My first story – apologies for publishing errors
No location or name used in the story is intended to allude to or otherwise reference any specific existing entity or location.
Locations mentioned should be taken as some generic city or state unless it is a historical reference, and while it is very likely that they do exist IRL, they do not reference anything about that city. All names are from a random name generator or modified from its output. The only exceptions are historical references or continent names.
Somewhat of an inspiration was the house of Asia’s richest man, multibillionaire Mukesh Ambani, who lives in a 27-story skyscraper. He also has a great view of Asia’s biggest slum, which houses over a million people.
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Arlington is a city of shining high-rises and sprawling parks. Often regarded as the economic capital of the world, only the wealthiest businessmen can live in the region known as the Metropolis. Mr. Francis is one such man. When his only daughter Serina was born, he set firmly in his mind that she should have the best life that he could give him. Now, Mr. Francis was a multibillionaire and the head chairman of Frase Industries. Many of his investments in major companies had paid off. He bought out the topmost 10 floors of the Frase Industries skyscraper in the Metropolis and decided to turn this into his family’s new home.
However, Arlington is not as shining as it would seem. Just outside the Metropolis, between all the high-rises and attractions, slums spread many miles as the cost of living shot up due to companies buying land at high prices and the city developing parks to please the wealthy. This left the poor homeless. Mr. Francis wanted Serina to never experience poverty and wanted her to live a life of complete luxury. The truth was, there was a time when Mr. Francis himself lived in poverty, sharing a small house with three generations of his family.
Mr. Francis had all the amenities Serina could want built into his skyscraper. A gym, theater, ballroom, pool, anything Serina wanted, it would be there. Either that, or it would be delivered by helicopter within the hour. He employed two full time chefs, two tutors, a personal trainer, and 45 butlers and maids to serve and clean up after Serina, all employed and housed on one of the floors of the house. She grew up doing whatever she wanted, except leaving the house. However, she also grew up disciplined. At the end of her teens, she was more educated, fit, and courteous than most people her age. Of course, the one thing she never learned about was poverty, neither in industrial 17th century London nor the poverty five kilometers from her own home.
Serina had never seen anyone outside of these 50 people. She rarely saw her own father, even though he had a laughably short commute. There was an elevator that took him from his bedroom to his office, but he was frequently on trips, scouting out new investments. Anyway, as they were all housed in the same place and rarely saw others, clothes fell away. Serina had never been one to wear clothes, even the finest silks her father imported from Asia felt unnatural to her. Anyway, she didn’t need to wear clothes in the comfort and safety of her own home, so she was never told to. Most of the people employed in the house were always naked as well, on account of the few situations that required clothes.
As Serina grew up, she didn’t fall into modesty and became ashamed of her nudity. Her only education was her two excellent tutors, both of which taught in the same state of dress, or undress, that Serina lived in. However, she wasn’t flamboyant either. She just accepted her nudity as the only way she had lived and would continue to live. She was taught only that “clothes are for protection” by the chefs, when Serina saw them tying strange pieces of a flexible material around their bodies. We know this as an “apron,” but the circumstances in which Serina lived led her to think that the apron was what was called “clothing,” and only used for protection. It was uncomfortable anyway; no one would wear that because they wanted to, right? The truth was that Serina hadn’t so much as seen proper clothes since she was a toddler and immediately threw them off.
Serina had become close with one of the butlers, Pierre Stonier, who the other butlers and maids agreed should be the one in charge of Serina, as Serina liked him most. They often made good banter, debated about worldly events, and swam together. Pierre’s job was to keep Serina safe and teach her morals and ethics as he accompanied her around the house. He was also in charge of Serina’s schedule, which carefully balanced her education, meals, exercise, entertainment, and sleep.
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Serina is now a young adult, 19 years old. She sits on the balcony coming out of her bedroom, sipping tea with Pierre as they watch the silhouettes of the Metropolis in front of the sunset. Serina is deep in thought. She’s staring at a hazy human figure on the other end of the city grounds in front of their building. How interesting, he appears to be lifting a large object. Doesn’t he have some form of repulsion lift attached to the bottom? Oh, silly me, it is probably a strength training exercise. Is it not usually done indoors though? Serina is not just deep in thought; she’s completely lost in her thoughts. “Tell me about what you learned today, Serina,” Pierre interrupts her inner monologue. Serina talks, still gazing at the strange man across the park. “Who is that man? I’ve seen people driving old trucks, like those in the pictures you show me, between different buildings the whole day, and he never seems to stop. Automated technology isn’t that advanced yet, is it?”
Pierre sighs inside. He weighs his choices. After a silent second, he has a plan, as Serina’s ethics advisor. “There are people in this world that have made bad choices, like putting their money into bad investments, or committing infractions against the city. They usually don’t have much money to start, and after those actions, they lose more money. They end up in what is called ‘poverty,’ and can’t afford to live comfortable lives. They take large debts that they can’t repay and must work until they pass to pay what they owe.” He carefully leaves out information about the flawed bureaucratic systems that are the real source of poverty.
“Father put his money into investments. Did he just get lucky? Would he have ended up like they did?” Serina is piqued, as she has never been taught this before.
“No, no definitely not. What the impoverished did is called ‘gambling.’”
“But gambling is wagering something of value on a random event with the intent of winning something else of value, right?”
“Very good, you have memorized the dictionary well. However, the keystone word there is ‘random.’ Your father made safe investments in companies he believed would succeed. Gambling is simply rolling the dice. For example, say I give you a die. You must roll an even number if you want 10 currency units from me. However, if you roll and odd number, you will owe me 10 currency units. Would you take the deal?”
Serina considers it. “A 50-50 chance is too risky. I wouldn’t.”
Pierre says, “Very good. Of course, you wouldn’t. It simply doesn’t make sense. But the people that do take the risk have less money. If there’s even a remote chance that they’ll get money, they will take it. They keep their eyes on only the big prize of making big money, not the little scraps they lose along the way. But those little scraps always add up. Gambling is addictive this way. Do not ever fall into this trap. And then for the second reason poverty exists, obviously I do not need to tell you why committing an infraction is problematic.” Pierre smiles. He has avoided a conversation that Serina’s father would certainly not appreciate them having. However, he will have to fill out an incident report after Serina falls asleep.
“But why aren’t education efforts being made by the city to stop gambling and infractions? Even if they were all selfish geese in the city hall, more income means higher tax revenue, which is better for them. It should be a win-win.”
Pierre suspected this would happen. Serina is a very bright girl and has had only the best education in the world. “You feel like debating this, don’t you? Here, tomorrow during your midday meal we can talk some more. It’s time for your shower, and you can start writing an essay on measures that can be taken against poverty to show your tutor. How does that sound?”
Serina replies “Great!” and Pierre helps her up from her chair. They walk across the grand bedroom to her shower, where a maid has already filled the bathtub. The soaps and shampoos are lined up, and Serina takes her pick. She picks a vanilla shampoo. She lowers herself into the tub and closes her eyes. Almost immediately, Pierre and the maid jump into action, making her bath as pleasant as possible. As the maid applies shampoo, Pierre massages her soft shoulders, making her way down her modest breasts and flat stomach. Serina had a slim build but was very fit. Her physical exercise consisted of 30 minutes swimming in the morning before breakfast, 30 minutes of weight training before lunch, and a five-kilometer run at least 10 kph after her second education block finished, typically mid-afternoon. Her food was carefully managed by the chefs, but Serina held herself to high standards regardless.
Pierre’s thoughts drift to how attractive Serina is getting as his hands move lower and lower. She was no longer a child. Snap out of it Pierre! This is your client and master. Pierre quickly but masterfully finishes her lower body and nods to the maid. The maid quickly stands up, her breasts and thighs bouncing as she jogs to a closet. She turns around and stands as if she is ready to give Serina a hug, but is holding a towel in her hands, ready to dry her as soon as she steps out. Pierre massages her calves last, as he always does, to let Serina know that they’re done. Pierre steps back and holds a hairdryer, and Serina opens her eyes and walks to the maid, who dries her body as Pierre uses the hairdryer. Serina twirls around, her hair trailing behind her head, and then skips off to dinner.
“Molly, would you please dry me?” Pierre speaks to the maid, who dries Pierre and then hands the towel to him. “Your turn.” Serina’s comfort comes above their own, so Molly still stands with shampoo suds and water dripping before Pierre dries her off. As they leave, an orchestrated team of five servants rushes in to clean the bathroom.
A couple hours later, when Molly checks on Serina before bed, she finds her on the balcony again. “It’s late, you should sleep.” Serina nods, and comes back in. She settles into the king-sized bed and turns into her pillow. Molly closes the curtains and turns off the light.
“Good night, Serina.” Molly and Pierre act like the parents Serina never had. According to Serina’s biological father, her mother left with another man and now lives in the countryside as a farmer. And as for the father himself, he’s rarely around.
Serina drifts off to sleep, as she continues thinking about the strange “impoverished” men loading boxes.