“Shall we proceed to the medical center?” Rae asks. “Dr. Veil is waiting.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of hearing me waver.
Rae leads me down a series of corridors, each more elaborate than the last. When we finally reach the medical center, she says, “Wait here.” Gesturing to a seating area where a holographic display shows a documentary about the Celestial Spire's construction. “The physician will collect you shortly.” Then she walks away.
I don’t even care that she didn’t say goodbye or good luck. I hope the Celestial Spire is large enough that I never haveto see her again.
As I wait for the doctor, I realize that I've never felt so alone in my whole life. I close my eyes and try not to cry. But my emotions will not be contained, and a tear slips down my cheek, then another. I keep telling myself to be strong. But I find it difficult to stop the tears.Have I signed my bloody name electronically in the Devil’s book?
17
THE VENUS LOCK, EVE
The doorsto the medical center slide open with a soft hiss, and a grey-skinned woman emerges. Her pristine uniform emphasizes her alien elegance. Her features are framed by straight black hair pulled back in a professional style, and her expression carries the practiced neutrality of someone who has delivered difficult news before.
“Eve Eden?” she calls, checking a floating screen hovering at her fingertips. When she makes eye contact with me—the only human…the only person… in the waiting room—she says, “I'm the doctor here at the Celestial Spire. You're here for your pre-employment examination. I hope your trip across the galaxy was peaceful.”
I try to stand, but my legs feel unsteady. The images from the lobby keep replaying in my mind: the collars, the leashes, and that man's desperate eyes pleading for help. I force myself to breathe slowly, counting each exhale like I learned in the free meditation classes at Terra Sanctum.
“You're in shock,” Dr. Veil says, immediately coming closer to take my arm. “Where is Rae? She wasn’t supposed to leave you.”
“I saw them. The—” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat, willing myself to stay coherent. “The humans in the lobby. They were collared…disfigured. A man tried to ask me for help, and I did nothing while he was punished and then… and then…and then… he was fucking lobotomized. And it was all my fault.”
Dr. Veil's expression shifts, and regret crosses her face. “You witnessed the Sapien Spectacle. Very poor timing for your arrival.”
“Poor timing?” I echo. “Those are people. Sentient beings being treated like… like animals…worse than animals. Mutilated people! I can’t stay here. I have to go home. I have to go back to Earth.”
“Stay calm,” Dr. Veil says, and I feel something warm and foreign brush against the edges of my mind.
I stumble backward. “What did you just do to me?”
“Telepathic stabilization,” she explains, raising her grey hands in what might be a placating gesture. “Your panic was reaching dangerous levels. I only touched the surface of your mind, only your autonomic responses. I promise, your thoughts and memories are still all your own.”
“I didn’t consent to that,” I say firmly but without the hysteria that had been building before.
“I only did it to stabilize you,” she insists calmly.
“Don’t do it again.”
“Noted. Next time, I will allow you to have a full meltdown. Please, come inside. We need to discuss your situation woman to woman.” Her tone carries genuine concern, not just a professional obligation. And the way she says ‘woman to woman’ piques my curiosity. The galaxy is a matriarchy after all.
I follow her into the examination room, my legs still unsteady, but my mind clearer. The space is starkly clinical, filled with devices I don't recognize, but Dr. Veil's presence feels less threatening than expected.
“Sit, please.” She gestures to a hovering examination table that molds itself to my form as I settle onto it. “Eve, I need you to understand something. The laws regarding humans in galactic society have been... evolving rapidly. What you saw today reflects practices that were fully legal just two years ago.”
I study her grey face, looking for deception or manipulation, but I find only honesty. “If it’s illegal now, then why is it still going on? And at this hotel that hiredme, a human. Am I really an employee, or are you going to collar me too?”
“Your job is legitimate, and as for the humans and their owners that you saw in the lobby, the human pet world now exists in a grey area. There is one galactic law that states humans are sentient, but about twenty others that refer to humans as commodities. It would be an understatement to say the galaxy is in a state of flux regarding humans.” She activates her holographic display, but her eyes remain on me. “As for the Spire, it operates under multiple jurisdictions. Your employment contract makes you legally distinct from the... entertainers.”
“Entertainers,” I repeat flatly. “Is that what we're calling slavery now? They were called companions on the ship that brought me over. Why not just call them what they really are—slaves?”
Dr. Veil sighs. “Eve, I can’t change the galaxy, but I can help you process this differently. Many human employees request neural adjustments to?—”
“To make me more complicit?” I interrupt. “To stop feeling horrified by seeing my own species degraded?”
“To allow you to do your job without psychological damage,” she corrects gently. “I would not change your knowledge or your values. I would simply partition your emotional responses. This would allow you to understand intellectually, but not suffer emotionally.”
The offer is tempting in its mercy, but I shake my head. “No. Absolutely not. My horror and my disgust are mine and the only saneresponse to this insanity. If I must stay, then I will suffer every minute, as do my counterparts on leashes.”
