He sighs, looking me over. I avoid his gaze, although I still manage to see him in my peripheral vision. Trent is handsome. He’s much taller than me and has dark hair to go with a pair of intelligent, kind eyes.
“Well, gotta go now,” he says. “I’ve been selected for a trade.”
The word trade snaps me from my stupor. I take a deep breath and make myself speak, “I’m going to ask Master Dimitri to consider choosing me for a trade too.”
“Ask him?” Trent grins. “Kora, you shouldn’t ask your master for anything. If he hasn’t selected you, you’re staying put.”
I know I should nod again. But today is THE day, right? Everything is going to change very soon, so I need to change as well. Why not begin right now?
“I’m sick of this place,” I blurt out. “I’m going to start a new life.”
“You think another place would be any better?”
“I think any place would be better than this one.”
“Servants with attitudes like that don’t tend to live very long.”
True that. I’ve always had issues with my attitude.
“I’m not going to remain a servant much longer,” I mutter. “I’ll earn my freedom.”
“Good luck with that,” Trent laughs before leaving.
I remain frozen in place, waiting for my heartbeat to slow. My hands shake. I regret saying all those things to him. He must think I’m either rude or stupid. And I like Trent because he’s the only factory servant who treats me like a human being. I actually like him a little too much, which is of course silly. Factory servants don’t mix with trash pickers, as it would be a huge downgrade.
I straighten my back and head toward Master Dimitri’s mansion, occasionally slipping in the soft clay. Our settlement could serve as a definition of misery. The sky is always overcast with chemical fumes floating in the warm air, making your eyes itch. The single-story shacks look ancient and scruffy. Mostly consisting of rotten wood, torn plastic and whatever scrap the servants could find. Great piles of garbage surround our village on both sides. This is the so-called Field, where trash pickers sort through junk for plastic bottles, metal and other useful items. After sorting, our collections go to the Recycling Factory. The enormous building constantly rumbles a couple of miles away from the village, illuminating the clouds with an orange glow. Huge noisy trucks arrive continuously, delivering new loads of waste from Central Settlement far away. The wind carries a whiff of chemicals mixed with the stench of decay. Most servants in our village die young from various diseases. If you make it into your forties, you’re considered lucky.
I hate living in this place.
This day of Exchange is my one hope to earn my freedom. As long as I stay in this village, I can’t change my life. Unless sold, if you’re born a picker, you remain a picker. Central Settlement dictates these unforgiving rules and nobody can break them. But once a year, masters from Central Settlement arrive for the day of Exchange, to purchase a few lucky servants to take back to their residences. Each year I wait for this day, but so far Master Dimitri has never chosen me for a trade.
Leaving the village behind, I walk toward the three-story stone building with a metal roof, our master’s mansion. A fence topped with coils of razor wire surrounds his residence. It’s an unnecessary precaution left from our previous owner. Two droopy-eyed guards allow passage through the gates, paying me no mind.
On the way up to the mansion I pass several glass structures, where bright lamps pour artificial light over exotic plants. Three years ago I was caught here by guards while stealing fallen fruit. The previous master would probably have ordered me whipped, but Dimitri only laughed at the incident. Lady Augusta sent me home with a basket filled to the brim with oranges and apples. Since then I have become a regular guest in the master’s mansion. No other servant dares to visit the master without first receiving a special invitation. But I have a tendency to do strange things that other people find abnormal. That could be why Samantha and her friends consider me a freak.
Self-conscious of my dirty clothes, I enter the beautiful mansion. Lady Augusta, Dimitri’s wife, sits on a sofa in the living area, her back perfectly straight. My back is usually slouched in a futile attempt to conceal my excessive height. I’m almost six feet tall. Lady Augusta is a full head shorter than me, and I greatly admire this petite, seemingly fragile woman. She’s my mother’s age but appears hardly older than me. Her porcelain skin is smooth and her long dress flawless. In my mind, Lady Augusta closely resembles a queen whom I wish I could be more like.
Upon noticing me, she rises and greets me warmly. She leads me into the dining room, inviting me to share breakfast with her. This is unheard of behavior for a master’s wife, because servants are considered closer to animals than real human beings. But Lady Augusta doesn’t seem to care much for formal protocol.
Housemaids bring plates with fried eggs, biscuits, ham and other items pickers usually can’t have. My mouth waters. I give up my weak attempt to resist her hospitality and begin eating. Augusta doesn’t touch her food, twirling a glass of wine in her hand.
“Why have you come here today, Kora?” she asks softly after I finish my meal.
I mutter something about today’s Exchange and my desired life in Central Settlement.
“Central Settlement, I see.” Augusta rolls her eyes. “The city of dreams where everybody is rich and happy.”
I offer no comment. Lady Augusta and her husband used to live in Central Settlement. I believe they’re in some sort of exile.
“Are you so certain you want
