Bankrupt Ch. 01

I never thought my life would end over a homecoming date. Funny how the course of a life can turn on one moment, one tiny decision, so small you'll never know it until your future has changed forever. Maybe that's the whole point. If you saw them coming, you might have actually done things differently. I know I would have.

At the time, I thought it nothing more than a chance encounter with an annoying admirer.

"Hello Amanda. Guess who I'm asking to homecoming this year?"

Victor Moralles. Tall, darkly handsome in a way that veered a bit too close to pretty, but definitely good looking. Cute enough to catch my interest, or at least he would have been if he hadn't been one of the most stuck up, egotistical brats I'd met . The self-appointed king of the school. Or rather, its wannabe CEO, a position he claimed as his natural right.

We were all fairly well off. You had to be, if you wanted to afford a good school ever since the mid-century education collapse gutted most public colleges (and many private ones). But even here, some families were better off than others, and his was at the top of the heap. He took that to mean that he deserved whatever he wanted, and sometimes, whoever he wanted.

Bringing him back down to Earth had become something of a guilty pleasure. Disturbing as his attentions could be (I had a boyfriend, after all. Not that it stopped Victor), there was a perverse joy to be had in crushing his pretensions. Even if I wished he'd leave me alone, it was fun putting him back in his place.

"Your mother?" I asked him, not bothering to look up.

"No," he said. I smiled to myself, hearing the newfound strain in his voice. "I'm looking at her right now?"

"You're looking at your mother?" I said, trying to keep a straight face as I made a show of surveying the lounge.

"Does she know that you're over here bothering me, instead of saying hello like a good son?"

The downside of looking up was that I noticed how he leered at me. Staring down the front of my nice new dress, a green and blue designer outfit I'd bought that very day on an afternoon trip out to Paris. The hypersonic had just gotten in an hour or so ago, and I couldn't wait to show all my friends. But something in the way he stared made the whole thing feel tawdry.

Look, I know I have a large chest, I've always believed that "if you've got it, flaunt it", and aside from the occasional creep it's worked pretty well. But the way he looked at me, like I was some cheap merchandise on the clearance rack in one of his daddy's stores, that bothered me. I felt an urge to cover myself, but ignored it. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"And here I thought you were some kind of scholar," he joked, "but I'll spell it out for you in tiny words. It's you. I'm asking you out to the dance with me."

I did laugh that time. No matter how much he tried to play it off, I could see I'd gotten to him.

"After you've already asked your mother? My, how disappointed she'll be that you've stood her up."

His face darkened, but I was on a roll.

"You know, Amanda, most girls never get an opportunity like this."

"We should all be so lucky."

"Do you know who I am?"

"Of course I do. I'm telling you off, aren't I?"

"One last chance," he told me, "That's more than I usually give. Think carefully before you answer, it's not too late to say yes."

"Since you like small words so much, here's one for you: No! Nope, non, nyet, nein! Was that small enough for you? Here it is again. No. Even if I wasn't already going out with someone, and you were the only boy in a school full of girls, and a date was mandatory, I'd still have the same answer for you. No"

"Funny," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "Nobody ever told me you were stupid."

"Someone must have, if you thought I'd say yes."

He turned and fled the room, and I wasn't the only one laughing behind his back as he retreated. Chuckling to myself, I called my best friend Emily and told her to swing by my room to see the new outfit, though I decided to add a really cute shoulder scarf I'd bough a couple months back.

At the time, I counted the day as a win. Sure, he'd probably come up with some petty revenge later - he was a spiteful little bastard, after all - but I'd handle that when it came.

After all, what could he really do to me?

The announcement came midway through my French exam, several weeks after my encounter with Victor, and interrupted right as my instructor was grilling me on the finer points of Proust.

"Amanda Doyle, please report to the head office immediately."

I paused, stumbling over my answer as I suddenly fished for words. It was more difficult than I'd like. I was competent enough at the language, but certainly no natural Parisian.

Had that really just happened? They knew full well I was in the middle of an oral exam. They never interrupted those. I remember a kid who lost two grandparents and a sibling in a hypersonic crash last year, and they still made him take a full three day course of examinations before informing him.

Professor Engles was every bit as shocked as I.

"That can't be right," she said. "There must have been a scheduling error. Stay right there, and do not attempt to access any outside materials. As far as I'm concerned, this examination is still in progress."

She left the room briefly for her adjacent office, and I stood there like an idiot trying to come up with a colorful way to work flower metaphors into my answer - the professor was always a sucker for those. What in the world could it be? Professor Engles was probably right, some sort of weird mixup was the most likely answer. Certainly, I knew she'd get to the bottom of it. That woman had as hard a teacher as I'd ever had, but just as ruthless when fighting on behalf of her students. I was sure that any minute now she would return to tell me that it was all a mistake, and the examination would continue as planned.

That wasn't what happened.

Her face was ashen when she returned. I'd seen more cheerful expressions at a wake.

"I'm afraid we will have to interrupt this examination," she told me. "If possible, we will try to reschedule for a later date."

"If possible? But, what about my class, my grade. What is going on?"

"I'm sorry, Ms Doyle, I really am, but I don't know. You will have to go to the office if you wish to find out."

A lie, at least a partial one. There's no way she'd let them cut one of her exams short, not unless she was satisfied it was essential. Maybe she didn't know the full story, but that look she gave me...

"Please," I asked, "my parents, my family, are they-"

"I can't say. Just do as they instructed. I'm sure that everything will turn out perfectly well."

"And Amanda," she caught my wrist just as I was walking out the door, "Good luck."

As it happened, I didn't have to wait for the office, or for the chancellor. As I passed a study nook on the way over, every head in the room turned to stare.

"What?" I asked in response to all the wide eyed stares, getting mighty sick of the way they looked at me. Like some kind of exotic animal in a zoo, ignorant of the placard on display for all the world to see.

Finally, someone worked up some courage, even if just to point me towards a viewscreen. A newsfeed was playing the 24 hour TNN livestream, right in the middle of some financial scandal. The stock ticker on the bottom flashed by, even as the talking heads blathered on.

"What does that-" I started

"Just keep looking," someone interrupted me.

I kept my eyes on the screen, not understanding until the screen rolled back to the headline:

"Conglomerated Industries Faces Scrutiny After CFO Indicted For Fraud"

"Chief Financial Officer Armande Doyle was taken into custody today after an anonymous tip revealed serious financial malfeasance. Following a full confession under truth-inquest, the suspect has been indicted of several class I felonies. The CEO insists that the errors were the isolated work of a single unscrupulous individual, and assures investors that-"

"D-Daddy?"

Impossible, I watched in disbelief as everything crumbled around me. It made no sense? Daddy wouldn't do something like that- he couldn't. But the newsfeed said he'd confessed.

My boyfriend Adam was there. He'd been there all along, watching with the others. I turned away, ashamed to let him see me like this. Ignoring my resistance, he enfolded me in his warm, comforting arms. Despite everything, I almost felt safe.

"Whatever happens," he whispered in my ear, "I love you. Always remember that."

I nodded, unable to speak. In a perfect world, I could have just stood there in his arms forever, and damn the consequences. But this isn't a perfect world, is it, and sooner or later I was going to have to face it. Stepping from his embrace, I gave him one last kiss for good luck and left for the office. Ready, I believed, to face whatever fate had in store for me.

The mood was somber as I finally entered. Like walking those final steps to the execution block back in the days before they'd replaced death row with government slave chips.

The chancellor was waiting for me in his office. Stark, intimidating, I stood in front of his desk and had no trouble imagining him as a judge waiting to pass sentence upon me. Like the one who had condemned Daddy. We sat there a moment, neither of us speaking, a tension filling the room that neither of us were willing to cut. The clock ticked, an old fashioned mechanical one that sat on a shelf along the far wall. Antique or replica, I couldn't tell. I waited, listening to it count off the endless parade of seconds.

Tick, Tock. Tick, Tock.

He steepled his fingers together before running a hand through his thinning grey hair. Opened his mouth to speak, and closed it without saying anything. For some reason, it called to mind Daddy's face back when I was seven and he was about to take our sick dog to the vet for the last time. Finally, she spoke.

"Ms. Doyle, I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"I saw," I said. Barely more than a whisper. "On the screen outside."

He nodded.

"Then you understand what we have to do? With his confession, the bulk of your family's assets are forfeit. I'm afraid your student account is in arrears, effective immediately."

Arrears? Suddenly, I understood. It was over, I was about to be expelled for nonpayment. Everything I had worked for, gone in one sudden swoop. What would I do now? I could try my luck in the lottery for a public university, hoping that maybe someone would honor its degree. Or perhaps I might hope to find work as someone's assistant, with half a degree from a real school. But all that I'd worked for, any chance of a serious, meaningful career, it had just flown away.

"I'm very sorry about this," he said gently, "You have been an exemplary student, and if there was some alternate source of funding... but as things stand, I'm afraid that our hands are tied."

Someone from a better family might hold out hope of an uncle, or a grandparent, or a cousin. But we had none. It had taken three generations to work our way up to this, and without daddy, there was no one else who could cover the fee. Even if I was able to get a job and somehow scrape by, my assets belonged to my family until I turned twenty five. They'd be just as subject to forfeiture as the rest.

"There is, however, another alternative."

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he pushed a tablet forward. Scanning the page, I recoiled from it at once. A bill of enslavement! He couldn't possibly be serious.

"I know it's a shock, but I urge you to consider our school's conservatorship program. You would continue to live here, attending classes until your graduation. You would have certain rights, in terms of meaningful employment once you've graduated. In fact, most graduates are able to buy themselves back within ten years."

I'd heard of it, everyone had. There were always a few in every year. The "lucky" handful of lower class students who'd navigated the necessary prep schools without getting saddled with an indenture along the way. Sold, by their own hands, in hopes of jumping ahead and forging a better life for themselves. The lowest of the low, and now he was suggesting I join them?

"But- I can't, I mean I-"

"I strongly encourage you to think it over. I know it's painful to imagine, but think, Ms Doyle, on what exactly awaits you. What do you think will happen once you leave here? What will your family's creditors do?"

"They- Oh!"

If father defaulted, an event that seemed more and more likely by the minute, then the entire family would be liable. If we couldn't make the payments - and I didn't see how we possibly could - then any of us might be at risk of repossession.

"We cannot force you to accept this, but as things stand, I think it's your best option. I wish things were otherwise, but the law ties our hands. Take some time to think it over, but I need an answer before you leave the room. We've already received inquiries about your family's finances, and yourself in particular. This school has certain prerogatives, but if someone lodges a claim before us, we may run out of options."

Vultures, already circling around the fallen carcass of my family. Again, I wondered what my father could have possibly been thinking. Surely this wasn't real. At any moment they would come in and tell me it was a mistake, a setup. But he'd testified under a truth inciter. It was real. Somehow, for some reason, he had thrown it all away, and taken us down with him. I wanted to hate him, but all I could feel was sorrow and terror for whatever fate awaited him.

I looked at the contract again, read it over. Just the press of my thumb against the reader, and that would be all it took. No longer would I be a person, an independent being with her own rights and dreams. Instead I would be property, a possession.

But if that was what fate had in store for me either way...

"Wh-who might. I mean, who would -"

-buy me. I couldn't make myself say the words, but he understood. His face softened and he tried to be comforting, but what comfort was there for me now?

"We do not allow corporate purchasers, but beyond that," he held out his hands helplessly, shrugging his shoulders. "It could be just about anyone. There is a certain cachet in owning an up and coming student, and with a young, attractive lady... well, that also inspires a certain amount of interest."

I shuddered, stomach heaving and grateful that I had not yet eaten. The chancellor would no longer meet my eyes.

"However, most potential buyers are discouraged by our policies. That you live here fulltime, and continue to engage in your studies. Very few are willing to pay so much for someone they can only get during breaks and visits. In all likelihood, you will find yourself under the... care of a classmate."

Again, I cringed at the thought. The idea of my friends, my classmates seeing me so vulnerable and lowly was intolerable. Never mind having one of them hold the strings in that relationship. Even a wretched anonymity seemed preferable to a more comfortable fall in public. Better to be chained to an assembly line, or a helpdesk.

Or a brothel. What chance would I have of escaping that?

Would it be so bad, if everyone saw? To see their smug faces, so long as I could finish school, have a chance at my career? What other choice did I have?

Reaching my hand out took effort, an intense force of will. Everything in me screamed not to do it, to find some other way, but there was none. With an act of savage finality I pressed my thumb down against the reader. It chirped, and just like that, I had given myself away.

Sorrowfully, but with no hesitation, the chancellor pulled a small white injector from his desk. It was short, nondescript. Maybe the length of a finger, maybe a bit less.

"One press, straight against the inner elbow. You'll be out for several days while they install the chip. They'll explain everything then."

I took it, cradling it gently like some rabid animal that had not yet decided to bite me. Dangerous, I didn't want to provoke it, but that wasn't a choice that belonged to me anymore.

"Will- will it hurt?"

"They tell me it's completely painless"

This thing was dangerous. One little press, and it would take everything from me. No, I'd already done that, hadn't I. Daddy had when he decided to cheat the system. All that was left was to finish what I had already started. With a deep breath, I pressed the end up against my skin. There was a sharp hiss, but I felt nothing.

Then I remembered nothing.

Did it hurt? I couldn't tell you. There was a vague sense of time passing. Blurred shapes surrounding me, a pressure in my head. I laughed, I cried, I smelled fresh cut grass, and then salty ocean spray. Someone asked me something, and I replied, but I remember neither question nor the answer. They tell me that the process is mostly automated, with very little human intervention, and I believe them. What was real and what was a dream, I wasn't really sure.

When I woke once more, I was back in the school. In the infirmary this time. There was no pain, exactly, but I felt sore and tired. I sat up slowly, and the nurse came over. Tentatively, unwilling to face the truth, my hand reached back to feel my skull. Intact, no scars, scabs, or even any bruising. For a brief moment, I held out hope that something had gone wrong, or right, and I had been saved before they implanted the chip. But no, I was wearing a thin hospital gown instead of my school clothes, and my aching throat was dry and raw from days without a drink of water.

"That's ok," said the nurse, "take a moment to collect yourself. You've been out for nearly four and a half days. Can you stand?"

"I think so," I told her, doing my best to rise, but it was my thoughts that carried my attention. Was I different, changed? What did it mean for me to be chipped, was I still myself? Nothing felt out of place, there was no sign that I was under the influence of anything but my own self. Had the process failed after all? Was I somehow free of the chip's control? Or was its hold so subtle that I'd never even notice.

Now that was a terrifying thought. How would I even tell? Was I cursed to spend the rest of my life second guessing every thought and decision I made?

"Everything seems to be in order," the nurse said after giving me a cursory inspection. "There's a shower in the other room, for you to freshen up and change before you go meet him."

"So soon?"

It had loomed large in my thoughts since yesterday - no, almost a week ago - in the chancellor's office. Always there, in some terrible, unspeakable future. But now that it was almost here, I found that I wasn't ready. The nurse's formerly sympathetic face hardened.

"Your time isn't your own anymore, young lady. It's best you get that through your head as soon as possible."

She sighed, the iron draining from her bearing.

"It really is the easiest way," she said, trying to console me. "You don't want to fight it, the best you can hope for is to face it with dignity."

Dignity. A funny word, now. I wasn't entirely sure what it meant now, but the thought had some appeal. After all, we weren't a school of sadists. Yes, I had lost my status, my social position, and I was doomed to spend the rest of my academic life trapped in servitude. But maybe, just maybe, I could work with it. Find a way to preserve some semblance of grace and poise until I was finally free. Maybe, just maybe, I could find some comfortable accommodation with my new... owner. I still hated that word, but I could work with it if he could. Maybe, if I played this right, it wouldn't be quite so bad as I feared.