Chapter 2

There were several families and groups of friends wishing well their loved one as they boarded one of many coaches, of the sort that college basketball teams might travel to games on. She had come alone since most of her friends whose wine consumption the evening before had either equaled or exceeded her own, were still pissing and moaning and generally recovering from the night before. She would have no such luxury. The bus left at 8am just as the sun was cracking the treetops.1

The girl who sat beside her on the coach was a mousey little thing, no older than twenty-one years. She wore glasses with frames that might have belonged to her grandmother, but her grandmother had tossed them out as being unfashionable. Her thin sickly frame and deepset eyes gave her a sort of hollow look, from which resonated the anticipated squeaky, mouse-like voice that raised in pitch to accentuate the level of excitement being inflected in her voice. From the instant Eve took a seat next to her, the girl had insisted on describing every detail she could remember about her painfully unintersting service as some sort of aircraft mechanic. While feigning interest is easy at first, for the sake of common courtesy, it becomes far more difficult after an hour or so. Despite her obvious lack of participation or interest in the conversation, the girl continued talking. 2

When the nonstop three hour and twenty minute trip ended, Eve was quite ready to get off the bus. At this point, anything short of a gas shower was a good reason to be seperated from the chattering of the aircraft mechanic. 3

Eve had sat at the front of the bus and, having to stop for 4

"restroom breaks" three times on the way to the bus station, had been one of the last to board. The distraction of the girl next to her and the dull ache of the hangover had kept her from making any sort of visual survey of the other passengers on the bus, save the mouse seated next to her. What became absolutely evident upon the exodus at the terminal in the state capital was that there were no children, elderly or even any middle aged people among the passengers. Both sexes were represented nearly evenly as far as she could tell, and there seemed little discrimination in beauty or body size. She had been told by means of official letter that based on a modeling portfolio she had submitted as a college student, she had been selected to try out for a new government program in which models would appear in commercials for various recruiting projects; But certainly all these young people weren't models. The girl who had sat next to her was hardly runway material. There were a few guys and even a girl or two that she would have considered exceptionally good looking out of the eighty or so that were now lingering outside of the bus terminal awaiting further instruction. What, then, were the rest of them here for?5

"Attention!" A brass bell of a voice rang out.6

"Attention everyone! We have a very rigerous schedule to maintain. There will be an orientation session immediately for everyone who's ticket number is lower than 3000. Check your tickets please! Those of you with ticket numbers lower than 3000, please follow Mr. Jacobs in the red cap. Everyone else, please follow me. My name is Mr. Harold and I will be showing you to your quarters. This way please!" he said gesturing toward a gate that was propped open directly behind him.7