Pliable Creatures | ✓

FOUR

124 gasped, leaping from her chair. She had been working so hard for the past few months since her arrival: following the strict dietary requirements, training, and upkeeping her skin, hair, and nails. Now was her chance again to finally leave the Nest. And she wouldn't screw up this time.

"Let's go, we can talk about this later," she said briskly.

However, in complete juxtaposition to everyone else, 91 remained rigid and tense. The once lively and assertive girl was slouching—not looking around to see the honorable visitors like everyone else, but recoiling in her chair, and staring at her feet. "Yeah..." 91 whispered half to herself and half to 124, almost afraid to be heard by whoever—or whatever—approaches.

But 124 was no longer paying attention to the unstable girl, no matter if her claims of being a past friend were true or not. 124 reasoned to herself, "obviously the Nest could produce crazies every once in a while—the solidarity and routine would no doubt eat away at some girls' sanity. " But 124 was mentally strong, and decided that she would not let some random girl's wild hallucinations ruin her chances of winning, and so she pushed 91 out of her mind entirely.... At least for the time being

Forming a neat semi-circle around the glass tube, all twitching in anticipation, the girls of the Nest faced two distant figures standing just outside the glass barrier. The atmosphere was tense, as it had been more than a couple weeks since a girl was selected: number 683, a cute, blonde girl 124 recalled as having a preference for using the stationary bikes in her workouts.

While there were two people waiting for them, the first a bespectacled man dressed in a white lab coat, and carrying a tablet that he was reading and pointing to, the girls were all looking at his tall companion. She was a graceful creature, draped in rich furs and silks, and decorated with a thick curtain of glossy red hair. And not just orange-red, but red red. The color of blood, an unnatural inhuman color, and yet more raw and human than any other color known to man.

Murmurs traveled down the entire line, jumping from mouth to mouth like forest fire.

"Woah, she's beautiful," was the general consensus, and 124 couldn't help but agree.

Although the lady was standing a hundred feet above them, 124 could make out her reflective eyes and attractively delicate features. Her pale skin contrasting heavily with her blushed lips and cheeks. But what most struck 124 most was her agelessness. She could've been seventeen, or thirty, or even fifty for that matter. Every time 124 focused on a different aspect of her image—her posture, her face, or her clothing—the less sure she was of the beautiful woman's age, and finally decided she would never know.

One by one, the girls were called forward by the man, speaking with his reedy voice through a mouthpiece connected to the arena PA system. He Asked them to turn this way and that, as well as instructing them to perform a series of physical tasks, such as twenty push-ups, touching their toes, jumping as high as they can, as the woman surveyed silently.

124 shuddered when it was finally her turn. She was used to working in solidarity; keeping to herself and living on the outskirts of the Nest; focused and unwavering in her goals. So now when she had the eyes of everyone, it took much of her strength to stand upright and look into the pair of bright blue eyes staring back at her.

"Blue...." She could finally tell what color they were.

But in that instant, when their eyes connected, blue against brown, a rush of emotions came to her. She felt scared, alone, and hurt. She heard a scream, a plea. She would've doubled over in pain from the sudden thronging and convulsions in her skull had it not been for her trained discipline. Fighting the pain, she performed the tasks with hollowness.

Panting, finally she stepped back in line and the pain started to subside with each girl that went after her.

But she understood now.

Searching with wild eyes, she finally caught sight of the curly haired girl right before 91's number was called. Her "former friend" looked like what 124 felt. 91 was pale—if that were even possible for her tanned skin—and her face seemingly devoid of any color. But most alarming was her look of horrible recognition as she stared up at the red-haired Committee member.

Immediately when 91 was called, the woman gave a pursed smile and took the microphone directly from the man's hand like a toy. Speaking in a sickly, smooth voice, she spoke to the entire arena, "She will do. Weldon, take—" she looked down at his tablet, "1789281091" to the chamber and I will have her personally inspected. I expect—"

"NOOO!!!" All the girls flinched as 91 turned and ran off. Screaming hysterically in an inhuman pitch, like a prey animal fearful for its life.