Bought

Product

Terror formed a hard lump in my throat as I clung desperately to the drainpipe.  My fingers, slick with sweat, fought to find a new hold which wasn't so perilous.  My arms were trembling with adrenaline.

I was exhausted down to my bones, but I'd rather fall to my death hundreds of feet below than accept the false refuge rescue would provide.

A quick flip of my head helped toss my bleached blond hair out of my eyes but in seconds it had slipped back across my forehead.  I huffed and allowed myself to slide down the pipe a few more inches.

"Mayfly?"  The call echoed through the glass of a nearby window, rattling me so badly I nearly lost my grip on the slick piping.  He wasn't supposed to be out of bed yet.  The sun wouldn't be up for another hour!  There was no reason for him to be out and about.

Unless he anticipated my escape attempt.

I gritted my teeth and loosened my grip, sliding down another foot.  The front door would have been my preferred method of escape, but he sealed every stairway below the third floor so that only his ID patch would allow access.  Maybe with some time I could have swiped one of the other patches.  It was too late now.  I wouldn't stay another day in his house, treated like just another pet.

My name is Destiny, and I refuse to be a product.

I slipped down another two feet.  By now my hands were burning and I could hear him running through the house as he looked for me.    The hot polluted air clung to my skin and forced its way into my lungs, causing havoc inside for sure.  I'd probably burned off at least a dozen years of my life by being in the dirty air for so long.

Lights all over the house were blazing to life.  My escape attempt was going worse than I could have imagined, even worse than the last one.  Any second he would look out one of the windows and see me, slowly descending like an ungainly spider.  If he caught me I'd be worse off than before.  Was that better than death?

No.  Being caught would be worse.

Without a second thought I pulled my hands free from the death-grip they'd had around the drainpipe and fell down, down through the air and towards the unforgiving ground two floors below.

As if in some final act of mercy, I lost consciousness before I hit the ground.

-

"You're turning out to be a bigger investment than my company can allow."

My eyes flickered open.  I was sprawled on a small bed.  A florescent light drilled into the ceiling burned down on the barren room.  It was a room I knew well from my time between homes.  After my last luxurious accommodations I was glad to see the familiar, if dull, sights.

"What am I going to do with you?"

I turned my head slightly to take in the man who was seated at my desk.  He wore an immaculate business suit with a human embryo embroidered on the lapel.  His mossy eyes drilled into me as a single finger tapped his chin.

"Maybe you should cut costs and forget about me," I suggested.  A faint smile touched his lips.

"Blond hair suits you, Destiny.  It goes well with your blue eyes."

I turned my head back so that I could stare at the ceiling.  I wouldn't let him see how his voice sent goosebumps dancing across my neck.  I wouldn't let him think he could win me over with a silly complement. I was eighteen, practically a grown woman. Whether he knew it or not I could see right through him.

"I should have died," I accused, keeping my eyes firmly locked on a point far away.  "What happened?"

"Certainly your fall should have been fatal, but our client had installed security measures long ago to prevent his daughter from dying if she fell from the roof."

"Figures."

"You're lucky to be alive."

"I don't care."

"What went wrong?  I had been told that Bill Lorenski was a good man.  He certainly had the proper connections and funds."

"He called me Mayfly and made me bleach my hair."

"And that bothered you enough to try and end your life?  Destiny, you are whatever our client says you are.  When will you finally learn that?"

"I'm not some stupid product, alright?"

"Your history says otherwise."  I glanced back.  Mister Derpit had never been particularly cruel to me, but he wasn't kind, either.  I could see him now, eyes glued to his tablet screen.  "Fifteen different clients have purchased you, only to return you shortly afterwards.  Your longest stay was two days.  You've compiled a respectable amount of complaints about your behavior."

He glanced up, eyes hardening.  "I've had about as much of this as I can take, Destiny.  My partner says we should cut our losses and let the Enforcers take you.  But I will give you another chance before turning you over to those ruffians.  You are to return to your usual routine while at our facility.  If a client takes an interest in you, you will go with them.  And if you aren't purchased in three weeks?"  He shrugged and produced a scanner from his pocket.  "Barcode, please."

I sat up and thrust my hand at him.  He took my wrist gingerly as if I were made of glass and held the scanner over the barcode which was tattooed there.  A barcode imprinted on human skin.  I could think of few things more disgusting than that.

"Return completed," the scanner chirped.  "Product 91668, Destiny, returned to inventory."

"What do you know, you are a product," Mister Derpit said, waving the scanner at me.  I retracted my hand as he stood and pocketed the scanner once again.  "I expect your best behavior."

He exited the room, leaving me alone aside from my disgust. I absentmindedly rubbed my barcode with my thumb. It had become a habit at some point long ago, not that it would ever do me much good. There was no way to get a barcode off once it had been given to you.

Not everyone had a barcode. Only the products did. Only the people who failed to pass the Baseline for Normality, or the BN. It's a test that doctors run as they look through your genetics. They know the second you're born if you pass or not. If you don't pass, you're imprinted with a permanent barcode and given to a Product Facility like the one Mister Derpit ran.

For those of us who were products, you could never hope to have a normal life. I wouldn't let some doctor choose that for me.

I craved freedom.