Island IV – Meetings · Part 15 (15/21)
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There must be some purpose to this, Barbara thought. This was not the typical lunchtime routine. It felt more like she was putting on a show. That’s it! He’s deliberately staging a performance for the noontime audience. Confident she’d figured out his plan she did her best to go along.
The floor supervisor returned to the counter. “Do you need some help?” he asked.
“Could you arrange to have…” he paused, looking around. He suddenly pointed to two women sitting at a nearby table. “There’s an empty table in the corner. I’d like these two ladies to take the trays over there. Could you see to it?”
Ray took hold of Barbara’s cuffs with one hand, and grasped her upper arm tight with the other. This was the procedure used by the guards to forcibly steer an uncooperative “guest” to wherever she was supposed to go. The stunned silence in the dining hall embarrassed Barbara. Ray had to know she’d never show any resistance, yet he was treating her as recalcitrant, requiring brute force to overcome her poor behavior.
Seconds later the trays were at the table and the helpers headed back to their table. Barbara stared down at her tray. So near yet so far, she lamented silently. Ray was behind her. Then the cuffs came off. Relieved she wasn’t going to be fed by hand, she stretched out her arms for a moment before letting them down to her sides.
Ray pulled out her chair. “Have a seat,” he said. “Don’t let your food get cold.” He pushed in the chair once she sat down. Hands on her knees were out, so she improvised by placing each hand, palm down, on either side of the tray.
He joined her on the other side. “You may eat,” he quietly gave the approval she needed before she could start. Her back was to the other tables, yet she could feel all eyes upon her.
Before she could ask, he handed her the ketchup bottle. He knows me too well, she laughed to herself, while liberally covering the French fries with red goo. She picked up a fry and sent it to its fate, savoring the salty fried potato goodness. She watched while Ray attacked his burger. He really does know me, at least what’s best for me, even if I can’t always see it.
“Am I on company time, sir? The part about being a role model for all the newcomers, show them how it’s done when master is in charge, that sort of thing?”
He glanced up from his milkshake. “Didn’t take long for you to figure it out?” She noticed his eyes shifting to a spot past her shoulder. “You are aware just about everyone in the dining hall is staring at you?”
Barbara resisted the temptation to turn and look. The right way was to keep her focus on Ray, as if eating lunch in the main dining room was nothing out of the ordinary. It was a pretense; she was certain that throughout the brokerage the main topic of conversation for the rest of the day, and on to tomorrow, would be Ray Madsen, the brokerage owner, sitting down to eat with everyone else, with a possibly misbehaving Barbara in tow.
Conversation during lunch was wide-ranging. At one point it turned to the local news from South Island, about activists demanding the Facility be shut down. “If they succeed then it’s only a matter of time before they come after North Island too, especially the brokerages. I’ve organized a fund with other brokerage owners to help Director Yates with the legal bills.”
“Isn’t the Facility sort of a competitor, sir?”
Ray shook his head. “I don’t see it that way. The Facility is non-profit, plus there’s virtually no overlap with North Island in general. It’s a public image battle. I’m sure you’ve seen those fake ‘documentaries’ about the brokerages. You know, how I keep you chained to a basement wall all day long, often beating you senseless for no particular reason. And that’s all on a good day.”
Barbara laughed at his ridiculous scenario. “I do appreciate the break from hanging from the wall, sir. I hope you won’t think me insolent to mention it.”
“Careful, woman, I can be easily provoked. Speaking of public image, I have some news that applies to you. You’re going to be Selene’s guest on this weekend’s Moon Maiden podcast, for the entire hour.”
Public Exposure Back in Ray’s office Barbara was worried. “Are you sure this is a good idea, sir? It’s one thing to go to a party, quite another to sit through a lengthy interview. She broadcasts live; there’s no way to edit out mistakes. I’m no expert on social media and how to handle the scrutiny.” She was close to begging Ray to reconsider his decision to have her appear on Island Moon Maid, the highest rated locally produced podcast in the entire Island archipelago.
“Part of your appeal is you’re not one of the usual talking head pundits. Like it or not, you’ve become a minor celebrity, mostly through Selene’s efforts to promote you. Just be yourself, that’s all I’m asking.” There was a shift in his tone of voice. “You will go to the interview. You’ll do fine. I have every confidence in you.”
It’s a done deal, Barbara concluded when Ray finished his pep talk. “Sir? What if she wants to get into personal, intimate details? How can I refuse to answer without looking like I’m hiding some dark secret?”
Ray sighed in an elaborate exaggeration of impatience. “That’s the least of your worries. You forget, you have the perfect excuse. If a question makes you feel uncomfortable, simply explain you are not allowed to answer. No one would dare criticize you for being obedient. Now they might think I’m a petty tyrant, but that’s nothing new. Fact is, if you look at it objectively, I am a tyrant, arbitrarily ordering you around purely to suit my deviant pleasures.”
Barbara had to concede he had a point. Not that he was an evil dictator; she never thought of Ray in that way. She had the catchall “Get Out of Jail Free” card, the collar locked around her neck. It was one of Island society’s greatest benefits, at least for women like her when faced with awkward situations. Master’s orders, the single constant that was never challenged. Ray was the one responsible for handling delicate issues, not Barbara. No hard choices, that was the implicit bargain she had with the man who owned her.
“Our pleasure, sir, except I don’t share the guilt about it. I can dump all the responsibility on you with a clear conscience. Thank you, sir, for reminding me I can dodge any question with impunity. If the Moon Maiden wants to know what makes Barbara tick, well then, I’m ready to bare all. In a figurative way, sir, I assume. I won’t have to take my clothes off?”
Ray had a thoughtful look on his face. “I hadn’t considered it. She does simulcast a video feed, live only as I’m told, nothing recorded. Do you think you could remain cool and collected if she conducted the interview with you stripped and kneeling in chains?”
For one moment she was afraid he was serious, until she saw the grin on his face. She couldn’t imagine he’d actually carry it out, but there was always that little voice in the back of her head, warning her there were no limits on what he could demand of her.
“I’m not sure how I’d react, sir. Would you like to rehearse the interview first? Should I take off my clothes now?” He could tease her, but Barbara was learning how to hold her own when he started off on a power trip.
At first, he said nothing. “That’s a good idea. Rehearsing is always important. I’ll be right back after I get the necessary, uhh, studio props.” She saw the look in his eye that predicted what was coming next.
It was all Barbara could do to keep a straight face. Ray was every bit the stubborn and strong-willed master, yet there were times all it took was a tiny push on her part to steer him in the right direction. She reached behind her back to unzip her dress. There would be only one result from the impromptu rehearsal, and it wouldn’t have much to do with her scheduled studio date tomorrow night.
The Podcast “Good evening listeners! Tonight, the Moon Maiden has a special episode featuring an in depth, live interview with one of North Island’s rising social luminaries. I’m looking forward to an exciting hour. Remember, if you like to hear more of the Maiden’s podcasts, be sure to subscribe and hit that ‘Like’ button.”
The announcer, who happened to be Selene’s master, inserted the usual disclaimer. “This podcast has been authorized by Zachary Keller, Selene’s owner. Female guests appear with the permission of their owners. North Island regulations are strictly enforced at all times. We respect all restrictions applicable to Selene and her guests.”
Selene picked up the rest of the introduction. “Thank you, sir. We’ll take a break for our sponsors to pay the bills before we begin our conversation with Barbara, owned by Mr. Ray Madsen. If that name sounds familiar, it is! Mr. Madsen is the owner of Madsen Brokerage, the largest and one of the most respected brokerage houses on North Island. Barbara has quite a story to tell us! I’ll try to get to some of the questions you send in during the next hour. We’ll be right back.”
Selene waved her hand, cutting the microphones. “We have two minutes before we’re back on. This first part will be to introduce you to the public, a bit on how you’re adapting to North Island, maybe an anecdote or two about surprises you’ve encountered in everyday routine. That sound okay to you?”
Barbara sat across from Selene in the tiny studio. The Moon Maiden broadcast went out live, which did make Barbara anxious about mistakes. “That’s fine, although I’m not sure I have any really interesting stories to share.”
The studio proved to be far less that what Barbara imagined. It consisted of a soundproof room containing a table, chairs, and two microphones. The sound engineer and announcer, Selene’s owner, watched them through a window.
“And we’re back. If you’ve been watching the video then you’ll know the top question I absolutely have to ask. Barbara, what’s with the costume? What’s it called, a burqa?” Far from being stripped and chained, Ray had gone to the opposite extreme. “For our audio-only listeners, Barbara is wearing what I’m told is an authentic burqa from a bazaar in eastern Iran, near the Afghan border. I have to say, this is a first for the program.”
Knowing a camera picked up her every move, and how popular the Moon Maiden’s podcast was, Barbara was conscious of being under intense scrutiny. “Selene, I’d like to say I’m not of the Muslim faith, nor am I from that part of the world. I mean no disrespect to any woman who chooses modest clothing. Why am I wearing one? My master’s company is developing a new training program for non-Muslim women who might find themselves in a traditional, observant home. Part of the course is public appearance. Non-western cultures in that part of the world tend to be very conservative, with a vastly different standard for what constitutes proper behavior for a woman. Proper behavior, isn’t that something we all have to be conscious of, what is and is not acceptable to our owners?”
Selene laughed. “I think you’re preaching to the choir on that subject. I’m sure most of our listeners would agree with you.”
“Not that you can tell, Selene, but underneath the burqa I have on a company uniform. I’m not allowed to show you, but I’m sure you’ve seen a Madsen Brokerage dress before.”
Selene laughed. “Oh yes, it’s quite, uh, visible.” That was being tactful.
Barbara didn’t have to be discreet about her opinion. “It’s an eyesore, and that’s being charitable. Sure, it’s visible, for all the wrong reasons. My master’s choice of design isn’t driven by any hint of fashion sense. And it’s okay, I have permission to say that, in case your listeners complain.”
“And speaking of listeners, this email just arrived. Georgette writes, ‘Is wearing the burqa uncomfortable, and was it your idea to appear in one tonight?’ A good question; how about it, Barbara?”
“No, it wasn’t my idea. Master did offer me a choice, though. I could go with the burqa, or I could show up in my birthday suit.” Ray had a way of letting her decide, but only if he stacked the deck first. “As you can see, I figured this might be more suitable for a broadcast.
“It really isn’t unpleasant, despite what it may look like. It’s a light cotton fabric, lets the air circulate, and the loose fit is quite a contrast to one of those skin tight club dresses. This little panel in front,” Barbara pointed to her eyes, “does limit what I can see, no peripheral vision, and it’s a bit fuzzy. I’d have to say the only real drawback is eating or drinking. I have to reach under this piece of cloth,” again Barbara demonstrated by holding out the covering over her mouth, “so it can be messy. By the way, thanks for the straw in my glass of water.”
Selene shook her head. “I have to say, if I were ordered to wear one of those things I’d beg for forgiveness after committing some terrible mistake. You know, if you passed me in the street, I’d have no idea who you were.”
Barbara nodded. “I think that’s the idea. Our instructor told me in the villages the women get to know each other and can tell just by the way you walk, what you’re carrying, or naturally your voice. If I had to, I could get used to it. I admit I do like to dress up if we go out for an evening, but if it’s just a trip to the supermarket I’d survive the stares.”
“Speaking of stares, have you been out in public, inside that thing?” At Barbara’s nod Selene continued, “When you mentioned stares, what exactly do you mean?”
Barbara reached up adjust her headdress. “As women we all see the appreciative glances from men as we pass by. I don’t criticize; their brains are hard-wired to notice us. I admit I want to look nice for my master, and if I were pressed to be truthful, I enjoy the thought other men envy my owner for what belongs to him alone.
“But in a burqa, everything changes. I stand out for being singularly unattractive, in the sense there’s nothing to see. The looks from men, and women, are because I’m the odd one standing out in the crowd. I have to admit I have mixed feelings about it. Of course, I am obeying my master, and that’s more important than anything else. But! There’s a kind of freedom in not being on display that makes up for the inconvenience. I tell myself my master ordered the burqa because he’s possessive; he wants me all to himself. I have a better understanding of the reasons why women who wear modest clothing everyday are just as insistent on the tradition as the men.”
“Food for thought, isn’t that right, listeners? It reminds me of that old cliché, ‘walk a mile in my shoes’, or what look like army boots from here.” Selene glanced at the sound booth.
“We’ll be back right after a short break. Thanks to all our listeners who support our program through our sponsors. Plenty more to come, including a firsthand account of the terrifying ordeal Barbara had to face last year.”
The Ordeal Selene changed the subject. “We have so much to cover tonight. This next segment, as you heard, will be about the incident with the driver. You sure you’re okay to talk about it?”
“Not to worry, I’ve worked through the shock of what happened. Master gave me permission to be candid about how I felt when it all unfolded. I do have limits on what I’m allowed to say, so if you go off into prohibited territory I’ll have to decline to answer.”
“Fair enough, and I’ll mention it before we start. Oh, for the last segment I’d like to ask about you and Mr. Madsen. We got a ton of email when I announced you’d be on this week. They all want to know what it’s like, living with North Island’s most famous, or infamous depending on where you live, trader in women.”
Selene held up her hand, counting down the last few seconds on her hand. “Welcome back, everyone. Before I start, I have to warn you this next segment can be disturbing if you are the sensitive type. It involves a level of crime we don’t normally see on the Island. In particular, the end of the story is…” Selene paused. “All I can say is you might not want to listen since it involves extreme violence.
“Barbara, why don’t you start with a little background. Many of our listeners will remember what we’re talking about, but very few know the details.”
“The story doesn’t start with me. You might say I was the innocent bystander, caught up through no fault of my own. I had been given permission to go shopping, alone. My master prefers one of the high security car services, actually a van, to drive me to the store. If you’ve never used that kind of service, basically you are closely restrained, cuffs behind your back, very short leg irons, and the seats have numerous straps to hold you in place. The back of the van is covered in a metal grate, essentially a small cage. Suffice to say, once in there you aren’t going anywhere except to your destination. No one can get to you, either.”
Selene asked, “You were alone?”
Barbara continued with her narrative. “I was first on the pickup list. There was one more stop, to collect two more headed for the mall. It was up in the hills. I remember looking out through the grate covering the side window, a nice view of the Channel, as we drove up. Moving your head is all the freedom you get inside one of those vans.”
“There was just the driver? No other guards with you?” Selene asked.
“One was all that was needed. Anyway, we reached the house. The driver got out and retrieved two women, whom he led back to the van. Both of them had their hands behind their backs. He seats the first of them next to me, gets her strapped down, and turns back to the last one, standing next to the van. As he turns toward the third woman, he says something to my new companion. Suddenly she starts screaming for help, struggling with the seat straps, and yelling at the third one to run back to the house for help. Meanwhile I’m sitting there, watching the drama, completely helpless, unable to do anything else.”
“Imagine yourself in a situation like that, listeners! What happened next?”
Underneath the burqa Barbara’s face was hidden, so Selene, and the camera, didn’t pick up on the anguish of her minutes in the van. “The third woman tried to run, but her hands were fastened behind her back. He easily caught her, hit her, hard, and she went down on the concrete driveway. I heard the thud of her head when she fell. Right away there was a lot of blood; I figured the driver must have killed her. Fortunately, she did survive with a concussion and a nasty scar to show for it.
“He slammed shut the van door, got in and drove off. All this time the woman next to me is constantly yelling at him. My impression was she had snapped, because it was crazy the way she appeared to provoke the guy. I found out later that’s exactly what she was doing, deliberately. Eventually it worked. He pulled off the road, got out and came around to us.”
“The worst was yet to come?” Selene asked.
“The driver had one of those electric stun guns. He started in on me, hitting me over and over with jolts. By the way, those are extremely painful. I was flopping around, muscles convulsing from the shocks. He told the other woman to shut up or he’d keep up with me until my heart stopped. That worked; she shut up.”
Selene held up her hand, signaling Barbara to pause. “Okay listeners, fair warning time. What comes next contains extreme violence. If you want to pass, turn down the volume for a few minutes. Go ahead, Barbara, let’s hear the end of the story.”
Under the table Barbara gripped her knees to keep them from shaking. Maybe Ray had the right idea after all, about me being covered up in the burqa. “We drove on until we arrived at a rental garage. He opened the door and drove in. He closed the garage door but left the side entrance ajar, I suppose to get some air. Then he came for us.
“By this time I knew the guy was obviously insane. He was talking wildly about all the things he planned for the woman next to me, whom I gathered was his ex or something like it. What I didn’t want to hear is that he bragged he’d demonstrate on me first, so she could anticipate what was coming. He zapped me a few more times just for fun.”
Selene stared at Barbara, shocked even though she already knew the details. “You didn’t expect to survive?”
“No, that was plain to see. There I was, regretting a bright future about to be cut short. Then the side door swung open and a man came in, the owner of the woman next to me. The driver, he also had a large knife, became enraged and charged the newcomer. From where I sat the new guy didn’t have a chance. I was so wrong about that.”
“That was the final act to the drama?” Selene asked.
“Yes. This guy calmly raised his arm and fired a pistol three times. The sound was deafening. I could see the bullets strike the driver. He went down and didn’t get back up.”
Selene finally broke the silent pause with another question. “Before the show, you mentioned something to me, about what you’d learned. Care to share it?”
“”Alright. We talk about how our men, our masters, our owners, will protect us and keep us safe. What struck home to me was seeing it in action. This man risked his life to save the two of us. He came in without any idea of what he would face. For all he knew the madman was armed too, and ready to shoot it out. Yet he didn’t hesitate. We are that important to our owners. I’ll never forget the lesson.”
How It Started “Okay listeners, you have to stay tuned in for this next part. I found it hard to believe myself, but I did confirm it’s all true.
Barbara knew exactly what was coming. It was a potentially sensitive area so Ray had sat in on the planning meeting with Selene and her master the day before. Even Barbara was taken back by Ray’s insistence on telling the entire story.
“Barbara, your journey from South to North Island is a unique and fascinating tale. Tell us how you got from there to here.”
“Selene, it is unusual. It began when I was invited to move to South Island with the help of some friends. To keep it short, I liked what I found. I’m neither ‘woke’ nor ‘politically correct’, so settling down in an openly male dominated society wasn’t a problem. I won’t get into politics except to say I believe in the underlying principles behind Island society in general.
“Anyway, it didn’t take long before the Island worked its magic on me. There was this irresistible compulsion building inside me. You can guess what it was. I could go with the usual answer, find someone and start out with a one-year agreement. I know it’s a safe approach and works well for most people, but it wasn’t what I was looking for.”
“Would you say you were impatient?” Selene asked.
Barbara shook her head. “It sounds that way but no, I had a definite goal and the South Island system wasn’t the answer. There were two problems. The first one, I didn’t want to go looking for the right guy. What I expected is for him to show up and lay claim to me. Don’t laugh, it’s true. Here on North Island that’s the norm; we take it for granted. It’s an extreme view, one that’s frowned upon across the channel. They are focused on informed consent. I prefer how it works here.”
“You said two problems. What was the second one?”
“I had zero interest in taking small steps. When my dream man showed up there weren’t going to be any time limits. No limits at all, for that matter. I’d belong to him for as long as he’d have me, and he’d be free to treat me as he saw fit. As you can guess, I had a puzzle to solve and no easy solution.” Barbara left out her application to the Facility.
“So, there you were on South Island, but in reality, you needed to get to North Island? Being a single woman, that must have been difficult.”
“Exactly! There were days I’d drive down to the Channel ferry terminal and sit there, staring across the water. Can you imagine the frustration, so near yet so far away? I came up with all kinds of crazy schemes, like building a raft and crossing at night. Of course, even if I made it across, I’d be sent right back.”
Selene interrupted with a disclaimer. “The regulations are there for a reason, to protect against abuses. Here on the Moon Maiden, we don’t encourage anyone trying to cross the Channel illegally, in either direction.”
“That’s right,” Barbara added. “Sneaking across was just daydreaming on my part. Following the rules has always been important to me. Eventually I did find a way. It sounds weird, but I literally sold myself to a North Island brokerage. I won’t go into the details, mostly because master has forbidden it. The end result was a trip from South Island to Madsen Brokerage on North Island.”
“Not every day you come across that, listeners. Even Selene never heard of anyone who managed to, all on their own, go from unencumbered freedom to a brokerage auction in the span of a few days. Good or bad, post your opinion in the comments. This is bound to be controversial. We’ll be back after the break.”
