Jasmine and the Argonaut Pt. 01

Part 1: Love in Dangerous Waters

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Chapter 1: The next step

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The domed city of Argon is a marvel of engineering created in the dying days of the old regimes. Uninterrupted wars; the plundering of rapidly diminishing resources; and extreme weather events, had reduced most of the planet's population to little more than scavengers and refugees, dependent on the largesse of the privileged few who controlled most of the Earth's remaining wealth and resources. The ideas of democracy and freedom had been swept away by the unstoppable return of the medieval concept of feudalism. The wealthy elite became the new aristocracy, while the bulk of the population were reduced to modern day serfs; indentured to their local overlord from cradle to grave.

History doesn't record exactly when the planet's ruling elites decided to create huge domed cities like Argon. Possibly the domed cities simply evolved as the ravages of war, and the uncontrollable elements, destroyed wide swathes of land. Floods and wild fires herded those with the wealth and ability to move into defensible towns and cities. Those who lacked the means were abandoned to their fate. Hundreds of millions died. Taxes were directed solely towards protecting the new centres of population. Many old and famous towns and cities were left to the elements, or to the marauding armies who lived off the misery of others. Within a few decades, there was little trace of the old world. Even the rogue armies finally disbanded when it became too difficult to find food and supplies to service their rapacious needs.

We're told that Argon is typical of the domed cities scattered around what is left of the inhabited world. Argon's large central city houses about eighty thousand people. Access to the domed part of the city is strictly controlled, and no serf is allowed into the central city without a special permit. To live inside the domed centre requires wealth far beyond most people's imagination. No city citizen ever dirties their hands doing menial tasks. Consequently, in order to service the needs of the new elite, nearly two hundred thousand people commute daily into the city from one of sixteen outer settlements. Most of the commuters are serfs who have purchased short term freedom from their settlement overlord. The commuting workforce provide all the essential services that keep the city operating from day to day. Labourers and house servants are in great demand, along with those who provide personal services ranging from hairdressing to sexual services.

Despite the strict rules that control our lives, we are generally a happy population, or so I am lead to believe. Our rulers constantly remind us that these days we have a steady supply of food, and that most settlements now boast their own medical centre, albeit with unqualified medics and very few drugs or medicines. New laws limiting a serf's work hours to only sixty hours a week mean that we have more leisure time. None of this existed until as recently as eight years ago. I can remember the days when my family went without meals, and my parents' reliance on dubious folklore remedies for dealing with ailments.

The strictures of modern day serfdom prohibit those living in the settlements from obtaining jobs in the central city without compensation for 'loss of future labour' being paid to their local overlord. For young people, where 'future labour' may represent forty or more years of service, the cost of compensation for a lifetime of freedom is well beyond the means of a young serf. Many must opt for purchasing their freedom for a limited time in the rarely-achieved hope of earning enough in the city to purchase an extension of time.

Those seeking permanent freedom usually take an indirect route towards achieving their goal. One such route is to undergo one of the quarterly assessments and authentication conducted by the Bureau of Ancillary Services. The Bureau's authentication process ensures that the never-ending demands for young workers in the city are satisfied. Success in the Argonaut, as the assessment and authentication process is commonly called, means freedom from serfdom; although that freedom invariably comes at the price of a large debt to be repaid. The Bureau will lend the successful serf the amount of compensation due to the serf's overlord, enabling a city work permit to be issued. However, even attending one of the quarterly assessments can be a costly affair. Firstly the serf must compensate his or her overlord for the three days absence from work, and secondly the serf is required to cover the cost of accommodation for the duration of assessment.

Argon's settlements are named after American presidents and European royal houses, reflecting the origins of most of the city's population. Governance of Argon, and hence its settlements, is by a military junta who appoint all the administration and military officers, including each settlement's leader. The junta also creates and enforces the laws which control our daily life. Anybody who voices dissent against the junta's reign is rapidly and severely punished without any right to a trial. Even those living in the city are careful about what they say. Rumours says that the worst offenders are executed, but none of our heavily censored news-feeds make reference to anyone suffering that fate. Minor offences usually result in longer work hours, or the loss of access to the few recreational facilities.

But enough about my world, it is time to tell you of my place in it. My name is Jasmine, and Buchanan settlement has been my home for all of my nineteen years. I've worked in one of the local recycling plants ever since I left school at eight years old. For a decade I have had a dream of buying my freedom so that I can work inside Argon's central city. Now I have a chance. I am one of those who will be assessed at the next Argonaut, thanks to an anonymous benefactor who has sponsored my application.

For better or worse, I have chosen my next step. My arrival at the old boarding school that houses the Bureau of Ancillary Services assessment centre is the gateway to my future.

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Chapter 2: The lacy nightie.

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It's nearly midnight and I can't get to sleep. The first session of the Argonaut starts in nine hours. I still can't get over my sponsor's generous offer that has allowed me to attend. I realise that the very late arrival of the sponsor's offer confirms that I'm a last minute substitute. Given my father's blemished political record, I suspect my anonymous sponsor is scraping the bottom of the barrel in choosing me. But he or she did, and that has enabled me to be here at the old boarding school which serves as the headquarters of the Bureau of Ancillary Services. The original school closed decades ago when Argon's junta decided to close the last remaining links with the decaying towns and cities beyond the borders of Argon's self-proclaimed territory, effectively isolating us from the world. There was no need for schools with boarding facilities after that.

Every three months, Argon's Bureau of Ancillary Services accepts the applications of exactly fifty settlement adults between the ages of eighteen and twenty-seven. Successful applicants become contestants in the Argonaut, which consists of a series of interviews and tests supervised by an assessment panel. Some of the interviews are broadcast on the news-feeds throughout Argon and its settlements, with the intention of attracting future employers for the hopeful contestants should they secure a city work permit. The number of permits available each quarter is a closely guarded secret. Consequently, passing all the tests doesn't automatically result in a contestant being granted a permit. And obtaining a permit doesn't guarantee a good job. Not all city jobs are better than those in the settlements, but that doesn't stop the competitiveness for the permits. That competitiveness often includes a range of sabotage and underhand tricks targeting the weaker contestants.

These days the Argonaut doesn't automatically favour the handful of contestants who have served a ten-year term in the military, and who are now into their twenties. The leaders of some settlements still prefer the old tradition of favouring the applications of those who have served in the military. Former soldiers are often trained to do well in the Argonaut's tests. A contestant's success can give a boost to their own settlement's ranking in the eyes of the junta. A ranking that determines the priority given to the funding of a settlement's civic improvements.

It's no secret which contestants were formerly in the military. Knowledge of their status is intended to intimidate the other contestants. Their names and reputations are etched in every other contestant's mind; Paulo and Chloe from Eisenhower, Heidi from Grant, and Mansel from Bourbon. All contestants have the support of volunteer helpers who do everything from offering advice to helping solve minor problems. These helpers are an eclectic selection of oddballs and do-gooders from among the city's bored residents. Not all of them are model Argon citizens, and three of the female contestants have already complained about being groped by one of the helpers.

I give up trying to sleep, and I decide to take a walk around the old school building housing the fifty contestants for the current Argonaut. I slip my short dressing gown over my even shorter nightie. Normally I sleep naked, but I had the sense to borrow a nightie and gown from my twelve-year-old sister. I'm not a blushing maiden, but sleeping naked in a mixed gender dormitory is asking for trouble.

The eight dormitories are designed to accommodate six people in each. Seven are single-sex dormitories. However, the late applicants, like me, must put up with eight of us crammed into the room, which now houses three male and five female contestants. Everywhere is quiet as I head towards the communal dining area. Everyone else must have had no trouble in falling asleep. In Harper's case that probably has more to do with the quantity of alcohol he consumed during the evening meal, since he's asleep on the dining room floor. Suddenly a movement catches my eye. I duck behind a door in case it is Patrick. He also comes from Buchanan, and he's the closest person I have to a friend in this place. I'm not certain I want him seeing me dressed like this. I watch the figure at the other end of the dormitory for a few moments before realising it is one of the robots that clean up after us. They try to be invisible, hovering just out of sight unless one is needed to clean up after us. The robot is using our absence to finish clearing away the empty glasses and plates from our evening meal.

The robot leaves the room through a side door. It dawns on me that there must be a service corridor somewhere in this rambling jumble of rooms to enable the robots to come and go. The main door to this wing of the old school is locked and monitored at this time of night. The sophisticated sensors provide security against intruders, and ensure the contestants don't do anything underhand before the assessment begins. I feel the urge to explore.

I go through the door the robot used and find myself in a corridor with a relatively new door at the far end. Undoubtedly the robot is going to the kitchen and I follow it at a discreet distance. I follow the robot through the end door and I see that it opens onto a corridor crossing at right angles to the one I've just travelled. More doors are visible along the corridor, but I notice that each has one of the security pads used to unlock the door. My adventure is going to be short lived if all of the doors need a security code to operate them. I head in the opposite direction to the kitchens and try one of the doors at the end of the corridor. It's unlocked. A set of rickety wooden stairs are on the other side of the door and I descend to the level where the recreation and practise rooms are located. The door at the bottom of the stairs opens and I tentatively peek out in case anyone is around. Everything seems quiet.

I'm now in the main corridor on this level, not far from where the main stairs are located. I know my way to the recreation rooms, but not what lies behind the many other doors branching off the main corridor.

The lack of security guards concerns me for a moment before I recall that everywhere is monitored by cameras. My little adventure is probably already being observed by the security guards in a control room somewhere. Any minute now I can expect to hear the sound of stomping feet and being faced with a squad of burly guards wanting to know what I'm doing. My best plan is to ignore the cameras and just walk as though I've every right to be here. Sneaking about will just raise suspicion that I'm up to no good. Fortunately my dressing gown is a similar colour to the robots, so an inattentive guard may mistake me for a robot.

I walk along the corridor not daring to breath in case I trigger an alarm, or my actions make the security guards decide to investigate. I haven't thought about where I'm going other than I don't really want to go into the games rooms. A door off the main corridor is ajar and on impulse I go through it into another short corridor with a door at the end. This part of the building is much newer than the area behind me. There's plenty of light streaming through the window in the door. The lighting has been dimmed everywhere else, but the room on the other side of this door is fully lit.

The window in the door is misted, and the smell of chemicals makes me think that it's a laundry. I open the door and peek inside. Not a laundry. It's a large swimming pool. Much larger than anything Buchanan settlement can boast. The room is warm and the water looks inviting. At least to someone like me who can swim. I walk around the pool to check that nobody is about. I come across some racks with towels but there are no swimming costumes. Nobody said to bring a swimming costume, so I must either forgo a swim, or swim naked.

The water looks enticing, but I'm also aware that the pool, like everywhere else, will be monitored by cameras. I can see at least three cameras around the walls. What I can't understand is why I've not been accosted by security guards. Even the dopiest guard must surely have realised by now that I'm not a robot. But I push my concerns about that to one side and prepare to enter the water. I slip off my dressing gown and dive into the water wearing my short nightie. I'm not brash enough to strip myself naked in front of whoever is monitoring the cameras. That's something I quickly regret. The way my wet nightie is clinging to me I can see that I'm leaving very little to the imagination.

I swim a couple of lengths of the pool before I realise that I have company. Someone else has entered the water. I make a sudden cry of alarm. Who is it? I'm in two minds whether to leave the water and make a hasty exit, or to stand my ground. The daunting prospect of running around the corridors wearing nothing but a wet translucent nightie settles my dilemma. I turn to face whoever is here with me.

The swimmer heads in my direction. As the distance between us shortens I realise the swimmer is male and that he has no clothes on. Suddenly running around the complex in a wet nightie doesn't seem such a silly idea any more. My indecision causes me to waste my only chance of leaving the pool without confronting him.

The swimmer comes directly for me. He stops a few metres from me and treads water.

"I didn't think any of the other contestants knew about this place, nor be brave enough to take a midnight swim," he says.

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Chapter 3: Swimming with a naked girl.

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"We don't need to fight," replies Paulo. "There's time for that soon enough. I intend to enjoy my swim and then go to bed. I suggest you do the same. Or can't you sleep? You wouldn't be the first contestant to be nervous and suffer sleepless nights before the Argonaut."

"I'm not nervous," I say defiantly, mostly for my own benefit. "I just can't get used to sleeping on a soft bed."

"Yeah, whatever," he replies dismissively. "Well, in that case, you can race me to the other end of the pool and back."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because it's fun and I don't often get the chance to swim with a naked girl. Are you normally so argumentative?"

"I'm not naked. And I'm not arguing. I'm being... um... curious."

"Ha! You may as well be naked for all that is hidden by that flimsy thing you are wearing. You have a nice body. You shouldn't be afraid to let people see it."

Paulo's comments immediately cause me to feel awkward. He's a rival and ex-military, so he's a serious threat to my chances during the Argonaut. But my traitorous body would be happy to yield to his desires. I mustn't let him see how much his comment has disturbed me, so I move into position for the race that he wants.

"Are you ready? Go!" I call as I launch myself off in the direction of the far end.

"Hey! Cheat!" he calls before taking off after me.

I've never tried swimming in a race, but I soon see Paulo's point. It is fun. I'm almost reach the far end before Paulo manages to draw close to me. He's a strong swimmer but doesn't have the elegant style that my father drummed into me. We turn only seconds apart and I try to increase my speed on the return leg. Half way down the pool I realise that Paulo's strength is starting to tell, and that I'm struggling to keep my lead. Moments later we are level and I draw on my last reserves to regain the lead. We reach the end of the pool neck and neck. I don't think either of us can tell who touched the end first.

We are both breathing heavily as we climb out of the pool and collapse on the floor. It is only then that I realise that we are virtually touching. I'm lying next to naked young man. That's something I've only ever done in my wildest fantasies. My limited sexual experiences to date have involved remarkably little nudity. Fortunately Paulo seems too preoccupied in regaining his breath to notice my discomfort. I should move away before he recovers, but something inside me makes me stay where I am.

"Is that the best your settlement's wonderful training regime can teach you?" I say.

"Swimming isn't an essential skill, even in the military. The Argonaut tests rarely require the need to swim beyond having sufficient skill to avoid drowning. Where did you learn to swim like that? I didn't think there would be much call for swimming in the industrial settlements."

"There isn't, but my parents always hoped I would gain a permit to work in the city. It's impossible to know what skills might be required if I land a job in the city. I suppose my father thought it useful for me to learn to swim well."

Paulo turns towards me. As hard as I try not to look below his waist, my eyes are drawn like a magnet. I notice he is looking at me in a way that makes me both excited and uncomfortable. I look into his eyes and immediately sink into their depths. I don't even notice when he moves closer so our bodies are actually touching. The kiss that follows seems so natural my body responds by itself.

"We shouldn't be doing this," I say with half-hearted sincerity when we break for air.

"Why not?" is his reply.

"Because we are rivals. We will be expected to try and outsmart each other tomorrow."

"And does doing this make any difference? This is now. The assessments are later."

"I don't know if I can separate the two."

"Not all contestants are selfish machines. Chloe may fit the classic win-at-all-costs profile, but unlike her I don't enjoy sabotaging another contestant's chances."