Page 15 of Volunteer 4711

VOLUNTEER 4711

I begin takingthe sheets off the Commander’s large bed when a picture of me catches my eye. It’s on his small computer next to his bed. I can’t read the words surrounding my picture, but it’s there. It’s the one the AI took of me after they put the tattoo for ‘volunteer’ on my face. I look at the screen and assume it must be a newspaper article, my file, or something. I wish I could read it. I touch the screen, and the whole thing goes black, and a scary warning appears. Flashing green. I want to get it off, but I don’t know how. I am beginning to panic. What have I done? Will I be punished for this?

Then the male who led me off the transport yesterday enters the commander’s quarters. He’s angry and asks, “What have you done? What are you touching that? You shouldn’t be touching any of the Commander’s computers without his permission?”

I point to the bedside computer and to the sheets. “My hand accidentally….” I don’t know the word for ‘slipped’ in the Silver language.

He seems to take my word for it because he turns the alarm off and leaves without another word. I make a mental note never to touch computers that are not my own again. I take the rest of the sheets off the Commander’s bed, pick up his pajamas, and then leave towards the servants’ areas where the laundry room is.

I spend my day washing the Commander’s things and learning the Silver language. I eat by myself and will be happy when I learn enough to order something different than oatmeal and juice. But beggars can’t be choosers, and I’m getting more food with having to do less work, and once I can name other foods, I will be able to have them. I don’t think there was anything but oatmeal for me at the farm.

Yes, if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll die old and alone just looking after the Commander, and my biggest achievement in life will have been that I ordered something other than oatmeal from the food machine. Still, considering what life was like on that farm, this is a far better future, and I’m embracing it with everything I have.

By the evening, when the Commander buzzes for me, I’m happy to be at his door. We follow the same protocol as the night before, but this time as I’m sorting his pins, he asks me, “Volunteer 4711, are the other servants kind to you?”

I’m surprised by his question; I stop and turn to look at him. “They are kind.”

“Good,” was all he replies, and when I have his uniform in my arms, he dismisses me.

* * *

Every day is the same. I rise early and attend to the Commander, then I do the laundry and study the Silver language. Now that I know so many more words and have an interactive teacher to practice with, it’s easier for me to respond to other Silver servants, everyone is a Silver on the ship except for me. I realize that even though there are lots of aliens on their Home Planet, Silvers rarely allow aliens into the upper echelons of their society, and even servants on ships are considered far above farm hands.

The old female, who first helped me, is still the nicest of all the servants and never hesitates to answer my questions with patience and sympathy.

“Thank you for being so kind,” I say.

“I have a daughter about your age, and it’d hurt me to see you struggle unnecessarily,” she replies.

“What does your daughter do?”

“She is with a male on a different ship,” the older female replies with a frown.

“I’m sorry she’s not with you.” I put my hand on the female’s silvery skin to comfort her, and she puts her hand over mine, and I realize this is the first person I’ve really touched besides the Commander, and it feels so good to have a connection. Tears well up in my eyes.

The old female pulls me closer to her for an embrace, and I can’t help myself. I feel safe enough now to really cry. I cry for everything that has ever happened to me since I became Volunteer 4711. I imagine that many of the other humans I came over with have probably had it a lot worse than I have, but it doesn’t mean that I’m not allowed to cry for what I have lost. I cry and cry. I ugly cry. I know I’m being ridiculous, but it feels so good to be held by someone who has been kind to me and who means me no harm.

The older female rubs my back. “You’ve landed well here. Your life will be one of service as long as you make few mistakes. You will be fine. You have any questions you ask me. I will tell you everything, and I will keep you safe.”

She repeats this a few times, and I keep crying. Finally, when I’ve no more tears left, I wipe my raw eyes and look into her big blue ones, which are a little teary as well. “Thank you.” I notice her shirt is wet with my tears. I try to wipe the wetness away. “I’m so sorry, let me wash those for you. You don’t want alien tears on you.”

The older female puts her hands on my shoulders which I know for Silvers is a sign of true friendship or connection, and says, “Volunteer 4711, you can cry your alien tears on my shoulder whenever you need to. It felt good to do some mothering to someone who needs me. Go now and get to your duties before you annoy the Commander.”

I smile and then leave the laundry room.

In the evening, the Commander buzzes me, and I go as usual. I enter his room, and he stops me before I start undressing him.

“What’s happened to your eyes?”

I look up into his sharp cobalt eyes. “What do you mean?” I don’t want to admit I just had a breakdown.

“Your eyes,” he brings one of his strong fingers to my temple. “They are red.”

“I was crying, but it’s not important.”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“No. I was sad. But I’m not sad now.”

---