The DollHouse

Chapter Three

Clay and I walk in.

The clerk greets me and smiles at Clay. “We don’t often see pets with our patrons,” he says, making conversation but seeming unsurprised. No doubt the more avid gamers enjoy incorporating their pets in the play. He takes my money, hands me my ticket and turns back to the show he is watching on the T.V that is meant to show security footage. He sees me looking and winks. “Management’s on leave,” he explains.

We start on the first floor. It’s changed since I was last here a few years ago. As soon as I walk onto the floor I can tell I’m going to have trouble with this. First floor was as far as I made it last time when I came here with Tracy. Tracy loved The Dollhouse. She used to play it a couple of days a week with a couple of our other friends who moved to Upper State with her. She convinced me to try it one day, but I found I preferred anything but. So I’d spend those days in the jungle searching for objects to use in my jewelery.

A Lesser pushing a broom passes by me. He looks up to see if I have a command for him, but moves on when he realises I don’t. When I was here with Tracy, the first floor was the party zone, but I guess people’s tastes have changed since then. They must like to see something more docile when they first enter since it’s the domestic floor now. Lessers everywhere move around cleaning, cooking, and arranging furniture. Some gamers move around the floor, but most are seated on the mezzanine that surrounds the whole level. I decide immediately that this is where I should be and climb the stairs.

From this vantage point I have a better view of what I’m going to be dealing with. I choose an armchair that leaves a few spaces between any other gamer.

The woman closest to me picks up her com and speaks into it. I look down at the Lessers until I find one who seems to be listening to his earpiece at the right time. He immediately turns around to the oven and checks what’s in there. It seems to be cooked, and he pulls out a tray of cupcakes.

I roll my eyes and find someone else to look at. A Lesser in the corner is busy arranging furniture in an area that is designed to look like a living room. The Lesser with the cupcake tray starts walking through to get to the area that looks like a dining room.

I watch the furniture-moving Lesser listen to a command and quickly shove an ottoman in the path of the cupcake Lesser.

He trips, sending cupcakes flying across the floor.

On the other side of the mezzanine, a young girl cracks up. The woman next to me, who was controlling the cupcake Lesser, stands up in a huff and throws her com on the floor. She storms off.

I look at her Lesser, standing awkwardly on the floor, waiting for a command. They can’t leave until they’re commanded. If their gamer leaves before telling them to retreat to the sidelines, they have to wait for a moderator to step in and reset them.

I glance at the moderator chair and see her looking at the opposite side of the floor, talking into her com. She is obviously dealing with something else. I turn back and see the Lesser still standing there, waiting. The furniture-moving Lesser has been directed to keep moving furniture, and she slowly moves it around the cupcake Lesser. She is boxing him in. He watches her, but does nothing. He isn’t allowed to.

The gamer on the opposite side is grinning, watching her Lesser and speaking into her com.

I pick up the woman’s abandoned com.

“Hey,” I say. The Lesser looks up in surprise, registering the new voice, before he quickly looks back at the floor. He is completely boxed in. “Get yourself out of there,” I command him.

He steps neatly over the ottoman behind him and walks out of the living room area. He waits.

“Reset,” I tell him. He walks back to the sidelines, his shoulders relaxing.

I look up to see the other gamer glaring at me. I give her a little finger wave and a smile, before standing up and walking to the stairs. I’m done with this floor.

Clay follows obediently. A giggling gamer rushes past us on the stairs, pushing into me as she passes. Clay snarls at her, making her squeal.

“Better not do that,” I warn him in a low voice. “You might be marked as dangerous. You can go anywhere you like with me normally, but if you’re marked as dangerous you’ll be confined to the apartment. Or worse.”

Clay watches me while I tell him this, swishing his tail in agitation. He doesn’t snarl at anyone else, but he seems to like this place as little as I do.

The next floor is the party zone. Clay looks instantly distressed when we open the doors. I’m amazed the music doesn’t carry to the domestic floor, it’s so loud up here. I scoop Clay up and sit him on my shoulders, where he likes to perch, before hurrying up the stairs to the mezzanine where the music volume is halved by thick glass. He relaxes.

This floor is more interactive, with most of the gamers choosing to be on the dance floor with their Lessers. Only a few are up here, commanding, and they tend to be older. This floor is dominated by teenagers and uni students.

Since it’s twenty minutes to curfew, the floor isn’t as packed as I expect it usually is. Behind the dance floor is a set of change rooms, where the Lessers are told to change into outfits selected by the gamers. Some gamers do almost nothing but ‘dress’ their Lessers, but on the party zone floor it’s normal to go through a couple of outfits a night. Most of the outfits chosen are racy or dangerous, reflecting the personality of the Lessers as deemed by their gamers. The gamers want to dance with someone dangerous. A criminal. They want to order them around, make them serve their drinks, dance their steps. All without any real danger at all.

By this time of the night, all the Lesser males have been ordered to take their shirts off. The above-eighteens are getting drink after drink from the bar, sculling them until their dancing gets more and more erratic. The under-eighteen gamers watch on and try to sneak drinks from the bar themselves, but the bar-Lessers are too good. It’s too high a penalty if they get caught serving minors.

I look at my watch: fifteen minutes before curfew. I need to leave now if I want to get home in time. I run down the mezzanine staircase and across the floor to the express staircase that runs past all the floors, past the foyer, and onto the street.

Halfway across the floor I crash straight into a drunk, shirtless Lesser.

“Crap,” I mutter, looking down at the spilled drink on my shirt. I look around for the gamer, but it’s an over-eighteen and she’s too drunk to notice.

The Lesser turns away, since he isn’t allowed to interact without instruction, but not before I see his face. He might be drunk, acting relaxed and placid with his gamer, but he is angry. I look out at the rest of the dance floor and see they’re all the same, to different degrees. The only people enjoying themselves are the gamers.

In the middle of the shirtless throng, I see a familiar face. The Lesser from the sick bay, from my breakfast table. He is dancing with a girl from my school - I recognise her from maths class. She is laughing with her friends, dancing and swinging her hips into the Lesser. She speaks into her com, so her words go direct to his ear, past the booming music. He slides his arms around her waist, bringing her close.

He stares straight ahead, ignoring her, even as she gyrates against him. He sees me watching and locks eyes with me. Not a flicker of emotion crosses his face. I have no idea what he is thinking, but suddenly I’m ashamed. He must just see another gamer, leaving to get home for curfew after playing all afternoon. I feel the urge to go up and explain that I’m not, but what’s the point? And why should I have to explain myself to someone like him anyway? His judgment means nothing.

Thinking like this is becoming dangerous. It’s making me lose my focus. I only need to get through three more tests and I’m free. But if I keep getting distracted, then I’m liable to go into the next test feeling guilty. That might make me act guilty. To be perfectly honest, I’ve been panicking about this next test for the last year. I don’t know why, but I feel like I’m coming too close to the edge. Like I can’t possibly make it out of this in one piece - luck has favored me for too long.

I take a deep breath to clear my thoughts, pick up Clay - who is very distressed by now - and leave.