Page 51 of Elemasters

“Alright, let’s figure this shit out. It’s the ‘Alicia Moore’ Exhibition, right? Mom’s always at these things somewhere, maybe she can give me some sort of guideline,”

She started winding through the maze of racks, searching for any trace of her mother. However, after about ten minutes of wandering with no sense of direction, it was clear that the woman was nowhere in sight.

“Hello? Mom, you here? I kinda need to know what to do if I’m supposed to get out of here before my hair turns grey!”

Silence. Naturally.

“Ugh. Even in this fucked up magical Holodeck, a fictional version of you can’t even show up for me when I need you,” Chloe shook her head, and turned to the rack closest to her, “fine, I’ll handle it. I guess the point is to put together a look so on point that even mommy dearest can’t deny it,”

Not wasting another moment, Chloe got to work. She scoured the racks nearest to her, throwing anything less than perfect into a pile on her left, while pieces she could work with went to the right. It didn’t take long for her to notice something pivotal; this wasn’t just some random collection of clothing. She’d seen most of it before.

The dark denim low-rise jeans with the golden seams. The bone white top with ruffled sleeves. The deep v-cut, black bodycon dress.

These were all Alicia Moore originals; with some going all the way back to the 80s. The garden was asking her to impress her mother by assembling something revolutionary out of her own work? How the fuck was she supposed to pull that off?

Maybe if she played it to her mom’s taste, that would be the fastest way to cut through the bullshit and get out of here.

“Flaunt what you got, but keep it high class,” Chloe parroted, her mother’s advice echoing in her mind as she grabbed the bodycon dress and immediately went hunting for accessories.

She eventually settled on the golden, glittery belt and matching bracelets, along with a pair of hoop earrings and open-toe stilettos. The moment she’d gotten dressed, the floor rumbled as the various remaining clothing racks sank into the ground like they were on some sort of trapdoor mechanism. She was left in the void for a long moment, before a single light shaped like a doorway blinked into existence ahead of her.

“Models, please proceed to the runway for evaluation”

The intercom’s professional monotone faded into silence as Chloe strutted through the door, confident in her choice and frankly more than ready to get this over with.

The runway itself was nothing like Chloe had ever seen before; there was no audience watching, and no judge’s table at the end of it. The space was just as looming and empty as the one she’d been in before, with only a spotlight at the end of the long metal walkway to illuminate the darkness.

Whatever. Nothing about this shit was normal anyway, she just needed to focus on the task at hand.

With another calming breath, she locked her eyes on the path ahead, squared her shoulders, and sauntered on like she knew she was The Shit™… because she did.

The moment she stepped into the light, she struck an effortlessly confident pose and waited expectantly. Not that she was sure what she was expecting… applause, a perfect score to materialize on some ethereal board, who knows? All she knew was that the garden simply had to release her and allow them to move on to the next trial, right? How could it not?

As she waited for the moment of triumph, she noticed the clothes start to feel oddly stiff. Constricting. Like they were made of glass, or worse… metal. Brittle, cold, restrictive metal.

Before she even realized what was happening, the clothes began to crack and crumple, quickly falling off her frame as she bolted from the spotlight like a cat facing the wrath of a spray bottle.

She found herself back in the endless clothing maze just as the last scrap of metal clanged around her ankles, leaving her confused, pissed off, and in her underwear wondering what the fuck just happened.

“Okay, well clearly that wasn’t the fucking solution!” Chloe groaned, stomping her foot indignantly. After a moment, she rubbed her forehead to ease the frustration, and exhaled, “okay, okay. New plan. Maybe I should take what’s here, break it down for material and use it to make something of my own? That’s gotta be it, right? I have to stand on my own instead of just doing what mom would do,”

As if responding to her new idea, the floor in front of her opened up, and a table rose from the depths, complete with everything she’d need; a sewing machine, thread, scissors, all of it.

Chloe smirked, full of newfound confidence as she started sorting through the racks with renewed purpose. It was a tall order, but she knew she could pull together something fabulous enough to rival her mother’s work.

The rhythmic sound of the sewing machine was all that could be heard throughout the massive space as Chloe went to work. She was completely in her element; blocking out everything around her to focus on the absolute perfection she was crafting. She’d assembled everything she could find with metallic colors and had successfully used them to put together the ultimate statement piece. If the garden wanted metal symbolism made physical, she was going to give it something it couldn’t possibly ignore.

What she ended up with was silver sequined pants with flared bottoms, a matching asymmetrical crop top with one exposed shoulder, and a bold, sheer, floor length shawl embroidered with rhinestones that made it look like she was draped in starlight. It was excessive and scene stealing in a way that Alicia Moore would never go for, which is why she had to cobble it together from scraps of other outfits that used the elements as a pop of flair on an otherwise “classy” look.

No one could say she was just imitating her mother’s style now, that’s for sure.

The racks sank into the floor once more, as Chloe headed through the luminous doorway for round two.

This time there wasn’t the faintest hint of uncertainty as Chloe strutted down the runway, her face lighting up with a mixture of pride and awe as the spotlight reflected off her metallic ensemble, causing her to glow like a constellation as she waited for the trial to reward her ambition and ingenuity.

But when, at any point in her life, had anything been that simple?

Once again, the fabric started to tighten and constrict, hardening into sheet metal around her frame.