Ornette fully expected to be woken by a kiss when she fluttered her eyelashes open after finishing her cryosleep, but she was awoken by a green flashing screen.  It was flashing the word ‘Congratulations!’ over and over.

Under the flashing word were the words, ‘You are being filmed.  From now on, you will be filmed at all times except for safe zones.  The only guaranteed safe zone is the bathroom.  Take care to remember that everything you say and do will be filmed for the next thirteen weeks.’

That was not the sort of thing Ornette wanted to read on the underside of her cryochamber lid.  

However, she breathed a few times and allowed the sleep to fall off her.  When she refocused her eyes and could see through the other side of the glass portion of the cryochamber, she saw a camera lens trained on her.  It was a huge camera on an electronic arm.  She didn’t see a person, just a lens like a metal eye.  There was someone on the other side of the camera watching her, but she couldn’t see them.  The most important question was, who was filming her and why?

She opened the lid to her cryochamber and saw that she was in a wide hall with rows of other cryochambers opening their lids.

She wasn’t the only Sleeping Beauty Inc. model they’d purchased.  She was part of a shipment.  Had they all been bought by the same person?  

The camera trained on her followed her line of sight as she peered into the unopened cryochamber of the girl next to her.  Ornette looked inside.  She knew her!

It was Clandestine.  Her screen was flashing the word ‘Congratulations’ at her, but Clandestine hadn’t moved.  

Ornette circled around the chamber and found the controls.  Something was wrong.  The cryochamber was malfunctioning.  From the readings on the outside of the glass, it was spewing sleeping gas in Clandestine’s face when it was supposed to be filling her chamber with fresh air. 

Ornette closed her mouth, pinched her nose, and pressed the emergency button that instantly opened the chamber.  The lid opened and the sleeping gas escaped in a white cloud that dissipated into the air of the high-ceilinged room.  The fans above carried the gas away and Ornette let go of her nose.  Then she reached into the cryochamber and put her fingers to Clandestine’s throat to feel her pulse slowly return to normal.  The girl in the chamber took her first breath in and Ornette breathed her own sigh of relief.

It would have been awful if something had happened to Clandestine.  They were not close friends because it was hard for Sleeping Beauty Inc. models to be friends.  They were always in competition with each other for contracts.  As a general rule, Ornette got slightly better contracts than Clandestine, but that was because she was blonde and the other girl insisted on having red hair.  Neither of their hair colors was real, but according to company statistics, blondes were paid more than redheads.  Ornette had often wondered if she ought to point out the trend, but in the end, she always decided to stay silent.  She didn’t think Clandestine would take the advice anyway.

Once the redhead’s eyes were open, Ornette tapped the screen on the lid of the cryochamber with her finger but didn’t say a word until Clandestine was awake and had read the rules regarding the recordings.

“What happened?” the dizzy woman asked.  “Were we bought by the same buyer?”

“I think so,” Ornette confirmed, letting her hand span the room so Clandestine could see the other models wake up from their sleep.

Clandestine bit her lips together.  “I think I know what’s happening here.  We’ve been sold to someone intending to make a reality TV show.”

“Really?  That could be okay,” Ornette said slowly.

Clandestine kept her eyes on the other women waking up around the room as she got out of her cryochamber.  “Maybe.  I suppose the biggest question is what kind of show they’re planning to make.”

“A fashion show?” Ornette suggested.

The other girl smirked.  “If they hired us all to be models that do actual modeling, that would be amazing.  Let’s walk around and see if there’s anyone we know.”

Even though they weren’t close, they linked arms and started to walk down the aisle between the open cryochambers.

“Say something if you recognize anyone,” Clandestine advised.

Ornette agreed and they started their evaluation.  There was everything.  There were twelve women, but there was every kind of woman there.  The only thing all of them had in common was that they were all skinny as rails.  

“This can’t be for a fashion show,” Ornette said, a little disappointed.  “If they were trying to turn us into walking hangers, we’d all look alike so that we didn’t come off as more interesting than the clothes.”

Clandestine let go of Ornette and approached the next girl they saw.  “Hey,” she said, getting up in the face of a living porcelain doll.  “I’m in the Diva category.  So is she,” she pointed her thumb back at Ornette.  “I’m a Repunzel Diva.  She’s a Cinderella Diva.  Are you a Diva too?”

The black-haired woman nodded.  “I’m a Snow White Diva.”

The woman at the cryochamber next door, a woman with brown skin and flowing peach hair that reached her knees came over immediately.  “I’m a Diva too.” She did not need to explain that she was a Repunzel.  

Clandestine’s directness caused a circle to appear around her.

“I’m a Diva too,” the next woman declared.

Soon, it was obvious that every single woman who was in the hall was a Diva.  They all had the Sleeping Beauty Inc. label that proclaimed they were into fashion.  The other categories like Repunzel, Thumbelina, or Snow White described how they looked, not their specialty.

The women started saying which fairytale they were named after when a chiming sound came from the speaker above them.  

Ding! Ding! Ding!

“Sleeping Beauty Inc. models, welcome to Venus!”  It was a man’s voice, dripping with enthusiasm like a game show host.

Ornette clenched her teeth.  She’d been on Venus before.  It wasn’t great.  It was better than Mars, but everything was better than Mars.  

“If you’ll all please head back to your cryochamber, there’s a gift for all of you waiting in the hatch of your cryochamber.”

Clandestine linked arms with Ornette as they headed back to their side-by-side chambers.  

If anything, Clandestine was more tense than Ornette.  She didn’t blame her.  If her cryochamber had malfunctioned, she’d be stressed too.

As it was, they parted as they popped the trunks of their cryochambers.  Inside was a fancy papered cardboard box with a pink ribbon around it.  Ornette knew what it was without having to open it.  She’d seen many of those boxes in her day.  It was a dress.  

More specifically, it was a black dress.  There was a pair of black flip-flops under it.  Ornette pulled at the fabric.  It was a knit cotton, single strap on one shoulder with some extra fabric falling in loops over her upper arm.  

No wonder Desmond hadn’t been interested in changing her dress.  It didn’t matter what she wore because they were going to take it off her immediately.

The voice came back on the speaker.  “There are privacy chambers for each of you to change your dresses in.  When the buzzer rings, please get changed.  Please note that there will not be any points added for making any alterations to the garments you’ve been provided.  At this time, the organizers ask that you all dress identically.  Thank you.”

The buzzer rang and Ornette went into the changing room she had been assigned.  It looked like it had been designed for the beach, which was odd.  There were no beaches on Venus.  She pushed aside the curtain.  There were several hooks on the wall, a full-length mirror with an empty shelf under it, and a stool in the corner.  All in all, it was pretty luxurious compared to other places she had been asked to change clothes.  

She undid the zipper on the side of her blue Cinderella dress and dropped it at her feet.  She was usually sold wearing that dress.  It was her inclination to kick it out the curtained door and let it lie discarded at the foot of her cryochamber, but the dress was hers and not the property of Sleeping Beauty Inc.  That was why she was sold in it.  She owned it.  Her new owner didn’t have to buy it.  The guys who bought her liked that.  Why they were so concerned about counting their pennies baffled her, but the fact that she owned the dress made them feel like they got a discount on her because they didn’t have to buy her anything new.  If she was truly confident that this would be her last sale, she would have kicked it, but… she wasn’t.  She thought her last two sales would be the last.  They weren’t.  The value of money had changed.  Other expenses arose.  Stupidity abounded… Maybe hers especially.

She hung the dress on the hook and wondered if there was a camera watching her change.

The truth was that the idea that she was being snooped on did not bother her in the least.  Working in fashion, modesty was the least of her worries.  Modesty was a luxury.

After adjusting her bra so that both straps went over the same shoulder, she decided that the changing rooms had to offer the privacy they promised.  The announcer could have told them all to strip out in the open.  They were all wearing bracelets, so they would have had to do it if they were so ordered.  She doubted even one of the women would have been shocked.  They would have all been instantly obedient.  The idea that their new owner was offering that kind of luxury gave Ornette a burst of hope that whatever the gig was, it wouldn’t be that bad.  They were even wearing flip-flops instead of punishing heels.

When she came out, the women were lining up at the door following the orders of a male organizer wearing a black baseball cap with the words ‘Goldilocks Zone’ embroidered in gold thread.

She breathed like Desmond was whispering in her ear, telling her to stay calm.

Why she thought of him, she couldn’t say.  She always did her best not to think about her old owners.