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The Education of Rachel
-----------------------

By Danton

Part 2.

As Rachel walked through the high trees along the path, the hum of electric
machinery she heard over her shoulder confirmed her belief that the gate
was closing.  Continuing forward, she did not look back to the gate or the
fence; they were nothing to her now.  With a quickening pace she mounted
a steep hill in the forest, the path twisted several times and then entered
a large clearing.

Upon gaining the clearing, Rachel saw her final destination.  Ahead of her
was a small complex of concrete and glass structures, all surrounding a
large central pool cut out of natural rock.  The bright June sun cast its
full light on the hilltop, giving the whole scene a blinding, whiter-than-
white appearance.  On the roof of one building sat a helicopter.  No people
were to be seen, but the path Rachel walked ended at a glass door in the
glass wall of an odd, triangular building.  She paused, taking in the scene
for a moment, or was it something else?  And then stepped up to the door.

Before she could knock or find the button for a doorbell, the door opened
on its own volition.  Beyond it could be seen a huge atrium, roughly 
pyramidal in shape, filled from floor to 30 foot ceiling with green plants
of every description.  Awed by the sight of so much greenery and so much
sunlight, Rachel entered the atrium, barely noticing the door as it closed
behind her.  The air inside was warm and moist, causing Rachel to wonder if
she should remove the denim jacket she was wearing.  Eventually, she decided
against it, but she did not have long to sweat before she was joined by
another.

From a door in the far wall of the room entered a man who was quite different
than anyone that Rachel had imagined she would meet here.  He was tall and 
slender with almost an air of slightness about him as he walked towards her.  
From the early gray of his thinning hair, and the lines of many cares 
written across his face, Rachel decided that he must be a man in his late 
forties, or possibly older.  It was his clothes which most surprised her;
since she had mentally prepared herself long ago for anything, his was the
only disguise on which she had not counted.  He wore an elegant double-breasted
suit of the finest, powder-blue cloth.  Around the neck of his perfectly
white starched shirt was tied a beautiful gold silk tie.  On his feet were
the finest Italian leathers, and a large gold ring encircled one finger of 
his left hand.  

He walked to Rachel in a calm and assured manner and extended his hand.

"My dear Miss Stansbury," he smiled as he spoke, "we are so pleased to have
you with us."  Barely over her surprise, Rachel raised her limp hand towards
him, and looked up at his face.  His smile was warm and sincere, and it made
all of the softness of his face tighten into a gesture of understanding.
He grasped her hand gently, causing a strange little tremor within her.
Was it fear?  She could not tell for certain.  The one question that she 
could resolve now was his accent; smooth and cultured, with perfect 
enunciation, it still betrayed the fact that he was an Englishman.

"Shall we pass through to my office?" he asked sweetly, releasing her hand,
"It is most beautiful here but the heat of the afternoon does become a
trifle annoying, wouldn't you say?"

Before she thought to answer, he turned and motioned her towards the door
he had entered from, centered in the only solid concrete wall of the atrium.
Once again, Rachel thought about crossing another threshold, this time
into an area she could see nothing of.  Nonetheless, she moved forward
and entered the office as her host held the door open for her.

A cool breeze hit her face as she passed into the room, and the sudden change
in temperature had an affect on her body.  The room itself was yet another 
surprise, although it matched perfectly its owner.  Surrounded on all sides
by walls of bookshelves, the office contained a large mahogany desk of the
seventeenth century, faced by several high-backed leather chairs in a small
semi-circle.  Behind the desk were some wood cabinets containing books and
file drawers, one of which was partially open, as well as an ornately
carved mahogany swivel chair.

"Do sit down, please."  her host intoned, turning to close the door behind
them and indicating one of the leather chairs with a graceful sweep of his
hand.  As Rachel sat, facing the desk, her mind conjured images of all the
places she had been of which this room reminded.  She felt as if she had
arranged an appointment with a lawyer, or her doctor, or perhaps this was the
office of the elderly Dean of a local college.  She wondered if perhaps 
all professionals had similar tastes?  The large leather chair nearly
engulfed her; although she was not small, the chair and the room made her
feel quite small indeed.

"Now then" he said, settling into the ornate swivel chair, "let's see
what we are about here."  He turned slightly and reached into the open file
drawer, producing a slim folder.  He then tidily closed the drawer and 
gently placed the folder on the dark wood in front of him.  After opening it,
he produced a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles from a breast pocket and
mounted them on his nose, turning his attention to the first loose page
in the folder.

"This is the report from your doctor, Miss Stansbury.  He indicates that you
are in very good health indeed."  He removed his eyes from the printed page
and looked up at Rachel, seated across the desk.  "Of course," he continued,
examining her image from head to toe, "we could see that immediately.  But
you must realize that we may take no risk of infection here."  His words were
slow and deliberate, not unlike an aged philosopher patiently explaining some
great truth to a tiny child.  Rachel wondered how many times he had recited 
those same words to the others who came before her.

Turning his attention once more to the folder, he turned the page and examined
the next leaf at some length.  The utter silence of the room uneased Rachel
greatly;  in the long interval her heart raced involuntarily, and she began
to taste the acid tin of fear on her tongue.  Silly, she thought, this is
silly -- she had made her decision rationally hundreds of times before. 
Only her body betrayed her confidence.

"I don't mind telling you" he finally said, removing his glasses and looking
directly into her large brown eyes, "that I'm more than a little concerned
here."  The smile had left his face, to be replaced by a firmer visage.
"Most of our clients are, quite frankly, older and more experienced
than yourself.  This is not a career to be undertaken lightly, and so we
must both be assured that you are in a position to understand the commitment
you are making.  The consequences of an incorrect decision could be
irrevocable.  Do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes" her voice cracked from the chair; she cleared her throat.  "Yes,
Sir, I do."  Sir?  It seemed to Rachel to be the proper form of address, 
given the situation.

"This document" he continued, taking a paper from the folder and holding it
lightly over the desk with his right hand, "is already known to you, is 
it not?"  He turned the page around so that it faced her and sat it down 
noiselessly on the desk in front of her.  Rachel glanced at it only briefly, 
knowing full well what was written on it.

"It is" she replied, more assuredly now.

"And it bears your signature, which you gave freely.  Is that not also 
correct?"  

"Yes, Sir.  I have signed freely."

"Would you be so kind as to read it?  Aloud, please."  He picked up the paper
and leaned far over the desk to hand it to her.  Rachel was unsure of how to
react.  Had she not signed already?  Had she not agreed over and over again
to its terms?  Why was he testing her resolve yet again?  In a swift and
almost defiant gesture, she took the document from his hand and began to
read aloud.

"I, Rachel Stansbury, sound of mind and body, do freely state on this
second day of May, Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Nine, that henceforth and
upon signing this document I shall be the sole property of Mr. John Heath.  
By my assent he shall be granted total and absolute control over my
life, body, and destiny, and I shall serve him in any way he may
require for the remainder of my life.  What property, rights, and privileges
I now possess, will be his alone to control.  I make this statement freely,
without any coercion whatsoever, and hereby absolve and hold blameless
Mr. Heath and any of his assigns of any harm or loss which may occur to me
as a result of this agreement."

There was a short silence, during which Rachel returned the document to the 
desk.  Her host then stood up from his chair and walked towards where she 
was sitting.  Rachel stared ahead of herself, impassively, as if to prove 
that the words she had recited could have no impact upon her.  Upon reaching 
her chair, he let his hand rest gently on the top of the leather upholstery 
and gazed at her face.

"Strong words."  he stated.  "Very strong indeed for one so young.  How
old are you now Miss Stansbury?"

"Twenty."  She kept her eyes fixed ahead at the now empty chair behind the
desk.  Strangely, she felt that if she looked into his eyes that then she
would be doomed.  Rachel wanted nothing to erode her resolve, not at this
stage.

"Ah, to be twenty again!" he gushed, "You have quite a long and full life
ahead of you, if the doctor's report is creditable.  Plenty of time there
to explore other possibilities, experience more of life.  Plenty of time
to make commitments later."

"No." she replied firmly.  Why was he torturing her so?  His very words,
the mere sound of his voice made her feet want to fly in terror.  Only
a supreme victory of will over instinct kept her seated in that chair,
kept her gaze fixed stolidly ahead.

"You are willing, then, to give up everything?  Your possessions, your will,
your future, your goals?"

"I have only one goal."  Speaking the words proudly enhanced her self-
confidence.  "I wish only to serve him."

"And if he decides otherwise?  If he decides, perhaps, to shun you, to
ignore you, to give you away?"  A quick but subtle jerk of Rachel's head 
betrayed her.  He had struck a nerve, though perhaps only a distant one.  
Almost instantly she regained her composure.

"That is his decision, Sir, not mine."

"Indeed, all would be his decision.  And suppose he grew tired of you?  He
may even decide to terminate your life.  You would allow this?"  This was a
question Rachel had asked of herself many times.  Was she so certain that 
John would never do this?  How would she react if he tried?  How could she
defend herself if she wanted to?  No, she had resigned herself to spend her
entire life in his service; the exact length of that service meant nothing
to her.  The sobering thought of her dear lover ending her life caused a
growing knot in her chest, which she fought with a long, deep breath.

"Of course."  she finally replied.  "My life is all I have to give to him."

He turned toward the desk and gently lifted the document from the desk.  
He then bent very low towards her, positioning the paper not three inches
in front of her eyes, and spoke softly and caressingly into her ear.

"Miss Stansbury, I implore you.  Simply nod your head or utter a single word,
and I will most gladly burn this document and send you home."  

He waited a little, with his lips so close to her ear that Rachel could feel 
the strength of his warm breath on her neck and cheek.  Overloaded with 
conflicting emotions, Rachel kept her gaze fixed forward and did not respond.  
Her will was being stretched to its breaking point, but she held on.  Her 
doubts washed over her, scourging her conscienceness, but the pain and the 
confusion merely intensified her growing detachment.  What had been done, was 
done, she told herself; this is not the time for doubt.

After a pause long enough for her to recall her entire life, he straightened
and walked back to his desk chair.

"Very well, Miss Stansbury.  Your mind is set, I can see that."  He placed
the document back into the folder, and then examined the next sheet briefly.
"I am, however, not convinced that your resolve will stand up to the rigorous
training you will receive here.  I must therefore, accept you only
conditionally.  If, at any time, I feel that your commitment to your future
duties is waning, or that you are unable to undertake the career you
have chosen for yourself, then I will be forced to expel you from our
program, and return you to your owner.  Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir."  Inside, she breathed a sigh of relief.  He would accept her,
she knew that now.  It was over, she had pushed herself and had conquered
her fear.  The rest would be easy.

--