job he tasked her. The look seemed to
have no effect on Mr Wall, who kept on smiling at her pleasantly until she
rolled her eyes and heaved herself out of the chair. Ms Hutchen was an
extremely tall, slim lady. She might have been pretty had her expression not
conveyed a hateful disdain of those around her, and had she not been chewing on
something vigorously. She stomped out of the room into the corridor, and Mr
Wall slipped in behind her before she could slam the door. Ms Hutchen walked
off. The girls, Sarah, Marland, Heather, and April exchanged silent glances
before following. In sullen silence Ms Hutchen led them into a long, plain
room. There were shower cubicles along one side and sinks lined the other.
“Chose a
cubicle,” droned Ms Hutchen, leaning against one of the sinks. “Get inside,
strip, chuck your clothes out here, then shower. I will bring you your new
clothes.” She was examining her nails now. “You cannot keep anything, that
includes jewellery of any kind, including hair ornaments,” she added,
pre-empting a question that, through long repetition of the process, she knew
she would be asked. Sarah couldn’t have cared less. Heather, on the other hand,
was not happy.
“This ring is an
heirloom,” shouted Heather, sticking her hand out pugnaciously. She pronounced
‘heirloom’ as ‘hair-loom’. The ring was an ugly piece of silver with a large,
dull rock in the centre. “It is going nowhere.”
Ms Hutchen
didn’t even bother to look up from clearing the dirt that she had just found
under the nail of her pinkie finger. “All your possessions will be kept and
returned upon your departure,” she intoned. She might as well have been reading
from the manual.
“You don’t
understand,” said Heather, taking a step forward. Her head was cocked back, her
chin jutting forward, and she was staring at Ms Hutchen without blinking. “It
ain’t, going, nowhere.” She paused between each word, as if trying to get
maximum impact out of the statement.
Ms Hutchen
finally looked up from her nails. She reached into her pocket and casually
pulled out a silver cylinder as she stared at Heather with boredom.
“Take if off and
put it with your clothes, or not only will I electrocute the living crap out of
you, but I will also put you forward for disciplinary action and strongly urge
an extension on your sentence.”
There was a
moment where Heather froze. Sarah could almost hear the cogs turning over in
her head.
“This ain’t
fair. I have rights.”
“The moment you
stepped on this ship you lost any rights you may have had. Your ass belongs to
us now.” There was no venom in that statement. It was simply, as Ms Hutchen saw
it, fact. Heather was so unprepared for the plain response that all she did was
blink, surprised.
“What are you
all waiting for?” demanded Ms Hutchen, exasperated. “Go have a shower.”
The rest of the
girls, who had been watching the drama without moving, now jolted into action
and slid into their cubicles. Sarah closed the door behind her. The door closed
firmly but there was no lock. She quickly took off her clothes and turned the
shower on. To her pleasant surprise there was hot water.
“Slide your
possessions under the door,” called out Ms Hutchen. Sarah kicked them out with
her foot. She stepped into the stream of water and practically sighed with
pleasure. The water felt amazing on her skin. She hadn’t had a hot shower in
what felt like years, and she felt particularly grimy and salty from her
travels on the bus and the transport boat. At the three minute mark they were
told to turn the water off. She did and waited.
“I will be
opening your doors one at a time. I just need to confirm your identity, make
sure you aren’t hiding any contraband, and then you can have your clothes.
Don’t give me any trouble.”
Sarah hugged
herself involuntarily. She knew this would have to happen at some point. April,
who was in the first stall, was the first to be
have no effect on Mr Wall, who kept on smiling at her pleasantly until she
rolled her eyes and heaved herself out of the chair. Ms Hutchen was an
extremely tall, slim lady. She might have been pretty had her expression not
conveyed a hateful disdain of those around her, and had she not been chewing on
something vigorously. She stomped out of the room into the corridor, and Mr
Wall slipped in behind her before she could slam the door. Ms Hutchen walked
off. The girls, Sarah, Marland, Heather, and April exchanged silent glances
before following. In sullen silence Ms Hutchen led them into a long, plain
room. There were shower cubicles along one side and sinks lined the other.
“Chose a
cubicle,” droned Ms Hutchen, leaning against one of the sinks. “Get inside,
strip, chuck your clothes out here, then shower. I will bring you your new
clothes.” She was examining her nails now. “You cannot keep anything, that
includes jewellery of any kind, including hair ornaments,” she added,
pre-empting a question that, through long repetition of the process, she knew
she would be asked. Sarah couldn’t have cared less. Heather, on the other hand,
was not happy.
“This ring is an
heirloom,” shouted Heather, sticking her hand out pugnaciously. She pronounced
‘heirloom’ as ‘hair-loom’. The ring was an ugly piece of silver with a large,
dull rock in the centre. “It is going nowhere.”
Ms Hutchen
didn’t even bother to look up from clearing the dirt that she had just found
under the nail of her pinkie finger. “All your possessions will be kept and
returned upon your departure,” she intoned. She might as well have been reading
from the manual.
“You don’t
understand,” said Heather, taking a step forward. Her head was cocked back, her
chin jutting forward, and she was staring at Ms Hutchen without blinking. “It
ain’t, going, nowhere.” She paused between each word, as if trying to get
maximum impact out of the statement.
Ms Hutchen
finally looked up from her nails. She reached into her pocket and casually
pulled out a silver cylinder as she stared at Heather with boredom.
“Take if off and
put it with your clothes, or not only will I electrocute the living crap out of
you, but I will also put you forward for disciplinary action and strongly urge
an extension on your sentence.”
There was a
moment where Heather froze. Sarah could almost hear the cogs turning over in
her head.
“This ain’t
fair. I have rights.”
“The moment you
stepped on this ship you lost any rights you may have had. Your ass belongs to
us now.” There was no venom in that statement. It was simply, as Ms Hutchen saw
it, fact. Heather was so unprepared for the plain response that all she did was
blink, surprised.
“What are you
all waiting for?” demanded Ms Hutchen, exasperated. “Go have a shower.”
The rest of the
girls, who had been watching the drama without moving, now jolted into action
and slid into their cubicles. Sarah closed the door behind her. The door closed
firmly but there was no lock. She quickly took off her clothes and turned the
shower on. To her pleasant surprise there was hot water.
“Slide your
possessions under the door,” called out Ms Hutchen. Sarah kicked them out with
her foot. She stepped into the stream of water and practically sighed with
pleasure. The water felt amazing on her skin. She hadn’t had a hot shower in
what felt like years, and she felt particularly grimy and salty from her
travels on the bus and the transport boat. At the three minute mark they were
told to turn the water off. She did and waited.
“I will be
opening your doors one at a time. I just need to confirm your identity, make
sure you aren’t hiding any contraband, and then you can have your clothes.
Don’t give me any trouble.”
Sarah hugged
herself involuntarily. She knew this would have to happen at some point. April,
who was in the first stall, was the first to be
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