“It is illegal...” Shereen was still trying to evade.
“Oh, illegal?” He almost laughed out loud at her ridiculous excuses, “I give you my word that no one will ever know about this. You will receive two hundred points and leave this room, as if nothing had ever happened. So what do you say?”
“No.” Her lower lip trembled.
“OK, let’s play on, three hundred!”
“You don’t understand...”
“Four hundred!”
“I can’t do it.”
Shereen’s cheeks weren’t just pink, they were blazing red, and despair was screaming in her eyes but Hulk wanted to carry on with this game to the end, despite the cost, and once and for all discover what the truth is and what the lie is. He was desperate to pull the confession out of her mouth at any price.
“Five hundred points, Shereen.”
“I don’t know how!”
“One thousand fucking points!”
As soon as he said that she opened her mouth flabbergasted by what she’d just heard. For a short moment there Hulk thought he’d made a mistake and that her face will light up with joy, she will turn to the monitor, break the password in a few seconds and will smile at him happily, expecting to get the promised prize. If this happens, he will have lost this game quickly, foolishly and recklessly.
But instead she suddenly covered her face with her hands ... and burst into tears.
She began crying, instead of laughing at the idea of how easily she’d managed to get a thousand points for one hacked password and happily leave Tally after that.
Cringing in a chair, she was silently shivering and sobbing through her fingers.
For a while it was quiet in the room. Hulk turned to the window, took another cigar and lit it right there in the office.
“Shereen ...” he called softly, “look at me.”
She was struggling to pull herself together. Eventually she managed, wiped off her tears and looked at him with her bright green teary eyes.
“You lied to me.”
Shereen startled weakly from words but continued to stare at him.
“You are not a hacker and you came here because of something else.”
Now she nodded and that was a good sign.
“Okay. We'll move on from this for now.” Hulk decided not to rush things; there will be more time for everything as there were more important questions to discuss now.
“You’ll be living in the same room when you spent your last night. You’ll have some dinner later on tonight and tomorrow you’ll be shown the dining area and meal schedule. Nobody will make you starve here.”
He paused, feeling she had some questions.
“What?”
“Can I move around the territory?”
“Only up to the border of the nearest field. If you don’t make any attempts to escape or show any other inappropriate behaviour you’ll be allowed to walk further. Is there anything else?”
Shereen hesitated before asking the next question, it was clearly uncomfortable for her.
“I’m listening.”
“Please, don’t lock my room for the night. I don’t have access to the toilet otherwise.”
“Anything else?”
“No. That’s it.”
“Okay. I’ll instruct the guards not to lock your door. But any attempt to flee will change your position radically. Do you get my drift?”
She looked at him and nodded.
Yes, she understood, he knew it - whether she was a hacker or not, she comprehended her situation clearly.
My legs were completely stiff as I walked down the corridor trying to find my room and the only words I could repeat were “Oh my God, oh my God...” So much has happened in one day!
“Oh my God, oh my God...”
I recognised the familiar wing of the house, automatically turned into the dark corridor and almost tumbled into the room. I slammed the door, climbed onto the bed, leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. After a short while I buried my face into a thin pillow, showering myself with buckets of questions and curses. All that happened in Hulk’s office seemed unthinkable! Totally surreal! I could have earned a thousand points today, TODAY! A whole bloody thousand! Why aren’t I a hacker – I didn’t know anything about the profession The Corporation mentioned in my documents? Why haven’t I studied computer science? Who could’ve known that one day it would help me to dodge many years of imprisonment? What was it that Hulk said - he’ll pay half a point a day? It’s only three and half points a week. It didn’t take me long to calculate that at this rate I’ll have to spend five or six years in Tally. Six years of my precious life will have to be spent being slave. A deep anguish crushed down on me after such a thought and I began punching my skinny pillow.
One thousand! One tho-o-o-ousand! My voice sounded like an animal’s howl. Why am I not a hacker?!
But I wasn’t a hacker and there was nothing I could do about that. If I’d tried to pretend to be knowledgeable I’d have to get rid of this password within the given time. Hulk would never have believed a person who could barely type; and I only knew how to send emails and use a couple of accounting applications. I never even mastered the art of touch-typing. So there was no hope to even mess Hulk around for longer than a few minutes and another lie wouldn’t have given us a better understanding.
But why did he even offer me this deal? He was obviously convinced that I wasn’t a computer genius and he sure knew it. He wasn’t guessing and wasn’t building any assumptions that could cost him a thousand points, Hulk was not that type of person who would rush to lose this much. Was it that easy to see through me? How come he recognised I was lying whereas the others would have never believed the truth?
Groaning louder than ever, I covered my head with the pillow, trying to escape the feeling of despair. How am I going to survive here? How I am to stay safe when I have to see Greg and his toads every day? How can I prevent a mental break down from the realisation that for the next five years (in the best case scenario) I have to live, work and walk on the same roads of this ranch? The same roads. The same ranch. Every day. For five fucking years.
I almost missed it when someone knocked on my door. Only when the door swung opened, I emerged from the dark abyss of my thoughts, hastily took the pillow off my head, smoothed my hair and stared at the unfamiliar visitor who appeared to be a rather large lady wearing a dark dress and white apron. She was holding a kitchen towel in her hands. Together with this woman, an amazing smell of baking and vanilla swam into the room.
“Hey, you, whatever your name is, how long do I have to wait for you in the kitchen for?” She muttered and left my room. I didn’t need to be asked twice (I’d happily follow this smell even if it would bring me to my own gallows) I slipped out of bed and ran after her.
Tabitha. That was the name of the Queen of Kitchen. She wasn’t very tall, but fairly plump; she had dark skin, black coarse hair and full lips. Her forehead and cheeks were covered in sweat - an intense heat was rising up from the stove on top of which there was a boiling kettle half filled with water.
I saw a bowl of soup, bread and cheese in front of me on the table. As I opened my mouth trying to swallow a spoon of broth, I cringed from the pain that shoot through my jaw.
“Who did this to you?” asked Tabitha.
“Greg.”
Now it was her turn to grimace.
“I wish someone would pull his dirty arms off. Why did he hit you?”
“I took an apple from the kitchen. He said I stole it.”
Tabitha didn’t say anything, just shook her head, then she slowly and heavily got up from the chair and removed the kettle from the stove.
As I noticed, the Kitchen Queen wasn’t that talkative, keeping a serious and slightly reproachful facial expression, however, I noticed a glimpse of curiosity and sympathy in her black eyes.
The kitchen was not like that huge room I saw earlier but a small room with yellow wallpaper; perhaps this facility was used as a canteen for workers. Someone has even made an attempt to make it look cosy - the table was covered up with a colourful tablecloth; there was a quietly humming fridge in the corner and a clock ticking away on the wall.
Suddenly I felt a strong desire to talk to Tabitha and I didn’t really care what about. I felt emotionally attracted to the woman like a lost puppy who imagined that a piece of fur could replace it’s mother. My loneliness has put a heavy stamp on me. From day one of being in Tally I had no one to share any of my thoughts, my worries, plans or just my mood. Jenny was never the person I trusted completely and Robert was always busy with his software and electronics and hence I desperately longed for a companionship, real communication - warm and human, with jokes, advice, support and a bit of love.
I sighed and scooped up another spoonful of soup.
“Tasty”. I said indifferently not being able to squeeze out a smile or compliment her.
Tabitha briefly glanced at me, busy making tea.
“Drink this.”
She gave me a porcelain cup with swollen up tea leaves floating on its surface. I blew on the hot water. Tabitha sat in front of me, stirring the tea leaves with a spoon. Her head was lowered and her large dark hands were folded on the table. I suddenly thought that she looked like a mother who had survived long nights in the trenches caring for soldiers and not being lucky enough to see her own children come back from the war. There was something in her face that forced me to crave for her every seldom word and treat her every gesture or look with great attention. To me Tabitha seemed to be carved from a stone, in the middle of which there was a big, warm and loving heart beating.
“It’s not easy to live here.” suddenly she looked up at me with her black eyes, “but don’t give up. Sometimes they’ll treat you fairly, sometimes not, but you must always stay away from Greg.”
I nodded, surprised by her sincerity.
“Okay, I am off to bed.” she moved her cup of tea away. “When you're done, put the dishes in the sink, I’ll wash them in the morning. Don’t forget to turn off the light - the switch is behind the fridge and when you leave, take this with you.”
She produced a small crumpled plastic bag and got up from her chair.
“My back is aching, every evening I massage it but it still aches.” she was rumbling on her way to the door, “OK, I’m gone.”
“Good night!” I replied a little delayed, looking at the plastic bag. As soon as Tabitha’s steps faded away, I opened it carefully and felt a small beam of light appearing in the middle of the dark clouds that hung over my heart; she left me a little chocolate bar.
“Thank you.” - I whispered to the empty kitchen. But only the ticking clock was a response.
An old wooden door attached to the rusty hinges worn out from the rain and wind was slowly creaking. The greyish borders of the bunk-beds were standing out from the darkness – a wide room contained no less than fifteen of them. Each bed was prepared for sleep but their owners didn’t seem to be in a hurry to meet Morpheus; they crowded together in a tight circle instead, surrounding the new girl who at this very moment kept tragic silence.
The oil-lamps were put out about an hour ago and the smell of tar had already disappeared through thin slits in the windows that were saving the women from the humidity.
“So what happened next?” a curious woman's voice broke the silence in the room.
“And next...” Jenny held an impressive pause first, and then she replied with fake sadness in her voice. “Then she betrayed us all - me and Robert. I managed to stay alive but he…”
An outraged sigh flew over the room. Jenny’s shoulders were convulsing as she was sobbing; in order to hide her dry eyes, she covered her hardly visible in the darkness face with her fingers, feeling how someone was tugging her shoulder gently and stroking her back, urging to calm down.
“Don’t cry, girl.” said an elderly woman with dark hair tightened with a scarf, sitting next to Jenny, “People are all different, don’t waste your tears on them.”
“You cannot imagine…” Jenny was enjoying her role of being the “victim” gleefully as well as the effect made on the others. “I helped her with a job! I brought her into that club! And that’s how she repaid me after everything!”
Bursting into crocodile tears, Jenny began sobbing again.
Here, in a faraway barracks on the outskirts of Tally, there were never any rumours amongst the berry pickers. Those who revelled in intrigues and forged the poisonous bogus rumours and repeating them behind people’s backs were not accepted in the team, and were quickly finding themselves outside the friendly circle, abandoned, and spat on. Therefore none of the women doubted the story of the new girl; they were just shaking their heads pitifully, feeling sorry for the tenderfoot. And how could you not feel sorry for her? Her fate didn’t exactly work out in her favour, and that new friendship - so fragile and precious, turned into one big betrayal.
“You go and get some fresh air.” Jenny was gently pushed by a neighbour in a headscarf. “You’ll feel better and we are all off to bed now, we have to get up early. And don’t worry, what goes around comes around and this Shereen will get what she deserves.”
The women nodded in agreement and began getting up from their seats.
Cuddling up in a thin t-shirt, Jenny ran outside onto the moonlit backyard and leaned against a rough wall of the barracks. Low bushes stood still waiting for a light gust of wind; the crickets that were so noisy just before, quieted down.
Jenny looked up at the moon and smiled.
Let those mugs believe everything! Who knows, maybe she could benefit from it later? And how come that that damned wretch has got a nice room in Hulk’s mansion while Jenny herself must bend backwards on berry fields? I bet she’s nice and warm in her own room. And she’s probably got a bathroom and air con if not a fireplace! Well, everything will change one day and there’ll come the time when Jenny will be sleeping in her own room and be busy trying to seduce the handsome owner of this ranch. Jenny even stopped shivering, imagining how Hulk would feed her some delicate pate from a spoon. Then she imagined her own kitchen, curtains with frills, crystal glassware, silver cutlery on the wooden tables, evenings on a leather couch in his office and trips to town to buy new clothes… That’s right! Her life is going to be a lot cushier than it ever was with greedy Roger! After one night spent together with Hulk, the way of increasing her salary will be easy to find. Of course, she will find it, since there were no men who’d be able to stand up to woman's legs being spread out even if these legs are fat.
That last thought made Jenny feel uncomfortable.
Suddenly she heard a sound of the footsteps coming from the road and started staring into darkness. Who on earth could this be?
In a split second she was blinded by a flashlight pointing directly at her eyes.
“Who are you? Why aren’t you inside?” she heard a harsh male’s voice.
Jenny realised that it must be the three security guys guarding the area and relaxed. Guards weren’t one of those workers from the plantation who would sometimes try their luck with one of the local beauties.
“I came out for a wee.”
“U-huh, that’s why you are just in a t-shirt.”
Jenny couldn’t see, but she could feel the lustful sticky glances on her bare legs as though these glances were groping and licking her flesh and wishing to pull her t-short up higher.
“Don’t you come outside for no reason anymore, we’ll be tempted by your nakedness.”
“I… I didn’t do this on purpose. Who knew you were going to come?”
“We come here every day at the same time, so if you are out here tomorrow, it will be regarded as an invitation.”
The men roared with laughter.
Jenny awkwardly shifted from foot to foot. Flashlight slipped to a side, highlighting the profile of one of the guards - a tall, broad-shouldered man with a club at his belt. The other two were standing in the shade. When the man took a cigarette and lit it up, Jenny had a moment to see his thin lips, frowning eyebrows, wide palms and short hair as well as a long scar across one of his cheeks. His behaviour was too confident, even arrogant for an ordinary guard.
Shaking from the cold, Jenny continued staring into his stern face and then it dawned on her - it must be that Greg – the senior guard who was often mentioned by the women in barracks. Of course! Who else would act with such superiority towards the others? And not many faces were mutilated by a scar like that…
Jenny felt it was her chance and she didn’t have the right to miss it - if she would get his attention, the way to Hulk’s mansion will paved in front of her. But how should she about it?
“So, you come here every day?” Jenny murmured with a smile. “Then I’ll be waiting for you with a cake and tea tomorrow.”
Someone snorted in the dark.
“You’re brave, aren’t ya?”
Yet again she felt their curious glances at her semi-naked body.
“Go to the barrack, you shouldn’t be outside.”
Jenny realised that the first dialog has come to an end and decided not to push her luck any longer; she turned around and, swaying her hips, and disappeared through the doorway. When the voices and footsteps outside faded away, she leaned against the rough wall, staring at the ceiling. The darkness was shielding her cold eyes, that were a reflection of her fast-working calculating mind, and an unpleasant smile stuck on her lips.
The next three days I remember very vaguely. The work was taking up all of my spare time; people at the ranch were getting up at dawn and going to bed after the sunset. The list of my duties included variety of things: spending time in the kitchen, in the yard, in the house or in utility rooms. I couldn’t occupy my mind with anything and most of the time it was filled with emptiness and apathy, the awareness of my slavery position was killing any desire to bother. By this point I finally realised that I won’t be able to see Linda or Alex or any of my other friends any time soon, and that I will remain on this ranch for a long time, quite possibly forever. There wasn’t any point in trying to create any meaningless hopes that someone will understand or support me; as Jenny has said once “you are always alone here” and she was right.
When Tabitha had a few minutes to spare, we chatted in the kitchen. I also acquired two towels, a soap bar, a clean but worn-out beige t-shirt and two pairs of knickers from her. I tried not to think of whom these belonged to before me - in any case I had no choice what to wear, everything that the Corporation provided me with was left in my apartment on Bell-Oak Park and nobody assisted me in getting it back.
Tabitha also showed me the way to the shower which was located at the back of the corridor, and now, every night before going to bed I could at least wash off a salty crust that would surface on my skin as soon as the merciless sun of Tally rose over the horizon. I still had a problem with my jeans - because of the thick layer of sweat and dirt I was barely able to bend my knees and since I didn’t have another pair I just had to suffer. My shoes were also deteriorating rapidly. Anyhow, I didn’t care about anything anymore – not about how I looked on the outside nor what there was left inside of me.
I didn’t look at the faces of other people and I didn’t listen to their conversations - my hands were doing the work automatically while I was putting every effort into keeping any thoughts away from my mind. It felt like I was on the edge of despair or if I began feeling pity for myself, I’d slip off the edge for good. The only safe place for me was in this unemotional bubble.
Everything that felt so natural to me in the past, like going to “Lorian's” café opposite my house in Klendon City, having afternoon tea with my shop assistants in the store (Linda would never forget to get some chocolate chip biscuits), watching the evening news, listening to a familiar ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece - all of that now dissolved in memory or lost its colour and was coated with dust like a soft toy long forgotten up in a loft. I couldn’t even remember Alex’s laughter or his smile as if someone cold-heartedly brushed it off with a wet sponge, mistaking it for a handful of dust.
There was no more shopping trips, no dreams about my own car or a second branch of my shop, no ice-cream before bedtime. Instead, there was yellowish-red landscape, hot sizzling air, shouting of the guards and sometimes woeful groans of the workers.
I would come back to my room when a tiny star appeared on the dark sky, hang the washed clothes on the only table in the corner, plait my wet hair and go to bed. After that I’d turn to the wall, pressing my forehead against the cold wall and listen to the rare footsteps in the corridor. When I wasn’t able to get rid of these pesky thoughts and stop my eyes from welling up, I would pull on my bristly, after using soap, hair or plucking feathers out of the skinny pillow. Sometimes I would wake up holding a whole bundle of feathers, squeezed in the palm of my hand. If this habit was to remain - I’d risk sleeping without any pillow at all.
Worst of all was that I couldn’t find any positive or even slightly comforting moments in my current situation. Walking across the ranch only intensified my depression; my mood was particularly affected by watching the faces of the field workers, marked by a stamp of submissiveness. Yes, I did understand that all of them were criminals and there were murderers and robbers, and rapists amongst them; however this city has got a strange ability to equate the severity of committed crimes and link people’s hearts with a chain of shared grief. The illusion of free life and the ability to travel outside my tiny prison cell was not helping to keep up with a good mood, but was rather corroding my mind. Everyone who came here, sooner or later would get the moment of realisation that the promised "Big City" with the opportunity to atone for their mistakes by the means of heavy labour, in fact turned out to be a rusty trap that would catch and swallow any foot that would step into it. Sitting in the dock, anyone would think that “Area 33” resembled a luscious birthday cake but in reality it was fly-spotted, dried up and cracked dusty old cake that even a stray cat wouldn’t dare to try. And after such a rude awakening not many of those who came to Tally would have the strength to carry on hoping for a good outcome. Many got so frustrated so they’d began harming themselves or the others, try to commit suicide or would get so deep in a negative points score that they would soon disappear into the oblivion. Some had the will to hold on for years, while others would prefer the death to this king of life after just a couple of hours spent on the streets of Tally.
That is why I no longer looked at the faces - not being able to help myself I couldn’t see how I could help them. Such situation was completely depriving me a life spark which could give me a hope or at least a good mood. I was coming back to my empty room in the evenings and leaving it in the morning with the only thought - to survive another day.
Strangely I was lucky enough not to meet Greg or any other guards that were with him by the kitchen that evening. Greg was the only person I intentionally and carefully avoided - my intuition told me that another meeting with him could end up badly.