Chapter 1: Stepping into the Unknown

The evening air was crisp as I approached the gallery. The streets, bathed in moonlight, were eerily quiet, reflecting the solitude of my new job. My shifts were set for three nights a week, from 9 PM to midnight. For the next month, it would be just me and Zara, the digital assistant I had recently logged into. Besides Zara, my company would be the living exhibits I was tasked with comforting.

As I walked, a notification popped up on my phone from the Ethereal Boundaries Foundation’s My Enclave app. Just hours ago, I had begun familiarizing myself with Zara through the setup process. In one of the messages, Zara mentioned that I would soon be a VIP guest at another location. My family and I would receive transportation, lodging, and accommodations for the event, where I would interact with at least one of the living exhibits. But tonight, all I could think about was the uncertainty of the job and the challenges it presented.

The gallery stood as a historic beacon in the old downtown, its grandeur accentuated by the night sky. Its striking exterior contrasted sharply with the quiet cityscape, symbolizing what I had left behind for this strange new experience. I could feel a gnawing detachment from the familiar comforts of home as if I were drifting away from everything I once knew.

The hiring process had been nerve-wracking. As I parked in the designated area by the employee entrance, my pulse quickened. I needed to clock in and collect the tablet with Zara, but the presence of a figure near the employee door filled me with unease. They moved with purpose, tampering with the lock. Anxiety surged as I realized this was happening just as my shift was supposed to start. My phone app froze, and panic immobilized me. The figure’s presence felt like a physical weight, pressing down on me, amplifying my feelings of vulnerability and isolation.

The figure moved with methodical precision, their intentions shrouded in uncertainty but menacing. Just as my fear peaked, two police vehicles arrived, their flashing lights slicing through the darkness. Relief mingled with lingering terror as I watched the officers subdue the figure. My heart raced, and I was left with a hollow sense of relief, but also a gnawing question: Why had I chosen to take this job, leaving behind the warmth and safety of my family? As I inched my car closer and approached the gallery, the weight of my decision settled heavily on me, and I wondered if I should have stayed where I felt more secure.

The gallery parking garage, eerily quiet and empty, felt unnervingly unfamiliar. I stood there, my nerves on edge, before stepping out and interacting with Zara—an advanced AI assistant that felt even more sophisticated than Siri or Alexa. Zara’s calm, almost human voice guided me through a series of instructions.

“Please scan the QR code at the employee door and follow the steps outlined,” Zara instructed. As I entered the small room with a safe, lockers, and tables before the lockers, I was directed to sort all personal belongings, including my clothing. I was to place all my clothes in a safe, store valuables in a provided locker, and use the cleaning supplies available to remove any makeup. According to the employee handbook I had signed, my role required me to work and live in a state of complete nudity, with no covering from head to toe, as part of the exhibition’s concept.

Zara’s explanation seemed detached from the chaos I had just witnessed. I felt a growing sense of dread, my heart pounding as the enormity of the situation sank in.

I hesitated, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and disbelief. “Zara, you want me to be naked all the time, even when I’m not working?” I asked. “I applied for this position to gain experience, not to become part of an exhibit.”

Zara’s response was placid and devoid of warmth. “The policy aligns with the exhibition’s concept and ensures a consistent experience for future audiences. Your clothing will eventually become part of the exhibit within the next twenty-four months. You will be compensated for your clothes, and a monetary incentive is provided for the inconvenience. Please proceed with removing all items and makeup to return to your natural state.”

“This is insane!” I shot back, my frustration mounting. “I’m here to work, not to be part of a bizarre display. I didn’t sign up for this! How am I supposed to handle being naked all the time? This isn’t what I was led to believe!”

Zara’s voice remained eerily calm and impersonal. “The requirements are clearly stated in the employment documents you reviewed and signed. The exhibition’s concept necessitates this policy to maintain the integrity of the experience. Your compliance is expected.”

“This is crossing the line,” I said, my voice rising with indignation. “I work as a leasing agent at Luxury Apartments where I wear casual attire. There’s no way I could perform my job duties while being nude, showing potential residences in the raw. This isn’t just about comfort; it’s about professionalism and basic decency!”

Zara’s tone remained unyielding. “In the context of the exhibition, which will extend to your daily life including your employment at Luxury Apartments, you would engage in your raw state. Show no signs of embarrassment or discomfort in your daily life. The policy aligns with the exhibition’s concept and ensures a consistent experience for your future and the world around you.”

“This isn’t right!” I protested, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “I’m not some exhibitionist! I have personal boundaries, and this job was not supposed to involve violating them. I need answers, not these cold instructions!”

Zara’s response was devoid of empathy, each word reinforcing the cold reality of my situation. “The exhibition’s concept requires a consistent environment that will extend into your world. If you require further clarification, it will be provided through the appropriate channels. Compliance with the guidelines is mandatory from this point forward.”

“The job I agreed to was supposed to be about gaining experience, not enduring humiliating requirements,” I said, feeling a deep sense of betrayal and despair. “What if I refuse? I don’t want to be part of this any longer.”

Zara’s response was as impersonal as ever. “Refusal to comply with the terms of your employment will result in forfeiture of your position and any associated compensation. The terms were agreed upon when you accepted the job. For further concerns, address them with human resources during business hours. For now, please proceed with the necessary steps. Note that your work tablet will be in your locker, and you will need to place the tablet on the charger in the locker at the end of your shift.”

As I stood there, grappling with Zara’s cold instructions, a profound sense of doubt washed over me. After the officers left and the gallery returned to its unsettling quiet, I questioned whether I should leave when I had the chance. The disturbing requirements of the job, combined with the unsettling incident, made me wonder why I was continuing this path. The gallery’s silence seemed to echo my inner turmoil, amplifying the disquiet I felt about the unsettling direction my life had taken.

Standing there, fidgeting with the fabric of my clothes, I weighed my options. The idea of walking away seemed increasingly appealing, but my curiosity and stubbornness held me in place. Before today, the only time I had been exposed was in a deeply personal and public moment when I got pregnant. Even then, during the day I walked home naked from school, and throughout every class that followed, I wasn’t embarrassed. Even with my now-husband, who nearly destroyed my clothing to gain access, being in front of everyone had been a bold and invasive experience. Despite the exposure, I had never felt the same level of discomfort or humiliation.