Chapter 1

I should have known better. When something sounds too good to be true, well, then it usually isn’t. Don’t get me wrong, Trivara is a beautiful world, a masterpiece of terraforming with a mild climate, fantastic beaches, and a booming economy. It’s a peaceful democracy with a less than ten percent chance for females to end up serving one or more terms of slavery. Back on my shithole home planet, the prospects were not as great, to put it mildly.

And things started out well – my first impressions, fresh off the ship, had been extremely positive. Wherever I went, everyone was polite and helpful, and public transportation ran on time. I breezed through the job interviews and thanks to prior experience, I quickly landed a job in IT customer support. Of course I’m overqualified, but I needed something quickly. When your older sister’s serving time at hard labor and the secret police are surveilling you, then you know you’ve overstayed your welcome. And besides, the job was a good fit. The two-year contract gave me enough time to establish myself here and have some fun before I started my career in earnest. I had signed a standard employment contract – reviewed by my lawyer, just in case – but in hindsight I should have researched local laws and customs more thoroughly.

But I hadn’t, and I have only myself to blame.

It all started going wrong during my medical assessment at a company-owned clinic inside their huge office tower. A helpful receptionist escorted me to a treatment room painted in warm, friendly colors, where an equally polite medical technician greeted me.

“Good morning, Ms Shelby. I’m Hannah, and I will take good care of you today. If you could please disrobe completely and step into the scanner. It won’t hurt one bit and we’ll have you on your way in no time. The company just wants a quick exam so you can’t hold them liable for any pre-existing conditions.”

Fair enough. I took off my clothes, including bra and panties, and entered the medical scanner which rapidly checked me for diseases and other issues.

“Thank you, Ms Shelby. You’re in very good health,” she said, looking at the readings. “You’re a new citizen, I assume?”

I nodded. “Bought my citizenship last week.”

She smiled. “Welcome to Trivara then! Let’s get you chipped right away.”

“Chipped?” I asked, slightly confused.

“Don’t worry, all expenses are covered by your employer,” she said.

“What kind of chip?”

“According to the contract you signed, you’re subject to the EPPA, the ‘Employee Protection and Performance Act.’ The chip allows your employer to monitor your vitals to detect medical issues for your own protection, and of course to encourage compliance and good job performance. It’s implanted into your brain, but the procedure itself is completely painless.”

Now I was really alarmed. They wanted to implant a chip into my brain? Seriously? I hadn’t dodged enslavement for years to end up with a control chip now. I remembered how in my childhood days a so-called “citizen chip,” implanted by court order, had put an immediate end to my parents’ political activism. I picked up my clothes and started to dress.

“Thank you, but you’re not putting a chip into my brain.”

“It’s really not a big deal, Ms Shelby. I have one, too, like a lot of people these days. They don’t have any impact on your free will and the procedure is risk-free.”

“I don’t care. They can stick this job where the sun don’t shine. Have a good day.”

Now fully dressed, but still fuming I made my way to the door which turned out to be locked. Annoyed, I pulled the handle.

“Open the door, please. Now.”

“Please, Ms Shelby. Refusing the chip would be a breach of contract. You really don’t want that. That’s a mandatory four year enslavement term. You’re young and pretty, they’ll auction you off to some brothel and you’d be chipped anyway. Don’t do that to yourself. Please, Ms Shelby.”

I cursed myself. How could I have missed this? They had in fact mentioned something called EPPA, but I hadn’t looked into it, thinking it was an unimportant detail. And it was true, breach of contract was a serious offense, the lawyer had warned me about that explicitly. Damn. Even if I got out the door somehow, they would catch me before I could hop on a ship – for which I had no money anyway. And if, by some additional miracle, I made it off this planet, every government in this sector would extradite me. I was truly, thoroughly screwed.

Taking deep breaths, I tried to calm myself down. As bad as it was, it was still better than getting collared for four years. I can get a bit hot-headed sometimes, especially when I sense injustice, but my rational self prevailed. This was a corporate thing after all, not a fascist government trying to oppress me.

“Let’s get this over with.” I said through gritted teeth.

The med tech seemed relieved and made me sit on an examination table.

“It just takes a few seconds and it won’t hurt one bit,” she said when she pointed a gun-like device at the back of my skull.

“You may feel slightly disoriented, but that’ll pass quickly. Just relax.”

There was a hissing sound and a small sting and then – nothing. For a second I felt sick to my stomach, then my head hurt for a moment, which was followed by a sense of euphoria, followed by goosebumps all over my body. Then it was gone. Everything was back to normal.

“The system has calibrated itself. All that’s left is a quick test run.”

“What are they going to do with the chip?”

“Oh, well, it really depends on your exact job. They usually track time and attendance, or make sure you don’t go places where you don’t belong. Most of the time they apply shocks when your performance isn’t satisfactory. I get zapped when I don’t cross-sell stuff, for example. It’s scary as hell, but it helps me do a great job.”

“Wait a minute. So my boss can basically torture me? Like some slave?”

“It’s not quite like that. The chips are the same they use for slaves, yes, but your employer doesn’t get access to the higher punishment levels. You know, the brutal ones that trigger primal fear and they don’t get control over your motor functions either. But speaking of cross-selling stuff – would you like us to install a valve as well? You’d have to cover the costs yourself, but it’s at a thirty percent discount when bought together with the chip. We’ll refund the difference if you get a cheaper price anywhere else.”

I gave her a confused look. “Excuse me?”

“The valve automatically blocks your urethra while punishment mode is engaged. You definitely need that valve, it’s very common to lose bladder control even at lower levels. If that happens to you at work, you may receive additional punishment.”

“No, thank you. I think we’re done for today.”

The chip in my brain was bad enough, I was not prepared to sign off on any other modifications. Of course, that didn’t stop her sales pitch.

“Have you ever stood in line at a restroom and were worried you won’t make it? You’ll have full control over the valve, you will never again have to worry about having an accident. And accidents do happen when you’re being punished, Ms Shelby. Let me demonstrate.”

When she pressed that button on her clipboard, my world exploded in searing, soul crushing pain, unlike anything I have ever experienced before. It covered my whole body, my entire skin felt like I was being burned alive and I was unable to breathe.

And then – nothing.

Maybe five seconds later – seconds that felt like an eternity – the pain suddenly stopped and I realized that I was emptying my bladder on the examination table.

It took me a couple of minutes to regain my composure after this unexpected assault. Med tech Hannah – or whatever her name was – had been extremely lucky that I wasn’t a violent person. Ignoring her continued sales pitch and still seething with rage, I picked up my handbag and left the room, slamming the now unlocked door behind me. I just hoped she would get a similar zap for not closing her deal.

After a humiliating ride home in my drenched underwear, my comlink chimed – the company had sent me a large dump of documents, asking me to make myself familiar with products, processes, and company policies. It made sense of course – why spend time and money on training your employees if they will gladly train themselves? They had the perfect instrument for motivation implanted into my head. With one week to go until my new job started and no other choice, I somewhat reluctantly reviewed the documents. I had never used any of the dozens of products I would be supporting, but I trusted in my education and my ability to make things up as I went. I prioritized as well as I could and hoped for the best.