TRIAL'S OF DECEIT

PEACE

The reassuring sound of the doors sealing shut after the last Jalaks stepped in made Abriella release a non too quiet sigh of relief. For as much as they were monitored and observed even from this room, it did in no way reduce the amount of comfort the sound of the now sealed doors brought the broken-down slaves. More than one relieved face turned towards familiar voices and faces. For even in this hopeless environment, friendships and bonds were formed and preserved as a source of solace for difficult days.

In the now clustered room wide enough to accommodate five hundred slaves, they held divans on elevated structures clustered in groups of five, each spread out in different directions and now occupying various pleased Jalaks, laughing and whispering secrets only known to their close circle. Further, beyond the sitting arrangements is the doorway that leads to the various sleeping chambers through a narrow corridor. A few steps from the door is the gaming centers. Three long tables, with eight chairs lining either side. On the tables are different categories of board games.

Abriella never understood the reason why people willing to keep slaves would set aside a section in the recreational hall for educative board games.

Suddenly, she was swamped with a feeling of nostalgia for what she couldn't begin to understand. She dodged a flailing hand, grateful that the owner hadn't seemed to notice her.

Abriella walked past the automatic doors. The walls running parallel on either side held five doors each. Exempting the opposite doors facing each other, the next door could not easily be seen standing in front of another door as they were more than evenly spaced out. The right side of the hallway housed the male slaves, while the female slaves occupied the left side.

Abriella numbly walked past the first door and past the second door till she encountered the last sleeping chamber which held her pod. Identifying her presence, the doors slid open to reveal two opposing walls that consisted of hexagonal-shaped pods stacked neatly above each other reaching the tall ceiling of the sleeping chamber. On each sleeping pod, a thick metal rod ran horizontally from one end to another, demarcating every pod and equally creating an illusion of an accessible entrance to each pod, when in truth it was impossible to step into a pod or have access to another Jalaks sleeping pod. Just like the floor to ceiling opening located in the corridor, the pods also prevents walk into or direct access from anyone, excluding authorized personnel granted ownership of the pod. On the far side of the wall, the now sealed entrance doors held another entrance leading to the bath hall and individual latrine for each pod owner.

From her time there, Abriella knew to seek her sleeping pod when she felt the need to be alone - not that she wasn't always alone - but the sleeping filtered noise which was what she needed to subside her headache. She stood on the transposer, an inbuilt circular panel facing the palm-sized scanner located in between the lower level pods.

Abriella could vividly remember the first time she placed her palm on the scanner.

Barely twelve cycles, her naive self could not comprehend what the deep and mesmerizing purple glow the scanner emitted signified when she stood on the transposer and couldn't possibly fathom the idea that it could be hints of blood taken in small increments each time a new Jalak was registered until the very moment she felt the sharp pin prick. Pain had jolted through her system as the needle did more than piercing but also pulling as it took a bit of her life essence. Her thoughts were filled with gave her the idea of a blood sucking parasite making revulsion curve down her spine. Instinctively she snatched her throbbing hand and clutched it to her chest. In horror, she'd watched her dark red essence mix with the purple glow, giving it a weirdly unusual hue.

Now, as the scanner lit up with the same strange color, identifying her pod and transmitting information to the transposer, she still could not comfortably place her palm on the scanner for more than the required second for scanning.

Abriella closed her exhausted eyes as she experienced yet again the now common but strange feeling of drifting, like the peculiar sensation that felt like her body parts were floating in different directions, as if she was submerged in deep waters as she disintegrated. She felt her body become translucent while she relaxed her body, breathing slowly as she prepared for the intense darkness that always comes with the experience of using the transposer. After a millisecond, she could feel her feet firmly on the ground again and only then did she open her heavy lids.

Abriella released an exhausted sigh at the comforting sight of her room. Lately, she found herself more exhausted than she was used to. As she was always sickly, fatigue and weakness were both common words in her life. It was one of the reasons why she was still at the general west wing of the building rather than the east wing, which is required of the Jalak at her age being prepared for the selection. Because of her two years' experience, the instructors found little need for her to go through the selection training again.

Every few years, the people of Razeh-Cal hold a ceremony of sorts. The selection ceremony was the only time the Jalaks were allowed to associate and interact with the public. The ones that were considered legally of age, were made to participate in the various trial processes during the ceremony.

For a Jalak's standing is their master's, therefore every Jalak present aspired to be purchased by the wealthy and affluent individuals of their society. In Razeh-Cal, a person's worth in society can only be decided and recognized if he or she has been awarded a Jalak or if they have the necessary requirement to procure one for themselves.

Since the very day Abriella came of age four years prior, she has been constantly rejected at every selection. Her unyielding efforts to find a master that would take her away from the Jalak center always had her working herself to the bone during each and every trial, the fruitless efforts deteriorating her already exhausted body and reminding her with every ache of her failing health. Now she would be forced to repeat the same pattern of joining the selection only to be rejected all over again.

The outcome is always a wall of black hair framing an ashen face with pale red lips and vibrant emerald green eyes, making her pallor look more ghostly than her usual sickly self. But despite her flawless grade points, it did little to blur her one obvious stain. In the years of her time spent on this planet, she'd observed one bitter truth that smudged her already bleak and hopeless future. The people of Razeh-Cal were open-minded about everything but change. Being different made her below the lowest and as Jalaks were prized property that only the very privileged could purchase, nobody wanted to pick a human who could make or break their social status.

Abriella could not understand this logic, as didn't the fact that she was still present at the only slave center on the planet make her an acceptable Jalak material, since her training was considered legal by Razeh-Cal laws.

Not to get her wrong, she detested her slave status and would have preferred not to be someone's pet for life, but the thought of being socially isolated for the rest of her life, even in this safe zone, always had her heart squeezing tight in dread. Granted, very few jalaks were bonded and sometimes the master who chose a slave did it for political purposes, some already in a committed relationship and soul bonded, but to satisfy the jalak bond, their master would have to occasionally make physical contact with the slave in question. Though she wanted more, in her current situation she would take anything. Abriella needed companionship and association. These days she yearned for it like a drug required to stay alive and well.