I stepped onto the walkway, happy to have finished work for the day and eager to get home to the man who was both my master and my lover.
I spared a quiet thank you to the Administrators for having installed the latest walkway, it made the journey so much easier for me. Not that my work at the factory was particularly strenuous, the Council had laws forbidding that, but nevertheless I was usually tired by the end of a day spent monitoring the conveyor belt, checking that every product was perfect and discarding those with flaws. I felt the customary twinge of satisfied pride whenever I thought about the importance of my job. No shopper would have to buy flawed apples while I was on duty.
I was thinking ahead to what I would cook for my master's evening meal, when a panicked shout from the walkway below, jarred me out of my musings. I glanced down idly. A woman was on the very edge of the walkway, watching helplessly as a small child spiraled downwards, ever faster between the walkways to the invisible depths below.
I could see a large hover car, continuing along the walkway, oblivious to the chaos it had caused behind.
I frowned to myself as I continued on my journey, everyone knew the cars had right of way. Stupid woman, she should have kept better control of her child.
I found my right hand was absently rubbing my left wrist, where my caste code was tattooed. I smiled. Mine was a red Hammer and Sickle, signifying industry and agriculture, the tattoo of the Worker's caste.
Beneath the all powerful Council, our society was divided into six castes, Administrator, Soldier, Scientist, Artist, Worker and Service. Each caste had its immutable place in society and was marked by a symbol, tattooed on the wrist above the unique bar code which identified every individual. Scientists had a stylized Atom, Artists a C inside a circle, protecting them and their work, Service a Crossed Knife and Fork.
Only the Council had no tattoos.
My master was of the prestigious Soldier class, one of those brave men and women who protected us from our enemies. His tattoo was a glorious blue sword. I loved to press my lips against it when we were in bed together and hear his breath quicken.
I turned my thoughts back to the evening ahead. Perhaps, tonight, after I had cleared away the evening meal, he would ask for me. My heart beat a little faster in anticipation.
"You may clear away now, Tom. I'm going to the gymnasium for an hour or so." My master spoke absently, his mind already focused on the gym, the tortuous exercises he would do to keep his body in prime condition. I bowed, and collected the dishes, respectfully backing out of the room as usual. I tried not to feel disappointed. After hours in the gymnasium, he would come home too tired for anything else tonight.
I gave myself a little scold. I should be grateful that he had taken me into his home at all. I knew most Soldiers had at least one Service person to look after their homes, but some, like my master, preferred the more intelligent company of a Worker, male or female, for personal services. Many, in fact, had both.
Maria, the woman who cleaned my master's house, was middle-aged, dull and hard-working and we got on well enough for the most part. I knew I had no right to feel any sort of jealousy, but I felt a guilty relief to know my master was not interested in her, personally. He preferred men, like me. I knew he took other lovers from time to time, but I would have found it difficult to bear if I had to share the house with one of them.
My master came home just before midnight and went straight to his room, having showered at the gymnasium. I helped him out of his clothes and into the large fourposter bed, drawing the curtains around it before I returned to my own small cot in the adjoining alcove.
Tomorrow was Saturday, our day of rest. Perhaps, after we had been to the clinic, we could go out to see an entertainer somewhere or... I brought myself up sharply. There was no sense in daydreaming. Rik, my master, would do what he would do, and I would accommodate myself as usual. I found my right hand was absently rubbing my left wrist, over my caste code tattoo.
I frowned, this discontent wasn't like me, perhaps I was getting run-down. I was sure I'd feel more myself after my visit to the Clinic tomorrow.
Every Saturday, our small household would line up at the local Clinic to have our weekly dose of Shield, a cocktail of vitamins, anti-radiation medicine and biotics, administered via the socket in the back of our necks.
This Saturday was no different. At least, at first.
I placed my wrist over the scanner. The tattoo would tell the Doctor which precise formula of Shield to administer; Worker's Shield for me, Soldier's Shield for Rik and Service Shield for Maria. As I waited for the tube to be inserted into the socket behind my neck, I wondered why the Doctor was one of the few robots still doing the work that a well trained human could do.
Robots were for important things, for tasks which required minute precision and superior intelligence, for repairing machines. Machines maintained the dome which covered our city, protecting us from the radiation outside. Even the city itself was one vast construct, the buildings and walkways all merely the visible part of the whole. Machines were too valuable to waste on mundane tasks, so I supposed the Council had its reasons for not using a human doctor - no doubt something beyond my understanding.
If there was one thing you could be sure of, it was that the Council did what was best for society as a whole. As their motto proudly declared, you could 'Trust the Council'. I smiled as I repeated the motto under my breath, giving thanks once again that I was lucky enough to be part of this society.
I wish I could say I felt a strange sensation or at least a premonition when the Shield was administered, but the truth is, I felt nothing out of the ordinary. At the time.
It wasn't until later that evening that I realized something was wrong.
I found out later that someone had hacked my tattoo. Had, in fact, hacked all the Worker's tattoos.
But that evening, all I knew was that something was wrong. The first thing I noticed was an unaccustomed headache. I never got headaches, but that night I felt achy and irritable. Nothing seemed to go right.
Rik had decided at the last minute to eat in, instead of going out to dinner as he had originally advised. Normally I would have been thrilled, glad to have him home, but tonight I couldn't help wishing that he had given me a bit more notice. I had planned to spend the evening experimenting with a new recipe for apple pie, using some of the apples from work which would have gone to waste. But now I had to put that aside.
Grumbling a bit to myself, I defrosted a steak, grilled it along with some fresh vegetables and took it in to him, only about five minutes later than his normal eating time. He ignored the plate of food, choosing to criticise my tardiness instead.
"A whole five minutes late! I would have thought you were trained better than that by now, Tom." He had a deep line between his brows. Perhaps he had a headache, too, I tried to be charitable.
He turned to the food and began to pick his way through it, testing every portion as if a beetle or something equally horrid was lurking inside.
I stood by, waiting impatiently for him to finish. Usually I enjoyed this quiet time, but tonight I couldn't help thinking of all the things I could be doing instead. My pastry was only half done, if I didn't get back to it soon I would have to start the whole thing again.
Finally he finished and I started to clear away. A second later, his hand gripped my wrist, painfully hard. I froze as I realized I had not waited for him to give me permission. A faint rebellious thought flickered at the edge of my mind. He had finished the meal. I could see that plainly. Was I an idiot, that I had to wait for his order to clear the table?
I was a Worker, not a Service man who needed simple, repeated instructions. I had an important job. I worked all day, every day except Saturdays, surely I should be trusted by now to do this simple thing?
Rik must have seen something of this foreign resentment in my face, because he struck out at me. Without thinking, I brought up my arm to fend off the blow. For a long time it seemed, we stayed frozen in place, staring at each other. It wasn't that he had never hit me before, he had-not often it is true, but-sometimes. But I had never defended myself, never, until that moment.
I could see confusion in his face, if I hadn't known he was a Soldier, I would have thought I saw fear there, too.
"Don't hit me again," I stated between clenched teeth. I backed slowly away. My head was pounding by now, confused thoughts and feelings rushing through me, seemingly with no control. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." I turned and left before I could say anything else I would regret later.
Why had I put up with this for so long? I was his lover, yes, but I wasn't his slave! It felt rather as if I were awakening after a long sleep. How had I let myself become so... so passive? so subservient? When was the last time I had done any one single thing for myself? Automatically I picked up the pastry and began kneading it into a ball. I wasn't asking for the moon-all I wanted was to make a fucking pie for fuck's sake! I looked down at the ball of pastry which was now as hard and tight as my fist, and tossed it in the bin.
I had to get a grip on myself, what was happening?
I heard the door slam as Rik went out. He didn't come back all that night.
To my dismay, the primary emotion I felt was one of relief. I rose the next morning, prepared a leisurely breakfast for myself and went in to work, but for the first time I felt restless. Something felt different today. It took a surprisingly long time to realise I was bored. The tasks which were normally so satisfying were, today, excruciatingly boring. The same thing over and over again, for hours.
At lunch time, instead of sitting in comfortable silence with my co-workers, concentrating on the simple meal prepared for us, we talked. Hesitantly at first, then one after another of us came out with a story about what had happened the night before, either to us personally or to somebody else we had heard about.
I soon learned that Rik and I had got off lightly. Although many couples had come to blows, it was whispered that Soldiers had been killed in their sleep, that some Workers had committed suicide, unable to cope with the changes they felt inside. Their world turned unaccountably upside down.
There was nothing reported in the daily news cast.
Rumours, however, blossomed faster than yeast. Radiation had broken through the dome, causing bizarre aberrations. Something had got into the water supply, causing mass hallucinations. It was a conspiracy, a plot against the Council. Someone had hacked our tattoos and Workers had got the Shield dose meant for Soldiers, and Soldiers had got the dose meant for Workers.
That one rang true. For it was certainly after our visit to the Clinic that I noticed the change in myself. It didn't take much of a leap for me to guess that the Shield dose for Workers contained a sedative, a drug which kept us obedient and compliant. If Soldiers had got a dose of that, it explained why so many had been caught unawares when they were attacked.
No one knew exactly what was in the Shield dose given to Soldiers but it seemed fairly likely it included testosterone as well as the absence of sedatives.
I wondered what I would find when I went home that night. One thing was certain, Rik and I would have to sit down together and have a long talk. I thought I still loved him, but... my belief was shaken. How did I know what was real and what was the drugs? Would Rik even still want me, if I started standing up for myself? I didn't know.
The world had changed and we would both have to deal with it as best we could, I thought hopefully.
I woke up the next morning, still caught in the webs of last night's dream. That was a weird one! I shook my head to clear it, the details already fading. I noticed my right hand was absently rubbing my left wrist, over my caste code tattoo.
I lay there admiring the red Hammer and Sickle for a moment, the colours seemed even brighter today.
What was I doing lazing here in bed, when it would soon be time for breakfast? I jumped up, dressed quickly and tiptoed through Rik's room to the kitchen, careful not to disturb him. For a moment I blinked at the calendar-surprised it was already Tuesday. Where had yesterday gone? Before I could worry too much about it, I realised I must have made a mistake. I could hardly have lost a whole day!
Shaking my head again with a rueful smile, I put eggs and bacon into the pan, cooking them just the way Rik liked. I hummed as I cooked. Just enough time to take Rik breakfast in bed and still be on time for work.
The End
~~~
A prolific writer of short stories in different genres, Australian writer L.V. Lloyd has many of her works published in different anthologies and collections. Science Fiction is one of her favourite genres though. A regular participant in Wattpad writing contest, she's also a frequent contributor to Ooorah's science fiction e-zine Tevun Krus.
Her story "Tattoo" was written 2014 to a prompt in the Grandprix Challenge from ChallengeCorner.