“Hang on a minute!” A pretty redhead with pink-framed glasses flung up her hand in indignation. “If there’s only thirty spots, why did you bring so many of us?” Turning on the spot, she did a quick count. “I reckon there’s at least eighty or so here. What are you playing at?”
“Yes, you’re quite right.” The man nodded along, slightly condescendingly even if his smile seemed genuine. His thick dark hair greyed at the temples, but his trim physique and pampered skin made him almost ageless. “I apologise for the inconvenience. You are correct that we’ve invited one hundred women to partake in the initial screening—”
“One hundred?” a Chinese girl moaned. “That’s not fair.”
“So only thirty of us get the weekend?” An English girl pouted. “False advertising!”
“You should’ve clearly stated that instead of wasting our time!” A tall woman scrunched up her pink invitation.
“We understand your frustration.” The man nodded with that swarmy smile. “But if you read the fine print on the invites you’re holding, you’ll clearly see that we’re looking for a certain kind of person to provide feedback at this stage.”
Every woman dropped their eyes, scanning the pink paper.
I copied them, flipping over the card and reading:
Thank you for participating in the Ember Wellness Retreat. Please note, this invitation must be validated by a quick questionnaire along with further confidential testing to be conducted on site. Only thirty will be selected.
I sighed.
My chances of getting in were thirty percent and I wasn’t what people called lucky.
Ah, well.
Yawning, I shoved the invite into my jean shorts pocket and stretched. My light grey cable knit kept out most of the English summer chill but after a month in the tropics, I wasn’t exactly warm.
But at least I had nothing else to do, nowhere else to be. The beauty of having no responsibilities, no family, pets, friends, or lovers meant zero stress.
If I got in, great.
If I didn’t, fine.
I’d just mosey on back to London and find a hotel to—
“Well, count me out!” a cross Black woman grumbled. “I’m not interested anymore.”
“To appease your disappointment, you’ll all receive a gift bag with organic skin care and luxury items valued at over five hundred pounds,” the man said. “We’ve also arranged suites at the Waldorf tonight for all those who are unsuccessful.” He grinned, his eyes scanning the sea of women. “All you have to do is help us with some paperwork and then you’ll either be shuttled to the Waldorf or whisked inside Cinderkeep. Sound good?” The man beamed, putting it on a little thick, but...one by one, the women thawed and nodded.
And somehow, I found myself being jostled into an orderly queue, waiting patiently for my turn to answer their mysterious questions.
Chapter Two
“THANK YOU, MS SNOWDEN.” THE HANDSOME young man in a white shirt with very white teeth accepted the clipboard I’d just filled in with my information. We sat beneath a little awning, privacy screens on either side of us, while other women completed their own inquisition.
I yawned again, very ready for that nap.
Sleep was one of my favourite and highly coveted pastimes. I might swap my scenery often—traveling from over-water bungalows on tropical islands to congested foot traffic in smoggy cities—but my habits when I was there never changed.
My main objective was to rest. To avoid stress of any kind. To be as calm and as peaceful as possible. Such zen-like non-reactiveness came from good food, regular relaxation, and a whole heap of freedom to do whatever the hell I wanted at the time of my choosing.
“Are we done?” I asked with a polite smile, my fingers straying to the large crystal raindrop pendant around my neck. My mother had put it on me when I was ten—she’d been almost giddy with excitement, claiming they’d finally found the secret to wellbeing and made me promise never to take it off. I didn’t know what technology Snowflake Corp had stuffed into this piece of jewellery, but I’d kept my promise ever since.
The man grinned, pulling my factsheet off the clipboard and tucking it into a box with other women’s paperwork. “Almost.” Ducking beneath the table, he pulled up a large case that looked suspiciously medical. Unzipping it, he pulled out a small vial that looked like a perfume tester with a silver pad and the tiniest needle at the top.
“If you’ll just place your finger on the top of this please.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
“It’s to ensure every meal, drink, scent, and treatment is especially keyed to your DNA.” He held my eyes, practically beaming with positivity.
“My DNA?”
He just nodded.
Now, for any normal woman, perhaps DNA wasn’t such a big deal. After all, we all gave it away to those ancestry websites to learn if we had some long-lost Irish roots. However, I’d been created by two people who’d single-handedly changed the scientific world. They’d made advances in cryogenics, played God with immortality, and had patented cold fusion that could rival clean energy or be used as weapons of mass destruction. Not to mention the desalination plants, ice shipping, and freshwater rights they’d been systematically buying worldwide.
So yeah, DNA wasn’t something I was prepared to give.
Especially for a weekend.
Pushing to my feet, I grabbed my well-worn rucksack and slung it onto my shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I’ve changed my mind.”
Turning to leave, I caught the eyes of the man who seemed to be in charge. Greying hair and a pristine black suit made him look almost royal, but the glint in his eyes was purely villainous.
“Are you sure?” The young man who’d been taking my details shot upright. “It’s only a tiny pinprick and—”
“I’m sure.” Smiling politely, I meandered through the milling women who’d already given their metadata and DNA and headed toward the splashing peacock fountain where the three buses waited to take the unselected back into town.
The crunch of polished dress shoes sounded beside me; a tall shadow fell over mine. “It’s a shame you’ve changed your mind.”
I wrenched to a stop, turning to face the man who’d left his post on the stage and now stood a little too close.
Alright, if I wasn’t sure something fishy was going on, now I was.
The only problem was, I was utterly useless when it came to physical confrontation.
Almost on cue, a headache appeared, highly attuned to the smallest of stress. I didn’t want to live my life like this. I would rather be a good person than a pointless one, but every time I tried to do something mildly taxing, I collapsed. Each time I even looked at an email from Snowflake Corp, I blacked out.
And thanks to my pathetic body and its zero anxiety tolerance, this minor headache was a warning sign to remove myself from the situation before it landed me unconscious.
“It’s a shame you think testing someone’s blood is as simple as gathering a phone number.” I braced my spine as the throbbing at the base of my skull got worse.
“Isn’t it, though?” He cocked his head. “How are we any different from those who saliva swab or use biometrics to understand their target market?”
“You can do whatever you want.” I shrugged. “But to me, DNA is a full instruction manual. It’s not protected by any law, which means the moment I give it to you, you can patent it, profit from it, hell, even weaponise it.”
His eyebrows shot up, his suave mask slipping just a little. “Who are you?” Dropping his eyes to the tablet in his hand, he tapped a few windows before somehow finding the factsheet I’d stupidly filled in. “Name, Rook Snowden. Profession, unstated. Age, twenty-two.” His gaze shot to mine. “So young, yet so clued up on things that would bore most young women.”