The New Assignment

Anja’s boots click-clacked against the sparkling marble below her, dread mounting with each step. It was the first day of her new assignment, summoned to the Foundation’s Headquarters for a private rundown of her new job description.

A fountain larger than the size of her Unit back home greeted visitors in the Headquarters atrium, and the windows rising several stories above their heads filtered sunshine down, filling the space. Primes in their business suits conversed in groups of twos and threes as they speedwalked to their investment seminars or instruction classes. A few cops in their Cooperative colors milled about the foyer, or tripped after their chaperones. It was obvious their greenery at their new assignments. A class of students visiting on a field trip (for their government and economic classes she assumed) passed Anja in the hall on her way to the elevators. A sea of maroon Cooperative uniforms practically swept her into the wall; the teenagers, rowdy boys with perfectly gelled hair and rumpled attire, were busy quipping with one another, horsing around with the joy of a day off-Cooperative.

Who was she to fault them? Nostalgia for field trips and instruction classes and generally any childhood days of naivete gave her pause as she found herself alone before the elevators. She took a deep breath to gather herself before punching the up arrow.

Gleaming for their daily polishing and custodial attention, the elevator doors closed behind her. She examined herself in her reflection. Her straight blonde locks were pinned in a professional bun at the nape of her neck. Her Cooperative forest green uniform was clean and presentable. Her silver locket--the only piece of silver jewelry that she owned--swung from side-to-side above her chest, and she gathered it and slid it underneath her shirt, cursing herself for the near mistake of leaving it visible. She pressed the Penthouse button and typed in her access code, and the button beamed back at her as the elevator lurched upwards.

It lumbered to a stop, and the doors slipped silently open to reveal a luxurious apartment. The carpet was a lush white, not a single speck of dirt to behold. Two older women stood at attention across the room at a conference of sofas, their eyes glittering with welcome.

Anja’s Prime came forward first and drew Anja into a warm embrace. Her arms jangled with several bangles sliding back and forth on both arms. “Anja, my dear, we are so excited to have you here.” She stepped back to study Anja and attempted to smile, though her face was frozen in place. She looked like a caricature to Anja. From the years of fillers and injections no doubt.

So after years of communication, first mailed to her as a child and later electronically delivered via informational panels--this was the woman behind the thoughtful notes and numerous gifts. Anja smiled in spite of herself, in spite of the clownish manner in which she found her Prime.

In fact, as her Prime stood blinking without any movement of her forehead, her attire of mini skirt and form-fitting cashmere sweater something that Anja herself would have chosen as an outfit, Anja stifled a laugh. Her Prime was attempting to be the same age as herself. She brought a hand to cover her mouth, her trepidation waning at the seventy-something year old woman’s appearance.

“Please come sit, and this is--”

“Cecelia.” Anja nodded towards the other woman who hovered nearby and extended her hand. Then she reddened at the possible faux pas she had committed. “Or if you would rather, should I call you Ms.--”

The woman came forward. Her silver hair framed her face, a natural beauty for a woman nearing the age of 80. Her manner and facial expression were calm and pleasing.

“Cecelia is just fine, honey.”

Her verbal tone was equally so. “It makes me happy to know that you must be well-acquainted and comfortable with the other Cecelia in your life.” Her eyes lit up with a small chuckle. She shook Anja’s hand confidently before also drawing her into a hug.

As they sat together sipping herbal teas Cecelia had stewed for them with her electric kettle, Anja relished wallowing in one of the plush sofas, believing she had never before felt such comfort. After the obligatory small talk of the weather, and how was Anja settling into her apartment, and wasn’t it so much nicer than living in the country, the benefits of the city and the unending list of theaters, clubs, and restaurants for her to experience, Anja’s nervousness had vanished. Her Prime and Cecelia both begged for stories of her life before moving to the City.

And so Anja obliged with several tales of catching fireflies in the meadow and diving across sprinklers in the summer, stargazing and smores by campfire in the fall. Of her friends on assignment together as baristas, and entering goofy songs they had written and rehearsed together in the Cooperative talent show.

Finally, her Prime clasped her hands and cleared her throat, with the air of business ready on her countenance.

“Anja, I must say, out of my twenty-one cops that I have prepared for assignment, you are by far the most promising.” Her Prime radiated with pride, as if she were a mother bragging on her daughter’s accomplishments.

Cecelia looked up from the informational panel she was thumbing through. “There’s quite a list of clients eager for your services.”

Anja shivered in spite of herself. She hoped the other two women didn’t notice.

“Even when you were just a wee baby working at the coffee shop, we had clients contacting us for you.” Cecelia’s eyes brightened, and she winked at Anja, as she removed the panel from her lap and set it down on the coffee table before her. “Tomorrow, you will go to the Facility for your device insertion, and then next Monday your assignment officially begins.”

The reminder of why Anja was really here came crashing back down on her, a blow to the pleasant afternoon she had been having thus far. She flinched inwardly. Or was it only inward, for now both Cecelia and her Prime had their heads cocked, their attention fully drawn to her?

Cecelia gathered herself and moved, sinking into the pillows beside Anja. She caressed a tuft of Anja’s hair at her forehead that had loosed itself from her bun. Anja’s stomach lurched, her brain sounding off the alarm of impending danger.

“We can, of course, understand that this won’t be easy. But this is what you were created for. This assignment was prepared especially for you.” Cecelia’s voice was gentle and sympathetic, but her eyes were hard and unyielding.

Anja stared at the knuckles on her hands and steeled herself. She knew her speech by heart. She had practiced it everyday in her standard-issued Unit’s mirror since she had deduced her fate. She tucked her hands underneath her thighs to keep them from shaking. She sat up straighter, sputtering out her prepared remarks.

“I deserve to have the same rights as anybody does. Anybody, whether they be a Copy or a Prime, has the right to have a family, have a child, any of those things,” she said.

Cecelia did not acknowledge Anja, seemingly not having heard her words. Instead, her hand traveled down Anja’s neck to the chain. Cecelia took the necklace between her fingers; they worked their way down to the locket. She rubbed the metal of the heart in a circular motion between her thumb and forefinger. Anja dared not breathe, dared not make eye contact.

“This is quite lovely,” Cecelia murmured. She turned to Anja’s Prime. “Did you gift this to Anja? If so, I must know where you found such a beautiful piece.”

Her Prime’s motherly pride from before had soured into a frown of disapproval.

“No, I only wear gold jewelry,” she sniffed and examined her own arms for effect. “Silver jewelry is terrible with my warm skin tone.”

“But you knew this already,” she added, crossing her arms and staring pointedly at Anja for confirmation.

A wide, wicked smile spread across Cecelia’s face, and she allowed the seconds to tick by as she stared Anja down. At last, she spoke after the silence had lingered a nearly unbearable amount. The pounding in Anja’s chest tormented her.

Cecelia’s hungry expression remained, though her voice was soft and mild.

“The good news is, Copies can apply to be clients too. Provided they can pay the fees, which, to be quite honest, are probably more than your gentleman friend can afford.”

Cecelia gently gathered the locket and tucked it back underneath Anja’s shirt. She patted Anja’s chest above the fabric. “Here it will be safe until you see him again.” She cupped Anja’s chin as she turned to Anja’s Prime to bask in their good fortune.

Bile rose into Anja’s mouth and choked her; her eyes blurred and brimmed with tears.

“The Foundation is so grateful for your service, the return on the investment of Anja the First and all who helped form you is well-appreciated. And as for you, m’ dear,” Cecelia placed her hand over her heart, as she chanted the Foundation’s motto with incantational reverence.

“Your service will set you free.”