“You need to go to the fourteenth floor,” she interrupted me, then picked up a sleek black phone and hit one button. She waited, tapping one finger impatiently against the sleek black counter. When the recipient answered, the receptionist greeted her and then paused. They exchanged pleasantries before she ended the call with: “Yes, another one. I’ll send her up.”
The receptionist settled the phone receiver back into its dock, and then her eyes locked on me. “They’re expecting you. Head to your left. Shortly down the hallway you’ll find a bank of elevators. I assume you can figure out the rest.”
I shuffled my feet, feeling unsure again.
“Is there an issue?” She looked at me sternly. Her eyebrow arched once more.
“Do I need to sign in or anything down here?”
“No,” she said the single word curtly.
“Okay then… thanks. I guess.” I walked away; tail tucked between my legs. I’d experienced a lot of disrespect on the streets, but this woman had treated me like I wasn’t worth her time. Like I was less than her. Part of me wanted to scream at her that, even homeless, at least I was an Omega. Something she could never be.
The hallway she’d directed me to transitioned from sparkling tile to carpet. It was thick, plush, and I cringed with each step, because it didn’t feel like something I should be walking, not with my only somewhat clean body and clothes. My shoes sank into the short shag, leaving littlemarks of my passage which somehow, mysteriously, disappeared after a few seconds. I could hear each footfall, though padded, even over the hum of the perfume-laced air conditioning and electrical thrum which seemed to be all around me.
Josie poked her head out of the messenger bag as I reached the bank of elevators and stabbed the up button with more force than necessary. But I was a live wire. Anxiety coursing through me in ferocious currents. The further I traveled into this building, the faster my heartbeat and the drier my throat felt. Why did I feel so shitty here? Why did I feel like trash? It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, that wasn’t the problem. I just thought I’d gotten past letting it get to me. When I’d first gone to Seattle Saints’ Shelter and met the good sisters of Hearts Over Seattle, I’d expected to feel humiliated or second-rate, but the kindly Betas there had treated me with warmth and respect. Not once had they made me feel worthless for being in my situation. This building was a pillar of wealth and style, yet the receptionist had been so cold and unfeeling.
The elevator doors slide open after a sharp ding. I breathed a sigh of relief at the empty car, yet still hesitated until the very last second, rushing forward and sliding inward just before the doors re-closed. Josie hissed in protest, pulling back into the bag quickly as it jostled and jerked at my furtive movements. I took a deep, settling breath and jabbed a finger into the number fourteen. The car didn’t shudder or shake. It kicked into gear and began rising steadily, smoothly. Instrumental music flowed from overhead speakers. It was sort of jaunty and jazzy. It didn’t make me feel better. I was already too worked up, so the rising and falling melody punctuated by surprising bursts of saxophone just made me feel more panicky. Josie gave an uneasy meow, though she wasn’t moving much in the bag now.
“It’s okay, Josie. I don’t like it either, but a few hours from now when you’ve got your face crammed into deluxe cat food, you’ll be glad we came.” My words seemed to boomerang off the stainless upper panels, and then hit the button tufted lower panels and muffle quickly. It made for an odd sort of half-echo effect.
Floor fourteen arrived far too soon.
When the doors slide apart, and I wasn’t sure what to expect.
A heart attack in pink and red exploded in front of me, drowning me in a wave of color so bright it gave me a migraine. A large, rectangular sign opposite the elevators screamed:Our Cupid Company makes love possible! Brought to you by the leading Alpha Omega research foundation The Eros Institute.It was adorable, complete with cherubs just like the shelter flyer. Pink hearts hung from the ceiling and red hearts created a path to the right across the floor.
“What fresh hell is this, Josie?” I mumbled out the question, suddenly wistful for my underpass fridge box with its makeshift window and door.
A male Beta in a pink suit came at me, his smile about as real as a mannequin’s. Like the receptionist, he wore a small name tag. Mister Love, Intake Advisor Beta.
“Welcome!” he said, almost blinding me with his white teeth. “You must be here for our scent-matching service! I was so excited when Beta Strayer called! I’m Beta Love,” He tapped his nameplate and winked. “I know, I know. But it is my real name!”
“It’s a good name,” I awkwardly offered, wanting to race back into the elevator and disappear. But before I could, he gripped my elbow and began leading me towards a seating area.
“Please have a seat. May I get you some sparkling water? I’m afraid you can’t eat until after donation. Speaking of, have you eaten today?” He spoke so quickly that it was hard to keep up. My brain seemed to be registering things in slow motion, or he was moving at Sonic speed.
I shook my head dumbly. I’d not eaten much since the Wednesday soup kitchen. The few things I’d found since I’d given to Josie. Not just out of martyrdom. They were mostly seafood products. I let him continue to guide me and even let him gently turn my body and push me down into a chair. I was a limp doll.
“Can you verbally verify, please.” His facade was still perfectly pleasant, rosy cheeks and bright smile. If he were annoyed with me, he didn’t show it. He stared down at me, eyes wide, waiting for me to answer.
“No, I’ve not eaten today,” I finally said, voice cracking a bit as my desert-dry throat rebelled.
“Perfect! Then we can do the whole shebang in one go!” He clapped his hands together in triumph.
“The whole shebang?” I questioned stupidly.
“Wait right here. Don’t move a muscle!” He didn’t answer the question, instead jogging off towards an adjacent small office. Even if I’d wanted to run away, he didn’t give me enough time. He was back in a flash, pink clipboard in one hand and a bottle of high dollar, carbonated water in the other. He handed me the items, and I took both mechanically. “Drink, drink,” he encouraged.
I fumbled with the items, settling the clipboard against my knees and twisting the top off the water. As I brought it to my lips and tipped it back, sloshing too much in at once, he began speaking again. I wondered if that was on purpose, as I sputtered and struggled to swallow down the liquid.
“Now, we’ll need you to fill out this form, front and back. Be as accurate as possible, please. Our research is highly delicate, and we need to make sure our samples are as untainted as possible before they enter different phases of testing.” He was rattling off the words, shot after shot, and I tried to listen as I re-capped the bottle and swiped at my wet mouth with my dirty shirt sleeve.
“Once we’ve settled paperwork, we’ll get you into the decontamination unit first. From there you’ll head into the lab. At the end we’ll provide you with a set of clean, sanitized clothing. You’ll be able to keep those after, which will be—” he stopped speaking, eyeing me up and down and for the first time looking slightly uncomfortable, “I’m sure nice.” He finally finished.
Before either of us could speak again, the room filled with a booming voice. A code something or other was happening on the thirteenth floor and available Beta product controllers were requested to aid the situation.
“I apologize for that interruption,” Beta Love offered quickly, once the announcement ended.
