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No. She wasn’t.
I returned to the bedroom. The windows were shut and there was no other way out—the door connecting our rooms was always locked.
“Vicky?” I said, louder this time.
When she didn’t reply, I moved into the front room.
“Vicky?” I shouted.
She was gone.
“Computer, locate Vicky,” I said.
“Vicky is not here,” Computer said.
“Is she in the building?” I said.
“Scanning…” Computer said. “Yes. She is exiting the building now.”
She’s running away?
“Which direction is she heading?” I said.
“She’s coming out of the west exit,” Computer said. “Beyond that, my scanners are unable to track her.”
No shit.
I ran to my west-facing bedroom window and peered out of it.
There.
She waited for a shuttlecraft to pass before bolting across the road toward the park.
It was getting dark and the park wasn’t safe at night.
Damn you, Vicky. What are you getting yourself into?
5
VICKY
I bolted across the street and into the thick copse of trees that lined the park. It was already growing dark and I used it to conceal my escape.
How could I have been so stupid?
How could I have honestly thought I could do this?
I could let someone style me in the latest Titan fashions. I could let someone take my measurements and build a nice new wardrobe around me. I could even have learned the Titan language—as hard as it was to pronounce with my short human tongue—and studied the intricacies of their history.
But I could never learn that damn dance.
The movements were hard enough. They felt so alien to me, having to force my body to move in positions I wasn’t born to perform. They were nothing like traditional human performances, traditional or otherwise.
And why was the woman expected to do all the hard work anyway?
Oh yes, that’s right, because the Titan culture was as male-dominated as human culture. Women were expected to bend and flex to their paternal masters.
Of course, that wasn’t modern Titan culture, but they could have changed the dance routine to fit modern culture, couldn’t they?
