The adviser

1

I look at the clock. Again.

The time doesn't seem to pass. I pace back and forth, thinking about everything that has happened in the past ten years of my life, and about how things took such an unexpected turn. When I was twenty, it was my biggest dream to be part of the High Elite, living in the most expensive suburb of Astrid. Now I realize how easily a dream can become a nightmare.

***

Astrid's society was divided in castes, each caste with their subdivisions. The lower caste was called the Undercast, and was composed mainly of servants and manual laborers. Then there was the Meridian caste. Most of the population were Meridians, and had common low paying trades, despite still having much better living conditions than the Undercast.

I honestly don't know very much about the lower castes. Being born a low Elite, it wasn't very common for me to associate with lower caste people. The little I do know about those people is thanks to my former servant, Clare. She was gifted to me on my seventh birthday, and was by far the best gift I ever received.

Initially, she was only a servant. However, my parents, despite being extremely wealthy, were very neglectful towards me. They were always so worried about their careers that very rarely would they waste their time raising their only child, which is why they hired Clare, a middle aged woman who claimed to be not only a great babysitter, but also a very good maid. Even though she was an Undercast, I considered her to be my best friend, my second mother. As a child, I still didn't fully understand the concept of societal hierarchy, and naively believed that an Undercast and an Elite could actually like each others company.

She would get up very early, around five of the morning, to make breakfast and set the table. While my parents and I ate breakfast, she would stay in her living quarters, a tiny moldy bedroom with a bathroom attached to it, waiting for us to finish. When we were all satisfied, my mother would ring the bell that was always on the shelf, and Clare would come to wash up. Only after the kitchen was spotless, she could eat whatever was left over. Then, she would bathe me, dress me up and walk me to school. We would talk about everything. Unlike my parents, she seemed to genuinely enjoy listening to me go on about whatever I was learning at school, or sometimes just silly ideas that I would come up with.

One day, when I was 9, I asked her what she wanted for her birthday, while we were walking to school.

-What are you talking about? - She asked, seeming surprised.

-I know its your birthday tomorrow, mother told me she would give you less chores. What should I get you? Do you want a party?

She widened her eyes, something she would always do when feeling nervous.

-Oh... Please, I don't need anything...- She said sheepishly- I will bake a cake tomorrow morning, eat whatever is left over.

That's when I had the idea that got her fired.

***

The next day, I woke up earlier than usual, due to excitement. I ran down the stairs to the kitchen, to see a simple chocolate cake in the kitchen and a few smaller snacks around it. I heard my parents walking down the stairs and arguing about something. I didn't let that bother me, after all, they were always arguing over even the smallest of things, which made me question why they even formed union in the first place.

As they entered the kitchen, Clare was just about to leave to her living quarters before I grabbed her arm and told her to wait a moment.

-Before you go, I want to give you something! - I said, handing her a hand-made birthday card I had made the day prior- You are a second mother to me, and I will love you forever!

She looked at the birthday card that a badly drawn red heart on the cover and immediately started crying. At first, I believed she must have been feeling emotional. Maybe she just wasn't used to receiving presents, or being the center of the attention. However, I noticed something was terribly wrong when my mother rose from her seat and ordered Clare to leave us.

-Marjorie, listen very carefully, what you did today was unacceptable. Clare is a competent servant, or at least as competent as a Undercast can be - She said, pronouncing the word with disgust - but it isn't one of us, and even insinuating otherwise is absurd, offensive even. You are young, and the young should be forgiven for their mistakes, but I hope you learn this lesson the easy way. Remember, an Undercast's function in life is to serve you, nothing more.

-Your mother is right- my father agreed- Now she will think you actually love her or something. I will have to handle things now, go your bedroom - he ordered, upset.

I left the kitchen, with an expression of shame stamped on my face. I understood that Clare was below us in some way, however it was only that day that I truly learned Astrid was all about. It was about hierarchy, power, control. Different castes shouldn't mix. The hidden social rules were made to be followed, never questioned. And most importantly, even an Elite could lose their prestigious position in society, if they were seen mixing with the wrong people. That was the day that defined the person I became. The day I decided to truly be an Elite.

The next day, Clare was nowhere to be seen. Another woman, apparently a little younger, had taken her place. Just like that, a servant could easily be disposed of and replaced. When I left the house to go to school, I found out that my parents had traded servants with the neighbor. Clare was right there, holding hands with the neighbor's youngest son, ready to take him to school as well.

She froze when she saw me. I noticed her face had reddened and her eyes became watery, yet she held the tears. My new servant and I walked in her direction. She called my name, but I didn't even acknowledge her existence. It was best to just keep walking.