The day's first appointment was a Citizen celebrating his fortieth birthday.

 

"It's time to change," he said.

 

Nora tried to see a flicker of humanity in the man's eyes. She saw none.

 

He selected a Volunteer from the database. The young man was retrieved, his eyes a vibrant brown, his limbs youthful and muscular. His expression was of resignation and defeat.

 

The procedure went as always. Afterwards the young man's face shifted to the older man's expressions. His beautiful eyes were coated in the same slimy green lines.

 

"Yes!" he exclaimed. "Much better." He bounced away on 20 year old heels.

 

The older body was discarded like snake skin; now a Used.

 

The next appointment was a woman, appearing no older than 30.

 

"The body is 32," she corrected. "I'm a dancer so I get special dispensation." She wore false eyelashes, bizarre around her green tendriled eyes.

 

Nora kept her face blank. The woman became excited when selecting from the Volunteer database.

 

"Please!" the Volunteer screamed, begging Nora, glancing with abject terror at the Citizen, "Please, don't do this. Please, help me! I'll do anything!"

 

The Citizen pirouetted and moonwalked through the corridors as she left.

 

Nora bit her cuticles and poured herself another coffee. She thought about wine.

 

Her superior, a Citizen named Kade, found her.

 

"Have we told you how grateful we are for your work, Nora?" he said.

 

"Thank you, sir," she answered. She tried to remember when she last slept without nightmares.

 

"You know, my colleagues told me the unselected were a lost cause. But cases like yours show how important the whole human race is! When the next fleet arrives they'll be impressed with what we've achieved."

 

Nora tasted bile and covered it with coffee.

 

Another appointment was a Citizen who wanted to be a chef, looking for a super taster. Nora felt strange, enjoying the intellectual complexity of decoding the correct filters on the Volunteer database. But seeing the faces gave her soul-crushing guilt.

 

The selected Volunteer was silent, tears streaming down his face.

 

Nora felt she owed it to him to watch.

 

The starfish-like creature unattached itself from the Citizen's chest and integrated onto the Volunteer's with a sound like a kiss.

 

Nora watched the light go out in the man's eyes, and be covered by the green, possessing lines.

 

* * *

 

When they first arrived, Nora had united with the rest of humanity in wonder. Then fear.

 

She remembered news stories of resistance fighters. Then the brave insurrections against their new overlords were quashed with ease, one by one.

 

World leaders changed. Green tendriled eyes symbolised power.

 

Occasionally there was a glimpse of the unearthly shape attached to their ribs and collarbone.

 

She, her family, friends, acquaintances and strangers, everyone was screened. Humanity was measured, itemised and registered.

 

When she was found to be unsuitable, some allergy or genetic quirk excluded her from being a Volunteer, she was a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. Relief at not being selected, panic for what next, anger at her alleged imperfections, and heart wrenching fear for those being led away.

 

Her options were either to live in the slums for the unsuitable, to care for the Used, or to serve the Citizens. She put her name down for service.

 

All she had to do was supervise humanity's absorption.

 

Fleets landed. Beautiful, sparkling, coruscating starships, lured by humanity's overpopulation. Humankind's proliferation was a tempting beacon that echoed across the galactic arms.

 

* * *

 

For the whole of her new career, her first procedure echoed in her memory like a wounded machine. The creature was carried by Citizens wearing her friends' faces, a canister containing something naked and visceral. It had looked weak, unassuming, harmless.

 

But when beside a human their evolutionary strength became gorily, terrifyingly visible.

 

* * *

 

Years passed. Nora concentrated on routine, her terror and dread numbing through continual exposure. She ignored the Volunteers' pleas and the faces of the Used. She worked hard, hoarding her freedom.

 

She trained colleagues, built a team of subordinates. She saw the look in their eyes shift from relief to horror to numbed boredom.

 

Nora retreated behind a desk, no longer monitoring procedures in person. She watched from beyond the security of reports and forecasts.

 

One unassuming sunlit drenched day, Kade approached.

 

"This operation really is running smoothly. Thank you, Nora," said Kade. "Would you come with me? There's a Citizen that could do with your attention."

 

Nora followed him to the procedure rooms. She heard screams from one; a Volunteer was upset. She saw a Used being taken down the same corridor a Volunteer was brought through. She would need to remind her team about visibility.

 

"Here we are." Kade indicated the door.

 

Her brows furrowed as she entered, the room empty save for one chair. She heard Kade follow, shutting the door.

 

"What's going on?" she asked, facing him.

 

"You may have heard," he said, loosening his tie, "a larger fleet will arrive soon."

 

Nora fixated on details, the wrinkles by his eyes, spit flecks on his lips.

 

"Demand will change. With so many new Citizens apparent, supply needs reevaluation. There's been talk of the lower castes being allowed to reuse." His lips pursed with distaste. "But what'll definitely happen is a screening change, backdating it for those that didn't originally qualify."

 

He removed his jacket, and draped it on the chair.

 

"This would mean, Nora, you will be eligible to volunteer. A great honour," he finished, his face earnest, perhaps pained.

Nora's insides liquefied.

 

"But I want something different. We've grown close, you and I. I feel I understand humanity more having known you."

 

He unbuttoned his shirt. Nora's ears were ringing so hard she could taste it.

 

"And so," he said, removing his shirt. "I'd like to claim you as my Volunteer."

 

Her screams did not last for long.