Our Lot
Josephine Donovan
I was trying to find out what price they'd assigned us as we milled about, bleating and braying, prior to boarding. You are your price, common wisdom held. Your station in life is determined by the price you bring. It behooved one to do everything possible, groom oneself to the best advantage, to up the sale. The finest, most desirable Masters paid the highest prices, we were told; naturally, they wanted the best of the breed.
I heard they were getting 150 krylders a head for Carcassian girls; 120, for the Lugdanians from over the mountains; and only 100 for Numantians because their skin had been damaged by windburn and frost in the fierce winter. I was included in a lot of Milesians, known for our reddish auburn hair (considered a desirable property) and fair skin. I discovered an auction flyer, which listed Milesians as "well bred" and "obedient."
Best Brands - Milesians
Crop of 1985, 200 kr.
Crop of 1987, 250 kr.
Crop of 1988 (all virgin), 300 kr.
I was in the Crop of 1985.
Further down on the flyer I noted
Sale of one lot of Walasians, fair to
middling condition (some
cheerleaders), offered at 225 kr. each
head. Eunuchs, none offered but crop
of 1990 ready at next sale. Futures:
185 kr. to 200 kr.
I hoped I'd bring at least 200 kr. for Master. He'd treated me well; no scars on my back, unlike many. Master's Wife had taken over our preparation, raising us right so as we'd be competitive in the market. She kept track of other crops in neighboring lands; spies were sent to determine how the Lugdanian crop of '89, for example, was doing. It had been rumored that year produced an unusual bevy of straight-legged Lugdanian beauties, so Master's Wife rejoiced when she heard a virus had depleted the lot, leaving many so crippled they had to be destroyed.
I scarcely remembered my own parents. I know they were so poor they had to sell me and little sister, to provide food for the rest of them, my brothers. Little sister was in the crop of 1988, guaranteed 100% pure virgin. They brought the highest prices. Mother sobbed when they took us off, with Father standing behind her, but it had to be done.
Once when I was younger, Master's Wife caught me running and playing in the fields, too vigorously, she said. I loved jumping in the haystacks, but Master's Wife said no, it was time for the foot block, a heavy wooden boot attached to each foot so you couldn't run, only walk in the stately way that would bring a good price.
Master's Wife took charge of preparing our lot for sale. She was an experienced Preparer, having forwarded scores of lots before ours, and her lots were known for the high prices they brought Master. Preparation required years of rigorous training, but the results were worth it, we were told. School was divided into a Quadrivium: the Physical Amendment Program came first; then Catechism; Deportment and Currying; and finally the Practicum with Eunuchs.
Before our formal education began, we were processed through a propaedeutic, the Physical Amendment Program (PAP). One day soon after we arrived at the plantation, Master's Wife told us we would be examined physically by her assistant, who would perform the Diagnosis, determining what physical make-over remedies would be needed in each of our cases, as all of us were deficient in one way or another. It was at this time, of course, that we all underwent the requisite genital reconditioning surgery and scarification. For some, however, additional surgery was mandated. For myself, for example, as my cheeks were too fat, plastic surgery was recommended so as to effect a sunken dimple under each eye. In many cases, silicon was injected in the lips to enlarge them. Conversely, if they were too large, tissue was excised. Quite a bit of breast adjustment was necessary and for those with protruding stomachs liposuction or, in some cases, a liquid diet. On the other hand, for those whose frames were deemed too scrawny, a fattening up regime was required. This result was effected by a fat-rich diet or by silicone implants, depending on the severity of the case. It was also at the time of the Physical Amendment Program that we began hormone-enhancement therapy, daily doses of Estraga, our hormone vaccine, which included an antibiotic and antivirus, just in case.
Formal training began with the Catechism program, which was structured like a regular school with classes and well-trained instructors. As the name indicates, the Catechism was primarily religious in nature and so was held in Plantation Chapel. We students sat in the pews and Instructor held forth at the pulpit. Instead of a crucifix or other religious icon at the head of the nave, however, a huge poster of a blond woman stood behind the altarpiece. She was dressed in a bikini and had a wide white smile and fair skin. Movable red arrows attached to the poster were pointed at whichever aspect of her anatomy Instructor wished to emphasize. The essential thing we needed to know, however, was that she was perfect in every way and we were not. This was the litany that ran through all of Instructor's lecture sermons.
After a general introductory session, we were divided into individual units for private consultations. In this way we were apprised of our specific individual flaws, which enabled us to develop custom-made meditations tailored to our defects.
Meditation sessions were held every afternoon in the Chapel. Each of us was required to chant aloud our personalized meditation. While, in truth, having everyone speak at once made for an incoherent cacophony, each of us felt that our confessions were being heard, which effectively shamed us, as it was intended to do. Our chants were to be performed while gazing at the Poster Girl who adorned the altar. The meditations were designed so as to point up our defects as compared with the perfect Poster Girl. Some of the chants one might have heard included such bewailments as,
My face is too fat
My eyes aren't blue
My hair is too kinky
My breasts are too droopy
My skin is blemished and dark.
We were encouraged to beat our hands over our hearts as we chanted in a kind of collective mea culpa.
While the meditation sessions continued each afternoon throughout the remainder of our Preparation, schooling proceeded to the second stage of Catechism after the General Introduction was completed. The second stage was also held in the Chapel but Poster Girl was moved to the rear of the altar, serving as a backdrop, while a large TV monitor was brought on to center stage. We sat with pens and notebooks dutifully poised to take notes on Instructor's points.
This session consisted in Instructor's turning the set on and selecting at random whatever program or advertisement happened to be unfolding. The class was in fact a kind of practical exercise in application of the standards of appearance we had learned in the introductory sessions and in our individualized consultations. We were to duly note the ways in which each of us individually failed to measure up to the models we saw on the screen before us, how in short we were inferior, faulty, ugly. It was an easy lesson, actually, and Instructor hardly needed to emphasize how perfect the figures on the set were and how imperfect we, by comparison.
The next class entailed a shift in focus, though it relied upon the same self-hypnosis technique as the Ugliness Litany. In this class we learned how mentally inferior we were. The chants repeated observations (again individually tailored), such as:
I never can think clearly
I can't learn this
Girls can't do math
Let Boys handle the difficult parts
I can't understand this.
By the end of Catechism we had thoroughly absorbed and internalized the instructions we'd been given. Each of us now knew how imperfect, ugly, and dumb we were and felt appropriately shameful. Such training was necessary to prepare us mentally for our fates. Knowing our shameful inadequacies prevented whatever rebellious shoots we may still have harbored from blossoming. We knew we were worth little and deserved whatever treatment we received. Thus were we nipped in the bud, as they said of flowers.
After Catechism we were ready for promotion to Grade Three, Deportment and Currying (D and C). Here we learned about cosmetics: how to apply mascara, lipstick, blush, rouge, eye-liner, maquillage, lotions, creams, deodorants, depilatories, and perfumes so as to remedy as best we could the defects we were by now so painfully aware of. All of us were given cards bearing the image of Poster Girl to carry in our purses or pockets so that we could periodically remind ourselves of the ideal to which we vainly aspired. We were encouraged, as well, to clip out pictures of movie stars, beauty queens, and other celebrities from magazines to carry along with the Poster Girl card and worship, as time allowed.
We were never far from a mirror during this stage of our education. Indeed, sessions were held in a hall of mirrors and extra mirrors were placed by our sleeping mats and in the dining hall propped up before our troughs. We were especially encouraged by Instructor to practice smiles. Of course, those of us with defective teeth had by then had them capped, so that our dentition was virtually identical with that of Poster Girl.
It was at this time that we were fitted for breast harnesses, devices that propped our breasts up so that they pointed out in front like twin headlights. Buyers – that is, our future Masters – like them that way, we were told. Next came learning to walk on tiny stalks called stilettos. In truth, they should be called "still-less-toes,"; for some in our lot were so fearful of failure they gnawed off their little toes to ensure a proper fit.
Having become accustomed to the foot-block boot, I myself found the tiny stalks indeed an adjustment. They were four-inch-long, half-inch-diameter rods that were attached beneath one's heel, strapped on by a sandal-like contraption. At first, we all had trouble staggering around on these, often falling into one another's arms in embarrassment. The most difficult phase of our training was what was called the Ladder. We all knew about the Ladder treatment and dreaded it beforehand. It involved walking over a thickened ladder frame that was laid flat on the ground. The rungs of the ladder were six inches high, so to step over them wearing the tiny stalks strapped to your heels all the while smiling and waving at onlookers was quite a challenge. You had to cover fifteen feet in fifteen seconds or less. In addition, sharp hooks protruding from the rails were designed to snag the sleek leggings we were required to wear. If you snagged your leggings or, worse, allowed the hook to blemish your calf, you were disqualified. Once you'd successfully navigated the course, you were required to do a repeat performance carrying heavy suitcases, because this is the way we would be presented when Buyers came to appraise us in the Auction Ring.
The unfortunate few who failed to navigate this treacherous course successfully were labeled defective and removed from the program. I don't know what happened to them. There were rumors they were taken out and shot. Even if they weren't, they might as well have been, I reasoned, for without Preparation they would never be bought and thus would remain unsold, wandering in the wilderness of shame and destitution the rest of their lives.
The final phase of D and C was Voice. We had to learn to talk in breathless whispers, so softly you could barely hear yourself and in the highest range of our vocal chords. In some cases remedial surgery had to be performed to remove the deeper sounding chords. I'd heard that in some lots, the Walasians, for example, from beyond the seas, vocal chords were removed entirely. That way the Masters wouldn't have to be bothered with idle chatter. Master's Wife said that would not be necessary for our lot because Milesians catered to a particular kind of Buyer, one who liked to hear an occasional peep or chirp from his girls.
The final stage of our training, Grade Four, was the Practicum with Eunuchs who were brought in from the Cisalpine Regions. The Eunuchs were young men in their early twenties who had been trained how to act as red-blooded males (though they themselves had, of course, been surgically altered so as to prevent them from being such). They were to act as our foils in the Practicum phase of our training. Their Masters rented them out for periods of three to six months to the various finishing schools in the region. In actuality, the Practicum served as part of their schooling too; they were being tested to make sure they had no residual designs on females.
In the Practicum we learned how to act properly around red-blooded males. The first phase consisted in "attitude subdual." The worst thing you can have, Master's Wife told us, is "attitude," which meant revealing that you had a different opinion on any given subject from Master. Individual Practicum sessions were arranged in which the trainee met with a Eunuch counterpart in a pseudo-conversational interchange. The Eunuch had memorized a set of statements to which the trainee had to respond. A judge, one of Master's Wife's assistants, evaluated whether the trainee's response were correct. Beforehand we had been instructed that the correct response was to nod politely and smile no matter what the Eunuch said.
Some of the Eunuchs' statements were deliberately provocative. For example, my Eunuch said to me, "I think you're a pretty hot tomato. Let's you and me head for the hills and have a good time." The correct response, I knew, was to show no emotion whatsoever, retain a glassy-eyed demeanor, so as to convey that one didn't understand the proposition.
This was one of the trickier statements presented by the Eunuchs; there were a number of wrong responses, and some of the trainees fell into traps trying to answer. For example, the worst response would be to indicate any willingness or interest in the Eunuch's proposition. Some of the trainees, who hadn't been paying attention to Instructor, perhaps, or not taking the Practicum session seriously enough, to their later regret, smiled invitingly as if the idea appealed to them before they noticed the stern warning eye of the judge, which prevented them from committing the unpardonable sin of agreeing to the proposition. Fortunately, no one in our lot went that far, for the punishment was uniquely horrible: branding with a hot iron and immediate expulsion to the wilderness.
Another wrong response, which a few of the trainees fell into, was to vigorously reject and condemn the Eunuch's temerity in making such an outrageous proposition. Showing too much indignation and outrage was a sign of "attitude," we were told. The proper response was, rather, as noted, to show no emotion whatsoever.
Once we had learned how to suppress "attitude," we moved on to the second lesson, which was how to disguise whatever intelligence or reasoning capacity remained after repeating thousands of times the Stupidity Litany we had learned in Catechism. In these Practicum sessions the Eunuch would present us with a common problem and ask us to solve it. The proper response, we had been taught (if we'd been paying attention to Instructor), was to throw up our hands, say we could never handle the situation, and ask for help. My Eunuch, for example, released a mouse into the room and asked me to remove it. While I have to confess that it passed through my mind to just scoop it up with my hands and take it outdoors, releasing it to the fields, I knew that was the wrong response and had to chastise myself inwardly that I'd even considered such an idea. The proper response, I knew, was to cower in a corner, calling for someone to come save me. I managed to do this convincingly enough and the Judge nodded approvingly, making a "pass" in her notebook.
After this the Eunuch brought forth a light bulb that needed to be screwed into a socket. He didn't explain, however, that this was what was needed to be done; rather he simply presented me with a lamp that wouldn't turn on, asking me to solve the problem. I looked at the lamp for some time and said finally I had no idea how to make it work, that anything mechanical was beyond me. The Judge nodded again and marked accordingly in his notebook. Next, the Eunuch hinted to me that I could make the lamp light up by screwing the bulb in the socket. I adopted an agreeable mien, shrugged, and said I'd try it but as I could never do anything right, I doubted that I'd be able. I then proceeded to turn the bulb this way and that but, as expected, it didn't catch and I became increasingly agitated, finally breaking down in tears at my frustration. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the Judge expressing vigorous approval, so I knew I had learned my lesson well.
Next came current affairs questions. Here, I knew, the proper response, for example, to a question such as what is the capital of Milesia, our native country, was to giggle and confess ignorance. In truth, this part of the Practicum was easy, for we had received no instruction in political affairs or geography, so I had no idea what the answers to the various questions were. I passed this test with shining colors.
The next phase of the Practicum with Eunuchs concerned Problems of Social Interaction (PSI). The social interaction in question was that between males and females. Instructor had told us to remember one cardinal principle: our bodies belong to our future Master and no other male is to touch them. Our job is to make sure that our bodies are pure for Master. To this end we had to learn how to fend off red-blooded males who dared attempt to arrogate Master's privilege. In the second phase of PSI instruction we had to learn, conversely, how to seduce Master. So it was a difficult set of behaviors we had to absorb in this session, and some trainees had trouble knowing when to use the rejection tactics and when the seduction. But in time we gradually sorted things out and knew what to use when.
First, we had to learn how to handle cat calls, leering, and other sexual harassment from red-blooded males. In this Practicum we were arrayed in our seductive outfits – intended for Master's titillation – bikinis with breast-pointing harnesses and the tiny stalks strapped to our heels. We had to run a gauntlet with Eunuchs on each side hollering things like "Hey, cunt, suck my cock," "juicy boobs," "dig that meat," and the like. When I first heard these insulting taunts, I have to confess my first reaction was one of rage; I wanted to take one of my spiky stalks and stab it down their gorge. I was horrified, however, to have had such an impulse because it showed what a severe attitude problem I still had. Perhaps I needed more Estraga. At least, I'd learned not to show my bad attitude and was able to retain throughout the gauntlet exercise a look of bland incomprehension, which was, we had been told, the proper response.
That same day, however, when we were exhausted after repeated sexual harassment gauntlet runs, they began the Seducation course. I personally thought they should have waited at least a day, because it was very hard to switch from benign resistance tactics to tactics of seduction and allurement, which were designed to invite sexual advances from these same red-blooded males. In the Seducation course the Eunuchs were supposed to be representing Master and not unwanted harassers, but in truth it was hard to tell the difference.
In the Seducation Practicum the Eunuch would be seated on a sofa smoking a pipe. We were to enter the room dressed in our aforementioned seduction outfit, slither up to him, nibble his ear, and eye him in a sullen and pouty way. This, we were told, should do the trick, if Master was a red-blooded male, which, of course, they were all reputed to be. For myself, after the exhaustion of a day spent running the gauntlet, I longed to curl up on the sofa next to the pipe-smoking Eunuch and fall asleep. Sensing my lack of interest in the project, the Judge marked a demerit on my grade card, and I had to repeat the assignment several times the next day before getting it right.
What I found particularly hard to do properly was to react with joyous abandon when the Eunuch, pretending arousal, jumped on me, sticking his tongue in my mouth and ripping off what few clothes I had on. We then were to simulate a sexual encounter – simulate because, of course, the actual first night rights were reserved for the Buyer, our future Master. What was important, we were told, was to look ecstatic during the moments of intercourse, to breathe heavily as if one were entering a delirium of excitement, and then to register a peep or an oof to indicate that one had reached the pinnacle of ecstasy. Then, if one were lucky, we were told, Master would withdraw and leave us alone. In fact, the sooner one could peep or oof, we were told, the sooner he would retire. I had to practice several times with the designated Eunuch before I got the breathing and peeps down right, but he was patient, and I eventually passed this most difficult Practicum.
Of course, during the course of our Preparation schooling we trainees made friends with one another. I became friends with a straight-legged dark-hair from near the Lugdanian frontier. Master's Wife noticed us one day giggling and whispering together and called us aside. She suspected us apparently of a Particular Attachment, which was forbidden, she told us. The rule about Particular Attachments was not publicly promulgated to the trainees because Master and Master's Wife had found silence about the issue to be the preferable course; public disclosure sometimes planted the idea in suggestible girls' minds and things could get out of hand, as had happened in fact in certain previous lots. So my friend and I were required to attend re-education sessions conducted by Master's Wife herself in which we were indoctrinated about the importance of saving our love and attention for our future Master and not wasting it on lesser, inferior beings like ourselves. Master's Wife then prepared individualized meditations for us, such as,
I shall have no Master but one
I will put no other before Him
I will forsake all others for Master,
and others to this effect.
My friend and I were required to perform these chants in public in the Plantation Chapel every evening for a week under surveillance by two of the Practicum judges. Unfortunately, during one of these sessions my dark-haired friend glanced at me under her eyelashes and smiled. That was her death sentence. Guards immediately seized her and dragged her, sobbing, from the Chapel. I never saw her again. It was said she received the same punishment as those who agreed to run off to the hills with a Eunuch, namely, branding and eternal ostracism. At first it pained me to think of her wandering alone forever in the wilderness, but happily I soon forgot her, so rapt was I to complete the final preparation for the forthcoming Big Event, our sale.
Before graduation some (myself included) were required to take a short remedial course in Fundamental Passivity. There was at the time a disagreement in the Administration over whether such a course was necessary. Some of the younger Instructors argued that the new Masters preferred pertly assertive specimens, but the old guard argued that this was but a passing trend, that the pendulum would soon swing back when the Masters realized that pert assertiveness often masked a more serious attitude problem. Master's Wife was of the old-fashioned persuasion; she believed you could never have too much passivity in a lot for sale. Thus, we were required to engage in several days of intense Practicums with specially trained Eunuchs designed to impress upon us once and for all the virtue of total submissiveness.
Graduation day finally came. In the ceremony we were officially declared Milesians, Crop of 1985. Master's Wife gave us the traditional hand-woven manacles that had been crafted expressly by a cohort of elderly rejects who worked in a mill near the Cicatrician Pass. The manacles were green to designate us as Milesian. We learned from Master's Wife in her graduation oration that the futures market for Milesian lots was up. We clapped politely at the news.
The time had come to gather our things and board the ferry that would take us across the sound to the Auction Ring. We were packed into the hold but told to keep ourselves neat and dry; any defects in our appearance would count against us in the Ring. We sat docilely and obediently on the benches provided us, but we couldn't help but be excited that the Big Event was about to transpire. Rumors nevertheless abounded as to what would happen to us once we were bought. Some of them were decidedly unpleasant. I chose not to think about them and hoped instead for the best. I couldn't help remembering, however, the fate of two of my aunts who had died in captivity. They had never adjusted and, failing to subdue their attitude, had taken to drink, banging their heads in despair against the stall walls. I vowed not to follow in their footsteps but rather to adjust successfully to whatever came my way.
After a journey of several days, during which we were fed only water and a special hormone-laced nutritional bar, we arrived at our destination. Fortunately, we were assigned a two-day refreshment leave in the Grooming Stalls to get ourselves in final, perfect shape for the sale.
The day of the sale was bright and sunny, and I felt confidant that I looked my best. Each of us was to be led down the aisle to the Auction Ring by a specially designated Eunuch groom. Each sale was separate, of course, so each of us proceeded one by one down the aisle to polite applause from onlookers.
Once in the ring our handler flicked at our heels with a whip and occasionally prodded us with an electric rod, but this practice was mainly for show, an inherited tradition from the old days kept on to add historical color to the event for tourists, who loved to snap pictures of it. We trotted around the ring, while prospective Buyers stood in the center examining our every detail. Occasionally, a Buyer would motion us over to examine our teeth, or pinch our flesh, to make sure we were of the highest quality, as promised on the auction flyer.
My heart leaped when I heard the world "Sold." I glanced at the auction board trying to determine my price. 250 krylders! One of the highest of the Milesian lot. I threw my head back--not too far, of course, so as to indicate attitude – but just enough to show how proud I was to have brought such a high price for Master.
working notes
"Our Lot" is a satirical parable or fable about how women in patriarchal societies are "fattened up" for market in the "traffic in women"; that is, how they are conditioned to be commodities or "meat." The idea for the story came to me as I was reading Mark Twain's Innocents Abroad in which he actually lists the prices women at the time (late nineteenth century) were getting in the Middle East sex-trade auction market. I wanted to broaden the focus to include not just the literal marketing of women (which, of course, still exists world-wide) but to suggest the ways all women are trained/socialized as objects designed to please and serve men, their "masters."
I leave it to the reader to decide whether such socialization and (self-)marketing continues in the U. S. today. As the co-editor (with Carol Adams) of Animals and Women: Feminist Theoretical Explorations, I also wanted to suggest how women and animals share the fate of being prepared for market, which I dramatize in the opening and closing sections.
about the author
Josephine Donovan is the author of Feminist Theory: The Intellectual Traditions, Women and the Rise of the Novel, and several other books and numerous articles on women's literature and feminist critical theory. Most recently, her short story "At the Seashore" appeared in Between the Species (2005) and an article on feminism and the treatment of animals was published in Signs (Winter 2006).
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