Crumpled - A Paper Doll Story (closed)

[Scuttle Buttin']

(This story takes place in the world of the Paper Dolls, which is initially set up here. Reading it is probably not required, but may be useful for those planning to follow this thread.

The alarm went off at 6:00 a.m., just as the sky began to give way to dark and dull yellows from over the horizon. He had been awake for almost half an hour when the buzzing started, but still he let it go for a moment before reaching over to his the snooze button. The sharp sound helped to clear his mind, prepare him for the day. Snap him out of the thoughts he'd allowed to tumble through his head, like dirty clothes shoved straight into a dryer. Licking his lips in the dark, he folded back the blanket that was over him, giving the bed a strangely dogeared-page look, and sat up, swinging his bare legs onto the floor.

The wood that met the soles of his feet was cool, a bright and polished bamboo that caught and reflected what little light was in the room. Flexing his toes against it, he pressed the heels of both hands against his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. Twisting his torso first one way, then the other, he stretched his muscles, waking them. Rising from the bed, he turned and folded the cover back, smoothing out the wrinkles, then flattening his hands over the pillow his head had laid on, effectively erasing any sign that the bed had ever been slept in.

Bare feet carried him into the bathroom then, the light flickering to life when it detected him moving into the room. Pausing in front of the counter, he stared at his reflection in the mirror behind the sink, sharp blue eyes tracing his naked body. A few faint marks remained, three little scratches just above his navel, a faint bruise on his forearm. He smiled grimly, then held up his hand with his palm facing him, and looked at the small scabs left on his knuckles. One of those had come from a tooth, maybe both, but he hadn't even realized he was cut there until later. They seemed to be the slowest to heal, of any wound he carried. Maybe that would teach him to stop using the same fist.

The water in the shower was hot as soon as the pad was touched, steam curling up towards the vents in the ceiling, though he left the fans off. Stepping beneath the spray, he washed in ten minutes and was standing back in front of the mirror, dripping on the floor and considering the stubble on his cheeks. Protocol was to remain clean shaven, but oversight was rare once the Stewards had left the program, especially experienced and successful ones like himself, and so he left the stubble. He'd shave in a day or two, once in the housing with his Paper Doll.

Besides, it was fun to leave a razor blade or two out, just to tempt them.

He walked naked through his apartment, wet footprints left behind him as he moved through the bedroom and into the large open room that was his living space and kitchen. The windows were large, overlooking much of the city, the early morning sun filtering through them and casting the room in angled yellow light. At the end of the counter stood a small machine, with rounded edges and gleaming, brushed silver. A mug was slid under the small spout and the button on the top was pushed. In a moment, the hot, dark liquid was filling the cup, steam curling up around the edges of the machine. A soft chime told him the cup was full, and he crossed over to retrieve it.

The cup was lifted to his lips as he lifted a datapad from the counter, where he'd left it the night before. It flickered to life once in his hands, and the face of his new Creative was staring back at him on the screen. With small gestures of his head, he scrolled through various images of her. Some were posed for, updating identification photographs or other official records, some were candid as he watched her, confirming her Creative status. Lastly, he skimmed through his own notes on her, though he'd long ago memorized them, and could virtually recite them as his eyes moved over the words.

He was ready for her. She couldn't possibly be ready for him.

Finishing the stimulant drink, he turned the datapad off and replaced it on the white counter top, and washed the mug in the sink. Drying it quickly under the air dryer, he replaced it next to the other, identical cups and closed the cupboard door. Again, it was as if he had never been in the kitchen. The datapad was lifted and carried into the living room, where it was inserted into the charger on an otherwise empty shelf mounted to the wall, and now dry, he made his way back into the bedroom to dress.

-----​

Just under two hours later, at exactly 8:00 a.m., he was sitting in one of the Conversion Rooms in the Life Creation and Mating Bureau building. His hands were folded together on top of the metal table. His feet, in black shoes of real leather, were flat on the floor. The dark charcoal of his cotton pants matched the color of the jacket he wore. Underneath it was a pressed white t-shirt. His wrists were bare of any timekeeping device. His pockets were entirely empty. The sharp ice blue of his eyes was focused on the door across from him, waiting.

Today would be the day she would come to the Bureau expecting to be partnered with a mate, to begin her dull life with all the other dull people in this dull world. Instead, she would be escorted to a Conversion Room, and meet the man who would become her Steward. She would leave with him through the door opposite the one she'd come in - they always, every single one, left with him - and a life that was anything but dull would begin for her.

The corner of one lip twitched as he let his mind wander while he waited. Entering their house while they were all away at a Career or Education Center had been simple, not even rising to the level of child's play, and the miniature cameras he'd placed in her room had never been discovered. They never were. In another couple months, they would dissolve into dust and any trace they had been there would be blown away the next time someone moved near the area.

He had walked casually past their quarters once a week, downloading all the collected video to his data pad. He had watched her undress behind closed doors, watched as she found ways to inject color into her world, watched through the enhanced darkness as she found pleasure with her own fingers. Under the table, his cock stirred to life as he let his mind linger on the image, and the pull at the corner of his lip grew stronger.

Three quick knocks on the door across from him signaled her arrival. The image of her in his mind was washed away quickly, and his hands lifted from the table to smooth any wrinkles out of his jacket. Pushing the metal chair back from the table a few inches, he rose to his feet, buttoned his jacket, and clasped his hands behind his back.

He waited for her to appear.

 

[AnyOtherName]

The morning was deceptively like any other.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Kaia begrudgingly opened her eyes to the sound of the alarm. Laying on her stomach, arms tangled upwards and around her pillow, her light jade orbs stared at the inornate headboard that hovered over her mattress. For several long moments the shrill electronic pulses of the bedside clock persisted, the young woman's consciousness aware of little else.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Each one was just like the last. A perfect structure of predictable sequence, steady decibel level, and an almost poetic monotone.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

It was a testament of existence.

Humanity had...or was?...evolving. Or, at least, that's the best sense Kaia Lykke could make of it. She'd somehow been left behind, plagued with remnants of...the human condition? She felt. Was painfully self aware. She questioned the world and her place in it – albeit only internally. Surely she was the least rational person in all of the world, a soul secretly ruled by emotion and driven by curiosity. She made every attempt hide it, of course. Instinctively understanding that different was something undesired by society, Kaia had always made an effort to blend in with her peers. And she did well, most of the time.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

...It was all very draining. Her attempts to feel nothing made her a void inside.

Be more like them.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

She'd suffer the barrage of repeated digital noise until it was she believed she could pretend to be a machine for another day.

Or, at least, just another cog...


It wasn't until she sat for breakfast that she realized – or rather, was informed by her mother – that it was her birthday. Her 21st. The knowledge was passed from the older woman's lips in the same tone as she might tell the kids that grandma was dying.

It was a fact. Nothing more.

“You're to report to the Life Creation and Mating Bureau this morning,” her mother reminded as she placed a plate of scrambled unseasoned eggs and plain yogurt in front Kaia. “Arrive at 8 AM.”

It was impossible not to look disappointed. Thankfully, her family had always ignored her often strange facial expressions (as well as the occasional nonsensical babbling she'd given to from time to time). The 21 year old didn't have a response today, it seemed, and so her mother moved along. Like a vocal day planner she announced the schedules of each family member as she served them breakfast.

Kaia had been awaiting the day the woman would start chiming on the hour, every hour of every day. But that amused imagination had never come to fruition.

...Neither did the want for her family to care. It wasn't directly acknowledged that this would be her last time fulfilling the role of a daughter within their household. Tomorrow, she'd be the wife. To some stranger. Sure, they'd visit her and his families on occasion. But, for all practical purposes...her life was moving on and away from them. And not a single family member seemed to be the least bit worried or sentimental about any of it.

Because they weren't.

-----​

She didn't want to meet him. It didn't matter what his name was, or what he looked like; he was just like them. Someone incapable of understanding her. Some man less flawed than herself, who would only break her heart with his perfectly logical indifference.

Kaia didn't hear the instructions that were given to the group of arriving women, whom had been promptly ushered into a room aside of the main lobby. Her gaze would suggest that her attention was upon the Admin-bot but her mind was drowning out the digital voice with last minute concerns. She was markedly more aware of stark whiteness of the room they were gathered in, the faint smell of chemical cleaners that lingered in the air. Clinical atmospheres always made her feel a little sick. Her stomach twisted.

A small group of bureau employees approached the group as the introductory speech was concluded. Without a word, each worker would offer a scanpad to one of the women. She would place her right hand upon it. Seconds later, the attendant would gain her identification and program assignments on a wirelessly connected datapad. A quick verbal confirmation of their identity and they'd be directed to leave the room through a threshold that would take them deeper into the Life Creation and Mating Bureau complex. The remaining women formed lines as soon as the “stations” for checking in were established.

When it was Kaia's turn in the queue she placed her hand as steadily as possible on the scanpad. After a moment the corresponding datapad made a disgruntled honk. The bureau employee looked at her blankly, offering no solution. The young woman suppressed a nervous smile as she withdrew her hand. She wiped her palm on the cotton material of her gray jumper before placing it on the scanpad once again.

Several seconds passed. “Kaia Lykke,” the attendant spoke neutrally as her information appeared on the datapad.

“Kaia Lykke,” she agreed as flatly as possible.

She was directed through the same door as everyone else. Which shouldn't have been a surprise but was nevertheless comforting.

Beyond the threshold was a long hallway, lined by polished metal doors on either side and one at the end. The side rooms were easily assumed to be small, with door frames spaced less than half a dozen strides apart. A display to the right side of each entrance was digitally emblazoned with a woman's name, a small camera installed near to verify identity before granting further passage.

Kaia's room was at the end of the hallway; the very last door on the left. Upon arrival she turned to face the entrance, patiently waiting for the visual recognition software to accept her 'request'. Her face was scanned and the door slid open.

She wasn't expecting to find a changing room. Which, perhaps if she had listened to the introductory speech, would not have come at all of a surprise to her.

A sleek and simple black dress was hanging from a hook next to a full length mirror. For a moment she was confused, but as she caught her own reflection upon entering the room... It only made sense that she'd be more properly dressed to meet her spouse-to-be. The gray jumper was anything but flattering, after all. Although Kaia had a difficult time grasping the idea of other people having any concept of desire or passion...

The door behind her closed and the woman was quick to rid herself of the clothing she had been wearing. All of her youth and young adulthood: spent in those god awful jumpers. It was about damned time she got to wear something better than child rags! Still, she approached the new garment tentatively. Took a moment to feel the fabric. Then, before removing the dress from it's hanger, she allowed her gaze to stray towards the reflection of her form in the mirror.

She was athletic and trim. Just like everyone else. Bland good for you government approved diets and endless programs designed to keep the masses healthy ensured that most everyone could physically fit into the mold society wanted of them. Kaia had the increased benefit of generous firm breasts and a tapered waist, made all the more obvious for the flare of her hips.

Her attention strayed back towards the dress. How well would it adhere to her shape, she wondered?

...There was only one way to find out.

And the result was...kind of creepy. The garment was precisely the right size, clinging to the curves of her body as if it had been specifically tailored for her. But rather than over-analyze the situation Kaia instead found the matching pair of heels and put them on. Allowing one last look in the mirror, the young woman ran her hands through her shoulder length hair, giving it a fluff of volume before smoothing it out from on top.

Three crisp knocks came at the door. Kaia turned away from the mirror, studied the metallic surface from which the noise had come. A simple wave of her hand caused for the small chamber to open once again to the hallway.

Outside stood a woman, older and smaller than herself. “This way,” the stranger spoke simply, turning on her heel without giving Kaia an opportunity to respond. The escort needn't lead her far – to the back wall of the corridor and through it's supposed exit. Beyond was another long passageway, with a singular door at the opposite end. The two walked in silence, the only noise within the hall an echo of either woman's footfalls. Kaia tried to convince herself that this was a normal part of the process. But the longer they walked, the more she started to doubt. There would be other people in this hall...coming or going from the same destination. Every second the likelihood that chance would have her and the escort alone in such a long corridor...

Did they know she was different, then? Had someone seen her picking flora, stuffing her pockets with samples of color to smuggle into her room at home? Had they found her mortar and pestle, stained by a countless array of crushed petals – or evidence of the things she had tried to create with her barbaric versions of paint? Did they have her journals? ...She had tried to destroy all of it. But some stupid part of her wouldn't allow her to burn the creations, so instead she had buried them.

Inevitably the two would reach the singular door. The escort offered her palm to a scanpad that was built into the wall – the passage opened to reveal yet another hall. This one was short, and no wider than those before it. Three armed men stood outside of an equal number of doors. Kaia hesitated to follow. Of course she would. But would...one of them? They didn't make up scenarios in their minds, in which authoritative figures would be considered with suspicion. She was still pretending to be normal, wasn't she? Trying not to show distress she approached the room indicated by her escort. The armed guard stepped aside and the older woman gave three quick knocks. She backed away immediately afterwards, leaving Kaia to stand alone in the frame of the door.

It felt like several long moments before the metallic obstruction disappeared into the wall.

Kaia's breath caught in her throat at the sight of the man within. For a moment she merely stood there, studying him from across the threshold. Then, suddenly realizing her behavior might be considered abnormal: she took several steps into the room, seemingly without any apprehension. She stopped short of the metal desk or the seat that was placed nearer to her side.

The door slid closed behind her.

She waited patiently for the stranger to speak, maintaining eye contact while trying not to look too interested.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

The door slid open, revealing her in the frame of the doorway, and his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Sharp eyes scanned her slowly, from head to toe, and somewhere in his mind he saw the odd view of her room afforded by the camera he'd placed there. He saw her naked before him, standing there in the doorway with guards just out of sight. He smiled, ever so slightly, as she stepped over the threshold and into the room with him, his gaze lifting past her shoulder for a moment to watch the door close quietly.

"Kaia," he said at last, his focus returning to her face, and he smiled more openly now. "I'm sure this has all been very strange for you, being separated from everyone else and led down here."

His voice was quiet and low, the room around them utterly silent as they stood across from each other.

"I can't promise it won't become more weird as the day goes on, but I can promise I'll be with you to explain it all. Would you have a seat with me, and allow me to tell you why you're here?"

His hands came around from behind his back to unbutton his jacket, and he pulled out the metal chair, the sound of the legs on the floor under them sharp in the room, though there was no echo from the smooth white of the walls. Moving around it, he lowered himself into the chair and clasped his hands together, resting his forearms on the table.

"Unfortunately," he began, his voice still quiet in the stillness of the small box, "Electronics aren't allowed in here. No communications devices, no listening devices, not even a datapad. Everything said and done in this room is done in absolute privacy. The downside of this is that I can only tell you what is and has been happening, and can only show you if you leave with me through the door behind me."

He gestured to the door opposite the one she'd entered through with a nod of his head, leaving a short pause before he continued on.

"The positive side of this, however, is that whatever you decide, this will be the first time you are completely free to be yourself, Kaia. You don't have to hide to fit in. You don't have to pretend to be something you're not. Because..."

He paused, and leaned forward conspiratorially. There was no reason to lower his voice further, nothing he was saying was being heard by anyone but her, but the effect remained the same.

"I know what you are, Kaia. I know you're different. I know you feel more than they do. See and want more than they do. You're special, Kaia, as special as anyone could possibly be. And that is precisely why you are here, today. Why you are talking to me. Because you're different."

His smile grew, changed into something of a Cheshire Cat grin, reveling in a secret knowledge he was about to share.

"Because you're better."

He straightened again, the volume of his voice rising only slightly, the grin absent now from his face, though he was careful to leave his features pleasant, but neutral.

"You're what we call a Creative, Kaia. Someone with passion and life inside of you that the rest of the people couldn't even comprehend of. But it is unfocused, and unused. You've not lived in a world that nurtures people like you, and have suffered because of it. I am offering you a chance to change that. To be more, and feel more, and do more than you could've ever imagined.

"And I will help you along that journey. Guide you through the process of focusing your creativity, and unlocking your full potential. Just as you are called a Creative, I am to be your Steward. These are just titles we use in the program, of course. But if you'll allow me, I'd like to call you Kaia."

The smile was back, and with it he unfolded his hands and extended one, open to her, across the table.

"And you can call me Saiph."