FUJIMOR h.s

2

A familiar cricketing sound awoke me from an artificial slumber my body had become accustomed to. I never slept for more than two minutes a day, yet those dreams instilled in those 120 seconds felt like hours. My "drone", (not aerial) which was a pile of old computers and an old camera I found on the street, crawled with a limp. Flying drones were imbecilic and impractical so I made one with four legs that seemed to malfunction every week. I postponed fixing her because she couldn't physically feel any pain, yet I programmed her to tell me whenever she felt like something was wrong. She chose a cryptic sound that she knew would disturb any human being if heard closely.

"Right." I set down the capsules I had been making for Owen, and picked her up. "I should give you a name rather than a number." I looked into one of her eight lenses and set her on the seating mat, making sure to not crush the capsules. After adjusting many loose screws, my drone began to move normally and began to speak.

"Giving me a name--" She calculated and presented a screen I could write on by supporting herself on her hind legs. It had really put me on the spot, I wasn't sure of what to choose.

"What name would you like?"

"I cannot have any preferences."

I thought for a moment and shrugged. "Name: Zumi. Z-U-M-I."

That evening, Owen came to pick up his supplements. I made pills for those living in the apartment complex. His wasn't a special order, the supplements I gave him kept him more alert and focused during the long hours he had producing films. Oxio didn't take any pills and I always wondered how she survived throughout her strenuous days. She spoke of how she felt as though the drug in her life was the sex itself. She says the rush of dopamine allows her to go on to the next.

Prostitution was overlooked many times in the past. People thought that the woman was the victim, that they were not willing and that the men forced them to do these certain acts of sexual activity. In some cases, that was true. Women were forced and they often had no other choice. The Party made sure the applicants would feel comfortable doing what they signed up for. They took tests on women, men and non-genders (there were very few men, often homoandbi sexuals) to make sure they had no ability of feeling used, and for obvious reasons like diseases. If threatened, there was protocol. Rooms were monitored and no one could contact anyone after one session. Partners were not repeated, it was prohibited to contact the institution to ask for a specific person. If these rules were broken, they would be put on the list for a government game. Those in itself are elaborate and often hard to explain.

"How much?" Owen's voice was something I'd never get used to. He had a quiet voice, often comparable to that of a mouse or a small animal, but the bass of a larger one which he used to intimidate the small crew he worked with everyday. His bushy brown eyebrows cut through his forehead and set right above the bow of his almond eyes. He held no freckles, no blemishes, no facial hair. Thin lips rested above his prominent chin where a tattoo of a line cut through his cupid's bow. The tattoo in itself looked like he painted it; his face just never welcomed it even though it healed greatly. "I really appreciate you doing this for me, the shit they sell on the road is hardly as powerful as yours. How much?"

"Thank you." I hummed. "However much you want me to have. That'll be fine."

"Do you sell to a lot of people?" he asked. I wasn't sure why.

"Yes. Most in this complex. A few to others only because they've heard Yendra's loudmouth." He laughed though I wasn't joking. Yendra was the next door neighbor who told me about the babies and she often had a hard time controlling what she said around others, analogous to Oxio. She's the reason why everyone knows I am a virgin. Owen handed me a few blue slabs of fouls clipped with three green metal tabs. Under those tabs I felt a plastic bag of some sort. It contained a crystalline compound I was unfamiliar with. 'What's this?"