My name is Angela Harrison. On March 2, 2049, I was at a slave auction. How I ended up here was a bit of a story. I was three months pregnant. I told about a dozen coworkers at work that I wanted to purchase a pre-teen girl to care for my baby. Of course, this was illegal. No one was allowed to purchase a child under the age of 15. You could purchase a family unit and get any number of underage slaves. But I did not want a family. I figured I wanted a live-in babysitter, a clever and dedicated twelve or thirteen-year-old girl who would be proud to take a role that an adult might take.
My coworkers jeered me. David and Janet asked me, “Why not purchase a legal fifteen-year-old?” I replied, “I cannot outbid the pedophiles who pay dearly for young girls. Besides, by the time a girl is fifteen, they are no longer interested in being dedicated babysitters.” I did get teased a lot. Janet said she would report me if one of the “badge girls” disappeared from the company. That was the name we used for children who wore electronic badges and moved carts around the workplace. Each time they got a new load and a new destination, someone would update their electronic badge so they would get to the right place on time. The badge boys and girls were cheaper than robots. Getting a package from a cheerful child was always more fun than dealing with a robot that might run over your foot. So hell yes, I wondered if there was a way to steal a badge girl. After reviewing the system, I did not think I could ever get away with it.
So perhaps it was watching the badge girls moving their carts around that made me think I wanted one for myself. I was a single mom. My salary and savings were way too low to purchase a legal slave. I needed a slave to keep my job once my baby was born. I suppose I should mention that I come from a wealthy family. If I was still part of the family, I could have any number of slaves and a luxury apartment or house. My parents disinherited me when I was a teenager. I will get into the details later. But for now, I was trying to figure out how to manage my life without any extra help.
On March 1st, I got a phone call from a coworker who knew of my dilemma. She told me to attend a particular slave auction the next morning. She said, “There will be a rare sale of an under-aged orphan without the usual supervision. If you do not attend, you will regret this for the rest of your life.”
Getting into the auction was tricky. I did not have the financial credentials to get in. I finally had to tell the guards that I was the niece of the famous Frederick DuPress. I was able to show that my mother was his brother. Unfortunately, my bank balance and other assets were not sufficient to allow me to attend. However, my family connection was enough for them to let me in.
So I sat in one of the comfortable chairs reading a book. I kept waiting for this orphan to be brought out. After an hour, I figured that my friend was pulling my leg. It was all single adults or teenagers fifteen or above, married couples, or various family units. Then the announcer said, “Let's do this quickly. We have an orphan for sale. Her name is Suzie; she is twelve years old. She was well-educated. As you can see, she is quite unwell. We cannot guarantee that she will be alive tomorrow. We are legally required to sell her. We hope that God has mercy on her soul.”
An attendant pushed in a large wheelchair. An extremely sick girl with Korean facial features was on that chair, dripping with puke, urine, and diarrhea. I cannot describe how grotesque and awful it all was. By comparison, auctions of fifteen-year-old girls to lecherous adults seemed normal.
I knew that if Suzie were not purchased, she would be turned over to body harvesters. I knew that the auction would end in seconds. I stood up and said, “I bid three hundred dollars.” According to the signs, that was the minimum bid and the minimum increment of a bid. Within eight seconds, I heard the announcer say, “Sold to the woman in the blue dress.” So I ended up with a three hundred-dollar orphan. I came by bus. So I ended up paying an extra hundred dollars for delivery to my apartment. We put her on several old blankets in my kitchen. Now panic set in. I called up a friend who was a nurse.
My friend guessed that this dying child had Pneumonia complicated by food poisoning. She called a friend who dropped off some face masks and some antibiotics. The nurse told me I needed a humanarian for a few days to keep her alive. She told me I must wash my hands constantly for the first 24 hours. After that, I could relax about catching anything.
I called a local humanarians firm. They showed up in an hour. Suzie got a saline drip IV with antibiotics so I could start my 24-hour countdown clock. I thought the humanarians only dealt with slaves (the name is a mashup of human and veterinarian). I discovered that half of their business was with free people who could not afford standard medical care. The care Suzie got was cheap; it only cost me two hundred and fifty dollars. I had to do more than I expected. They told me what to feed Suzie so she would stop puking and having loose stools. I took Suzie's temperature and blood pressure several times a day. I had to call in with the numbers, and they told me what to do next.
After a week, I finished up with the humanarians and took two more weeks off to nurse Suzie back to health, all on my own. She told me her mother died two years ago, and her dad died three weeks ago from a drug overdose. After her dad died, some organization took care of her while decisions were made about her fate. This care consisted of locking her into a cell infested with all sorts of diseases.
While recuperating, I moved her from the blankets on the kitchen floor to my bed. It was better sleeping next to her; I would wake up if she coughed or if her breathing was poor. I have to say that I kept praying for her to recover more than I have prayed for anything in my life. No one at the slave auction thought she would live another hour. Each milestone of recovery seemed like a major victory.
After two and a half weeks, she was conscious, weak, and able to move around the apartment. I went back to work soon after that. But, of course, I could not have her leave the apartment on her own. So I had neighbors check up on her once or twice a day. I also called in when I could.
Once Suzie was well enough, we went shopping for furniture. I had already cleaned out my second bedroom of all of my stuff. I needed to set up the second bedroom for my two new kids. At the furniture store, I was impressed with what a good reader Suzie was and how good she was at math. She asked me about my budget and was able to notice whenever we were in danger of going over the budget. It was as if she had worked out the best price of everything before we made our first purchase. We bought a crib, a changing table, a bed, two dressers, some shelving, and a small desk. I asked Suzie about books, toys, and other possessions she had in her previous living quarters. We worked together to search on the computer for duplicates. I was able to obtain photos of her parents. I had enlarged copies respectfully framed and placed above her desk.
We also went shopping for clothes. I did not get anything fancy. Suzie had never been in a regular clothing store before. I bought a fair amount of good quality used clothing and some brand-new items. I wanted her to have presentable clothing for a whole week in case these were needed, and doing laundry was difficult. Suzie was amazed. She said excitedly, “I have enough good clothes to go to school, even though I am not in school. This is amazing.” I could see in her eyes the excitement she saw of a new future lying before her. I could talk up a blue streak about her potential, but a modest pile of clothing made it real to her.
Suzie's reaction to buying shoes was even more intense. I had not realized that she had never worn shoes in her life. So I bought her four pairs of shoes. She handled them like they were made of rubies. You would have thought I had set her free with a million dollars in her pocket. She gave me a fierce look like, “I swear I will never let anyone harm you.”
After Suzie's recovery, we talked to each other about our lives. I told her my parents decided I was not a proper daughter and kicked me out of the house. Suzie enjoyed hearing how I got my first job while living on the streets. She is proud that I am now part of the marketing team for a medium-sized liquor company. I am amazed at what a survivor Suzie is. She was born a slave, lost both of her parents, and now was quickly learning what I wanted from her. I talked to her about how we were fated to find each other. I was frank about how my life would go in the toilet without a childcare solution. I also told her the other people bidding on her wanted her to work in dirty, dangerous factories. I did not think she could handle the truth: she was seconds away from being claimed by the body harvesters. I summarized the situation, “we saved each other's lives, and I love you.”
After Suzie recovered, I took her to work with me about once a week. I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed the twelve-block walk to work with my own slave at the end of my leash. I decided that Suzie was the ultimate fashion accessory. People treated me with respect. Unfortunately, I was stopped by the police frequently since underage slaves were supposed to live, work, and travel with their parents. I got a detachable plaque for Suzie's collar that identified Suzie as an orphan slave owned by Angela Harrison (with a small photo of my face). I thought Suzie would object, but she told me, “Like you, I am annoyed when the police stop us and ask for paperwork. The plaque answers all the questions the police have. It is a bit annoying when we are in a store, and people read the sign saying ‘orphan slave.’ Sometimes I see them looking sad. I wish I could explain how happy I am right now!”
Suzie was quite popular at work. She sorted paperwork, delivered packages, and took phone messages. Suzie was learning computer skills at a rapid rate. Each week she was handling more of my routine emails. When I brought her to work, I got requests from several of my coworkers for an hour or two of her time. I did not charge any money for her work. I just asked that at least one of Suzie's “temporary supervisors” buy a good lunch for us. We ate like queens on those days!
Too many people asked me how much I paid for Suzie. My usual answer was, “She was a gift from God.” I kept the obscenely low price I paid for Suzie a total secret. Any paperwork about the transaction I placed in a safe deposit box. I told my coworkers I got a bit of a bargain, but I refused to reveal the actual price. It would have been a huge scandal. A clever kid like Suzie would be valued in a family for at least $30,000. When anyone asked how I could afford a slave, I hinted that I got help from my family. I avoided saying that my family had not given me a single dollar in over a dozen years. I knew secrets were toxic, but sometimes the truth can be even more toxic. I was impressed that my coworkers treated Suzie's competence as a reflection of mine. The more I brought Suzie to work, the more my work and voice were respected.
I was careful in how I briefed Suzie. I explained that I would treat her like a daughter when we were in private. If I said, “Suzie, bring me my coat,” it is just fine for her to finish a task or at least say, “Let me finish this paragraph.” But you are not my daughter. I can compel you to respond to my verbal commands. If you hear, “Suzie now, you must open the door immediately.” If you are in the bathtub, you get out in a rush and open the door naked. We laughed about this. We compared this to the game, “Simon says.” As it turned out, I rarely had to issue any “Suzie, now” commands. But then we talked about my workplace. I told her that at work, any request from a temporary supervisor or me was to be understood to be the sort of immediate command that I avoided giving at home.
Between months four and seven of my pregnancy, I resumed my social life. Sometimes I entertained a man in my apartment; sometimes, I went out. When a man visited me, I had Suzie cook the meal, serve us, and clean up. I was determined not to allow anyone to give commands to Suzie. If my date said, “I would like seconds, please,” I would make eye contact with Suzie and say, “yes.” I always wanted to clarify that my date could not act out any fantasies about slave girls. Finally, I would make a subtle sign of slightly elevating my index finger to tell Suzie it was time for her to retire to her bedroom.
Suzie was amazing when I socialized outside of my apartment. At a restaurant, she would find out what we wanted and do all the ordering with the wait staff. Under my direction, she minimized the discussion between the adults and the wait staff. It was quite classy. If my date resisted paying for what Suzie ordered for herself or tried anything inappropriate, that was the end of the date. I wanted to date men who could respect my boundaries. Once we got to my date's apartment, she would find a chair or a couch for a sleeping location. Her role was to be my bodyguard. If something happened against my will, she was there to protect me. She used an electronic device that converted loud sounds into a series of bright flashing lights and more noise. I always felt 100% secure.
I bought two daily diary books for Suzie. One was her public diary, and one was her private diary. I told her that she was required to write at least three or four sentences per day in her public diary. She could write whatever she wanted in her private diary. Once a week, I had Suzie read aloud from her public diary. I never touched either book. I promised Suzie that I would never look at her private diary. Suzie would look at me sideways. I told her, “You are very clever. I am sure you can work out five different ways of finding out if I am reading your diaries. I do not care what you write down. I just wanted to see if you were feeling too pressured.” Before the baby was born, it was fun going through the diary with Suzie. I learned who she hated doing errands for and who she liked. I learned who her closest friends were.
We did develop a private vocabulary. If Suzie had a minor issue with something, she would say, ‘I have something for my diary.’ If she was angry, she would say, ‘I have something for my second diary.’ If I wanted her to switch to “Suzie now” mode, I would say, “Time to escalate.” I also added another simple phrase, “now,” followed by a simple command like “fight” or “duck,” which meant our lives were in danger, and each split-second counted.
I did give Suzie “the speech.” I said that if anyone touched her inappropriately, I commanded her to slap, hit, stab, or drop a desk on the offender. I told her to bring the touching to a halt, call for me, and we would figure out what sanctions to bring against the offender. Suzie told me, “I have seen that behavior many times where my parents worked. So I know what you are talking about.” Fortunately, no one touched Suzie or said anything inappropriate.
I also spent a lot of time and effort to see to Suzie's issues. I had her meet with a caring, skilled teacher for an hour a week to review her schoolwork and to assign more work. Every two or three weeks, I took Suzie to the public library so she could satisfy her voracious appetite for reading. I arranged for Suzie to play with kids in our apartment building. I gave her permission to go to any place in our apartment building. When there were no kids to play with and Suzie had extra energy, I told her to make herself useful. I learned that she often did housework for her friend's parents or helped people in the lobby. Before I knew it, I had friends all over our building.
I signed Suzie up for lessons in karate, judo, and soccer skills. These lessons allow Suzie to socialize, make friends, and burn off excess energy. She needed a thick elastic wrap to cover her steel collar. I did not want her to get hurt when she was flipped or hit. Suzie beamed with joy at the end of each lesson, even if she had some bruises. She was a fierce fighter who attacked bigger opponents with lightning speed.
The last three months of my pregnancy were late spring and summer in New York City. Suzie and I had a grand time. We walked all over Manhattan on the weekends. We went to childbirth class together. Suzie attended childcare classes and classes in child development. She got lots of practice taking care of small babies for neighbors and friends.
As we got closer to the due date, I put in a few video cameras in the “childcare” areas of the house. I asked Suzie to keep a log of what happened every hour. I told her that I wanted to be able to review the day for interesting things when I came home from work. Suzie asked, “Will you be upset if the baby says ‘Suzie’ before ever saying ‘Mommy?’” I replied, “Let's work together, so the baby starts talking as early as possible. We should do our best to inspire the new one to start talking. Any negative thoughts about what the baby says first would get in the way of the exciting, fun thoughts which help speech. I want you to celebrate the baby's first word because I will also celebrate it.”
While walking on a crowded sidewalk, a man and a woman pushed Suzie and startled me. The man said, “Excuse us,” as he rushed by us. Suzie yelled, “Hey, my woman is pregnant!” I told Suzie that I was not shoved at all. I also told Suzie that no one, not even my lovers, ever called me “my woman” with such heart and intensity. Suzie laughed and said, “I wanted to say something fast while they could still hear me. There is one question I have.” Suzie explained she could see them clearly. She noticed that the woman was a slave and only wore shorts, so her breasts were exposed. She asked me, “Is that how I will look in a few years?” I told her, “I want you to wear what you want.” I asked if she wanted to be topless once she developed breasts. She asked, “Why would I want to?” I explained that the man or the woman wanted people to look at them.
Suzie said, “People stare at us right now. They look at you, they look at me, they look at the leash and slave collar, and none of it makes sense. You needed to add a plaque to explain the situation to prevent us from being bothered by the police. Running around with a bare chest would add to the awkward stares and questions. Do you want me to be the center of attention?” I said, “We can try it for one night on Halloween ten years from now.” Suzie said, “I need to mark that on our long-term calendar.” I was still glowing from being called “my woman.” It was so sweet and genuine.
The sidewalk shoving incident happened two days before I went into labor. I yelled early in the morning. The flash alarm woke up Suzie. She called to get a medcar to our apartment as soon as possible. Suzie grabbed our travel cases. I did not even bother to attach a leash. I just gave Suzie two leashes and the pack of keys. Somehow Suzie helped me downstairs and into the van. I remember the two-mile ride to the birth clinic. Suzie had all the paperwork pre-filled out. So much of what happened in the next eleven hours was a bit of a blur.
I know that first-time mothers are surprised by the intensity of childbirth, even when they know that is what to expect. I was no different. I have heard that memories of birth pain are diminished by having good expectations, good medical care, and good support. I had all of those in spades. Suzie took all sorts of pictures and kept good notes. I do know that officially, at 8:03 pm on August 21, 2049, my son, James Harrison, was born. By dawn the next morning, I was in a medcar, going home with my two children.
My baby was biracial. I knew of only one black man I had slept with during that Christmas and New Year time period. It was Tom Moore, the head of marketing at my company. He was happily married. This was going to be quite awkward. I left the father's name blank on the birth certificate. I figured that could be changed later.
Suzie got me into bed with my infant. She slept on the bedroom floor that night. I know she was exhausted as well. Somehow we got through that first week. Fortunately, James was a quiet, happy, and curious baby.
For several days, I could not get out of bed. Suzie logged onto the computer at my direction and read emails to me while I was in bed. I was amazed at how much Suzie knew about our business. She did not offer me any information, but if there was an email about vodka, she told me what she knew about vodka. She seemed to know who had which file. I asked her, “How could she know this?” Suzie replied, “I sorted the paperwork for most of your coworkers. I remember who has what.” But she not only knew what the file was called but also flipped through the pages and formed an executive summary. I did not tell Suzie that the question of who had which file was one of the dysfunctions of my workplace. Everyone had secrets. Everyone tried to hide that they had important files. Now I had a surprising secret; I had an index to everyone's files.
The two weeks after the birth of James were my most productive. I was at home, taking care of James. Suzie was there to help me when I needed it. And, of course, she co-wrote my work emails. I told her that she knew far more than anyone guessed, which had to be kept secret. I remembered stories of code breakers in great wars. The trick was to exploit the information but never to offer anyone any hint about how much she was reading and understanding.
After two weeks, I was strong enough to walk to work. I knew we would face many logistical challenges. I needed to write my own emails instead of relying on Suzie. Suzie could not leave the apartment building with or without James. She always needed to be accompanied by someone. I could walk to work with her, but then she would be with the baby. It would be a spectacle if I showed up with my child slave and baby and assigned my child slave to assist me while I was answering my emails.
I did what I could. I made a modest change to the email server so that my emails could be picked up at home and in my office. No one noticed that change. I set up a personal email account to pick up input from Suzie. I needed to be careful since the email system was tightly monitored. We used a code so Suzie could reference a specific email and offer suggestions that sounded like odd ramblings from a distant relative. Sometimes I would send an email to myself to tell Suzie what I was thinking. If she were not tied down with baby care, she would send a disguised email as soon as possible, offering her opinion on the wisdom of my “note to self.”
Sometimes I would stay home for half a day or a whole day to discuss things with Suzie. I debriefed her on all the minutia of work. She digested it all and would make astonishing connections with all sorts of hidden documents that I never knew even existed. One of our biggest jokes was that if someone cleaned up our office, made everyone return all the hoarded documents, and made all of these documents available to all; my career would sink. But Instead, I was riding high strictly because of how dysfunctional everything was.
It was wrenching to go back to work. My mind and body wanted to be with James and Suzie. I knew he was well cared for at home. But I wanted to be home. It was hard focusing on work. I also learned that there was no schedule for breast pumping and nursing that was ideal. I kept wishing I had this enormous office split into two parts, one for work and one for the baby.
About five weeks after James was born, I did bring Suzie and James for Friday afternoon. Then my worst fear was realized. Within minutes, everyone was gossiping about who the father was. Within an hour, Tom Moore walked into my cubicle, took one look at James, and said, “Dear God, I am ruined.”
I quietly told Suzie, “Please take the baby carriage downstairs to the corporate slave quarters. I will summon you when I want you back.” I quietly told Tom that we should find an isolated room to talk. Once there, I explained to Tom that we could easily weather the scandal. All we had to do was be open and clever about the situation. I explained: “First, you need to tell your wife. Your kids do not need to know anything. Once your wife knows, we will sign a legal agreement offering you full protection. For myself, I have had to deal with some expenses upfront. I think a settlement of $4,000 to be paid over a long time would cover it.” Tom Moore replied, “I cannot imagine how you could give birth and buy a slave for so little, but my wife would resent every dollar paid. Your offer is very reasonable, but I do not think I could get my wife to agree.”
I switched gears and said, “Ok, I was anticipating that. Here is my thought. I have an idea for improving productivity here substantially. You sell the idea to the board of directors because if we meet our goals, we get a $10,000 bonus, $4,000 for me, and $6,000 for you. So you end up bringing $6,000 home rather than giving up $4,000. Do you think you could sell that idea to your wife and the board of directors?”
Tom answered, “That would be like me getting the whole bonus and then paying you $4,000. Why would you agree to such a lopsided arrangement?” I replied, “You get to keep your dignity, we get to work together, your wife is happy with you, and we do not have any secrets. You have to do a good job selling this idea to the board of directors.”
Tom Moore, director of marketing, looked at me sideways and asked, “What is the brilliant idea that I am selling to the board? This had better not be one more disaster of a flavored brandy.” I laid out my observations about how poorly information was distributed in the office. I reminded him of three separate projects to expand to San Francisco and the incompatible Vodka projects. Tom said sharply, “You are not supposed to know about Ruth Wen's project.” I answered, “Yes, I know that, but isn't that the point? Once I know about it, I cannot say anything about it since I have to explain my source. The subject suddenly shifts to how any one of us knows about anything. I am amazed at how anything gets done around here.”
The next Friday afternoon, Tom Moore, his wife Amy, and my family group met at our workplace. Amy looked angry and upset. I decided to take charge. I opened with, “Amy, I asked to talk with you here because your husband loves you very much. I want to briefly discuss what happened at last year's Christmas party never casts a shadow over you or your life. While I want to reassure you, I also have a few simple goals. I want you to know what happened, acknowledge it, and be aware that others know about it. As I have told Tom, I did pay some financial costs to deal with the birth and the (ahem) staffing costs. I do not want a single dollar from your family. I intend to make up my upfront costs strictly from initiatives at work. Some of these projects will involve Tom and me working together. Amy, I want you to know this is all business and not any effort to disrupt your relationship.”
Amy glared at me and said, “This is all very painful. I see the baby. It is clearly Tom's. I get that. I also get that this entire workplace knows who the daddy is. But I find this humiliating. I am confused by so much about this. I do not understand the finances at all. Child, how much did this lady pay for you?” Suzie looked confused and answered, “I am sorry, ma'am, I do not know that. I was quite sick when I was sold. I woke up in her apartment and took some time to recover.” I jumped in and said, “I am personally troubled by the business of buying and selling people. However, I need personal help so that I can … I mean … we can raise a child and keep my job. I did purchase Suzie. The price was low since potential bidders feared the legal repercussions of dealing with a dead orphan girl. I bid and then prayed and prayed that she would recover and then did everything I could to help her recover her life and strength. Every day, I am glad that she is alive and well. Suzie, I never told you how much I paid for you since I want you only to know how much I love you.”
We discussed several issues in that meeting. It took a while until everyone was relaxed. Finally, Amy started to open up a bit. She said her concern was how to explain the baby to her children. I told her she did not ever have to do this. I offered a document that acknowledged the identity of my baby's biological father. It also specified that I did not want any financial settlement. I did add a paragraph that in the event of my death, Suzie was to be freed and treated as one of my children. Finally, I wrote that Tom and Amy would have the first choice to name the caregivers or guardians in the event of my death.
Amy accused me of giving Suzie an incentive to kill me. I replied, “Suzie is fiercely loyal to me. She is my bodyguard. If I am asleep in a house with Suzie, I sleep better when Suzie has access to weapons. If I were to die, I know this would cause deep distress and concern to Suzie. I also know that if I were to die, Suzie would be the one person who can and would ensure that my biological children have a good life.”
This did start a lively conversation. We somehow concluded that in some strange way, we were all related. I knew that Amy was the one person who could undermine me by working through Tom. I would end up isolated so that people could take me down a little bit at a time. If I could start a sweeping project with Tom, it would push me and my career up a notch.
That evening, Suzie asked me many questions about what happened at the auction and why I was there. Finally, I told Suzie the truth. I had expressed an interest in an underage slave to some friends and coworkers. I started to tell her my usual story, but I broke down. I started to cry, and I told her the actual story, every horrible bit. I told her about the shocking auction, how she was wheeled in comatose, and how I panicked when she was in my apartment. I laid out the whole story. Suzie asked again and again about the eight-second auction. I told her I knew that if I did not bid, she would be murdered within a few minutes. Suzie cried too. She kept saying, “You saved my life. In the whole world, you were the only person who wanted me. You could have walked away afraid that I would get you or your baby sick. Instead, you stood up and spoke for me when everyone else was afraid. You put your own life at risk to save me.”
It was an interesting evening. I pulled out a bottle of wine. I had a few glasses, and I gave Suzie a half glass. We slept soundly that night. Don't worry; the baby was fine that night. We took very good care of him that weekend. Whatever relationship Suzie and I had got deeper after we cried in each other's arms. We did not talk about that night much at all. But I never kept any secret from Suzie from then on. Suzie knew that when I called her my daughter, she knew I was serious.
Three weeks before Thanksgiving, I got a phone call from my father. He wanted to invite the baby and me for a Thanksgiving at my Uncle Frederick's mansion. It was clear that my parents wanted to see their grandchild. I explained to my father that my household now had three members, and I wanted all of us to be treated well. My father just said, “I will call you back.” In an hour, he proposed that the three of us would travel to their house for Wednesday night, and all would be well respected. Then, they would drive us to Frederick's mansion. There, Suzie would join the kitchen staff and eat with them. I called Suzie to come to the phone and asked her if this would be Ok. My father seemed surprised that I would be asking Suzie about the arrangements. I could only think of the many surprises yet to come.
Suzie and I loaded up with a lot of supplies so we could travel with James for an overnight trip. Suzie and I both had large backpacks, and Suzie pushed the baby carriage. We walked to the nearest subway stop. I helped lower the baby carriage down the subway steps. Then, we took the F train to Park Slope, Brooklyn. It did not take me long to locate my parent's house. When we got there, I sighed and told Suzie that I had last been to this house when I was seven years older than Suzie a dozen years ago.
I quietly told Suzie I had no idea what would happen here or at my uncle's big house. We carried the baby carriage up the steps together and rang the doorbell. My parents opened the door and welcomed us in. I unlocked Suzie's leash and picked up James as we put things down in the entryway. I showed them their grandchild. I could see a momentary pause as they adjusted themselves to the child's race. To give them credit, they had no problem with a biracial child. I introduced Suzie as the smartest, hardest-working twelve-year-old I had ever met.
I told my parents what had happened to me over the last ten years. I got the sense that they knew some of the details but wanted to hear it from my lips. I started by explaining how I lived on the streets for a time. I ended with my surprise pregnancy, which started with a most unwise encounter with my boss at last year's Christmas party. I ended up describing how life was much easier while sharing the work with Suzie. I could tell my parents were looking over Suzie, trying to imagine how I could afford to purchase her. I decided to switch the topic by looking at my mother and saying, “Not bad for a lying fuck. I think I have done pretty well for myself.” My mother turned red and could not say anything for a minute. I jumped in and told Suzie, “I had never told you that when I was thirteen years old, my uncle Frederick raped me. My parents refused to believe me. When I was nineteen, they kicked me out of the house. I just quoted my mother's words to me. Be prepared to defend me in case my mother attacks me.”
Suzie picked up the leash and wrapped one end of it around on hand. I could see her looking around carefully and watching my parents carefully. My mother started to cry. My father said, “Frederick has attacked many young women and girls. We do not doubt what happened to you. You were so intense about it. It was very embarrassing. We could not get you to shut up.” I yelled, “You told me I was a fucking liar. I told the truth. You tossed me on the streets without a dollar in my pocket. I could have died several times. You did not call me on the phone until a few weeks ago. I am grateful for my upbringing and my education. I want my mother to tell me that I told her the truth when I said her brother Frederick raped me.”
My mother stood up and walked over to me. She said, “I am extremely sorry for all the hurt that my brother and I have caused you. I know it is too much to ask you to forgive me. But somehow, can we make this Thanksgiving a way to begin a new start.” She turned to Suzie and said, “Child, do not be afraid of me. I am so sorry for what has happened over the years.” Suzie just looked at me. My mother looked puzzled. I explained that Suzie was trained to only pay attention to me. I said quietly, “It's Ok; you can relax now.” I also permitted Suzie to chat with my parents.
At one point after dinner, I decided to show Suzie off. I asked my parents for a 3-6 page difficult technical document they had lying around. My father had a document discussing the purchase of a particular company. I asked Suzie to study the document for 45 seconds. I took the pages from Suzie and handed them over to my father. I told him to ask basic questions about it. I also asked Suzie what she knew about buying a company. She replied, “I did not know it was possible. To me, it is amazing to be able to purchase a warm winter coat.” Despite being unfamiliar with the topic, Suzie answered questions about many aspects of the paper. I ended the questioning by asking Suzie, “In your opinion, would it be a good idea to purchase this company.” She said, “I do not think so. You would need to bring in a brand new management team, which would be resented. It would appear to be easier to start a competitor from scratch.”
My parents could not believe what they saw. Suzie explained that when she was young, she was in a school that did not have much reading material. She practiced trying to memorize as much as she could after holding a book for a very short period of time. Suzie had somehow trained herself to focus on key sentences that gave key information and to skip over them. Even when I knew how impressive Suzie was, seeing others grasp how amazing she was thrilled me. I did not breathe a word about Suzie sorting the papers of my coworkers. I did not want my parents to know anything that could be used against us. My father thought that if purchasers knew of Suzie's abilities, she was worth about half a million dollars. I just said, “I might have obtained a bargain.” I made a subtle hand sign to Suzie not to say anything.
I did say that once a week, Suzie comes to work to do some odd jobs. I said, “It always impresses me how much Suzie learns each time she comes to work. If she starts working full-time at age seventeen, she might be the new CEO by the time she is forty. Then, of course, I would free her from slavery once my own kids were grown and I no longer needed her for childcare.” My father looked startled and said, “She may be worth a million dollars by then. Why would you free her?” I explained, “The million dollars is for her to earn by using her wits, smarts, and abilities.” My father replied, “But what value is there for you to free her when she becomes an adult?” I answered, “I get the satisfaction that I have raised my daughter for success. Unfortunately, your decisions prevented you from experiencing this joy. Even though Suzie is not my child by birth or adoption, my decision is to experience the joy of seeing her succeed in life.”
In fairness to my parents, they started to see things from my point of view. We worked out what we would no longer discuss. My father was deeply impressed by Suzie. Before we knew it, we were on our way to Frederick's house. I told Suzie in no uncertain terms that she was not to permit anyone to mistreat her in any way physically.
Suzie was excited to be in my parents' luxury car. The mansion that my uncle lived in must have been totally unreal. She seemed like she was in a trance, walking into this magnificent mansion. She whispered to me that she had read about big houses like this in a book last year.
We met Frederick in the entryway. He seemed eager to get Suzie to work in the kitchen. Suzie said, “Mistress, I will work in the kitchen as we agreed. Before I go, I want to see the rooms you will be in so I can locate you in an emergency.” I glanced over to Frederick. He looked annoyed. I deliberately made it worse by saying, “Uncle, please show Suzie the sitting room and the dining room while I get the baby settled.” Frederick disappeared with Suzie once I turned around. I did not have a good feeling about what Frederick intended for Suzie.
I decided to be on my best behavior. I took care of the baby and stayed mostly quiet. The whole family knew who I was but was a bit afraid to talk to me that much. My parents were quite pleasant to me, which I found reassuring. Twenty-five minutes after we had all taken our seats in the great dining hall, Suzie came running up to me with a wild look in her eyes. I was glad to see her intact, but I knew this would be difficult.
I asked her what was wrong and gave a hand signal that she was free to talk and interact with others based on her best judgment. She said, “The one called ‘Big Ben.’ attacked me. I just escaped from him.” Six slaves and staff came into the entryway and tried to attract Frederick's attention. Frederick yelled, “What is it now?” One of the staff said, “Big Ben is knocked out. He is bleeding badly from his head. We think he has many broken ribs and a possible broken leg. He needs to get to a hospital right away. Shall we call for a medcar?” Frederick stared at me and spat out the words, “Who did this?” The six people in the entryway all pointed at Suzie. I “whispered” to Suzie, “Good girl. I hope you killed him.”
It was time for me to raise my voice. I stood up and said, “I am Angela Harrison, the niece of Frederick DuPress. Many of you do not know me since I was ejected from this family ten years ago. This is Suzie Harrison, my child slave. She takes care of my baby when I am at work. Frederick insisted that Suzie work in the kitchen. However, Suzie had a bad experience in the kitchen. She will be eating with us.” Frederick yelled, “No way is a slave eating at this table.” I replied, “Frederick, ever since you raped me in this house when I was thirteen years old, I have waited for the moment to turn the tables on you.” I pulled out a revolver from my purse and pointed it at Frederick. There were gasps from the table of guests.
I said, “You reap what you sow. Please set up a small serving table right here.” I walked over and indicated a place right behind Frederick. Slaves came out and set up a card table with a place setting where I indicated. Once Suzie sat down, I placed the gun on her card table. Suzie picked up the revolver and cocked it. She placed the gun right next to her plate. Frederick turned around. Suzie picked up the gun and said, “Please focus on your guests, Mr. DuPress. Do not do anything to my mistress or me, or this day will be your last. No one wants any trouble.” I said in my sweetest voice, “Thank you, Suzie, for explaining things so well to my uncle. Today is Thanksgiving. I have so much to be thankful for today. I am thankful that Suzie is safe from her adventure in the kitchen. I am grateful that my uncle is learning what happens when you mess with the wrong girls.”
My mother stood up and said, “I have not told anyone about this. When I was a child, my brother Frederick molested me many times. I should have stopped him years ago. I should have done something. All of this is my fault. I know of two others at this table who have also been attacked in this house. I can only imagine what he has done to his slaves. I want everyone here to know that my daughter Angela is not imagining things. There are real issues that Frederick needs to face.”
I stood up and added, “Thanks, Mom. I had no idea. I think we need to serve ourselves since none of the staff here want to enter this room. I am going to get the potatoes. Can a few other people help out here so that we can have our meal?” The rest of the meal was uneventful. I did tell Frederick that Suzie was fully licensed as a slave/bodyguard and had all the proper certificates to carry and use firearms for her protection and my protection. At the end of the evening, we all got into my parents' car and drove away without incident.
My father said, “I did get to see the guy you beat up. He was enormous. How did you take him down?” Suzie answered, “I could tell something was up. He was watching me carefully. I had placed a mirror to see him, but he did not notice it. Every time I started to move away from the cooking area with the various tools, I could see that he was tensing up, like a lion ready to strike. When I was closer to the cooking area, he relaxed as if to show that he could not strike. I adjusted everything to be in close reach, especially various knives and frying pans. I stuck a small frying pan into the back of my pants. I addressed him and told him that my mistress had arranged for me to be treated as a special person. I used words that undermined his standing with his staff. I want him to get mad at me. Getting him pissed at me seemed almost too easy.”
“As soon as I walked away from the table, he jumped at me. I stepped aside to let him hit the ground. He got up, and I kicked him above the knee. Did I mention that I was wearing steel-toed boots? He fell over in pain. That pretty much immobilized him. I then pulled out the frying pan and jumped down on him, so my knees broke as many ribs as possible. At the same time, I blasted his head with the frying pan a few times. I completely knocked him out and caused him to bleed a lot. I used two hands, just like playing tennis. Then I stood up, grabbed two knives, and told everyone else in the room not to follow or touch me. I dropped the knives in one of the corridors. In a few seconds, I sprinted into the dining room. Of course, you know the story from that point on.”
“I know that I may have overdone it a bit. I figured that he wanted to capture me for Frederick to rape. When he was done, they would probably kill me. So I wanted to do as much damage as possible in the shortest possible time. I could have easily slit his throat. But I figured that would cause too many legal problems. My favorite part of the evening was eating in the same room as your uncle while holding a gun on him. That was epic. No one who knew me before I joined this household would ever believe this story.” Suzie stopped at that point.
I said, “Well done. I figured you would have the advantage since you were aware of all these issues. I wish someone had warned me of the dangers of being in a room with that wicked man.” My mother started crying. I said, “I am not talking about you. You did the best you could. I see that now. I think you felt the only way to cope was to shut your mouth. My saying, ‘Frederick raped me’ must have opened every wound in your heart. Those wounds were made by Frederick. I am not angry at you. Not now. You gave the bravest speech of your life.” Suzie added, “That really surprised me. I thought that only my mistress was mistreated. I had no idea.” My mother said, “At that moment, I wanted everyone to hear the voice of Joyce Harrison. I wanted them to see that the issue was Frederick, not that my own daughter was irresponsibly handing a gun to a child slave. It is inspiring to think that a child can defeat a murderous monster of a man. I wish I had your strength when I was a small girl.” I whispered, “Same here.”
Before we knew it, my parents dropped me off at our apartment. Half an hour later, they called to indicate that they had found a good parking spot and walked to our building. I buzzed them up. My parents spent the night at my apartment. I gave them blankets to sleep on the floor and the couch. They were the same bedding Suzie had puked, peed, and pooped in eleven months ago. Of course, they had been professionally cleaned, so they had no idea. It brought together all the threads of how I had so many family members depending on me and supporting me.
Suzie, James, and I had a wonderful Christmas season. Christmas with a new baby is always fun. I will not say anything more about it since it lacked the drama of Thanksgiving. Suzie said it best. “That may be the only Thanksgiving where I got to eat from a giant turkey, and I got to hold a gun on an even bigger turkey.”
As I suspected, Frederick did not do anything to retaliate against me. He checked himself into a rehab center. Uncle Frederick did reach out to me years later. He found ways to heal most of my old wounds. I wanted to be sure that his bad behavior had stopped. I also wanted him to acknowledge what he had done to people. I was concerned that he had murdered some slaves during his worst behavior. But I had no way of figuring that out for myself. It is not like I was going to drag ground-penetrating radar around his land without anyone noticing. Instead, I asked for a list of his staff every month. Using various means, I ensured that no person ever “vanished” from his employ.
The grand work project to increase productivity had mixed results. We did not achieve the productivity milestones we set out. There was no bonus. Personally, it was great. If you divided the staff into two groups (the information sharers and the information hoarders), you would see remarkable results. The productivity of the hoarders went down, and the opposite happened to the sharers. The people “who were a joy to work with” thrived. The backbiters and the schemers did not. Our interesting project was an official failure. But Tom and I were very popular because we improved our company's corporate culture. While I never got that bonus, I did get several raises. I succeeded in “paying for the baby” without disrupting Tom's family. At one point, Tom accused me point blank, “You planned this all out to get the Board of Directors to back your personal agenda.” I just smiled and turned around.
For Suzie's eighteenth birthday, I threw one epic party. I rented a big wedding hall and invited just about everyone who knew Suzie. The event started with a large meal. Suzie helped serve everyone else. She wore a simple black slave shift and bare feet. When the meal was over, a curtain opened on the stage. Suzie lay down a large table on the stage. A team of workers started cutting off her hardened steel slave collar while a heavy metal band cranked out bone-shakingly loud music with the most raunchy, inappropriate lyrics. After 20 minutes of cutting, the parts of the metal collar fell noisily to the floor.
Suzie stood up and faced the astonished guests. She pulled off her smock and put on bright party clothes handed to her by the band members and the metalworkers. After putting on some dancing shoes, she put on a Phrygian cap, which is symbolic of a newly freed slave. I came on stage and presented Suzie with her legal papers freeing her. James and I gave her a scrapbook full of mementos, including the long-hidden purchase documents from six years ago.
Now it was time for the big surprise. I had a judge come up and ask Suzie some questions. The judge quickly announced that she was giving Suzie papers finalizing the adoption. Since I was the heir to my family fortune, this was a rather important detail. While all of this was happening, the band changed costumes, backdrops, and instruments. I had picked a band that could play the best dancing music from a century of popular music. No one cared that the party only served liquor from my company and only served food from affiliated companies. Every New Yorker understands the importance of “getting a good bargain.”
Months later, when Suzie was ready, I set her up with her own apartment. I subsidized part of her rent for a few years until she could carry the whole load herself. After that, I arranged for her to take my old position, and I took Tom's position when he retired. Suzie did great in my old job. She joked that it was the longest internship anyone had had for a position. Her amazing, almost photographic memory came in quite handy many times. We kept that a secret from everybody.