Page 1 of Volunteer 4711

CHAPTER1

VOLUNTEER 4711

I’m finishedwith being afraid. I take off the ridiculous cloth covering my head to get my bearings. I’m surrounded by shaking purple fabric; it’s the other women who’ve been taken, sobbing uncontrollably on every side of me. We are the price Earth has paid so that all of humanity won’t be enslaved. Or that’s what we were told anyway. But what do I know? I’m a nobody. I don’t even know anyone who’s a somebody. That’s probably how I ended up on this alien ship in a cargo hold with a couple of hundred other young human women. None of us come from a decent background who might have known someone to keep us from becoming volunteers; moving to an alien planet, and do only-god-knows-what? But I do have a clue; of course, we all do. That’s why these women are crying around me. We’ve seen the worst of human men and now we’re scared to death to see the worst of alien men.

Phew, deep breath. I’m hungover. Last night I drank with my best friend until I couldn’t drink anymore, hoping tequila would wash away this nightmare. Spoiler alert, it didn’t. This morning as we said our ‘goodbyes,’ I cried like a baby in her arms. I knew that that would be the last time I’d ever see her and the last time I would breathe in Earth’s air.

I cried for all that I never had on Earth and for the misery of leaving it for the unknown.

We “volunteered,” you see, which meant that a group of quasi-military men busted into my house three nights ago, woke me up with their guns pointed at my head, and then had a grubby doctor insert an alien tracking device in my arm and tattoo my face with an alien sign on my left cheek. Both hurt like a mother fucker. But what could I do? I could do nothing. I never signed up to be a volunteer. But as the police condescendingly told me when I tried to report it, I had no proof that I didn’t sign up.

So, I had 48 hours to say my ‘goodbyes’ to Earth, humanity, and a few friends.

My last hours consisted of drinking and crying. I drank so much that I thought tequila might do me in. But I didn’t die. I was right where I was supposed to be when the AI arrived from the alien planet in a spaceship to take us back from where it had come.

As volunteers, we were lined up in the cold outside on the airstrip. We were stripped of our clothing and stood there naked and shivering before our families and friends before we were made to wear matching purple tunics and trousers. We were also given purple veils, which most of us originally tied around our necks because we assumed they were scarves. Then the AI rudely pushed us onto a starship as they let all our other belongings drift in the wind and scatter on the runway.

That was hours or days ago. I don’t even know. I think there’s something in this cargo hold that keeps us halfway unconscious. Whenever I wake up, I’m not awake for long.

There are just blankets on the cold floor and a simple toilet for us all to share in the corner. The only water is in strange bags, and we’re told food will be given to us when we need it, although, as far as I know, no one has asked for or received food.

* * *

I think I slept an entire day or maybe two, only waking up in bouts to drink water out of the strange bags. Not surprisingly, the women around me are somber now, resolute, like me. I can only hear the occasional whisper telling someone to move a foot or an arm as we are all on top of one another in the cargo hold. None of us have words for the situation we find ourselves in now. It’s too terrible to think about and too awful to even hypothesize what will happen. This is what real fear looks like. I close my eyes again, even though I don’t think I’m tired.

Plain and tasteless food is served to us in bowls by an AI. I eat it with my hands because I’m hungry, and we aren’t given utensils. All I can think is that this doesn’t bode well for our new alien hosts. None of this does.

I watch the AI hand out the food, and I’m not surprised that they have sent AI to get us or that we are in a cargo hold. Other civilizations in the galaxy laughed at humanity when we were still sending humans into space instead of much more efficient AI. To me, that says a lot about these aliens, too. Do they lack any courage or curiosity to explore for themselves? In my worst thoughts, I imagine them all being overweight and unable to move, sending AI out to do all their bidding, and then chaining up women like me to do their bidding at home too.

* * *

We have traveled for days or possibly even a week without being able to bathe. I smell nothing, but I’m sure we have a vile human stench to us. The AI have notified us that will be arriving soon. But there’s nothing to prepare as we weren’t allowed to bring anything from Earth, only the jewelry on our person at the time of departure. So, I’m not even sure why they told us. Maybe we should be preparing to run or defend ourselves. I don’t know. But I’m not going to say anything. Neither do the other women. I feel like we are all just waiting to see what happens next then we will react.

Unfortunately, we cannot see the planet as we land. There aren’t any windows or computers in the cargo hold. But we can feel the landing. The spaceship creaks and shakes for a minute, then completely stops, and for the first time, the loud engines are off.

I expect to hear shouts of alien voices, but it’s strangely silent except for the AIs’ metal-on-metal footsteps.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t to be pushed into a large vehicle immediately after landing. The only thing the AI are attentive to is ensuring the purple veils are covering our heads. I manage to push mine to the side a little to peek out at my new home as we walk from the ship to the vehicle, but all I can see is a purple sky with shockingly large nearby planets dominating the skyline. I’ve no idea if it’s dawn, dusk, or midday. All I know is this place is purple.

Once inside the large vehicle, I peek out from under my veil again and notice it has no windows, just a small light, so we aren’t in complete darkness. The AI told us nothing about where we were going or when we’ll arrive. I know AI don’t have emotions, but I have strong feelings for them, and I hate them immensely right now, as one hates the executioner. I try not to think about what will happen to me when I reach my destination. I only hope that whatever it is, how bad it might be, that it’s over quickly.

After what seems like a few hours, we stop, and the AI begins removing purple veils and scanning the tattoos on our faces. It looks like we all have different ones, but it’s difficult to compare the alien language when it all looks like a three-year-old’s imitation of writing. When the AI’s scanner hits on the woman it’s looking for, it quickly pulls her out of the vehicle and closes the door behind it so that all we get a glimpse of is purple sky but not much else. It all happens too quickly. I think we’re all both curious and afraid to see what these aliens and this world really look like.

We make stop after stop. Scan after scan. Door opening and closing, again and again. And we only ever see the purple sky. Finally, I’m alone in the vehicle. It’s cold not having the other women around me for body heat. I sit in the semi-dark with the purple veil on my head, wondering what will happen to me. What does this mark on my cheek mean? Am I going to be delivered to the most disgusting of aliens? Will it have tentacles? Will it rape me until I die? Will it harvest my organs, cut me up slice by slice? What’s my sentence?

Finally, the land vehicle stops again. I know this must be my stop.

I hold my breath. My heart is beating so loudly I can hear it in my ears. My palms are unbelievably sweaty, and I wipe them on my purple trousers. This is it. This is the next chapter and possibly the shortest chapter of my life.

The AI scans my face, which I think is very stupid since I’m the last woman in the vehicle, but AIs don’t think; they follow programming. Then it grabs my arm forcefully and pulls me out of the vehicle. I stumble forward but catch myself from falling.

The air is thick in my lungs, and I feel the rain fall. I want to take off the purple veil and look around because I hear so many alien voices surrounding me.

But the AI says, “Don’t remove your veil. It is part of your contract.”

I put my shaking hand down to my side. The contract I was forced to agree to says I’ll pay with my life if I break its conditions.

The voices around me become louder and louder. The AI takes my hand in its cold and now wet metal one from the rain. I’m led up onto what I would describe as wooden stairs and possibly a wooden stage. Finally, I’m made to stand still in a place that suits the AI.

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