Part One: Experiment: Industrialized, #1

By Nikki Elizabeth

While the nation knows Titus Tarm as a corporate giant dedicated to changing the world with cutting-edge technology, engineer Kristina Simmons learns that he plans to expand his wealth by launching a civil war with that same ingenuity. To her chagrin, she agrees to help him carry out that vision.

Kristina, feigning loyalty, starts taking steps to stop the impending warfare. That might be easier if she wasn't both a catalyst and an unconsenting experiment. As Tarm's plan unfolds, Kristina realizes that a terroristic cult has intertwined itself with his vision.

When corporations dwarf governments, power unfortunately lies in the hands of the wealthy elite.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nikki Elizabeth
• Release date: Apr 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224339020

Nikki Elizabeth

Nikki Elizabeth began her writing career in 2007 as a student journalist in the Greater Cleveland area. Since then, she's found her footing as a professional storyteller. From content marketing to copywriting, Nikki is the mastermind behind some of your least favorite junk mail and commercials. 

Book preview

Chapter One: Grief At The Gala

It was a mundane moment in a day as dull as any other. While my employer glanced over press material for the company's most extravagant PR stunt of the year, I had walked up to hand in my timecard. His unshakable concentration made me falter, though, as curiosity boiled within me. 

I see you didn't invite me to your gala. Again.

Without looking up, he said, You wouldn't like it.

"How would you know? I've never been to a soiree, so I don't even know."

He actually looked at me, seemingly seething with irritation. His tone, however, was calm. Miss Simmons, it's the end of the day, and I'm stressed. Don't leave me in a bad mood. Please.

Titus looked back down, so I thought that was that. However, he ventured further. I won't waste my time inviting you because I know you don't agree with all my policies and wouldn't support me publicly. This is my most important event of the year. I don't need the embarrassment.

My initial instinct was to laugh. Of course I don't agree with your policies! But that doesn't mean I wouldn't support you. I cocked my head. My parents, embarrassed by their working class daughter, had never taken me to any large event. They didn't even take me to church with them. For once in my life, I was curious as to what inclusion felt like. I softened my tone. I would go. If you invited me, that is.

That was how I found myself taking in Teseo Hall and all the unusual people populating it.

I held up the skirt of my gold floor-length empire dress as I ascended the stairs to the entrance. Teseo Hall was an impressive Renaissance, Baroque, and Romanesque architectural mishmash. I noted perhaps a dozen well-dressed men outside the main door, each clutching a marijuana cigarette in his hand. I could see no sign of security, nor did I see any bouncer or commissionaire checking a guest list.

This gala already has Tarm Industries written all over it, I thought.

Tarm Industries was a technology manufacturer – scratch that. T.I. Inc. was the manufacturer of Tesland. The company dabbled in nearly every industry, and the common link between all Tarm's products was that they were each intended to make a job easier and to make people lazier. For example, Tarm produced a pneumatic conveyor system that transported mail from the mailbox to the house. The same company produced an electric dental spoon excavator to detect and automatically scrape out decayed parts of teeth.

Tarm's ingenuity, easy-to-use products, and overall appeal to a variety of publics, industries, and lifestyles made them the biggest technology company in the Western world.

And the ingenuity made the young founder and CEO Titus Tarm a very, very rich man.

As I brushed past the crowd gathered outside the gala, I saw his silhouette appear in the window beside the door. Titus was just a few inches taller than the average man, and he was a striking character. Wavy dark brown hair framed an angular face inset with quizzical brown eyes that were somehow cold and mocking. Catching his gaze through the window, I felt that familiar coldness emanating toward me.

He might have had frown lines from putting up with me, but just after founding Tarm Industries, he'd invented some serum that slowed his aging. When he realized that his serum had changed his pale olive skin so dramatically, he destroyed the recipe and the equipment to replicate it. Like me, he was annoyed by society's obsession with vanity, so he kept his seemingly ethereal youth to himself.

He seemed almost like a god – untouchable, brilliantly and mysteriously intelligent, eternally handsome, and rich as hell.

Tarm could be a god of chaos, maybe, I thought. Or greed. Hubris, perhaps. Uh oh, he’s starting to look... neutral. That’s not good.

Still at the window, his jovial expression had faded into an unreadable mask as he watched me approach. Titus disappeared, reappearing mere seconds later in the doorway as he stepped out of the venue.

He approached. I told you to be here promptly at four forty-five. Do you know what time it is?

I don't know... five?

"Fifteen minutes past five! he exclaimed irritably. Dammit, Kris, I expected you to be at my side to greet every guest as they entered. As the engineer that produced the most original ideas, you were meant to greet them to boast of your success. And, more importantly, your presence should inspire them to work harder throughout this fiscal year so that they too may be recognized in the future."

As it turned out, Titus had gone one step beyond inviting me. I was the guest of honor, to my chagrin.

Woo hoo, I said sarcastically. Work harder, put in more hours, and in the end, you'll be rewarded with having to spend a bunch of unpaid time with your cranky-ass boss.

In response to my remark, he got uncomfortably close to my face. "Oh, do I have some choice words for you, Kristina. You asked for an invite... you could at least take this seriously. Do you know how many strings I pulled to make this happen?"

I don't think I mentioned one fundamental characteristic of my boss; Titus Tarm is an asshole. He scared off every assistant he employed before he hired me. After years of putting up with him, I'd become feisty, impatient, and amazingly, a better scientist.

Defiantly, I responded, "Pulled some strings? In the company you own? I work my ass off for you every year, and I came up with our biggest projects this year. Meanwhile, you bitch at me incessantly even though I do everything you ask. You don't deserve respect, Tarm. You're entitled and privileged, and, quite frankly, you're a di..."

Obviously startled, Titus looked past me, so I trailed off. He plastered a smile on his face. Hello, Mr. Calvin.

I turned to a curious plump blonde man with rosy round cheeks. He also pulled his face into a tight smile, but his was... insidious, almost. I suppressed a shiver.

Hello, Mr. Tarm. I trust you are looking forward to unveiling the products that will hit the market this year. Your gala's venue is just lovely. As always, I have high expectations for the dinner and your latest must-haves.

Are you a reporter? I blurted, to which Titus responded by elbowing me. 

Titus composed himself, offering a charming smile. Any opportunity I have to introduce our newest innovations is appreciated and, more importantly, I find it absolutely necessary to recognize the great efforts of my hard workers like Miss Kristina Simmons here. She is my personal lab assistant and one of our top engineers. She’s our guest of honor tonight.

Congratulations, Calvin said, extending a hand politely. His fingers were pudgy and pink. I imagined his palms were clammy, but I stopped myself from thinking about it before I could hesitate. When I accepted the handshake, he offered a curt nod before turning back to Titus. Your other employees won't be jealous that you honored your girlfriend tonight, will they?

I gagged before I could stop myself. Titus chuckled and said, She may be a minority in the industry, but don't let her charm fool you – she's more sour than most of these bitter should-be retirees.

The man laughed. His chin receded into his neck as he guffawed. Something about him reminded me of an old turtle retreating into his shell. Perhaps it was his round face and beady eyes, or maybe his short and raspy tone. I didn't like him, but Titus seemed to with the way he smiled. He slapped Titus on the shoulder. Tarm, a man like you should be in the entertainment business. I'll talk to you after dinner.

Titus nodded as his conversation partner departed. As the man disappeared into the building, any sign of friendliness faded from Titus's face. He rolled his eyes. 

I hate that man. He uses his position as a reporter to get into expensive and exclusive events. I have to be nice to him though, because the press holds the key to my – and my company's – reputation. Hopefully he doesn't quote your outburst in his event coverage.

You really think that would be the focus of the article? He doesn't seem to have a problem with a bunch of your product developers smoking a prohibited substance outside Teseo Hall.

Titus stared at me unseeingly for a moment before clearing his throat. "Of course not. My parties, Kris, are where intellectual and hardworking people can relax and do whatever they want – with extreme exceptions, of course – without consequence." 

And... the police stay away?

I give them a bribe to stay far away. He scowled. I say that groundbreaking tech is on display and that only select people are welcome. I tell them that spies from competing companies are a constant threat and I can't trust any unwelcome persons on the property. Ultimately, I pray that they continue to pretend to believe me.

Pretend?

Sure, just like I pretend to like our government to get the minimal economic freedom my campaigning has afforded me. So far, they've graciously accepted every bribe I've offered. They once tried to imply that I needed to pay more, and I laughed and turned to leave. Of course, they couldn't bear to part with the promise of so much money.

I realized that, at some point, I'd raised my eyebrows in shock and left them stuck in that position. I relaxed my features. You know, Titus, you're not a good person.

With a grin, he linked arms with me. "I know. And I could argue that you are even worse."

We make a great team, don't we?

He chuckled. The best. Tesland has no idea what we have in store for it.

I WAS SEATED BETWEEN Titus and a very handsome dark-featured man during the dinner. While the hundred or so people in attendance settled at their tables, Titus moved to walk to a stage at the front of the venue. He paced around several large objects covered with light mauve tarps, eyeing each item with pride. He turned to his audience with a grin.

"My coworkers, my friends, thank you all for being here. Each year, I hold this Unveiling Gala to do two very important things – to encourage you to share in my pride and admiration for all the wonderful things we've accomplished this year and to reward you for your hard work."

As he spoke, women in tea-length black dresses buzzed throughout the venue distributing bread, salad, and pasta. The bar in the rear of Teseo Hall suddenly became quite busy. Titus took in the activity with sparkling eyes as, one by one, he removed the tarps from the mystery objects on stage.

These, here, are several of our greatest achievements of the year. This one, however... He trailed off to fondly rest his hands on a large brass device. ...Was made by one of our top engineers, whom I'll soon be honoring as our most exceptional employee this year.

I rolled my eyes. Stupid corporate culture. I’m the employee of a lifetime, and he knows it.

This generator will power one of my plants – each factory will get its own. This machine captures random kinetic energy in its environment and converts it into electricity, which then fuels the factory. The beautiful thing about this device is that it uses only a tiny amount of energy to make this electricity, so hardly anything is lost during the conversion process.

As Titus spoke, he grandly gestured with his hands. His voice was loud and steady, and although he spoke with a cadence, it was clear to me that he hadn’t planned or rehearsed anything. 

"It's push and pull, to and fro, a perpetual flow of energy from one form to another. There's no depletion of fossil fuels, no pollution from the conversion process, and this machine depletes our electrical bills!"

I saw a handful of reporters holding up cameras to livecast pictures to screens across the country. Video, of course, was strictly forbidden. 

I grew increasingly nervous as I waited for him to call me to the stage. I reached up to touch hair that I'd sloppily thrown into a loose bun. Coppery-golden strands danced around my fingers. I gracelessly tried to poke them back into the updo.

Titus paced to the next machine, still jabbering, so I awkwardly scooped up a spoon to gaze at my reflection.

Compared to the handful of women in attendance, I was very plain. While many of them had incredibly long lash extensions or tattoos swirling around eyes with irises in various jewel tones, I had small brown-hazel eyes set in a very generic pale face. In addition to the handsome gentleman next to me, two men and a woman were at our table. The blonde woman had dark tattoos flowing from her eyelids.

She would have been rather plain, I thought, if not for the tattoos. Somehow, they made her look exotic. Powerful. Jealously, I looked down at my inverted reflection. 

I look boring, I thought helplessly. I should have at least covered up my freckles.

The gentleman beside me tapped my shoulder. You look great. Don't be nervous.

I smiled at him in surprise. He had a thick accent I couldn’t place, but I offered a hand rather than pursue the desire to ask about it. Thank you, sir. I'm Kristina Simmons.

He shook my hand. I know. Congratulations. I am Joaquin Lopez – I, like you, am an engineer. A logistics engineer. Unlike you, I do not have the honor of working directly alongside Mr. Tarm on his esteemed endeavors.

My ensuing snort earned me several irritated looks, particularly from the blonde woman at our table. She grabbed the elbow of the man next to her and whispered venomously as I said, Thank you. And, really, it's not that great. I've met just a few engineers with T.I., but the good news is that they've all grown tremendously in their careers.

So I've heard. I've heard him speak of you, too. It's truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Simmons. I've admired your work for some time.

Coming from someone as handsome as him, the compliment was almost dizzying. I was faintly aware of Titus introducing the guest of honor, and suddenly everyone in attendance was looking at me. I quickly scuttled up to the stage to join him at the microphone. Beaming, he presented me with a plaque while cameras flashed and the audience clapped.

After joining the company as an intern years ago, Kristina has become the most accomplished inventor I've ever known, he announced proudly. I dare say I have more confidence in her work ethic and dedication than my own. It's only right to recognize her years of effort with this award.

The crowd clapped as Titus brushed me up to the microphone. I glared at him, whispering, You said I didn't have to do a speech!

Keep it short, he growled. 

I looked at the audience somewhat coyly. What an honor it is to finally be recognized for my years of putting up with Mr. Tarm's bullshit. If there are any reporters here, please quote me on that.

Titus flushed with anger, but the crowd laughed and applauded for a solid thirty seconds. As the noise died down, I chuckled. "I'm kidding, of course. It's an honor to work for T.I. at all. Titus took me in years ago, but I never expected to be such a valued employee. In fact, I fully expected my employment to be temporary – I think it's safe to say Titus thought so, too.

All I can say is that I'm glad people can finally appreciate and use these wonderful devices I've helped design. I've always been imaginative, but growing up, it never crossed my mind that my ideas could help people. So thank you, Titus, for believing in me and giving me this award. And thank you for allowing me to change the world.

As I awkwardly stepped back, Titus offered me a smile – a genuine smile – and stepped forward to the microphone again. From all of us at Tarm Industries, thank you, Kristina, for keeping our paychecks fat. Let's change the world together.

The crowd chuckled, though the lack of explosive laughter clearly demonstrated the disagreement between Titus and T.I.'s employees on what defined a fat paycheck.

Thank you for coming out tonight, T.I. employees. You're welcome onto the stage to view these newest designs up close, although I'm afraid that nonemployees cannot yet do that, as patents are pending on certain designs. In the meantime, those lovely waitresses will distribute steak, and there's an open bar in the back. Get a drink, enjoy your meal, and stick around for dessert. Throughout the dinner, the San Diego Jazz Quartet will be performing. Immediately after dinner, they'll debut a light show, and I encourage attendees to dance. Have fun tonight, everybody!

As a final round of applause echoed through the room, Titus linked arms with me and led us back to our seats. He smiled at me as we walked. I was serious, you know. We're going to change the world together.

Time will tell, I said skeptically.

Sooner rather than later, I'd bet.

Once we settled, waitresses swarmed Titus to serve him first. He looked like a king. To my delight, our table was immediately catered to. Joaquin once again sparked a conversation as I ravenously dug in.

I liked your speech. Although I don't think you were joking about Tarm being full of bullshit.

Titus leaned forward to glare at him. "Hush, Lopez. You're lucky a... we'll say low-level engineer like yourself even got an invite."

"You really stoop to insulting my intelligence, boss? asked Joaquin. Then why did you hire me?"

Titus shrugged while he cut into his entree. I can insult any of my employees' intelligence – you're all morons compared to me.

He's not wrong, agreed the blonde woman. Mr. Tarm's intellect is extraordinary.

I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to my new acquaintance. How did you start working for such a cranky egoist?

Titus looked him dead in the eye, glaring menacingly, daring him to answer me. Joaquin, unphased, took a sip of his champagne. "En País, there were no opportunities to study in our field. I hopped on a ship that slipped past Tesland's embargo, and I've been engineering here ever since. I was looking for good work, but I also wanted to educate myself and grow as I studied the market, so I decided to stay here. After asking around, I found Mr. Tarm."

Was it hard finding employment with your accent? I've never met an immigrant.

He nodded, "Sí, they do not want you to meet immigrants. They've tried to keep us out, but we make our way into the country regardless of entry being illegal. It was very gracious of Mr. Tarm to employ me."

I turned to Titus curiously. Do you always offer employment to immigrants?

Ideas come from great thinkers. The boundaries of thought are limitless – the boundaries of our country, our culture, and our language are not. I don't care about place of origin, religion, age, or anything else if you do good work. I think that hiring riffraff like you, Kris, demonstrates that.

As he spoke, a small, curvy woman wandered to the table and settled across from me. Her eyes were startlingly gray, her skin a lovely pale shade of tan. She, like me, wore very little makeup in comparison to most of the women in attendance. Unlike me, she was stunningly beautiful.

The woman had long, silky black hair that curled loosely at the ends. Her face was heart-shaped, her eyebrows were thick and arched, and her eyes had heavy winged eyeliner framing them. All the men at our table were admiring her presence except for Titus, who was impaling green beans with his fork.

Tarm, she said softly, revealing another strange accent.

He looked up. Qattara! I thought you weren't going to make it. You missed the reveal of this year's products.

I am very sorry that I'm late, she said. I ran into my sister –

Ah. His tone darkened.

She said she'll be seeing you tonight.

Titus stared at Qattara for a long, silent moment. The other six people at our table, myself included in that count, silenced and curiously turned our attention to the tense conversation.

And the others? His lip curled slightly higher at the right corner as he fought to prevent a scowl.

No worries, she said gently. "He'll be there, too."

Titus suddenly broke his intense stare as he turned to signal a waitress to serve Qattara. I realized the conversation was over when he continued devouring his meal. He slipped a venomous gaze at me. I turned my attention back to Joaquin as he leaned forward with eyes locked on Qattara.

"Hola, mi compañero de crimen, he said with a charming smile. Es bueno verte hoy."

I turned back to Titus, waiting for him to strike up a conversation. He cocked a brow without looking up at me. What?

Nothing, I just...

Lost your opportunity for conversation with your handsome new friend? he teased. You're funny. You having a drink?

I shook my head. He offered me his glass, so I shook my head again.

Oh, come on. Just smell it.

Cautiously, I sniffed the champagne and looked up at him. It smelled flowery, crisp, and reminiscent of apples and rose petals. Isn't that what champagne is supposed to smell like?

He grinned. This is my favorite drink, a beverage from Kayliope... You know, my little side-project vineyard and brewery. My sister made and documented what became my company's first recipes. This one is surprisingly sweet, demi-sec, and it can turn any non-drinker into a wine connoisseur.

I've never had a drink, Titus. You know, because alcohol isn't legal. Though I wanted to point that out, I bit my tongue.

Titus shrugged, slipped a white blur of something through his lips, and took a sip. Your loss. I do think Jacob and I will eventually broaden your horizons.

A petite waitress buzzed past us to offer Qattara a drink, which she graciously accepted. I glanced around at the few women in attendance. Each one had a glass.

I looked back at Titus with concern. Should you be taking pills while drinking?

Once again, our table silenced, this time honing in on our private conversation. Titus averted his eyes. It's a vitamin that stimulates tissue stem cells. I've been working on skin treatment again, and I test everything on myself. But anyway, it's only a vitamin and it's fine to drink with.

Sorry for prying.

Conversation started again. I tried to ignore the red-hot embarrassment that crept into my cheeks as I put my hand on his forearm and pressed, Should I be drinking, though? I feel like I stand out too much.

It's fine to stand out. I do. The only time one should aim to blend in is when they're hiding in plain sight. Assuming a person has a reason. He looked down at my hand coldly. Don't touch me.

Ignoring him, I thought aloud, "Well, I don't think 'blend in' is what I meant. I think the issue is that I don't fit in."

The band began to play. Titus brushed my hand off his arm distastefully before turning to glance at the light show.

I like that you stand out, interjected Joaquin. He leaned forward to offer me a hand. Do you dance?

Hesitantly, I accepted his outstretched hand. He dragged me out of my seat with a grin.

I SAT UP AND LOOKED around. I was curled up under my fleece-lined lab coat on a threadbare couch in the warehouse office. The smell of coffee tickled my nose as the realization that it was morning fully shook off the lingering heaviness of slumber.

I pulled the coat on as I walked into the lab where Titus was sipping coffee from a cup with the navy blue T.I. logo. He was seated on a bar stool with his eyes on an array of papers.

Morning. I smoothed down my unkempt hair. When did you get here?

After the party. When he looked at me, I noticed that his pupils were dilated. I didn't expect that you'd be spending the night in the lab.

His tone was not remotely scolding. It was extremely out of character for him, and I wondered if the vitamin he'd taken at the party was, in actuality, a drug. The fleeting thought that his explanation hadn't been for me, but for the people at our table, crossed my mind before I ultimately dismissed it.

I lost track of time with Joaquin, I admitted. My parents have a curfew set on the security system. If I'm not home by ten, I'm locked out. Jacob let me in here.

He pursed his lips. Understood. Hope you had fun. Coffee?

No, thank you. I moved closer to him. "Are you, um, on something? Your pupils are huge."

"Yes. It's an upper; I needed to stay awake all night. I had a meeting here last night – which, by the way, you snored through, thank you very much – and some of my employees were attacked. I had a lot to work through. Are you sure about that coffee?"

Attacked? Are they okay? 

He shook his head and trembled slightly as he said, Police attacked them, and they didn't survive. Qattara did, but her men...

I felt lightheaded as I processed his words. What? How many men?

Three, he stated. Qattara is my international distributor, you know. She moves products to Canada, where we have a huge market. Occasionally, she moves them down south past the embargo. Her ship... it's legal. But not all the business we do is. The sector she heads is mostly immigrants. And our police strive to wipe out immigrants, you know...

He kept talking, but I heard precious little of it. Flashes of the night before flooded my mind. It had nothing to do with our business – as they left the party, there was no evidence to suggest that they were even traders. It was racism.

He didn't have to say it. I felt myself sway. Joaquin.

He nodded. I know you think I'm just a heartless bastard with no love for anything but money, but I care, Kris. I really care and things like this hurt me. I do what I do because I want to save lives, not destroy them.

I felt lightheaded as I stumbled into a stool beside him. I'd never known loss, yet here I was, left to mourn over a man that was practically a stranger to me. A strange heaviness hung at the base of my throat, an ache in my chest, a rolling in my stomach... 

I don't think you're heartless, Titus, I whispered. How could you think I think that?

His gaze was heavy. I'm only the way I am because I've lost so much in my life. But I'm so asinine – I've allowed myself to become so bitter because I hate the life I live.

I took his cup from him and sipped the coffee. It was thick and seemingly sludgy in its consistency. Somehow, it made me feel better.

Do things like this happen often, Titus?

In my life? he asked, cocking an eyebrow. Yes... it's just another day. It still hurts, though. Tarm Industries is an endeavor aimed at improving lives. So at least I have some purpose.

What if your company is destroying lives, though? I asked. Joaquin wouldn't have even been here if you and Qattara hadn't offered him employment... isn't that true?

Yes, he said. "It's true. But employing illegal aliens is not even remotely destructive. Life in Tesland is to blame. Exclusively. Believe me, Kris, I'm building my fortune to change the world. I have accomplished nothing yet, which makes losses like these feel all the more painful. It feels like a lost cause."

Titus took his coffee cup back and drank, downing the rest in an impressive chug. He got up, abruptly ending the conversation, and walked into the kitchen. I followed him, watching as he washed his cup in the sink.

There's so much work to do, he grumbled.

What kind of work?

Well, nothing particularly legal. He glanced over his shoulder at me. You best be getting home. I'm about to go home to sleep for the rest of the weekend. If I'm still this stressed on Monday, you'll have a rough day at work. But we'll talk then.

Without a word, I turned and set out for home. I felt pain all over, inside and out. The grief was a lingering, heavy burden that made my muscles ache.

Chapter Two: A Healthy Workplace Culture

Icould hear the nightly news playing in another room. Something about a Mathesius Family massacre anniversary... The group of terrorists had tormented the country before my birth. I wasn't listening closely, but the anchor sounded solemn. The next segment moved on to talk about how rain, a rarity in South Tesland, would be coming.

A mechanical servant distributed food to the table. My corset was already tight, but the machine on my waist hummed as it automatically tightened another inch. I gasped for breath, gripping the wood of the dinner table. One of my nails cracked and bled, leaving me wincing and groaning between each inhale.

Kristina, scolded my father. Don't breathe so loudly – it's impolite!

Her corset tightened, explained Mum. Can't you tell? Look at that lovely figure! I wish my corset would tighten to that size.

I frowned, still gasping. My head rolled back as a dizzy spell washed over me. Mum! Do you not realize how many women have died when their corsets tightened too much?

Women don't die from corsets! She shook her head with a chuckle. That's just a silly rumor.

"Mother, I growled. The wooziness subsided slightly, but an unbearable ache pulsated in my belly. These corsets do more damage than good. If I could, I would take it off."

The emotional trauma of the previous day combined with the pain from my corset made me unusually irritable and impatient. Nonetheless, such tension was not uncommon in my household. 

Don't be rude, my father chided. "Do you know how much your corset cost? Your machinated corset is unique in that it automatically gets smaller as your body molds to the shape of the metal. How are you, an inventor, not impressed by that?"

"Do you not realize that I can never take it off? If it keeps getting smaller – as it promises to – it’ll suck the life out of me."

Ridiculous! my mother declared. I have been wearing an iron corset far longer than you, and I'm fine.

Your waist isn't the size of mine, Mum.

Obviously not – I had you.

I frowned. Yes, before you got your corset. With this thing, if I ever was pregnant, the baby would be crushed. Like the rest of my organs.

You don't want children, said my parents in unison.

"Isn't that my choice to make? I asked. Another robot rolled up to the table to pour me a drink. I glared up at it. I'm going to my room."

So be it, said my father. Next time you come down here, speak to us with respect. I'll not be insulted at my own table.

I lifted my head defiantly and huffed as I stood.

As soon as I reached my room, the corset tightened again. I fell to my knees, gasping, staring at the bed that was just out of my reach. The floor was hard and cold beneath me. After a few seconds, I caught my breath and stood slowly.

Damn, that one winded me. Each episode is getting worse.

I grabbed the telecommunicator remote and dialed my boss's number as a large monitor screen suddenly flashed to life.  The laboratory appeared, showcasing a dirty and eclectic mishmash of lab tables and strange devices. In the middle of the mess was Titus, who was mixing chemicals with intense focus. 

He looked much more put together than when we'd last spoken.

What do you want, Kris? he asked without looking up. This better be work-related. 

His tone was aggravated, but his features were molded into a blank expression. Evidently, his life had returned to business as usual in the twenty-four hours that had passed.

I need your help, Titus. 

He stopped stirring a vial, though he still did not look up. Yes...?

Can you come to my house?

This time Titus looked at me.

What's wrong? His brown eyes were wide with what appeared to be concern. 

I need to cut off this corset.

Titus stared for a long moment, chewing his lip. You know it's not designed to come off.

Which is why I need your help, I said. 

He set the glass in his hand down to gaze at me for a second. I do rather enjoy a challenge. What if it tightens while I’m working, though? What if you suffocate?

It has to come off one way or another. I could take it off on my own, but... You're a genius, aren't you? It seems like turning to you is the safest option.

He mulled that over, looking toward the ceiling as he scratched his chin. "Well, I am a genius. And if I accidentally killed you while trying to help, I bet my cousin could find someone to get rid of your body. But finding a replacement assistant would be a bitch..."

"Are you seriously contemplating this? Tarm, I will die if I face this on my own. This corset is killing me. It just tightened again today, and if it gets any tighter, I'm certain my lungs will explode. And I'm not even exaggerating."

Titus studied me silently. He looked back down at his concoction and lifted it slowly.

Come to the lab, he encouraged dryly. I'll cut it off here. It may take a while and a lot of precision, but I believe I can do it. Like I said, finding a replacement assistant would be a pain. You have too many unfinished projects and too many deadlines...

He trailed off and swooshed the liquid around the vial, studying the movement with a sharp gaze.

I frowned. "Still so much to do, but I'm also so goddamn sick of living like this. My entire life is being engulfed and suffocated by the decisions of others. I don't get to fucking think for myself, and nothing I have here is even real. Not my figure,