Miss Renfield's Last Day

Mr. Durant turned to me and looked down at my face. I moved my eyes away to where his pocket square was tucked in a perfect four-point fold. The fabric was so stiff, it looked like it could draw blood if I touched it. I was usually only this close to Mr. Durant when I was putting on his coat, not taking it off. I didn't know what to do, so I held still.

Mr. Durant put his long fingers under my chin and gently raised my face to his. I felt myself breathing faster. I don't think Mr. Durant breathed at all, not unless he needed to say something. Mr. Durant was not wasteful like that. "You are pale..." he said, softly. From the corner of my eye, I could see his expression darken, slightly, in concern.

Miss Rigby keened in distressed agreement, shaking her bag of crunchy locusts again. Mr. Durant stroked his thumb along the edge of my jaw until I looked up into his troubled eyes. The blood rushed into my cheeks again. "There are the roses..." he chuckled, still holding my face tipped up to his.

"I... I just haven't been sleeping well lately, Sir. That is all. It won't interfere with my duties, I promise," I said, hoping he would let me stay and serve him.

"Yes... that sometimes happens when a thrall's term is ending," he said, still stroking my face with his thumb. "Serve at my morning meeting and then you will take some rest."

Miss Rigby cackled in delight, clapping her hands, "Yes, Master! Rest... she must rest. She will rest! Master's beloved pet will serve and then I will put her in my sleep drawer with the locusts and not let her out until—"

"Actually, I would rather she use the chaise in my office, Miss Rigby," Mr. Durant said, releasing my chin with a smile.

"Master is so gracious..." Miss Rigby said, reverently, before bowing low and returning to her desk. I felt embarrassed. A proper thrall does not need to rest from their duties.

I prepared for the morning meeting in the small kitchen next to the entryway. I placed a teapot, two cups with saucers, two tiny gold spoons (because silver was inhospitable), the usual sweeteners and anti-coagulants, along with an assortment of delicacies on a tray while Miss Rigby ushered Mr. Durant's guest into his office. Mr. Durant's guest did not want any mealworms, either. "Mr. Dashkoff is here to see you, Master," Miss Rigby announced.

"Adrian!" the guest's accented voice boomed, echoing throughout Mr. Durant's spacious office. Miss Rigby cringed and hissed quietly, holding the doors for me as I followed him with the tray. She disliked it when guests did not show the proper respect to Mr. Durant by using his first name.

"Nikolas," Mr. Durant replied, walking forward and allowing the man to clasp his hand. "You appear... decadently satisfied."

"No less than our kind deserve to be, my friend," Mr. Dashkoff said, sitting down in a chair next to the fireplace. Mr. Durant sat down opposite him and crossed his long legs, gesturing for me to place the tray on the table between them. "So... this is the one I have heard others speak of so much. What is your name, pet?" he asked me.

I quickly glanced at Mr. Durant to see if I was allowed to speak. His eyes were watching the fire, though, the flames making them look lit from within. "Eden... Eden Renfield, sir," I said quietly, the tray rattling a little as I set it down.

"Ah, Eden... the forbidden paradise," he said, his eyes moving over my back and bottom while I prepared his drink. "How long did they cry out and yearn to return to that garden of innocence with the sweet taste of sin still lingering in their mouths... what do you say, Adam?" he asked Mr. Durant.

I looked over, but Mr. Durant didn't respond. It was strange. He just looked away from Mr. Dashkoff and stared at the fire, his face looking like stone. Nervously, I cleared my throat. "Um, excuse me sir... Mr. Durant's first name is Adrian, not Adam. I call him Mr. Durant, though," I said quietly.

For some reason, Mr. Dashkoff burst out in loud laughter after I said that. "Of course, you are right, my dear, and unlike Adam, soon our Adrian thinks to charge through the guarded gates and reclaim his sheltered paradise, living happily ever after. Tell me, Eden, do you think if Adam and Eve could return to that paradise that they would have been happy there?"

I blinked. I felt myself becoming nervous. I shouldn't have corrected Mr. Durant's guest, in the first place, and now I was being asked a question. I looked to Mr. Durant again to see what I should do, but he didn't look at me. He was just staring at the fire, looking more upset.

Feeling lost, I tried to answer as best I could, "Forgive me, sir, I... I don't know who you are talking about. Those names seem familiar. I feel like I should know them, but... I think I've forgotten. They let us forget the things we do not need when we become thralls. It helps us to do our work."

Mr. Dashkoff chuckled when I said that. "And work makes you free... yes, pet? Nevermind my foolishness, I will answer on behalf of your stolen memories: no, they would not. They would not find happiness, because for them it would no longer be the same place. Eden was a paradise, not because of the place it was, but because the innocence the inhabitants enjoyed in it. Nothing can reclaim for us the joys of our innocence, so we have only to embrace the craven juiciness of our sin," he said, leaning back and smiling while he sipped his drink. "That is why I only trade in blood... let the innocent suffer through their short lives, I will enjoy my eternity of decadence. An ounce of your blood would fetch a fortune, my dear," he said, taking my hand and smelling my wrist. "Sweet enough to make a cursed man forget his broken heart."

That was when something strange happened to me. It felt like something bubbled up through my brain. Something that wasn't there before. It was something clear and sharp. "Have you considered consuming waste, instead?" I asked.

"I beg your pardon?" Nikolas said, sitting up in his chair and looking at me. Mr. Durant looked away from the fire and was looking at me curiously, now, too.

"I... I mean, if the chemical composition of blood sustains you for eternity, and the human body cycles blood, breaks it down, and disposes of it in our waste, perhaps you should consider seeing if the broken-down components of blood in our waste will sustain you. It might not provide you immortality, but at least it would not require another to lose their life so that you might have more of it," I said. Then I blinked, because the bubble in my brain popped and I didn't understand what I meant anymore.

Mr. Dashkoff was looking at me strangely, now. His eyes were big and he started making huffing noises. "What did your slave just say to me?" he said, standing up and clenching his hands.

Then, I heard Mr. Durant's rich voice chuckling, and he took my hand in his. "I believe she just told you to eat shit and die, Nikolas. No more than you deserve. Sit down. Forgive her, it's her last week and her training is wearing thin," he said. Then, he leaned forward and put his lips on my hand. I didn't understand why he did it, but his lips were so soft. I could have awake dreams all night just thinking about how his lips felt on my hand. "Come, let's get to business. Thank you, Eden. That will be all," he said, squeezing my hand.

I felt them watch me as I left the room and returned to my desk. I didn't really understand what had happened. My heart was beating fast and I felt very nervous. The sore spots on my body were aching even more, now, and I felt very, very tired. Being an Assistant Thrall was very confusing, sometimes. Then, I looked down on my desk to see that Miss Rigby had left five locusts on a doily for me. She really was the sweetest.

When their meeting was done, Mr. Durant walked with Mr. Dashkoff out of the office and I brought Mr. Dashkoff's coat to him. As I held his coat ready for him, he didn't put his arms in the sleeves right away. He just stood there looking at me with a smile that wasn't like Mr. Durant's smile. "Paradise before the fall..." he said, and then he reached up and stroked my cheek. I didn't like him touching me the way Mr. Durant did. "So soft," he said.

Then, he turned and talked to Mr. Durant while I helped him with his coat. "Let me breed her with my prize bull before her term, or extract some of her eggs, at least," he said, turning back to me and taking my hand in his. He didn't kiss it like Mr. Durant did. He pushed the sleeve of my blouse up and put his nose to my wrist and inhaled deeply. "If she smells like this now, can you imagine what—" he said, before he saw Mr. Durant's face and the other words didn't come out. Mr. Durant's eyes had gone all black, and there was no blue left around the black part. I liked his eyes better when they were blue. Then, it was quiet. Mr. Dashkoff just stood there holding my wrist to his lips while looking at Mr. Durant. I couldn't check his vest or collar or lapels at all, but I don't think Mr. Durant wanted me to do that for Mr. Dashkoff. Then, Mr. Dashkoff let go of my wrist and chuckled. "A man should be more careful with a fruit he wouldn't sell at any price, Adrian... it just makes the buyers more curious to taste the goods. You've already badly bruised this one, by the smell of it," he said. Then, Mr. Dashkoff took his hat and cane and walked to the elevators, still chuckling.

When meetings end and the people are happy and chuckling, Mr. Durant usually smiles and tells Miss Rigby and me that we did well. That didn't happen this time, though. As soon as the elevator doors closed, Mr. Durant stood very close to me and looked at me with those all-black eyes and said, "What did he mean when he said that you were bruised, Eden? What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me, sir. Everything is normal... p-perfectly acceptable..." I said, backing away from him until I bumped into my desk and stopped.

"Why did he say you were bruised? Why are you tired this morning? What's wrong?" he asked, looking very upset.

"I... I think my neighbor in the hive had a rough night, and it might have bumped me, sir. My back hurt in the morning, but it's normal and perfectly acceptable for a thrall to hurt sometimes, sir. There's... there's nothing wrong with me."

"A rough night? What are you talking about? Take off your blouse. Show me your back," he said, turning me to face my desk.

I began undoing the small buttons on my blouse, but I wasn't used to doing that because the hive usually dressed and undressed us. Mr. Durant seemed impatient, but then I felt a tug and the whole back of my blouse was gone. It was silent for a moment, but then Mr. Durant growled and Miss Rigby made a strange noise, like the one she made when the she woke up to discover that the Cleaning Thralls had vacuumed her candy dish full of ants empty. "Aiieeee!!! What did they do? What have they done? The Cleaning Thralls have damaged Master's pet! Curse them!" Miss Rigby screeched. "I will heal her, Master. Yes. Many good bugs. I will mash them into a paste. Do not worry—"

"Take Miss Renfield to my office and tend to her, there, Miss Rigby. Cancel the rest of my meetings today."

"Yes, Master. Master takes good care of his pet. Master will punish the Cleaning Thralls and flail them for their stupid, hateful destruction, yes."

"Sir, there is nothing wrong with me! I promise. I can do my duties very well! Please don't—"

"Miss Renfield, you will lie down in my office and stay there. That is your only duty until I return. Do you understand?" he asked.

"Yes, sir..." I said. I didn't like that Mr. Durant was so upset about me. The best I could do was assure him that I would be obedient.

"Where is Master going?" Miss Rigby asked, grabbing me by the back of my neck and marching me into Mr. Durant's office.

"I will return soon... I am going to HR," he replied. Upon hearing this, Miss Rigby howled in such hopeless despair that I didn't think any number of bugs would make her happy again.

*** *** ***

The dream began. The hive moved, as if my row was being lowered to the preparation floor. I waited for my tubes to release, but they never did. Then, I heard the voices... the hungry ones. "She was somewhere around here... fuck, they all look the same when they're like this," the low voice said.

"What does it matter? A date's a date. Hurry up. Pick one and get in," the nervous whispery voice said.

"Because she's beautiful, sweet... exquisite. The word is, Durant is going to make her his companion when she's done here. Who wouldn't like a taste of the top floor? Watching him parade her around at functions, knowing you had a night with her? This isn't just sex... this is conquest. I think this is it... yeah, this is the row. Quick, help me in. It will start cycling again and we may never get her back."

The hive stopped. I was very close to the voices, now. Then, I heard tubes release, but they weren't mine. Then, my neighbor moaned pleasurably. It was probably her waste tube sliding out. She was so lucky.

Then, the wall I shared with my neighbor's slot pushed hard against me, shoving me forward against the other side of my slot. My neighbor's slot felt tight, stuffed, almost like they had put two thralls into one slot, but that seemed silly. Why would two thralls share a slot? Then, the movement in my neighbor's slot stopped and I heard the low voice curse. "Pull me out, it's not her."

"What?" the whispery voice asked.

Then, the hive began moving again. "Pull me out, you idiot! I'm not going through another cycle in here!"

"Wait! Shit! I'll get you out when it comes around again. Hang in there!" the whispery voice called, sounding further away, now.

"Well, that's just great," the low voice said. "Looks like you're my date for tonight, cunt," the low voice said, then I felt a hard shove. "Uhhhh, fuck, that's tight... not like a ST... they're so used, you could drive a truck through most of them..." I heard my neighbor moan in her sleep, but not like when the waste tube came out. This moan was scared, like she was having a bad dream and was trying to wake up. I put my hand down and touched hers through the wall membrane, now stretched thin.

The membrane against my back began to jerk rhythmically, and the low voice made noises with each jerk. "Unh... unh... unh... unh... yeah... unh... fuck! Hold still, cunt," the low voice hissed, then I heard a harsh noise, and the wall crashed hard against me. The jerking continued, pushing at my body with each movement, growing faster and more rough.

My neighbor's hand was clenched in a fist, her muffled moaning sounding strangled, now. "I told you to stop fighting it. If I slip out one more time before I'm done—" the low voice stopped when neighbor's hand moved quickly, making the low voice grunt in pain. Then it was quiet. Sometimes quiet feels good, and sometimes it's just quiet. This quiet was different. I didn't like this quiet.

Then, it was like something exploded, and there were lots of harsh noises, and the membrane wall crashed against my back again and again. The low voice seemed happier, though, and was grunting and almost howling with savage joy, even when my neighbor gave an unhappy scared gurgle. I touched her hand through the membrane wall and she tried to grab on to mine, but the wall was too slippery and too tight. Then, there was a crunching sound and my neighbor's hand relaxed like she wasn't scared anymore. I was happy for her. Nobody likes to be scared. I turned to look at her and smile, but the membrane wall was dark and not as clear as it usually was.

I felt the hive begin to slow down and come to a stop again. The wall I shared with my neighbor began to push on me again as the low voice one seemed to be moving around and getting ready to go out onto the hive floor again. His hand wiped some of the dark stuff off the wall and then I saw his face, fuzzy and indistinct through the membrane. He saw me, too.

"Well, there you are. Found you, pretty... guess I'll see you tomorrow night," he said, stroking his fingers on the wall and smearing dark stuff down it again. Then, he slid out of my neighbor's slot, and the hive began moving again. I started falling asleep again after that. I guess I would be having a visitor. That wasn't normal, but sometimes everything changes and the thralls that survive need to adapt to having new duties and having new people over them. That was what the Corporation called that a re-org. Re-orgs were normal. They were perfectly acceptable. There was definitely nothing wrong with this, and there was nothing wrong with me.

*** *** ***

When I woke up from the dream, I was lying on the chaise in Mr. Durant's office. His coat was draped over me like a blanket, which was good because the back of my blouse was still ripped away and it was a little cold.

"No, I'm telling you someone was murdered! She's was just dreaming about it, now, and from what the hive workers say, the thrall right next to her was dead this morning!" Mr. Durant's voice shouted. I had never heard him shout before.

"Well, I can see how you would feel very strongly about that, Mr. Durant, but I assure you we have received no actionable complaints on the matter," a cheerful female voice said. I sat up and saw an HR Witch standing with Mr. Durant at the window.

Mr. Durant turned toward me and sighed in relief, "Eden, are you any better? How are you feeling?" he said, walking to me and putting his hand on my shoulder.

"I feel all right, sir," I said. "My mouth... tastes like bugs..."

Mr. Durant ran his hand over his face and shook his head, "Yes, I suspect Miss Rigby has been trying to be helpful again," he said, looking like he felt bad about it. I don't think Mr. Durant liked eating bugs either.

The HR Witch cleared her throat primly and motioned to my torn blouse, "Miss Renfield, our workplace dress standards do not permit alteration of a thrall's work uniform," she said through a smile. Her eyes sparkled like the beetles Miss Rigby put out in her candy dish at New Year's.

Mr. Durant put his jacket over my shoulders to cover me. "Miss Rigby did that, for God's sake. Eden... Miss Renfield... was hurt when the one next to her was attacked. I asked to see her bruises and—"

"Mr. Durant, this is very serious..." the HR Witch said, looking very concerned through her bright smile. I don't know how she did that. "We will have to take action immediately," she said nodding and smiling vigorously.

"That's what I've been trying to say! We have to—"

The HR Witch shook her head and began tapping on a screen in front of her, "I will have Miss Rigby terminated, sir. Disrobing subordinates is explicitly against the code of conduct and creates a hostile—"

"What? No! The murder! Do something about the murder!" Mr. Durant yelled.

"Mr. Durant, I can see you feel very strongly about this, but I assure you there couldn't have been a murder. We have received absolutely no actionable complaints about the matter."

"And what the hell would be an actionable complaint? Is the woman with the crushed skull supposed to get up, walk up to HR and—"

"Sir, you're being facetious. You know very well that we have an anonymous ethics hotline for thralls to report any untoward behaviors," she said. "I assure you, if such a thing had happened, we would hear about it and take decisive action, once we determined that the Corporation would not incur any risk or liability or inconvenience for doing so. Miss Renfield, did you file a complaint?"

"I could file a complaint?" I asked.

"Of course, you could! Thralls are encouraged to report all untoward behaviors to the anonymous ethics hotline and any retaliation for doing so is absolutely prohibited. Surely you remember that from your training?" the HR Witch said, in a voice that seemed like only a very not normal and not acceptable thrall would not remember their training.