Chair Girl

Woman: My Last Breath
Chair: Just a Little Knotty

They were at her again, of course. They, who had told the great lies about America. She'd given them all she had and signed the paper to pay even more when they delivered her across the Pacific. She'd expected to be met with open arms by the wonderful people over in the New World. They had even given her to expect such treatment.

Of course, it hadn't worked out that way. The New World was technology and skills, none of which she had. Even menial labour had been replaced - by metallic creatures called robots. They, of course, had steered her towards a trade - one her upbringing would not and could not allow. So here she was again, on the street with newspaper in hand, slowly deciphering the want ads.

There were several in today's paper and she'd checked them out one by one. All wanted special skills, even the cleaning crew jobs. One woman, on seeing her sadness at yet another turn down, suggested she search for jobs "no experience needed". Of course, those had to be those kind of jobs that she was studiously avoiding, the jobs they wanted her in.

The eleventh job down was somewhat larger than the rest. Unlike most of its type - the "no experience required" - it seemed professional with a picture of a chair of some kind. "Ch-a-" she sounded out to herself. After five minutes, she had it - they wanted chore girls. Domestic help just like back home! And they were offering long term contracts! This one - maybe.

The forty minute walk to their downtown office left her a bit tired, there was still so much to learn about this strange culture. Without the English language to help her, she had been avoided and even shunned by most people on the street. Finally she stood before their office entrance on the twenty-fifth floor of one of their mountainous buildings. The hike up had left her winded - how did these others manage the climb every day?

For a moment, she hesitated. The company's logo was odd and somewhat frightening. But a company's logo had often little to do with the business they did. She pushed the door open and walked timidly up to the receptionist. Pointing at the ad, she spoke up hesitantly.

"Help prease? Speak job person?" She knew that wasn't right but it was the best she could do.

"Oh sure. Four doors down the corridor, the door labelled 'Receiving'".

She thanked the receptionist and walked down the corridor. Counting four doors, she once again wasted time puzzling out the strange scripts. Why could they not use letters all the same like back home? Half way through the process, the door opened and a friendly fellow turned her about to the other side of the corridor. With a bow, he opened the door and let her into the room.

"Dis right place?" she asked.

"Are you here about the ad?" the man in a white cloth coat asked.

"Help wanted?" she managed.

"Yes," he nodded. "That's the one. Just follow me."

He led her to a big office and seated her before a huge wooden desk.

"Are you sure you really want this kind of job?" he asked kindly. "There's no backing out after you start for the entire five year contract."

He'd not asked for her skills and experience. He was already offering five years of work! She nodded.

"Very well then. Make your mark here," he pointed. "Here and here."

In each place she used the cursive version of the letters she'd been taught as a child. It seemed to matter little that the name was not written in English.

"The first thing we'll need to do is help you with your English. You'll be representing the company after all. Where do you live?" he asked quickly.

"I -"

"Oh don't worry," he replied. "We'll send someone over for your things. We've a training school here on site and it's easier for everyone if you don't have to walk crosstown every morning. We've a cafeteria, too."

"But can't pay -"

"Part of the contract. We provide food and a room during training."

She couldn't believe her ears. It was too good to be true. It seemed even more so when she was led to a four room apartment with all the things these people deemed essential. The company tutors soon had her English, reading and writing to a level that she'd not believed possible a short month before. Finally, she passed their tests and stood once again before a person in a white coat.

"Welcome to Production," the smiling woman behind the desk announced. "We've already arranged your first placement just as soon as we get you into your new form." She had become used to the way these people shortened words and immediately translated "form" as "uniform".

"Thank you, Miz Charian," she read her name from her tag.

"Through the green door. Just follow all of the instructions. Enjoy your contract!"

Ms Charian waved her towards a green door (the only one in the room). Once inside though, with the process started, she soon made some nasty discoveries. They didn't ask her to remove her clothing just stand with her legs apart and a strange helmet on her head. A sudden flash removed everything and a shower took the ash down the drain. She was directed through another door to be met by one of the hated robots. The creature gave her a series of injections without even uttering a sound.

She found herself in a quiet waiting room, naked and alone. There were some magazines and comfortable chairs against the wall. Selecting a red one (it reminded her of home, somehow), she sat down and made herself comfortable for however long they'd make her wait. After a short time, though, the chair became uncomfortable. There seemed to be bumps in it that made sitting impossible. Well no matter, the floor was comfortable and, sitting crosslegged, she soon found herself engrossed in her article. Twenty minutes later, she put down the magazine and looked around. To discover she'd been changed! She no longer had legs or feet. Somehow, she'd been given the seat of a chair instead. And her arms were covered with the same red upholstery! She shouted and shouted, but no one came. She felt her arms join her body and strange wings grow from her shoulders. She discovered she'd become mostly chair.

"Excellent!" came a voice from behind. "She'll be just perfect for the trade show. Then that wealthy couple in Denver has bought her five year contract."

Something slid in under her, she was tilted back and wheeled through a door labelled "Shipping".