The quiet mumbles and chatter from the kitchen wake me up and the first thought is my time, how long do I have? I slowly turn my left arm towards me, the tension and fear I have is the same every morning. I wasn’t always an Opulent, I was a fortuneless years before but my mother and father offered me to a man named Łorde, he was from Russia and escaped during the communist rebellion against the Capital to North America prior. I wasn’t married to be bare children or anything like that, I was bought to work for Łorde, he was a man who wanted more time than money could purchase so I was the token to him receiving it. It was like I was on a spy mission, I would go to the poker station, I had been trained on how not to lose this brutal game of life and death. Usually the bets start at 50 years, that was made up by 8 people. I added another 100 to the mix, making the clients smirk, thinking I don’t how to play, when realistically I know they are going to lose. At first they play carelessly tossing days, like they have nothing to lose, then they see that I’m skilled, the game continues they loose more days as we go. Soon the game comes to a hault and usually I end up with 100 years, when I win I give a soft smile to those who realise what they have done will result in fatal repercussions for themselves. To ease the pain I load in 25 years and turn away, leaving everyone behind me, fighting to survive. When I meet up with Łorde we split the years between us, and it’s been that way ever since.

When I catch a glimpse of the digital clock burned into my skin, the glowing red lighter shows:

275 YEARS 312 DAYS 13 HOURS 21 MINUTES 8 SECONDS.

I am able to bear a sigh of relief, but waking up every morning knowing that to an extent I am taking someone’s life to protect my own frightens me constantly. Although those people have hundreds of years locked up in a safe for themselves if it ever came to that, but the point is the same. 

I get up and walk over to the big bay window in my room which outlooks the city. As I approach the window I see all the cyborgs patrolling the city, cyborgs are groups of fortuneless who give into the government and allow the government to control them. Giving them bionic arms and installing a chip into their head, constantly giving them orders. The fortuneless receive unlimited years for this but if they try to escape or refuse to follow an order their time is taken away and the government watch as they fall to the ground, lifeless. It’s only morning but the streets are already full with people, some living their last few hours on earth. I sigh, maybe it would be better to have minutes left and die now, rather than having years but having to live this life forever. I turn away and begin to prepare myself for the day ahead of me. 

After I do my hair and apply some makeup I put on a midnight black jumpsuit with little specks of shimmer attached, I pull on a khaki green blazer, red suede heels, a black fedora and finish the look with a hint of bright red ruby lipstick. 

As I head down the glass stairs the sound of my heels is easily recognisable and I immediately hear the mutters that once woke me slowly simmer down, until it completely stops. Łorde must have some client in, trying to bargain some deadly deals, I am not surprised this is the usual old men trying to buy more from Łorde or trying to sell time for a reasonable  price. 

“Shelby.” I hear Łorde mutter, even though he has been in America for a few years, his Russian accent is very strong. 

I come through the right hallway and make an appearance to Łorde and his guest. A tall man with hair the colour of an oak tree and bright blue eyes with a hint of green specks gets up from his seat and walks towards Łorde.