Chapter 2: Role Assignment

Karen woke with a major headache in an unfamiliar room. It took a moment of disoriented panic before she calmed down and remembered what had happened to her.

The machine had started whispering questions in her ears about her life, her work history, her relationships (romantic and otherwise), clearly building some kind of a profile on her. She answered as honestly as she could, even the more embarrassing questions. Seriously, the questions asked about her sexual preferences and fetishes didn’t seem at all related to her future contributions to the Siran Empire. The politely impersonal way the machine asked was also quite distracting. She wondered what the women selected for breeding answered for these. At 51, it seemed unlikely that she’d be chosen for such a fate.

Slowly, the questions had started to change. What was she proud of? What did she hate? What did she think about so-and-so? Politicians, socialites, scientists, philosophers ... most of whom she’d never heard of. What did she think about this concept, or that government system?

The questions changed again. A bunch of hypothetical questions. “What would you do if...” and “What would happen if...” These were vague, but seemed more to be open-ended, to gain an insight into her personality and values.

Next came word problems, where she was required to perform calculations in her head, apply theory, demonstrate understanding of scientific principles, that sort of thing. It had been a long time since she’d been in college. She stammered her way through as best she could, but clearly she had not done well in this section.

The questions stopped. It seemed the evaluation was done, but then her arms started spasming, slowly followed by her chest muscles, abdomen, hips, legs, calves ... all her muscles were being painfully stimulated. Karen had gasped in pain and clenched her teeth shut. She could feel something moving through her body, poking and prodding her from the inside. Remembering the evaluator’s words, about it being uncomfortable but not dangerous, she grit her teeth and suffered in silence.

Finally, the weird probing stopped. Just as she was coming to believe the process was over, she felt a sharp jab in her abdomen, and it felt like pure fire was pumped into her bloodstream. She had yelped in shock and pain, then promptly passed out.

Now, who knows how many hours later, she opened her eyes to a dimly lit room, a little smaller than the evaluation room, and almost as spartan. There was the bed she was lying in, a raised twin-sized mattress covered in a burlap-like gray cloth, a “prison toilet” (that was the term that came to her mind) that was basically a stainless steel commode with a water fountain on the back, and a plain writing desk with a chair, which appeared to be made out of wood. The walls were a featureless light gray, and there was one door without a knob or handles on the far side of the room.

Trying to ignore the nausea her headache was causing, she swung her legs out of the bed and sat up.

The floor was cold. This is when she realized that her feet were bare. In fact, she was barely wearing anything, except a simple short-sleeved gray ... tunic? smock? made of some light material (Linen? or something more exotic? she thought) that covered her body down to her knees. Her face flamed red as she realized she wasn’t even wearing underwear, wondering if her evaluator had got a good eyeful ... and handful ... of her body. Or more ... she felt around her body, looking for signs of abuse.

No such signs were detected, but there was a tender spot about 10 cm left of her navel, where she had felt that agonizing pain from whatever they stuck her with. She also noticed something else odd.

She was in pretty good shape for her age, but her zenith had already passed some time ago. Parts of her body were sagging and loose and wrinkling, a testament to the lamentable, hard fact that the hands of time could not be stopped. But now...

Her skin was tight, smooth, her blemishes gone. No scars. No wrinkles, no sagging, no flab. The mole that had been on her arm since her 20’s was no longer there. The few extra pounds the decades had stubbornly glued to her hips had vanished. She was sure if she had access to a mirror, the face of a twenty-something woman would be looking back at her.

“Unbelievable...” she whispered to herself, stunned. Did everyone who got selected for service get this sort of makeover? If some people knew this, they’d be begging to be selected!

That made her think about her husband and son. Where were they now? Oddly, it seemed that she had already started emotionally adjusting to their absence, and almost missed the near-debilitating sense of loss.

Karen stood up, and slowly walked around the room, as her brain finally kicked into gear. What had she been selected for? Had it already been decided? Was she waiting for a transport to her new life? When was dinner? Many questions swam around in her mind as she started trying to adjust to her new reality. Right now, it seemed like she was a prisoner, which didn’t seem to make a lot of sense.

She had been pacing her small cell for about 10 minutes when the door opened and a Siran woman stepped in. She was also strangely beautiful, with long, dark hair, fulsome curves and perfectly symmetric features. Karen froze and stared at the woman, not knowing what to do. She didn’t have to wait long as the woman smiled gently at her.

“Hello Karen. I am Miza. I have been instructed to conduct you to the Supervisor. If you will please follow me.” With that, she walked out the door.

Karen blinked. This one, too, was a human man’s dream woman. The body, the bearing, the husky voice, the gentle swaying of her hips as she walked ... maybe this was why humanity didn’t put up as big of a fight as it could have against the invaders. Even her gray skin was flawless and looked more foreign and high-class than alien and ugly. Wordlessly, she followed Miza out the door, while idly taking note of the fact that this was the first person she had met since being selected that had introduced themselves.

The hall outside the door was not empty by a long shot. It was filled with people walking in both directions. There were a mix of humans and Sira, and even other species she had never seen or heard of. Karen felt distinctly underdressed as everyone else seemed to be in some uniform or another ... with the exception of Miza, who was wearing what could be described as a white evening dress that truly accentuated her bombshell features. Karen found herself envying her a bit. Both of them earned some appreciative regard from several human passersby.

Still... “Miza, is it possible to get something else to wear? I feel a bit exposed like this.”

Miza did not slow down, but she did glance back to Karen. “Not to worry, Karen. The Supervisor will instruct you on what to wear, and he will also provide you with the appropriate attire. You don’t need to worry about anything.” With that, she turned her attention forward again.

Well. At least the floor was clean. With so many people in the halls, it seemed like they should be quite dirty, but that was simply not the case.

The two women worked their way through the halls and doors and finally arrived at a set of double doors that was actually guarded on either side by a Siran and a human. Both were male, and both seemed to be at the height of physical fitness. The Siran looked elegant and coldly dangerous, and the human looked incredibly menacing and muscular. They both sported those strange black weapons, but the devices were clipped to their uniform belts instead of at hand. Neither of the guards changed their expressions as they regarded the two women. Miza acted like they didn’t exist as she pushed open the doors. Karen wordlessly followed, somewhat cowed by the guard’s presence. The doors silently closed behind them.

The doors had opened up to a large, ornate office decorated liberally with stained wood sculptures and furniture. For the first time in a while, Karen got to see a non-sterile, deliberate decor. There was a leather couch with an ornate coffee table, two plush chairs opposite the couch, cedar paneling on the walls, a thick carpet with an intricate deep maroon pattern, and a large oaken desk littered with documents and another one of those sci-fi holographic terminals. Behind the desk was a fairly nondescript man, a human of average height and build, with a prominent brow, and a large, flat nose sitting in an oversized leather executive chair. He looked a little unkempt, the stubble on his cheeks well beyond the five-o’clock shadow and his dark hair carelessly arranged out of his face. Karen blinked and stifled a gasp of surprise; she knew this man.

Miza addressed him with the hint of a curtsy. “Sir, I have brought the woman you wished to speak to as requested.” There was deep respect, almost worship, in her tone, which made Karen blink again.

The man nodded. “Excellent. Thank you, Miza. Please leave us for a bit, I wish to spend some time with her now.” His voice was like the rest of him; not too extreme or noteworthy. He put in just enough energy to convey his message, and that was all. Even his tone suggested there was nothing out of the ordinary occurring ... but at this point, Karen knew better.

Miza smiled widely, as if she were truly delighted at his praise. “Thank you, sir. Then, by your leave...” without another word, she gracefully spun and sashayed out the door, leaving Karen alone ... with Michael Paglio, a former subordinate of hers. She completely missed the fleeting look of envy on Miza’s face as the woman walked out the door.

Michael (he disliked being called “Mike”) gave Karen an obscure, somewhat bitter smile. It seemed there were a bunch of things going on in his mind. “Hello, Karen. It’s been a while. How have you been?”

Stunned, Karen barely replied, “Not too badly. You were the last person I thought I would find here, under these circumstances. It seems you’ve done all right for yourself, congratulations!” If he actually had some influence, perhaps he could get her husband and son, as well as her, some good positions in the Empire. They had, after all, parted company with a good relationship; he’d gone to pursue a career opportunity that couldn’t happen at the company they’d worked for, and she’d even acted as a reference for him.