My earliest memory is waking on a cold black floor, naked and sore. Soaking wet and freezing. I’ll equate my age to three or four on Earth. Voices nearby argued vehemently and echoed down the metal hallway. A woman with red feathers scolded a yellow-feathered subordinate. I feigned sleeping a while longer to listen. To hide.
“But Executive Warden, the nacre resistant barriers cannot contain the boy. How should we—”
“Find a way! Suppose we lose one of Gait’s most lucrative assets? What do you think would happen to our privileges?” The Executive Warden gestured at me. “Not even old enough for the engagements, and still all of Infernus block reserved him for the next seven years.”
The subordinate winced before attempting a second defense. “The snow. He responds strongly to it. Perhaps we let him out a little each day. It might temper his night walks.”
As a child, I craved the snow.
Snow. Without knowing my home, the smell of snow reminded me of it. Heh. If I sound bitter, it’s only because of how much recent events have made sense of my past. Thailea is buried in perpetual winter. Spring comes but one day each year. Never the same day.
A puddle formed around me as my muscles contracted for warmth. The chill dripped from my long hair to my aching feet. I made the mistake of sniffling. Loudly.
The red-feathered woman knelt and put her face in mine. “Eavesdropping is rude, child.” Gently, she pressed the back of her hand to my brow. “Oleen, fetch a blanket. The softest one. And something warm to drink. Maybe some meat. Would you like that, Korac?”
My stomach growled an answer for me, twisting and hurting from my constant starvation. I wasn’t permitted to meet the Executive Warden’s eyes. I nodded and coughed through a parched throat. “Please.”
After Oleen left us alone, the remaining Lyrik tucked me against her side. Freezing, I clung to the warmth. Combing her fingers through my hair, she chided, “You went outside again. You know better than to wander out there without an adult to watch you.”
I nodded without answering. It was always safer that way. When Oleen returned, the Executive Warden wrapped me in a blanket and gave me a dish of hot liquid. It warmed my freezing fingers. I remembered it smelled of flowers. Dismissed, Oleen left.
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Time passed with me in the Executive Warden’s arms. A moment of merciful peace. But I knew it was temporary.
All too soon, she stood and snatched the warm dish from me. “You risk my position with administration. Slaves escaping regularly? Does that recommend me as an effective warden?”
Nothing from me. She preferred it that way.
“As our highest awaited debut, I grant you certain amenities.”
I was naked and sore. Cold and tired. I couldn’t fathom what privileges she claimed I entertained.
Still, the Executive Warden continued while stripping me of the blanket and its subsequent warmth. “We will allow you one walk in the yard each day, if you agree to sign the bypass consenting to starting your engagements earlier in your life than legally allowed.”
I knew I heard of these engagements in whispers and mutters around me. I dimly recalled her parading me to every cell in the prison where the inmates offered so many favors for said appointments. But this was my earliest cognitive recollection. I needed to know.
Breaking etiquette, I dared ask, “Executive Warden, what am I consenting to?” I kept my eyes low as not to upset her.
She glared at me for a moment before offering an honest answer. “Whatever they want from you, you give them. Your destiny as a slave is to serve. And we take care of our prisoners here.” Less harshly, she assured, “The earlier you consent, the sooner you can walk outside in the yard. I’ll even escort you myself and supervise your beginning engagements.”
Outside.
With the snow. I loved the crisp smell of it as it crunched in my fists. How the sun reflected off of it. I hardly saw it in the daytime. So I snuck out at night to see it under a moonless sky. With this accord, I would see it daily. Play in forgiving drifts of its shocking and wonderful purity.
“Yes, Executive Warden.”
Her wicked grin frightened me. “Delightful, Korac. Your keeper will appreciate this immensely. We begin tomorrow.”
I thought she meant a caseworker or a slave driver. I never imagined she reported to a relative. Let alone…
[SS]: Korac drifts off a bit. It’s been a lot to process over the last few months. After a moment, he finally blinks away whatever he saw in his head. I offer him a juice box. He trades it for a kiss. We return to the long night ahead of us. Maybe a few days, even.
Sprite, you know by now blood isn’t what makes a family. It’s the blood and tears you shed together. In my early years on Gait, I’d yet to find my people.
After a brief glimpse, Kyle once told Sagan my memory was a wasteland of trauma the size of Enki. I laughed when she told me. Kyle witnessed firsthand the fog blanketing my memory scape. It’s my doing. I don’t want to remember, but try as I might, I can’t completely forget. I’ll spare you most of the details.
Gait indulged pedophiles, and I was a victim to their whims.