Page 2 of Devin
"Right. But this?"
There was nothing wrong with her outfit, but Val immediately tugged on the sleeve of her jacket and felt quite ill at ease. Perhaps there was still time to bow out. Like the guy had said, none of the money had been deposited. And technically, she'd been homeless before.
"Well, what are you waiting for? We've got less than an hour before they arrive. And we need to get you changed. Strip!"
"Don't worry. I know it's from the back of my closet, and normally I would have just given it to charity, but you are my charity case for the day. It's actually in perfect condition and you're welcome. It would have cost you a week's salary if you'd bought it from the rack," Esmerelda noted.
Great. Perhaps that meant that she could sell it for groceries tomorrow, if she wasn't, you know, nabbed into space before the day was out. The chance was low. She'd been to her own lottery a number of times and always come back. Surely this time would be no different. Besides, she had the vial to prevent that tucked safely away in her purse.
A few minutes later the two women stepped back to admire their handiwork. The housekeeper looked pleased. Esmeralda did not.
"There's no way they are going to think that is me," Esmerelda said sourly.
"It doesn't have to pass a long inspection, just a cursory photo check."
Val rolled her eyes and looked in the mirror. She had been transformed into a moneyed brat who didn't give a shit about following the rules. With a pair of sunglasses and a bit of an attitude, she could totally pull it off. No one had the time to object, because the doorbell rang.
Esmeralda freaked out like a wet cat. She gave out a squeal and ran up the stairs to hide. "Yeah, I know," the housekeeper said before Val could open her mouth. "I work for a real winner. Good luck, sweetheart." Marta handed over the glasses and then grabbed a purse that had been sitting on the table. "This is not a knock off. You can get a grand for it at least." She transferred the contents of Val's purse into the new one and then opened the door.
A pair of burly soldiers stood on the other side.
"Did you pack a suitcase?"
"I- uh," Val stammered.
"It's all right, darling, don't worry, I put it in the closet last night." The housekeeper wheeled the thing out and parked it in front of the soldier. Val could probably get another couple of hundred for the bag as well. This was turning into a good deal.
"Are we doing this the hard way?" the soldier asked, eyeing her up and down.
"No. I'm coming. Don’t you know who I am?" Val said, trying to match Esmerelda’s attitude.
The soldier just rolled his eyes. "Well, let's get it into gear then. You're the last."
The soldier grabbed the suitcase and lifted it easily. He eyed the housekeeper warily and she looked the other way. He could tell that the case was empty, and assumed that the housekeeper was trying to get one last dig in if her employer did get taken away on a one way ticket to an alien planet where no one would care if her suitcase was empty. If Esmerelda came back home, then she would be none the wiser, not being the type to lift her suitcase herself.
The soldier said nothing, and when Val headed for the bus, both of them visibly relaxed. Some women panicked in the face of the prospect of leaving home. But Val had done the math. The chance of matching was slim, and the older you got, the less chance that your DNA would magically become acceptable for available matches.
The bus was filled with nine women, all between the ages of eighteen and thirty five, all born on Esmeralda's birthday. It was strange to see different faces on the bus, as she'd only ever been on the bus with women who shared her birthday before. It was the same five or six every year. No one from her birthday had ever been chosen. Maybe it was just a lucky day.
If anyone was going to call fake Esmeralda on her bullshit, it was these nine women. Most of them looked preoccupied with their own fate at the moment, but Val took a deep breath, hid behind her glasses and picked at the nail polish she probably should have been wearing, but wasn't. There hadn't been time for a manicure. Val couldn't afford one anyway.
Everyone was quiet. Being in a van escorted by men with laser rifles tended to quiet down even the nervous talkers. Val just kept minding her own business, trying desperately not to notice the woman that was staring at her.
Surely it was someone with a suspicion. Most of the women only saw each other once a year. Was it too late to back out? To confess and let them go back for Esmeralda? Yeah, Val thought, looking at the laser pistol closest to the door. The penalties for running were really harsh. She had no idea what a fake lottery sentence would be like, but it was probably a nice, pretty jail cell for longer than Val wanted to be in one.
The van drew to a stop, and the woman walked past. She paused to glare down at Val.
"Jeez. You are such a bitch."
Val's heart flipped in her chest, but at least whatever beef this woman had with her had nothing to do with Val. She took three deep breaths before standing and following the women into the testing center.
It had no windows, just a lot of fluorescent lights and some industrial carpet in the color of drab. Two soldiers stood at the exit door, while another two stood on either side of a man in a lab coat. His name tag declared that his name was Doug and he broke into his canned spiel immediately.
"Happy birthday and welcome to the lottery center. Good luck to you all! We're legally obligated to show you this short video, so have a seat and enjoy!"
Only a few of the women sat down. Val hung at the back and pretended to pick at her nail polish again.
"You guys are fuckin' late. Again," Doug whispered to one of the soldiers next to him.
