The next celebrity

Wake up. School. Practise. Sleep. It’s always been the same, I guess.

Well less of the last one if we’re being serious as nights always fade into dawn’s arrival. Ever since I was seven these days of routine have followed me around, haunting me into being something more than the average. Into being someone worth something.

It is weird though, I guess, how little value I place on myself as a person, elevating my skills and attributes above anything and everything else. But it’s going to be worth it. Just one more day, one more day until the spotlight shifts into my direction.

The bus is rolling up to the stop now. The grey faces of passengers all merge together, I couldn’t even tell you whether they were filled with hope for the following day as darkness creeps around us; blocking vision only to be slaughtered by the beams of headlights cutting through it at speed; or dread as another day is on it’s way. A repetition of one almost escaped.

But unlike those that get off with me, at least I’m almost filled with certainty about this, my stop could not be farther from home. Home does seem a little abstract in my mind. Surely it’s just a building filled with memories and family? In which case maybe I am coming home.

Purpose filled my strides as I began the 10 min walk up to the company building. My hair the brightest purple I never new could exist seemed out of place in this area. The leaves of bushes outside apartment blocks were faded and pastel from the constant fumes and dirt landing upon them. And everything seemed too regular and formulaic. People walked in lines along the pavement, marching in unison back to partners and children. Sky scrapers purely rectangular with no hint of originality between them, each punctured with series of windows allowing workers and home owners to be spotted up among the clouds from us down below.

I turn down an alley. A short cut I have committed to memory over the years. It’s ceiling a web of pipes and wires brightly coloured. Every now and again, if you knew which ones to glance at, you could spot a flash of a pulse of energy. Faint, but it’s light in the scenery always made me feel less frightened.

Not that I should be frightened. I knew this place. I was brave and strong and envied and perfection. Soon to be idolised. Soon to be wanted.

Soon to be debuted.

I quickened my feet as I arrived on The Company’s street. Wider and grander than any other, I think. There where always flowers here in their pretty colours of yellow and red and pink and white. The building at the end solidified the grandeur it declared. Not the tallest building in the city, yet easily my favourite. It’s front a wall of glass which circulated it’s perimeter transitioning into a lighter grey concrete the higher you gazed upward. I could point out what was behind each tinted window if ever it was needed. The canteen, CEO office, gym, recording studio, dance practise room…

The doors opened. Walking in I could never stop being amazed at the interior. Gold and silver covered the ceiling creeping down in vines to the reception desk. Daisy was on duty today behind it in her burgundy suit. The carpet was also a deep burgundy, a contrast to that of the ceiling which shined and shimmered bright with small spotlights.

Walking past Daisy she waved. Normally we’d hold a conversation but today I merely walked past heading for the lift so all she had time to whisper was a hurried

“Good luck Elle”

I only had time to register what she’s spoken once I’d automatically pushed the screen for floor 15.

Elle.

My name wasn’t Elle. My name was Rika. Well on the Government docs Erika Scott. There was only one reason why she’d call me that. Nerves flooded my body, a rippling sensation filled with possibilities of the future.

 I am Elle. No wait that’s not quite right. I will be Elle.

A couple hours till I become the next performer to be released from The Company’s catalogue of aspiring girls and boys. Many friends either dropped for not reaching standards; kicked out for breaking the laws of the contract; or some reaching glory before me. But not me, I was going to make it.

It’s been 7 years since I was selected. And I couldn’t be more grateful. I didn’t have a family before, just another kid kicked out to save money left in an orphanage. An innocent victim of the 2065 famine. I remember my number from the orphanage, 3113, my first identity so to speak. A regulation so that adopters can have the experience of naming their kid. I am lucky I was picked. No one knows where orphans go when they turn 10. I was saved from disappearing forever.

Now all of The company knows my face, talent and name. I have everything anyone dreams of now, a family that supports, feed, and encourages everything I do. Ok, family is a bit of a stretch. I live in a house with others training for this chance of fame. There is a house mother, but we rarely see her as we’re always so tired.

Interrupting my thoughts, the lift pinged. A crude noise for a beautiful building, I have always thought. The door slides open revealing the dance studio. The polished wood is like that of caramel and every wall covered in mirrors except for 3 spaces. One opposite the lift made way for a large window which gazed over the entirety of the city as far as they eye could see. Billboards and advertisements on digi screens could be seen promoting the work girls and boys had worked so hard to produce. Snippets of dances and performances for all to be amazed and loved by. The other 2 spaces where obviously the lift and a door next to it leading to a hallway which was filled by doors to individual practise rooms. Smaller but still gorgeous.

No one was here in the practise room though. Odd. I always had dance training first. Always with Natasha. Always at 17:45. Never had she been late. And never had I, after that one time. Never again would I be late to practise.

Initiative had always been a weak skill of mine, but I decided to start stretching out in case I was early. I knew the warmup off by heart. Forced into my memory by repetition. Star jumps, squats, lunges…

The gold doors of the lift opened. Natasha walked in with smiling eyes.

“Elle you’ve made it. You’ve done it. By this time tomorrow the world will know your name.” Her tone firm, but I could sense under tones of appreciation, happiness and anticipation. Her long ginger hair, neatly in a pony tail, swung side to side as she approached.

“So is that it then? Officially, I’m Elle? That’s who I’m to be?” The uncertainty of it all made my wary and nervous.

“Yes, and no. Your name, officially, is Elle. That’s what your fans will shout, what the posters will say and what your songs will be trademarked with. But you are and always have been Elle. Erika Scott is a place holder name so you could have legal guardianship under The Company. So you could live. Be thankful for that. If you don’t like it you can always leave, you The Company's policy on things like that.” I understood what she meant and what she stood for, but sometimes Natasha wasn’t the most sentimental of all of the workers in the building.

“I understand” I honestly didn’t. If my name, Erika, was a placeholder till they figured out what to call me, what did that name even mean now? Was I merely another girl they were training? Or even just an object that was upgraded every now and again until ready for public release? “I want to stay. But where did the name Elle come from? Why that name?”

“Higher ups have answers like that, so let’s stop attacking me with questions and we can begin preparing for tomorrow” She turned and left. Each foot seemed so specifically placed as she made her way back to ward the lift. I paused before following, starting to question if the life I was so excited for just earlier today would really be worth it. I must have waited a little too long in thought as Natasha stood inside the lift, turned and waved her hand in a beckoning motion. So I scurried off to join her.

Her presence seemed to dominate the lift as it began to rise even higher. I’d never thought of myself as an Elle. Maybe it did suit me? Personally, I preferred Rika, but I wanted this so bad. I needed this so bad. I couldn’t go back to the streets. I couldn’t let them down. I wanted to be adored, supported, loved by the masses. To have my music loved by everyone and my dance skills appreciated.

“Elle, you’re going to be great. I know I’m always hard on you, but you know that’s because I care about you, right? Just don’t look back for a second. Reinvent yourself into the best version you can and you’ll be fine”, She turned and faced me, her brown eyes bright with the salted water of tears.

“look I’m going to be fine. I Promise. I want this. You don’t need to worry about me. You don’t need to cry, nothing bad is going to happen” I hope. Just until tomorrow and I’d be untouchable.

She took a hold of my shoulders, maybe the closest she’d ever come to a hug. Natasha was strong, and I always envied that about her, she didn’t bow down to anyone or anything.

“look just promise me you’ll keep your head. It’s going to be fun if you can, you have the skills, talent, beauty. You are going to be a star. You’ve earned this. But please don’t slip, don’t stumble, do not fall from the heights of perfection. I couldn’t bear to see that happen to you of all people.” She sounded worried, as if I were standing atop a skyscraper with all the world below my feet. An icarus who was getting too close to the sun.

The numbers on the lift screen where reaching up to our destination: 84. I’d only been here on the rare occasion as it was mostly filled with offices. To be brutally honest I’d forgotten what it looked like. Natasha wiped her eyes and fixed her hair. She straitened up her posture and I followed suit. The golden door slid open revealing a light grey corridor. Four door on each side before it turned around a corner to the left. The doors were wooden with golden plaques on them claiming them as someone’s property and were a slightly darker shade of grey then the rest of the corridor, as the ceiling and the floor were as if someone had taken the shine out of silver. I followed Natasha out of the lift, raising my head and putting purpose into my strides just as she was. She stopped outside the second door on the left. It’s plaque saying ‘CEO Mr. O. York’. She turned her head as she pushed it and smiled.

Once I stepped into this office. Into the office. I’d be Elle. I’d be all I’d ever wanted to be. I drew in a breath and followed her into the office. I was too pre-occupied with correcting my strides, relaxing my shoulders, smiling nicely, was I even breathing right? To even notice the walls lined with leather bound books or how there wasn’t actually a window but a large window portraying the city on a summers day from this height.  

His back was turned to the wall as Natasha pulled a seat out for me at his desk. She stepped back behind me after I’d sat down. He was tall, I’d say, with neatly barbered dark grey hair. He wore a black suit tailored to perfect to his body. As he turned around, revealing a face of sunken dark brown eyes, he spoke

“Elle, you probably are a bit surprised about this announcement that you’re debuting, but the girl who was meant to be in your spot doesn’t seem to really want to be a performer. This isn’t like me or The Company to suddenly throw a girl into the storm of showbiz, so to speak, but the money’s already been paid for stylists, make up artists, even the music video set.” Owen York did not seem concerned at the fact his business plans had been interrupted, maybe even happy that I was better than the original. “Tomorrow you will not go to school, we’ll sort that out. Come straight here to The Company and we’ll give you a run down on your schedule for the day. But for now we need you to sign a contract to say you want to do this. That you want to become a star, a performer. To become the sensation which we all know you to be.”

He pulled out a single piece of paper from a draw below and placed it on the dark stained wood. He rolled a pen next to it. The paper was a million lines of tiny detailed clauses of writing. I couldn’t waste any time reading that, right? The more time to prepare for tomorrow when I’ll be revealed to the world as the next best performer the better, right? I’ve waited long enough for this moment that if it was snatched from my grasp for being slow, it would destroy my world. So I sign my name. I commit now and fully to this career. I smile, and so do Natasha and CEO York. The room seems to buzz with happiness. My head swimming with the laughs and bright conversations we are now having, excited for tomorrow’s possibilities.

But as we leave the room and head into the lift, I am paused in thought. How strange it is that a few simple stokes on paper could solidify my life’s course. How it would lead me away from here, this city, this country, these people.But I wouldn’t abandon anyone who’d helped me come to this point, not like that stupid girl who’d ditched this opportunity. And I shouldn’t question what I’d done, as so many would die for the life I was about to jump into.  As now I could never turn back or be someone else. I could never return to be Erika Scott. I could never return to being Rika

Because I signed my name as Elle