generic wrap. Her legs were delicate yet well-toned. Otherwise, Matt would admit he was attracted to her, even though nothing else about her stood out in particular. He preferred dark haired girls with waspish eyes and personalities to boot. This one seemed a bit too saccharine for his taste.
She had noted his appraisal, "I assume any recruit of Flagstone Group would want to check out a potential sleeve."
Matt was startled by her use of the obscenity. He blushed, "I wasn't exactly thinking in those terms, but I guess you know where you're heading as much as I do."
"Yes, I'm on my way to make a quick buck as a meat sleeve."
He winced again at the offensive term that came so sweetly out of the girls' lips.
"Maybe we should start over," he held out a hand. "I'm Matthew. You can call me Matt."
"Sorry. I get bitchy when I'm nervous. Beatrice." She shook his hand. "My friends call me Bee. What part of the company are you interviewing for, if I may ask?"
"The content creation division is looking for management production executives. I'm going in for my final interview before getting placed."
"Oh, so you'll be a producer for the porn shows! Lucky!" she clapped her hands. "I'm doing a walk-in, so the odds of getting hired were really low until I met you. You can put in good word for me. Do you want a blow job in advance?"
"That's not necessary right now. I'm not official yet, so I can't promise anything. It wouldn't be a binding contract or anything."
"You're not a virgin are you?"
"No," he said a little loudly. Some of the other passengers turned to look out of curiosity. "I'm just not quite settled into the prospect of working at Flagstone. Are you sure you're ready?"
"Why do you ask that? Do I look like a rube or something?" Her eyes flashed. "I lied to my folks that I was coming here, so this is my only shot. They're against the whole idea. If they catch me they'll tie me up and marry me off to some loser in the barrio. Screw that. I have plans. If the guys are like you, I won't mind too much working under them."
Matt fiddled with his collar, "Like me?"
"Ya, a pushover," she purred, putting a hand on his leg. His reaction was immediate. "See. I'm working you already. You'll be my rising star, taking me all the way to the top floor."
"I don't think you're supposed to make it that obvious. I'm on probation for the first few weeks. There's no guarantee of anything. Maybe I'll fall for some other girl, or I'll just use you and toss you aside."
"That's a risk I'm willing to take. Either way, all I want is a chance." She batted her eyes at him.
He smiled, "If the time comes, I'll put in a good word. That's the best I can do. I'll take the blow job on credit. Pay me if you get hired."
"Aww, you don't think I can do it, do you?" she grimaced. "Look. They're all natural." She popped out her chest and shoved it into his face. He had to admit, they were cute little pups begging to be licked. He fought back the temptation for some reason. Some people still pretended to have a shred of honor. Just pretended, he thought.
"Hey, come on. I don't want to wrinkle my suit. I'm sure you'll make a fine porn star, Beatrice. Just hold it till your interview."
"Fuck. You must be a virgin," she shook her head in disappointment. "Hey, look at that!" She pointed out the window.
The shuttle was finally entering the Flagstone Group proper, yet they were still a mile or two from the actual center. Automated gun towers kept the sky way clear of squatters or unsanctioned traffic. Matt was so used to seeing the flash of them going off that he barely noticed them anymore. It was the only way to keep the infrastructure from being sabotaged or overwhelmed, so it was just a fact of life. The sprawling campus that opened up before them after the shuttle passed the security gates was a stark contrast to the dreary slums outside the towering walls. Long, well lit parkways connected the various buildings that were surrounded by immaculate landscaping and a myriad of lush trees. As they neared the main tower, they could see that the structure was just the centerpiece of a vast plaza enclosed by a set of massive, shimmering buildings that would be impressive in any major city's hub. The bus exited the expressway onto a wide concourse that eventually met a loop road that went around the central plaza until it came to a stop at one of the arching side buildings.
The plaza was quiet in the early morning except for the ducks paddling in the central reflecting pool. A welcome pavilion had been set up for the recruits in front of the steps of the glass walled building where they were apparently expected to enter.
"Well, wish me luck!" Beatrice waved excitedly as they exited the shuttle. The hierarchy of Flagstone Group became apparent right away. The male suits with badges were immediately ushered ahead by the attendants to a roped off queue. They were served drinks and given little welcome packets. The unique corporate culture of Flagstone Group was in full show. The male recruitment leaders were dressed in expensive, tailored suits while the women...well, they were ranked by their level of undress.
The executive level greeters wore only accessories such as hip boots, long stockings, gloves, or flimsy decorative outfits that left their genitalia exposed. The lowest ranks, such as the new group now arriving, were stark naked. Matt caught the flash of blonde hair in the group of women now being lined up for their initial review. They all took off their disposable slips and tossed them into an appropriate bin.
