Quinn, being fifteen, was recently done with school and waiting for a work assignment. Jobs varied depending on if someone was selected to marry and, if she was, to whom. The rumor by men went that most women got assigned to “cushy” jobs in offices. Fetching the inexplicable four-ounce coffee, limited to one a day and sans sugar or cream—that the executives were allowed every day. They set up the VidCom for oh-so-important meetings. In reality, the real job was babysitter/ego-inflator/confidence booster, and sometimes paramour.
Getting her game face on, she looked around the gym when she walked in. Light infiltrated the space, which very much looked like sunlight despite it being evening. The walls were a creamy ivory color but somehow escaped a scuff or even a particle of dust. The decorations, the tablecloths, and cutouts of stars dangling from the ceiling were all black. A beautiful gold ribbon that looked spun from real gold framed and held each star and the remaining ribbon hung down past the bottom of the stars. Adorning the bottom part of the ribbon were several smaller cascading gold stars that sparkled in the light. Beautiful golden birds gracefully circled and lightly chirped overhead. They had long golden tails—similar to a peacock’s tail but all golden and wispier and more delicate. They must have been computer-generated because Quinn never saw anything remotely like that in the wild, zoos, or even books she had read about animals. A sleek redwood floor would be their dance floor for the evening. She almost choked when she saw the cardboard cutout you could take a picture with—a victorious looking President Everett holding a syringe filled with shining Marigold Injection elixir.
That was a very much unneeded addition to the party, she thought.
Quinn didn’t love the events, to say the least, especially when this particular older man, Namaguchi, would look or rather, it seemed, leer at her. She had only attended one Courting Event before this one. Her first one had yielded no Inquiries of Interest, the official form a man would submit when he was interested in meeting a young lady. In effect, it was a proposal. For high ranking officials, once they turned in an Inquiry of Interest, it went directly to President Everett himself for the stamp of approval. For lesser ranking officials, Security Patrol Guards, and business people, the local officials gave them yay or nay. A no was rarely given to any man on his Inquiry form unless there was a specific reason to give. For instance, when Baxter wanted to marry Olson, he was given a “no”. It was because Baxter’s father went directly to the city officials and said he wanted to marry Olson himself and that his son had gone above his head. So, the Inquiry was changed, and the comely Ms. Olson became the bride to the elder Baxter, twenty-eight years her senior, and the husband to seven other wives. As more men had perished in the Lombardi Plague, women outnumbered men as much as ten to one in some areas, so men were allowed to take more than one wife.
After the “yes” stamp was on an Inquiry of Interest, the form went to the parents or guardian of the young lady. Then, along with her parents or guardian, the girl would go to the resident Pod counselor. Everyone would discuss with the girl how lucky she was that she had been selected and by whom. The girl would also hear the top three job assignments under consideration for her. She then had twenty-four hours to discuss with anyone she wished if this was a marriage she wanted to enter. But, as Quinn understood, it was a decision in name only. Multiple stories floated around about women who turned down proposals. They went missing or ended up going from a prospective job of an office assistant to someplace like the garbage fields. Even if they somehow managed to acquire a good job, their families and friends would most likely shun them. It was an honor to receive Inquiries and to have them approved by officials. Turning it down was almost tantamount to treason. Quinn knew all of this. She also knew it was early on in her debut, and sometimes it took a few events to get acquainted with the men, especially after the Baxter Olson Debacle, as it was known. Still, she shuddered at the idea of being inquired about by the likes of someone like Namaguchi.
Perhaps, Namaguchi had been handsome when he was younger, but it was hard for Quinn to imagine. She didn’t know how old he was, but she figured he was older than her grandparents. All she knew was he intimidated and scared her. He was likely once tall, probably 5’11” if Quinn were to guess. But he was now quite stooped over with a cane to help him walk. His hair was wispy and snow-white, a hoary thin cobweb that always seemed out of sorts. Large, tired-looking bags collected under his expressionless brown eyes. He wore the standard men’s uniform, a brown tunic that went slightly past
