James Hendrickson sighed as he pushed his janitorial cart down the palatial hallways of the Byford Estate. The polished marble floors, crystal light fixtures, custom paintings, and dark wood furniture polished to a mirror shine screamed wealth. The faint scent of real sandalwood and expensive flowers hung in the air, an olfactory beacon to opulence.
His bright orange jumpsuit was a garish out-of-place splash of color in the tastefully understated decor. He then found himself in front of a door with a bronze plaque that had the words “Companion Enclosure” written in swooping cursive letters.
The word made his stomach churn. It was a banal title for one of the most degrading jobs that a Drom could perform: being hired as a pet for people of either species who had too much money.
He steeled himself and knocked on the door. It was completely unnecessary as companions were given all the privacy of pets and he was within his rights to just barge in. But he figured he’d give the two Droms who lived there the barest minimum of acknowledgement that they were people.
“Come on.” The voice was muffled through the door.
James opened the door and took a quick survey to see what needed cleaning. At the same time, he took note of the degrading nature of the room. There was nothing breakable in the room and the walls were painted in soothing colors. Scattered atop the tile floor were items that were clearly meant to mock the former careers of the two Droms — heavy rubber chew toys shaped like various hand tools and a beer mug-shaped plush made of thick canvas and designed to withstand raptor teeth. In the back were a changing table and a diaper pail. Rounding off the items were ceramic bowls with the names “Blue” and “Duke”. All in all, it was a room made to house particularly spoiled pets, not employees.
The two Droms in question were seated on their sleeping cushions on the right side of the room. James gasped as he recognized both Droms: S’hhirrk and Brightfeather. The two raptors no longer wore the dignified shawls that concealed their diapers, but instead wore leather collars with tags and backwards-taped diapers identical to those worn by domestic raptors, complete with playful designs of cartoon dinosaurs, just sized up.
“James?” Brightfeather asked as he saw James get the mop from his cart.
“Brightfeather? What happened?” James replied, his hand freezing on the mop handle.
Brightfeather looked up at James and the Human was able to see the tear tracks marking his facial feathers. The feather crest on his head was flattened in sadness. “Desperation. The factory closed down and my mate and I were going to lose our house. The Byfords were willing to pay us extra since we were a mated pair.”
James paused. “Wait, the Byfords? They’re Human? I didn’t think they were allowed to be ‘owners’.”
Brightfeather gave a bitter laugh. “It’s discouraged, but it’s legal. Regardless, the Byfords are the ‘fantasy dothero’ type. You know the ones who want ‘show animals’, not ‘pets’.”
James nodded as he started mopping up the spilled water around the bowls. “Didn’t you and S’hhirrk run the QC line?”
“And you were in the maintenance division.” Brightfeather adjusted his position, making his diaper crinkle slightly. His brilliant white plumage that seemed to shine under the light rippled slightly. “Not like that matters now.”
James said nothing as he continued mopping.
S’hhirrk got up from her cushion and approached James, her electric blue plumage shimmering under the lights. Unlike her mate, her crest was slanted back, not flattened, nor fully erect, suggesting that her mood was neutral. “Our two children get to graduate high school,” she said. “We get to keep our home and build up a decent sized savings account.”
Brightfeather’s plumage flattened as he saw James sweeping up the spilled “kibble” (trail mix that was intended for Drom consumption). “Sorry about the mess,” he said. “But the Byfords want us to ‘eat pretty’. Apparently eating a little messy like a dothero is charming and cute in a companion Drom.” The last words were practically spat out.
“It’s okay,” James said, as he finished cleaning up the mess.
“By the way, I’m just curious, do the Byfords know who you are?”
James scoffed. “I’m lucky if they even acknowledge me. They either point at something they need cleaned or just give commands. If I’m lucky, they’ll call me ‘janitor’, ‘cleaner’, ‘boy’, or another janitor’s name. Yesterday Mr. Byford kept calling me Catalino — that’s one of the other janitors. I’m not even Latino! And don’t get me started on the other staff — Human or Drom. They’re called by species, ethnicity, function, or by the name of another worker who shares their job.”
Brightfeather snorted. “Figures. We’re the only ones who they care to remember the names of — even if they’re fake — because we’re ‘show animals’.” He made air quotes with his clawed fingers.
He then sighed and continued. “Everyone else is interchangeable. Anyways, the Byfords call me ‘Lux’s Pearlescent Noble Dream’ for the shows but ‘Duke’ everywhere else. They call my mate ‘Lux’s Electric Azure Wonder’ for the shows but elsewhere, she’s ‘Blue’.”
James’s stomach turned slightly at how the Byfords casually erased the identities of his former coworkers.
S’hhirrk then gently fingered the tag on her collar. “I mean, look at this shit. And my mate has something similar.”
James stopped mopping and let out a small gasp of shock as he read the tag and what was written on the sterling silver tag in flowing cursive:
Lux’s Electric Azure Wonder “Blue” Byford Estate show animal If found please call 654-542-9492 Microchipped (ID: DROM-345123-BY)
The Human looked at the two Droms. He knew the companion system more or less explicitly encouraged the fantasy that Droms working as companions were bespoke pets, but seeing it laid out so baldly and the casual ease with which the Byfords stripped Brightfeather and her mate of their identities made his stomach churn.
“Did they really…” He trailed off, unable to verbalize his thoughts from the shock of seeing S’hhirrk stripped of her personhood, chipped like a domestic raptor, and transformed into “Blue”, the Byford’s prize show animal.
S’hhirrk shook her head. “No. The Companion Oversight Board specifically bans chipping companions. If the Byfords even think about it, the Board will be on their asses so hard they won’t be able shit right.” She then sighed. “But it says nothing about placing them in the collars we’re required to wear. It’s close enough for the Byfords to pretend that we’re actually chipped like dotheros.”
“That’s just…” James trailed off.
Brightfeather snorted and shook his head, making the plumage on his head and neck fluff out slightly. “Yeah, welcome to the fantasy dothero subculture, where you pay Droms to pretend to be fancy show raptors.”
“Anyways, I should probably get back to work.” James finished mopping the rest of the enclosure and went to check the cushions. They were mostly clean except when he flipped over S’hhirrk’s cushion, releasing the pungent odor of raptor urine.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her feathers flattening. “But I had a lot of water yesterday and my diaper leaked overnight.” The Drom shifted slightly as her tail involuntarily lifted and her diaper grew heavier and warmer as she urinated into her padding.
“It’s fine.” James donned a set of gloves, removed the cushion and placed on the bottom of his cart to take it to the laundry room where it would be deep cleaned. He used some rags to mop up the puddle and then sprayed enzymatic cleaner over it.
As he waited for the cleaner to do its job, he threw the gloves away, donned a new set of gloves and started wiping down the changing table in the corner.
Tears pricked S’hhirrk’s eyes and her crest suddenly flattened as she watched her former coworker cleaning up her mess as if she were a pet, not a sapient being.
“It’s not your fault,” Brightfeather said, gently nuzzling her neck as a means of consoling her. “Everyone’s doing their best. And look on the bright side, Silverfang and Llk’whi can go to college.”
“It’s just that,” she began, wiping her muzzle with the back of her hand, tears soaking into her feathers. “It’s so degrading. Because of how they feed us, we inevitably get food and water on our muzzles or on the ground, or maybe our diapers leak, but the Byfords don’t let us clean it up, because they think it’s cute. Pets don’t clean up after themselves, they say. After all, we’re just their two, cute, messy domestic raptors, who also happen to be expensive show animals.”
***
James held his breath and kept his facial expression neutral as he opened the diaper pail and tied off the bag, releasing a burst of foul air. He knew if he gagged or made an expression of disgust, he’d just embarrass Brightfeather and S’hhirrk even further.
The pail was full and the scented disposal bag did nothing to conceal the smell of several days’ worth of soiled diapers from two adult Droms. He placed a new bag in the pail and closed it. He carried the bag to the cart and pretended to not hear S’hhirrk sobbing.
The last bit was mopping the enclosure, including the spot where S’hhirrk had her accident. As he swept the mop over the damp spot, he could hear her crying about how she used to be one of the best workers on the line and now she was “just a spoiled diaper-filling show animal”.
He said nothing as he slowly closed the door to the enclosure behind himself. After all, what could he say to them?
“Eddie, go clean the mudroom.” Mr. Byford didn’t even stop to look at James as he grabbed his coat from a gleaming mahogany coat tree, adjusted it in front of the full-length mirror, opened the front door, and exited, letting in a rush of summer air tinged with roses.
James gave a soft sigh as he pushed his cart towards the mudroom.
As if in a duet of callous classism, Mrs. Byford’s shrill voice echoed from the kitchen: “Velos maid! Polish the silverware! Chinaman cook! Prepare the amuse-bouches!”
James looked at one of the custom pictures. It was an oil painting of Brightfeather and S’hhirrk, posed like prize winning show raptors in what was clearly the Byfords’ rose garden.
He shook his head and continued towards the mudroom. S’hhirrk, Brightfeather, and himself were two sides of the same coin. Skilled professionals whose personhood was utterly discarded for the convenience of the wealthy. Two were beloved, pampered show animals; the other was an appliance that made messes disappear.
James Hendrickson once headed the maintenance division of one of the area's busiest factories. Now reduced to cleaning up after the wealthy who don't even know his name, he meets two coworkers who have met an even more degrading fate.
