The clock ticks by seconds, the sound exploding in my ears like cannons. The seconds seemed slow and minutes seemed longer. Master sits at his desk, looking grim faced. A pudgy man that is slowly losing his roundness, making him look more flat and out of place to this manor. I liked him with his round belly. But it’s his wife’s condition that makes him refuse the foods that his swallowed in two bites. Psycho, insane, nuts. I could go on. She lost her mind over the death of her unborn child. But what do I have to do with any of it?
Master sits in an over stuffed, leather chair that no longer creaks when he rocks it slightly back and forth. I use to get annoyed by that bother, but now I miss it. It reminds me of, well not happier, but better days. When these mourners had their lively personality. Master stares with a steel gaze at a paper on his desk, one with so many large words, charts, and graphs. Things I am undereducated to understand. Servants, slaves, don’t get the same rights as my Masters people. At least, the Switcher do not.
The Master stops rocking in the chair and leans over the desk, eyes tearing away to look at me. I don’t sweat or become nervous like the other do. I’ve been in this family for three generations. I know when to be nervous when coming into this office. Now is not the time. Now is a serious talking time. Master sighs and rubs his sweaty palms together, looking at them for a moment before at me.
“Do you know what this paper is?” He asks me, gulping a lump in his throat. I shake my head.
“No, sir,” I reply. “I doubt I would for I have not been taught to those levels of education.” The Master nods his head slowly.
“Yes, yes. Of course.” He pauses, looking at the clock and reading the time. I don’t dare peel my eyes to look also. Diverting your eyes from your Master when they are directing something to you is an offence and Switchers can be severely punished. The Master doesn’t continue for some time and I wait with much patience to spare, unlike some of the newer servants and slaves here.
“This paper,” He says, picking it up and waving in beside his head. “Is deeply scientific information of the Switcher race.” I hold and push my shock down. Very rarely do humans engage in the studies of Switchers. They feel they don’t need to learn about “animals” such as us. My eyes keep their size ad my mouth holds its place. The only thing that shows my astonishment is my deep breath intake. Master knows me better now that that one move indicates I’m interesting in learning more.
“It tells me about the beginning of your kinds creation. It tells me about the mind, the body, thought process, everything I want to know,” Master informs. “But more importantly, it tells me about the Switchers limits and abilities.” His dark brown eyes lock onto my black ones. He holds my gaze for what feels like minutes before breaking it first and looking back at the paper, coughing to clear his throat.
“There is one thing that really caught my attention here,” Master continues. “And it quotes, ‘Switchers have the ability to become surrogates mothers to the fetus of species outside their own. An example of this ability would be the implantation of a human fetus, or zygote, into the womb of a Switcher. The body would either keep the fetus/zygote for full development or reject it by its foreign cells. A way to prevent rejection is to put a False Fetus into the womb, allowing the body to recognize the cells and gaining the ability to become a Surrogate.’ Unquote.”
The Master looks up at me to see if I understand. And strangely I do, even though some of those words were beyond my mental vocabulary. I know a Surrogate from my years of being here. A Switcher that was impregnated with the baby of something else. Forced to care and birth it. Usually the Switcher is Rejected afterwards because the birth itself physically harms the Switcher, nearly killing it and keeping it from working ever again. The whole speech gives me the hint of why Master wants me here. What he wants me to do. For the sake of his wife’s sanity, I’m guessing.
“You want me to birth your child.” I say, monotone. Master doesn’t look shocked by my answer. He knows I am smart enough to figure it out. Master puts the paper down and folds his hands again, keeping his eyes off mine. I clutch the stained wood, plush chair’s arm, my knuckles turning white and tendons tightening like a violin’s strings. This is very unlike Master’s requests. Way beyond the human race. Who wants a Switcher, no better then a wild animal tamed for work, to carry their child for nine months.
“I will, of course…pay for your agreement.” Master says, blinking a few times and taking a daring glance up at me. In that one glance I can see hope, worry, fear, and…regret. Does he regret asking me? Or does he regret that he wants me to do this? Why didn’t he ask a close family member or friend, a human, to do this? This thought bothers me and I can’t help but ask.
“Why me?” My voice sounds strained and a little higher pitched from my deeper tone. The Master’s head straights up and he looks a little pleased that I’m asking questions instead of staying silent, showing that I refuse the offer. Asking the question shows I might do what he wants. I might save his wife’s sanity.
“Because the fact is, Asa,” He startles me by calling me by my creation name. “I, we, trust you more then you think. We trust as if you were one of our own. Not meaning human.” His eyes show no lies behind the emotions. He trusts me like I was part of the family, when the fact is I have been a servant to the Blackwood family for three generations. Back when I was in my younger “Post-Creation” years. The years when I was something interesting, exciting, and frightening all at the same time. When I was respected, not treated like a household dog. When I was the first to emerge in the world as the first Switcher. All of this trust comes into me in doses. It fills me with a new look on my serving family, the family that created me 149 years ago. Created me as Asa Darkwood. I guess I have always been a part of the family, just the one kept in the attic.
“What will I be rewarded with, Master?” I ask, my voice a promise. Master smiles, his lips getting back to using the muscles to move up instead of down. His eyes now gleam with glee and a proud fact that he got me.
“Please, call me David for now on. You are one of us after all.” I can help but give a small smile. David. That will sure fill strange on my tongue, as well as having time to get use to. I wonder what his wife’s name is. But something else deep inside still bothers me about the last part: You are one of us after all. So does he finally, after so many serving years, see me as an equal? Humans usually see differently, I have observed, after being around one for so long. Why didn’t that happen way back when I was younger? When I was at the height of my popularity. When I wasn’t classified as an “animal”.
“For your agreement,” David says. “I promise to give you a full education, seeing yours on hasn’t even passed a sixth grade level. I will also grant you freedom to the house. You will have your own room, own clothes, own service-”
“No.” I speak so strictly that it startles David. He looks at me with wide eyes.
“I’m sorry?” He says, cocking his head slightly.
“I will not be served,” I enlighten. “I will do it myself.” The moment is silent that I feel that he might tell me to get out his office, canceling the deal. But he just nods and writes something on a blank piece of paper that replaces the Switcher one. The idea of being served by my own clutches at my heart’s weak spot. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t watch as another Switcher gives me food that I was restricted to eat. I couldn’t watch as another Switcher does the same jobs that I had to do, without pay, without benefits. Before David could return to his conversation, I complete it instead.
“I wish to have the benefit of leaving and freedom.” David’s head snaps back, eyes the size of quarters once again. His dark, handlebar moustache hairs seem to stand on ends like a dog’s fur gets when it feels threaten. I know it is a request so highly forbidden to grant, I fill up with doubt that I will get it. Switchers roam freely around the streets like humans. It has been a law against us since more Switchers were created and I have yet to know why. Is it because they fear we will mix with their own? That we will breed with them, created our own things, or dominate them possibly? Some humans hate us out of disgust. They hate the fact that we can switch sexes at will, the reason we got our name Switchers. The fate and doubt of my question is answered. David slowly shakes his head, his eyes sorry.
“I-I’m sorry, Asa,” He says, slowly. “I can’t give you that. It’s against myself that I can. Someone else would have to. Someone higher in the family.” My eyes downcast, knowing now that I can’t be punished if I’m one of their equals. The ticking of the grandfather clock, the one I remember since my beginning years here still in its place between the two bookshelves, booms in my ears again. I’m not in deep disappointment. My hopes were set too high when I suggested something of the sort. But the fact still eats at me like a food course meant to be savored.
“The best I can do,” David says, making me look back up. “is allow you to attend public affairs with us. Of course others won’t like it, but we’ll have to ignore their faces and thrown objects.” I can’t help but laugh at the last part. David joins in too. It has been known for humans to throw things at public serving Switchers. Food, shoes, glasses, plates. All sorts of objects that sometimes cause injury. Our laughter soon dies and I nod in agreement to his offer.
“That will be better then nothing, I suppose.” I reply and David smile becomes wider.
“Should you come up with anything else, tell me. I can see to it if I can benefit you with it,” David informs and I nod. “It’s very grateful to have you do this for my wife and me. I thought I would never get you to agree, seeing you served us. I believe the birth of a new child will bring Adora out of her state.” My smile vanishes at the word “birth”. The memories of watching Surrogates being put down after birthing a human child reminds me of the fact that it will also be my fate. That after bringing the Blackwood’s next generation into the world, I will get Rejected to end it all. And those religious humans say that animals don’t go to heaven. They have no souls. But am I really an animal? Or something like a human? David catches notice of my sudden change in thought like a highly contagious illness. He also knows why.
“Don’t worry about the Rejection, Asa,” David reassures. “You won’t get it. The Blackwood doctor will take care of you during labor and delivery and will also make sure you are well nutrition and cared for while you carry the child. This will all prevent the fate of other Surrogates. I promise you.” My thoughts don’t vanish though. They stay there a heavy cloud ready to rain down regret and fear over David’s soothing words. But I nod for him. I nod because you never know what you think and what you think might never be true.
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