Chapter 7: Admissions Procedure

Course 8 / Day 1 Course Progress Meeting

Participant Notes: Fifty

Josephine: Fifty was somewhat surprised by her session with Celia after her admission, but took her initial challenge without protest. There is every sign is that she will quickly adapt to the Inward Bound regime.

Jenny's Recollections

We are taken into a rather well-appointed dining room. Our group of five is shown towards a separate table just for us. There are place cards at each seat with our names on. Mine has the number Fifty in brackets after it. The other girls all seem to have numbers beside their names too. No one explains what they mean. We're left to sit ourselves down to eat.

I'm trying to take it all on-board. Thinking about how I'm going to write this up for the research proposal.

Supper is on the table already, waiting for us. It's fairly Spartan food and makes for an interesting contrast with our gracious surroundings. There's a big bowl of muesli, a pair of stainless steel water jugs, a plate of oat cakes and another bowl filled with fresh fruit. We've each got a plastic beaker, a metal bowl and a plastic spoon. It's all pretty basic, muesli with water, oatcakes, fruit and water to drink. This diet looks like it's going to be good for us, if it goes on like this. One thing is certain; any spare fat will be history for me, if we eat like this for two months!

Nobody comes to take the tape from our mouths. Carrie is the first one to peel it away and start spooning some muesli into her bowl. Her handcuffs clank against the metal bowl, as she reaches for one of the water jugs.

After the long journey and nothing to eat since breakfast, I am hoping for something, well, something more normal, and hot! Something like the richer and more indulgent meal being consumed by Charlotte, Gerry and George, at the next table — with wine! There are some none too subtle messages going out.

None of us say anything. I guess that the others are as nervous as I am. Having the tape and blindfolds on during the journey seems to have put us all into an introspective mood. I look around at the others. They all look about the same age as I am. Sue is maybe a few years older, a little more heavily built than the rest of us. Anna is quite tall and willowy; Judy slim, but with nicely prominent tits. One good thing; at least I'm not the only one that hasn't had her hair clipped really short. Carrie has her hair done pretty much like mine. It's such a beautiful auburn, I can see why she wouldn't want to have it clipped. All the others do seem to have got their extra ear piercing, though. They all have a single gold stud in rather red looking ear lobes.

At the other table "the Faculty", as I've christened them to myself, are all chatting away; inconsequential stuff about the trip up, as far as I can tell.

Eventually the Faculty finishes, pushing away their plates, most of them leaving something. We've been waiting quite a while and even if we haven't found it that appetising, we've managed to clear almost all of the food that they served up for us.

Two more Inward Bound staff arrive. One of them points at me and beckons me to follow her, out of the dining room along a corridor and down a flight of stairs of stairs to an office. She dials a number on the phone and hands the receiver to me. "Your safe call", she says, "Just say you got here OK".

Eventually Angela's voice mail picks up — it's just as well that I'm not in any sort of jam!

"Hi, Angela, it's Jenny," I say. "Just a quick call to say I got here safe and sound. I'm at ... er... (I look down and realise that I can't give Angela the number because there is no number on the phone) ... at IWB. I am just checking in. 'Bye."

I hand the receiver back to the woman. As she takes it, I can see she is obviously very amused by my reference to "checking in", as though I was at some grand hotel. Well, I'll keep up appearances as long as I can.

We leave the office and further down the passage, get to what I guess is going to be my room, at least for tonight.

I'm not sure that 'room' is the right word. This is the first confirmation of what Charlotte had told me at the interview, "We try to push your limits and it can be quite demanding". The room looks exactly like a prison cell. There are three solid walls, but the corridor wall is all bars, floor to ceiling. Inside I can see a couch with a blanket and towel folded up on it. There are en suite facilities, well sort of - a wash hand basin next to a French style squatting toilet with a shower head over the toilet tray. There's one small window, barred of course, high in the outer wall. I presume it will admit daylight come tomorrow but there's no way I can reach it so there won't be much of a view. Maybe clouds if I'm lucky.

My escort engages in a real conversation for the first time. "Fifty, I'm your trainer and my name is Josephine," she says. "You can call me Jo," I hadn't been expecting to be allowed such familiarity, "except when I tell you otherwise."

"Pardon?" I say. "What's with the 'Fifty'? My name's Jenny."

Jo shakes her head. "No. Not here. Slaves have numbers, not names. You have left Jenny behind. As long as you are here, you're 'Fifty'. See, here's your number on the door. Still, Jen-ny; Fif-ty — your number's not far away from your old name!"

Jo waves me into the cell and takes off my handcuffs. "OK Fifty, get undressed, please, and have a shower and there's a tooth brush by the basin. Be sharp!"

Her snapped instruction spurs me to action. I guess if I'm going to be a slave, I'm going to have to get used to doing as I'm told. The numbers thing is hardly a surprise but it certainly adds to the stress. I'll have to think to remember my number. I can imagine there will be penalties for not responding when I'm called. This could be a focus for some of the research. How people respond to having their identities re-assigned and to what extent their behaviour changes as a result of changes in the way that they are identified.

Of course, there are not many clothes to struggle out of, just the tee-shirt and jeans. I stand with my feet on the footpads of the toilet. The shower controls are within easy reach. The water cascades down over me, into the toilet pan and away down the drain. It's very efficient. In short order, I'm washed, dried and my teeth are cleaned. I turn around to see that Jo has swept the clothes into a bag.

"Very good, Fifty," she says. "The next job is to have you collared and cuffed. If you wondered why we wanted measurements of your neck, wrists and ankles, here is why." She snaps five bands on me. They are flat polished metal and lined with black rubber and clip efficiently into place. "And, that's you done for now," says Jo.

"What about clothes?" I say, conscious that Jo is picking up the bag containing my tee-shirt and jeans.

"Clothes?" Jo seems genuinely puzzled, as though I'd asked for something extraordinary.

"Yes. I wondered what it was that you wanted me to wear."

At this point, Jo breaks out laughing. "No, no clothes for you, Fifty. You didn't follow your first instruction, did you?" I guess that my confusion shows on my face. "You know. About what you were told to wear in your Joining Instructions?"

"But... ," I start to try to explain, but Jo presses her finger against my lips.

"Shhhh!" she says gently. "It doesn't matter why. These things happen, but the why never matters. We just think that the best way to help you avoid similar mistakes is to keep you completely naked throughout your time with us. All slaves get to go naked at some stage; it's just that you will get to be naked right from the start. You might even get an all-over tan, if the weather is good. Well, apart from your neck, wrists and ankles." She laughs again. "Enjoy!"

She stands back and slides the cell door closed with a clang. It seems to lock automatically.

And there I am, left all alone and wondering just what I have got myself into.