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“Good morning!” Colonel Slater interrupts just as I’m putting up clear boundaries with the lion-guy. The Colonel steps to the front of the room. “I hope you slept well and have enjoyed your breakfast.”
I can’t help but snort. After signing two years of my life away last night, I found out some evil scientists created animal-men in a lab for the purpose of creating killing machines. No. I didnothave sweet dreams.
“We gave a great deal of thought about how to socialize these males to integrate them into mainstream society. We considered everything from games to exercise competitions. What we finally decided upon was to let things happen organically.”
By the long pause as he obviously searches for words he thinks will make whatever he’s going to say sound more palatable, I have a feeling there will be nothing organic about what’s coming next.
“All you females came with a skill set we thought our town could use.” He tips his head as if an important thought just popped into his head and he’s considering it. “At some point, we’ll have a naming contest, but for now, I’ve taken to calling it what the males call it, Splicer Town.”
I groan. It sounds vaguely prejudiced. Well, more than vaguely.
“The United States government bought this remote old TV set and added the modern dorms you slept in last night. As I mentioned briefly last night, our goal is to build a charming tourist town with retail stores, a bakery, a coffee shop, an art gallery, and such.”
He gazes out at us and nods.
“When the males are fully socialized and ready, we’ll announce their existence and open the town to provide a safe environment for the males and the public to interact. This is why we’ve invited you women. We would like you to teach these males skills they can use in the pursuit of gainful employment.”
He smiles benevolently, obviously proud of the plan.
“We’re going to take you females to your workstations and let you familiarize yourselves with them. You can put in requisitions for any additional supplies you may need. If any of the males would like to accompany you, to learn about your chosen field, we’ll let them start today.”
He pierces a few of the males with his steely gaze and says, “There’s no pressure. We don’t expect you to choose your future profession this moment. We want you to get a taste of many things before you have to make any decisions.”
The Colonel is hard to read. At first, I thought he barely tolerated the males under his charge, but he’s trying to reassure them, help them take things at their own pace.
“Each woman will have two armed guards to enhance her feeling of safety. I’ve taken the liberty of making these placards. Each of you women will hold up the placard with your job title, and the males can pick a skill set they might wish to learn.”
Certainly this male who is clearly high up in the military chain of command isn’t an imbecile. Does he really think these males are going to pick the profession they want tolearn?That’s ridiculous. They’re going to pick the female they want tobone. How naïve can a person get?
Lion-guy, I don’t even know his name, almost reaches across the table and grabs my forearm, then snatches it back. I imagine if I told him I was a janitor, it would zoom to the top of his interest list.
“I’d like to learn your skill set,” he says without an ounce of shame.
“I’m sure you would,” I say dryly.
One by one, Colonel Slater calls the women to the front of the room, where we’re handed strips of posterboard with our professions on them.
“I want to learn that!” The males vie for position as each woman receives her placard.
It looks like the naga is interested in hairdressing. The horny fox who pissed at a woman’s feet is evidently an art aficionado, and guess what? The furry apex predator sitting across from me wants to learn how to bake.
I don’t bother to protest. What would be the point?
Within an hour, the two guards they assigned us escort us out of the dining hall and onto the old-timey main street.
“The government bought this old movie set along with ten thousand surrounding acres,” Corporal Barton announces. “Just imagine this place filled with tourists after we announce the existence of the splicers—uh, the augmented males, uh, the hybrids.”
“Splicers seems to be a derogatory term,” I scold.
“It’s what we call ourselves,” my companion says. “It’s a lot nicer than anything we were called before the military rescued us.”
“What’s your name?” I should have asked it an hour ago. I shouldn’t have been thinking of him as lion-guy all this time.
Corporal Barton whips his head to the male as if he doesn’t already know the answer.
“Noble.”
“That’s a good one,” Barton says, nodding his head in approval.
