**Barbara**
Straight up mania has opened for business in the Lunaticville.
People there let you seriously down. They promise that you will be grinding sweet-scented masterpieces in the perfumery, but give them a few hours, and you are listening to sighs of females and panting for a breath of guys. I watched the moon and stars rise, accepting the fact that I look forward to class like some loser, as we have started today. In another bizarre inspection of not misused exercise books to which we could write by fastened pen only.
The mature ones were catching up on sleep from the boning and we had double lessons of Androcentrism and History/Geography. Suspension of disbelief was tested by the teacher´s very words.
“Initiating an androcentric version of female´s rights must respond to the individual personality match,” Weatherby said. “Each woman will be paired with a man, who can guide her, who will be not disturbed by her character and who will be able to assess her qualification to work or to orchestrate complicated events.”
Maybe three girls in the class took a note about that.
“It is a fact that liberal benevolence in giving rights to women brought unreasonable factors into play. Their universal voting participation meant a bigger danger of superstitious religious element in politics, also electorate influenced by the impulsive childish whims and arrival of leaders with narrowly applicable intelligence.
FPA woman is barred from becoming Princeps, she can´t rule one of his countries as prefect. The seats in the Governing and Advisory councils are also off-limits to her. However, the smartest of you can attain membership of House of Experts, our body of Technocracy.”
The last chance for Julie or Montserrat is done for then.
Amber Bernstein raised her hand high.
“So, If I´m an extraordinarily good physicist, chemist, or whatever, I can stand higher than any member of male-only House of Deputies?”
Weatherby touched Amber´s shoulder by the ruler.
“Any members of the House of Experts will know all the nuances of decorum. I know you girls are used to be impudent towards boys and waking up their sexuality only to deny them. That time is over. You… You all have one week to compose an apology to males you were treated badly to be read at loud. On Friday I expect your presentations about works of gentlemen Aubrey Andelin and David Deida, taking into account female experience of Laura Doyle.”
He drew a DVD with pink and red stripes out of his table.
“Decorum is one of many subjects dissected by this new series for girls. Principal Mayson gave me permission to get you in touch with your culture and we have plenty of time today.”
DVD vanished in the viewscreen. Images of the show´s opening along with the dramatic music made me unsure if I´m going to watch present-set soap or a period piece.
Excerpts of the scenes formed the tornado shape, sucked in the ear of the girl with ash-colored hair and the name of the series took the center.
THE SURPRISING JOURNAL OF NORA ALBERT
I think there wasn´t a single pupil inattentive to offered telly, regardless of the genre. Weatherby was making sure nobody casts eyes down, but the eagerness of his charges rendered him peripheral.
I would be watching cartoons about mosquitos stealing blood bottles from fleas, so I have let the series to zoom in on the streets of the Town of Cliffordshore in Northern England, home of the Albert family. The clan´s youngest offsprings are handsome sons Thomas and William and batty Nora, praying in the knot of Cliffordshore girls. She resents commitment, teases the boys, always uses contraception, and plans to travel through the Maghreb. I knew her life and goals will be shown in a bad light, but I can´t wrap my head around it.
Thomas and William resign to their jobs in the steel plant because they want to join the Territorial Army, recruiting in the anticipation of a barbaric Scottish invasion. Nora mocks them, so what would anyone say that will happen?
Seeing the town almost razed was cool, the show has some budget…
Nora tries to rescue her mother, hauled away by the Scottish soldiers, only to be caught and shot in the leg. End of episode 1.
The beginning of another notional journal (you should be writing it finally, girl) doesn´t betray the cliffhanger, but outdoes it, as Nora´s injury looks more gruesome than before and blood destroys her trousers. I have met so many assholes whose Aunt Flo jokes I was hearing…
So, Nora´s dad rescues his daughter and takes her to the FPA military base. Doctors treat her wounds, but she is in a deep shock. While her dad and Thomas are rescuing her mom and other “Cliffordshorers”, Nora is partially recovered by hippotherapy, bonding with horses employed by the undersupplied soldiers. In the place where all boys from 8 to 70 were mobilized, Nora and the returned mom are ordering other women around to cook and doing softer manual labor. Nora is drawing up all the stockpiles and she is stunned how much she likes the mere scribbling, leading to making entries in the journal. One night she hears a noise in the armory. There she founds former councilwoman of Cliffordshore in the camouflage suit, two riffles crossed on her back. Eyeing Nora, she takes up a huge knife from her boot…
Episode 2 ends.
The councilwoman starred in one scene before the cliffhanger and now she is villainess because of course, she is. Nora can never be half the cinematic magnet her assaulter has reached to be in over a minute. Fellow lector or teacher, eat the DVD and shit diarrhea out.
“You will be not diverting me today, my overgrown lice,” Weatherby said, intoxicated on the fangirl class.
“Renaissance wasn´t the only epoch that began by the excavation of distant eons, glorious, wise or preserving ancient creatures in stone. From the bones of dinosaurs and the cave paintings to the book of Charles Darwin, the culture of the 19th and early 20th centuries was about the reinterpretation of Earth as it bore life and humanity. Virtual reality gear will situate you to these transitions.”
Oh, my gosh, they are “modernizing”. In the sense, they agree that progress means one should not listen to a concert or guzzle in front of the TV, but garnish yourself into the diving suite and having to move for the fun.
The class was driven to the basement. As per usual, slowpokes caught a few strap-strokes. The new dark room had cubicles with metal balustrade, delimiting medium square of floor to pulling thick jumpsuit on and locking the goggles up. The rubbish loaded the signal and my feet were throbbed by the virtual Peebles. I haven´t seen around, but when I bend down, some stick smeared brown-and-red shone. In my hand, it floodlighted a stony wall, where a giant buffalo picture was flicking. The first historical part was an active one and I started to draw that animal according to the model.
The world is opening for us picture by picture, tone by tone. For me, it will include the voices of mom and dad.
“I’m going to the gym tomorrow evening, right?”, I blurted out in the evening as we, covertly stimulated ones, were settling down.
Zita took a breather on a bed and nude Therese kindly shed her strap harness.
“That waiting list has been passed, Barbara. Tell Dorothy or Michelle that you want and don´t be a crybaby.”
“You both had a rough day, didn´t you?” Therese asked.
The one who made this thing possible couldn´t share her two cents. The missing link was showering meticulously, not being over yesterday´s tirade.
“Simon said that breasts deserve a touch of the manhood itself,” I remember that Stacey commented, scrubbing sperm off her chest.
“My parents never saw me working out. They will be there in spirit and I will reassure them how much I changed.”
True and the furthest from disclosure.
“I´m sure as hell they don´t watch Nora Albert,” Zita said in an untrustworthy monotone. “You can add how your life will be about supporting others.”
“Foundations of every service,” retorted Therese, confused at the moment. “Barbara, come to me, share the troubles.”
I laid beside her, nude as well. I got lively, this was like with mom, whenever it occurred.
She covered us, interweaved our fingers, and on the bright spot, she signalized.
*Please, call two more people…*
The promise I gave her spooked me, it drilled a Tunnel of Terrors in my skull, because that was all I could think about when the heavy glove on my cheek woke me up in the night. Therese left the sleep second, pushed aside by the warden ending our hug. My throat dried out. What if they are taking me to the same unknown hell where Jenine is?
“She´ll be back before morning,” the warden whispered. “Get your underwear and belt, girl.”
“Is there more of them?” asked a voice from behind a stripe of light a the door.
“One with an acceptable amount of points.”
I got up, took my bra, then that chastity belt these morons didn´t want to be imprinted on the leather and finally the panties. It seemed to me I was fast, not frenzied to disturb Zita or Stacey and vitale as you can expect from someone stiffened, holding the poo with all her strength in the guts, but the wardens pulled me in the haste all the same. I acclimatized to fierce light and lingering questions. They cared about grades, so they were taking me to the additional test?
I was more perceptive when exited the elevator at the bottom. Choking on the bloody embarrassment when they stopped next to a male officer sitting on a chair I swear I heard cracking.
“Tie her up and break her pride!” the female warden said. The guy let me sit, held my legs, and bind them in six ropes. Weeks of BDSM lessons haven´t made me wet from the prospect of bruising down there or on arms he put behind my back. The guy spurred me on hooping to the door he opened.
In the office, Weatherby was perching on the desk with the shining lamp. He actually helped me to land half of my ass on a bench to other bound girls. I recognized Julie and Sharona. Also Amber and Louisa Polivka, the sad striver.
“Unannounced exercise, brats,” the teacher said. “For every correct answer about Androcentrism, I will cut one rope.”
The motherfuckers, not the clocks, decide when the day ends.
“Ahhhhh! That’s why he was saving himself!”
The picture I have recounted kind of made Zita´s thinking mechanism disjointed. Like that would make us comparable. Slap her. Slap that narcissus bloom. Slept like a log, earned her points. There wasn´t going back for me, Loyalist program be damned!
“Twelve times I had to be “right”. Twelve times! For you, I bet, it is a round of Jeopardy, bootlicker´s way into daddy´s wallet. I…”
Therese choked me in her armpit. My eyebrows brushed against the strap harness, as the lessons tied to the last evening.
“Cutie, you can spit all over the plates of all your classmates, who weren´t questioned. Temporary succumbing to self-pity will reap you enemies forever. Or you can be a friend to everyone who did you no harm and some of them will like you in return.”
We have a deal. She is not quoting Gospels and I won´t bewail my Cosmopolitan collection and barbeque Sundays. She came up with reduced preaching and I would be lying through my teeth if I told her she hasn’t a point in most cases. Perhaps her very voice placates me.
“Let people see gifts in your hands. Fists can always come later,” Stacey said and trolled Zita, cause she was facing her when the hand adopted the “later” phase. Zita had her own wisdom to share.
“And if you are neither smart nor hot, you simply must be nice to people.”
Therese utilized the other armpit.
“No, being nice is the prerequisite for being a proper human. You should eat to think straight.”
Desolated breakfast tables would hardly bring us closed to rationality. The dining hall didn´t serve even the smallest teaspoon to hint we will be fed. Space was enriched by the devices of dubious refreshment value. Several holoprojectors in the cubical form. It displayed the face of a spokeswoman who set forth what are we going to see…
Therese did the sign of the cross.
“Holy maccaroni,” escaped Zita.
“They weren´t all talk,” Stacey whispered.
I couldn´t speak for them in that regard, but I wasn´t willing today in breakfast, lunch, or dinner. We were watching rasping and screeching in the boxes of soil, overdesigned terrariums for ants. Fewer offenders were beaten worse than unluckiest murderers, their bones shattered, members dislodged.
Immobilized Pepper went ape the second drugged gorilla touched her, pulling the former criminal to the ocean of madness. Yeah, she was a pimp, who was enslaving and hurting people, but overdosing the convict with her own medicine can be an excuse that powerful ones thrive in the same stuff as thugs…
I tried to focus on the bottom floor, which gave me no good when the pyramid was replaced by the enlarged segment.
The kitchen shrews came loaded down with full strays the same second sentences dispersed in the Tower coat of arms. My old self not resigning, I coveted nuts in honey, nice thing as compensation for the repugnant morning. What do you know? They had one brutality in reserve.
“The new date in the calendar bids you welcome, royal students!”
The holographic head of Montserrat was thrashing about and the record´s definition was all over the place.
“Believe in the reform and your adaptability will rise! Easier said than done? See, once after the swimming, I felt so much alive, but I registered many of you were doing it just out of obligation. There I said to myself that we should be revitalized by other means to move on. I and four of my friends have created amusing stories exactly for that. I present to you The Shieldmaidens Raid!”
If you are a nitpicker, you will note that only the characters of me and Lydia are holding any shields in this poorly named fantasy kitsch. Still, I was glad that unlike in Nora Albert, we girls are proactive, using wits and fighting skills to counter the mystical forces of Werewolf Queen. A handful of inmates weren´t watching holoprojectors, avoiding them since the preceding video ended. Predictably, at every table there were women, who took a look and grinned, feeling smart for hating it. That didn´t dishearten me. Misanthropes were neighbored by one or two who liked to watch, eating without bending their necks. I didn´t know about Zita, but at the moment I was certain one person was happy, I marked it as a mission accomplished.
BDSM was to be theoretical today. Us in the classroom, legalages in the lecture hall. In the divided party, I almost rammed into wandering Lydia.
“Sorry, are you unwell?”
“I want to put myself in the shoes of my character. Why do you think she killed all those dwarves?”
Is she mental?
“Lydia, do you know that “Butcher of dwarves refers to…”
“I know my surname! But there is a backstory to be uncovered!
She is losing it. Thank God I´ll have my medicine in the gym.
“Don´t chain yourselves, slaves,” Malcolm insisted.”I and Lady Georgianna have been prescribed you a number of titles from unfairly ignored literature. Heroines of these novels went through turmoils that should be in the line with your social, erotical, and spiritual odysseys. Choose one to your liking and I´ll call you, I will expect to hear detailed biographies as you will impersonate them and I can supple the man in the story for… Reenactment.”
He seized the thick paddle from the table, could be the product of our work.
I made my choice, inwardly.
*”My name is Rachel Tymoshenko and I met my dom when….”*
Louisa did a stun that nonverbally ushered retelling of Artiste and Tamer. for Coco Chanel´s sake, is she proving to herself bondage didn´t hamstring her? She overacted during the sex scenes, ventilating the fake orgasm for a few minutes. She has perfected one necessary skill for a long-lasting marriage. Malcolm was humming to himself and I could most definitely discern the progressive nuance of Luisa´s groans. She fell silent on the sight of the warden disrupting the class. “I´ve come for those breakfast shieldmaiden… For the actresses”
The screwball side of me was screaming that she desires our autographs.
“Principal wishes to train them in above-standard services.”
Zita and Montserrat went stone-faced, Lydia hasn´t found herself in the fog of speculations yet. I was prodding Julie who didn´t need lipstick. Chapped lips were red with blood after the biting.
Mayson and the spokeswoman weren´t in the office but in the foyer between two closed entrances. I recalled Zita´s story of the visit.
Loyalists!,” the spokeswoman said. “Close fellowship assembly this Sunday will process not one, but two lets´s say external matters. From today to Friday you are going to substitute your reeducation with attending to our paperwork and readiness.”
“Consider it Secretary course,” Mayson said mockingly. “And for that event, we have entrusted the nano-tailor with creating fetching outfits.”
The spokeswoman collected the packs one could mistake for simple cushions. We shed the little we wore, no hint of resistance by this point. This new blouse and pencil skirt had almost proportions of school uniform, cleavage not omitted.
“You will get the work intuitively, loyalists,” Mayson said. “My normal secretary Josh should supervise and notify you of mix-ups.”
“A male?,” I asked.
“Yes, Ms. Pignon. I never copulate in the working hours.”
He slapped Zita´s ass.
“Serve well and you can join us on Saturday´s reception for the privileged ones.”
The object of his interest wasn´t attaching importance to the reward.
“Fellow principal, what matters demand our service?”Zita inquired meekly.
“One of those you will touch only indirectly and it is not communicable to anyone but members of close assembly members. The other I can tell you and you are forbidden to share with other inmates. By the end of next week, we will host four representatives of the best masculinity from FPA – students of Paladin institute Horatio. They are gonna review many of the women and they will mesmerize them with sports match worthy of Colosseum.”
Subtle grimaces and winking, attesting to boggled mind, conveyed the common opinion.
I know a demented association when I hear one.
Mayson opened his spacious office. The walls were blank, save for a larger-than-life framed photo of a long-haired gentleman gifted with killing cheekbones.
Princeps Juan Gilbert had the best intentions in mind with every man executing the power that sprang from him.
Not, don´t be distracted by sexy. Weatherby failed me. Gilbert perpetrated the original failure.
“Woodroof, Pignon, I have no computers left, but you can connect to the personalized accounts. I have sent you the psychological profiles of the Paladin guys. You will allocate one hundred inmates to each as someone they can prevail over and date them. You will be attached by us. Butcher and Quetting will overwrite the content and the timetable of PE lessons. Gutiérezz, you are the co-author of my speeches I was looking for.”
The lad called Patrick seemed to be about our age, irregularly directing his blue eyes at us. We were working from the gymnastic balls on the charts in the air. Future guests were known to us by their rough preferences and initials. JW, JJ, HG, and ER. I sat next to Zita at an angle I felt secure to signalize.
*”He told. Know more.”*
*”Not yet!”*
*”You´re Nora Albert,”* I teased her. We are false loyalists, that´s our credo, but in practice, she is accomodating, when she should accommodate the environment. I was closely listening to Mayson´s peevish bossing of Montserrat at his spot. They were brushing up two speeches. One was giving warm welcomes. the other was defending every last happening in the Princess Tower. The principal was dictating it in far too much, frustrated with the wasteful prodigy. She is the most pathetic out of us.
Montserrat was cringing. Mayson was rubbing his eyebrows.
“Fellow principal, she could use the descriptive data as we have. She has the right to know, who is listening.”
I didn´t believe my words. Terms like “systematic” or “no-nonsense” aren´t solid guides. I was verifying Mayson´s discreetness.
Principal exploded.
“He is nagger from Japan. Suck it up!”
If secrets were money, I would earn my first cent.
“Isn´t Mr. Cao Japanese?”
I held myself back. The taste of lamb calmed me down.
“No, Julie. Cao isn´t a Japanese name.”
Zita made some letters using meat pieces. She spent the time otherwise by formulating creativity for Montserrat, meaning Mayson.
*Unless we hack*
As if I didn´t know. Unless we hack Mayson or Patrick´s computer, the identity of a person unpleasant to the principal is locked away apart of the nationality.
“Shieldmaiden is covering her head for a reason!”
I am so obfuscating.
“Hey, you!,” I shouted at the warden. “Pass on my today´s bonus exercise to lieutenant.”
I should call myself lucky they believed me I wanted to spare my secretarial outfit. In the wardrobe, I piled it up on the free coat hanger and opened the BDSM portfolio. The browsing device inflated my butt in the school miniskirt.
I was ultra-rapid with the weight, uncharacteristically ravenous for the barbell. My folks’ number was burned to my memory, but that wasn´t the reason it wasn´t on the top of the list. Out of gratefulness, I dialed Mother Superior Monica. She answered the call as the device rang for the second time. Not engrossed in anything, crone?
“Your camera´s malfunctioning,” the disappointed voice said.
“Mrs. Superior, Therese Kelly sends her regards. You used to call her Alpenglow.”
She wasn´t responding.
I countered the silence by the rudimentary points – who, where, and a little of how. “Therese is worried sick, one of the most dispossessed ones… She felt being created for the convent and it might have been demolished for all she knows.”
Mother Superior was stirred to vigor.
“It stands, so we can rot in it! Unprofessed girls, these cherry pops, they harvested on that dreadful afternoon. Dozens of enforcers moved to the cells, they “visited” the younger sisters. Left on the expanse of taking half of them as spoils of conquest. My daughters are gone, but the boys dug up a molehill in the city to make sure we scratched our services and play dead. Ms. Pignon, the place where you are… That is a purgatory given form. We can embolden Therese to retain her firmness and she could… Ms. Pignon, we live in different cages. Tell her considerately we would like to hear about her new friends and lessons of no sinful themes.”
“No problem, Mother Superior.“
Better not objecting how sporadic this on ninety percent will get.
“You are all in my prayers from now on. We are sustaining ourselves with a ballast of books. I´m sending you the file.”
The device beeped and we said goodbye.
“She could never stand the wicked people,” told me Frank Sterling, to whom Therese was, months ago, bringing homeless and socially deprived people. His foundation continued to soothe them, heavier of three fellows surveillance.
He didn´t send any files, but he beseeched me to employ him in any job that would “tear down Towers and their dungeons” from his side. I had this friend, who promised her parents she´ll be good if they give her unicorn pegasus. She was grounded like never.
Nevermind. M-Moment came.
I recited the number that stood for home. Seven rings. Murmur and one divine voice.
“Be that kind and hint me at least your silhouette, madam or sir!”
“Dad,” I uttered.
I heard him say “Excuse me” ad infinitum. He was exiting some crowd and then asked: “Daughter, is you calling me L-E-G-A-L?”
He was spelling it slowly.
“No, dad, we duped the Tower!”
“Well done… Are you OK?”
“Dad, they are starving me, stripping me, whipping me every other day, bounding me, waking me in the night in order to secure me good marks in misogyny. Jenine Thompson was taken to something more extreme, so we could talk and they threaten you and mom if I´ll be out of line. I can talk to the nun, who isn´t molesting me, thankfully, and I must work as one of the Principal´s secretaries. I wear a chastity belt, but I´m afraid he has a universal key!”
“Daughter, thank you for calling us! I hate most of them. I´m proud I conceived somebody who had courage!”
Now a female divine voice.
“Marcelle, who is calling?”
“Mom! It´s me.”
“Barbara! When did you use the flute I gave you the most?”
“When I chased away the wild dog in Thailand.”
“Be calm, Barbara.”
Dad talked to mom, not to me.
“Daughter, sorry I haven´t talked to mom right away. We are with Viola and the grandkids. We are here so much since they take you from us!”
Viola? That specter almost faded away… She was eleven when I was born and when I was eight a baby in her belly changed my sis surname to Gretzky in a marriage with a guy, whose politics creeped mom and dad out.
“Any regrets on their part?”
“About you? Yes, when we ask, but they want to live as Brave Hunters and nothing else. We… We find it difficult to talk about Princess Towers with them. We are one or two days with them every week, like on this… Dwight is doing wide festivals around his villa, we are close to family as much as it wants us to be. Daughter, how many of you are in the C-O-N-S-P-I-R-A-C-Y?”
“Six, if I don´t count Jenine. We are planning to use favor of Rear Riders.”
“These are still Brave Hunters. I´m making an exception for my daugh… For Viola and son-in-law. They will be not rescuing you, Barbara! You can count on…“
“Dad, who do you talk to? Dwight wants to play in your presence!”
Viola. I should have talked and say who I am, but I barely knew her and this wasn´t in the plan. I should have trusted her, Betting on blood, flesh, and home over Brotherhood.
“She has finished talking,” my dad said and turned off the call.
Therese not awake, I didn´t have to describe my conversations. Grief could melt away in my next parent talk or this night in the dream.
*Nora*
*Scottish came to their senses and concealed themselves behind the borders. The only men who stayed longer did it so to clean up the war-damaged Cliffordshore.*
*You don´t see a point in relinquishing the warmth of your small room under the attic, but the winter sun fondles your skin and pajamas, straining the limits. Your intimate parts are covered, you or your friends are not observed. You are countess on the sovereign homestead.*
*”Nora, breakfast!”*
*You run down. Mom and dad give you three chocolate bombs, timers tickling.*
*Your sisters are crunching lollipops.*
*”You have been a great support,” Viola says. “But what truly profits all generations of mankind is fucking. One good fuck and you have a family, created the human and the fucker, if solid, repays opulently for breastfeeding.”*
*”Not yet,” Zita says. “Nora is seventeen. She can fuck figuratively while biding her time to arrest Polish-Japanese Cowardly Hunter.“*
*”Virtue isn´t outgrown shoes,” mom says.*
*”It isn´t. Wearing it doesn´t hurt, slipping it off does,” Therese says.*
*Can´t she quit the Fashion design school?” dad asks.*
*”Not yet,” Zita repeats her line. “Secretaries of the Princeps have ordered the new model!”*
*”Go, my daughters. You have finished talking!”*
*The fence opened hands free, you and your sisters tie the saddles on the winged unicorns. You fly very* *low* *over the Clffordshore, you have a tendency to stand on animals back and tighten the bridle, you are allergic to steeds of any realism level. Unlike Viola or Zita, who trace the way to Fashion design school on the tail of condors. You don´t desire their company, but on the ground, your mound’s tail is being pulled. You don´t see it, you simply have a hunch. For your disloyalty, the visibly male gorilla has been selected as your mating partner.*
*”Sisters, I haven´t done anything!” you plea.*
*”Your journal wasn´t sincere,” Zita says.*
*”I came before you and I ´ll be here after you,” Viola laughs.*
*They can´t be deceived. You have* *never really taken their vows and you are left behind!”*
I wasn´t left behind. Oh, I adore the reassurance of the waking moment that you are not in peril. The other recollection, the one about my newest shelter, made me yearn for the dream as it began, in idyl.
What day we h… Thursday it is. With the ever-changing timetable, I am topsy-turvy right off the bat. I sandwiched myself between bedclothes. The rescheduling memo charted double PE to the detriment of Homemaking´s minutes.
“Ehhhmm…” Therese was begrudged if that could be taken as an indication. I came to her side and signalized the ordeals of Mother Monica and Frank´s idle promise… I regretted ruining her affection by eloquent wry face when she asked about my call.
Like they dined, shieldmaidens stuck together over breakfast, inseparable by the imposed office moonlight. Holoprojectors were dim like dry fish tanks, until the final gulp. They didn´t screen another episode and Alice was editing the fourth one these days.
Videocast commenced in the least expected fracture of time dishes are being cleared off. The infamous spokeswoman.
“The fate of the convicts we broadcasted yesterday was their third to last punishment,” she said. “On the same day they were all sterilized and as I speak they are on the way to tundra. To work, to grow old, and not fouling the indisputably working structure model of society. Stop being irrational, students. Freedom is in love! Freedom is in doing what you have the best instincts for! The reason is passing knowledge to your children!”
The damnation assigned to forlorn rebellion stars sent chills down our backs. I saw faintness stealing spirits of Louisa and Amber and Sharona as well as both Brunkow co-lectors. Kaur is dark-skinned, so she couldn´t get pale, but her eyeballs could get glassy.
Am I and Stacey possibly the last traitors in preparation?
I knew about implemented “exercises” from Lydia and Julie. The preparations for Paladins were practiced in the pool. Ekström let us drive the motorboat, waterski pulled behind said motorboat, one of those things combined with shooting from the net throwers and dueling stick-armed on the narrow planks. I got my deliberate defeats, not going competitive and giving more likes to the boat stuff.
The wardens scoured the loyalist squadron to the last drop. It was glaring to me that we have been gifted with a pedestal of a bad reputation. Reminding ourselves we are not Nora Albert doesn´t suffice. The worst was yet to come. They had secretary outfits in the backpacks! I can bear the shame of collaboration, but paint myself director´s maid in plainly stupid clothing – and here that says something – surrounded by people… Red Riding Hood costume would be more dignifying!
The peace was pertaining to the principal´s office, kudos to Montserrat reproducing ghostwritten speech word by word, conjuring Mayson´spraise and twitching of Zita´s mouth corner. Missing your thunder, much? No, no, no… Therese adopted me. But Stacey isn´t warm and Jenine is gone. I must not screw up with her. I have to mind two-thirds of the tablets.
“Josh, we are done!” Mayson exclaimed and the printer released two pages of the text.
“Do a bullet point version and send it to the participants so they have an idea!” Mayson summoned two wardens, one to go with Montserrat free of duty, the other to keep it tidy here and for himself, he chose a nap in the apartment.
So he was gone and I had it easier to be resentful rather than fearful. The tasks of Nora Albert in the first two episodes weren´t dastardly. It is the morale that kills it. I was doing the insidious part.
I kept an eye on Josh´s work. Zita in longer intervals. His head learned a few new turns, not commanded voicelessly by Mayson, even if the boss was just scratching in the butthole.
Josh was looking at the water dispenser…
“Do you want to refill?” I offered the basic courtesy.
Josh was baiting the warden´s approval and she let me leave my chair. The male secretary gave me a tea-scented cup. Heavier by water, my gloved hand put it back on the saucer. Josh´s fingers were picking up letters on the keyboard. I have caught a glimpse of his email, but the stuff on top was deciding… The bubbles called the recipients:
Alexander Cao – VP of the Advisory Council
William Olsson – Governing Councilman of The Internal Affairs
Hachi Manabe – Coordinator of The Fifth Wing Initiative
Mark Connor – Director of The Maryland Treehouse Inc.
Fritz Lefebvre – The Adjutant in The Office of Prefect of Wyoming.
One Japanese guy. Piece of a piece. I know nothing of his character, but The Fifth Wing Initiative can´t be anything else than the enterprise of Rear Riders and he cares about us enough for someone who never met us. Stacey, or anyone, really, can tell Damasio about him.
I signalized it to Zita.
*”Hachi Manabe.”*
She was answering red on her face.
*”I was gonna use the reception.”*
Being helpful saves your time, step-sis.
On the sunset before the weekend, I gave the browsing device to Claudia Fleischer in the park.
“I believe you will find those, who you can call family. I have two families, but the obstacles are cluttering the way up.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/l35uxs/the_princesses_in_the_tower_chapter_4_part_2