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“Promise.” I smile as the hoverbot whirs back over our heads forcing us to refocus on today’s sheer, white, bland, lifeless dress. Just one of many I’ve made this year.
These days, Alice says I could rival Sathior. She’s not half wrong. There’s something unique and fresh in my designs. Sathior may have the reputation, but I know deep down I have the talent to rival hers.
The long hours I put into this craft may take me a lifetime, but I’m determined to see my way out of my indenture. As far as I’m concerned, if Alice and I win today’s drawing it’s just me manifesting things that are to come. A girl has to pave her way in this world somehow, and if manifesting is all I can do to force a change in my lot, then I’ll just have to work with it.
Suddenly the machines in the room slow and wind to a stop as a large austere figure hushes the room with her arrival. It’s Sathior.
She’s cloaked in white, pervading us workers with her characteristic quiet, yet eager stare. A veil decked in pink crystals covers her pale teal complexion as she rustles into the room in a massive sheet of white synth taffeta.
The shine of her dress blinds me from the back of the room as I feel Alice snatch my fingers with her sweating hands. The ticket is gripped in her other hand, though I know she’s memorized ournumbers by now. This trip means so much to her. I want this for us, so badly I can practically taste the sunshine of Kalei from here.
For a second, Sathior leans over my coworkers’ stitching, grasping it in her hands. “Look at that. Amazing. Tiny hands make tiny stitches, I always say,” she exclaims.
She stands at the top of the sewing den’s mini stairwell, like a queen ready to command her naval ships. Donned in all white, Sathior takes virgin couture to new heights. Her virgincore aesthetic is the talk of the fashion rags, though the claim that she’s never had a man is disputed by none more than those of us who work for her.
“Greetings happy workers!” Alice stifles a smirk when I look over and catch her gaze. Sathior is a lot of things, observant and intuitive are not among them. “As you all well know, I am anxious to revisit my home world of Kalei. It has been many years since I was last home, and I long for a rest on my country estate. I will require the light assistance of two chaperones for my journey. How lucky am I to find such worthy candidates among my own team of seamstresses?”
The room devolves into blank stares. I guess she doesn't know that the talk gets around. We’ve heard the cover story, and while that might work for her fans, we’re behind the scenes with the legend.
“Somebody misses her boyfriend,” I can hear Alice mutter under her breath. Sathior looks to eye the speaker, her gaze turning fierce under her veil. Without a suspect, though, she continues detailing the lush tropics of Kalei. I want to listen, I should, but my mind draws to the real reason for her home world reunion.
Under her white veil and perfect untouched aesthetic is a woman. The rumors of her secret lover demanding her attentionback on Kalei circled the sewing den long before she approached us with news of the lottery.
But no matter the reason, eager faces turn to her now, clutching their tickets each in a desperate bid to escape the ordinary. Each knowing that as far as an escape, this is the best chance any of us are ever going to get.
“Without further ado,” she smiles. “Let’s find out who our lucky girls are going to be.”
Her assistant comes forward with a small silver canister. Our ticket stubs wait inside for the draw and, I swear, in the millisecond it takes for her to pull the ticket from the cup, I already know. Deep down I can feel it.
“Looks like our numbers are: B3850.”
The grip from Alice's hand nearly cracks my knuckles. “Alice, you’re hurting me!”
“Tania. Oh, my fucking god. We did it. We won!”
“Wait. What?”
“Tania, it's you and me! We’re going to Kalei.” I hear the words, yet through the shock and disbelief that appear on my face, I know deep down, I did this.
Manifesting.
It has to be the answer.
Something is coming into my life, one shock and awe at a time. This is only the beginning.
I just know it.
CHAPTER 2
GARET
“Well, kids, somehow you made it.” Sarge looks pleased with himself. The toothpick hanging from his lip barely clings to his shit-eating grin. “I had my doubts that any of you wusses would make it past trial one, but here we are. Congratulations, dipshits. You made it to the final round.”
I stand at attention with the Sarge glaring down my neck. He’s close enough to my face that the steel tip of his toothpick nearly grazes my chiseled jaw. Try though he might to scare me into flinching, this isn’t my first go around. Since joining special ops on Kalei, months of rigorous training are finally about to come to an end.
I’m no stranger to boot camps and musty barracks. Somewhere between drills that last all day and soldiers who don’t wash their socks, I’ve carved a future for myself. With just one final trial standing between me and the top-paying mercenary jobs LaCutta Corps can offer, I’m barely four days away from snatching the final ring.
“For the tough guys who think this last test will be a walk in the Promenade, you got another thing coming,” he says, turning on his heel and marching down the line.
