The Compound

by Aisling Rawle

Sure enough, when we reached her she dropped her hand, and I saw that she had the kind of face that drove people to madness, with desire or with envy.

Foreshadow?

It was clear, entirely untouched by clouds or smog, with no tall buildings to block out great chunks of it, nor artificial lights to disguise its hues.

A blond-haired girl named Eloise said that she liked my hair, and I said that I liked her nails.

Girlhood!

“And I definitely prefer an older man.”

Same though.

Becca, who was quiet, and blushed as she gave her answer, said that she liked a man who was kind—that was all.

Oh boy. If the character with my name dies/gets sent home first, i'll die.

There were several rules at the compound. The first was that it was forbidden to discuss that the show was in fact a show, or that we had seen the show before. It ruined the experience for the viewer and the participants, we had been told. The second was that we couldn’t discuss our life outside of the compound unless we had been instructed to do so. The third was that it was forbidden to harm another resident. There were other rules, but they wouldn’t come into effect until the boys arrived. We all understood that if we broke any of these rules we would be punished.

“We should start getting the place in shape now, in case they’re here by tonight,” another girl said.

Typical to expect the females to clean up.

Along the way, we picked up the odd bit of rubbish that we found, left by the residents who had come before us.

Symbolic of what future generations will have to deal with after all the litter and pollution we've left them.

The last time I had been able to watch, the rewards were just starting to get really good. One of the girls had gotten a hair straightener that I’d always wanted. “Salon standard,”

Reinforcing beauty standards i see.

I knew that there were a number of cameras in the room, and that we all were being filmed, but, oddly enough, that was one of the aspects of the day which perturbed me the least. I didn’t bother to examine the room to see where the cameras might be. I more or less acted as I had on the outside—with the assumption that we were all being watched in some way or another.

I always expect someone to be filming me on the plane. And for the government to be watching our online presence

There were very few makeup products, only some different shades of foundation, and two tubes of mascara which we passed around without hesitation.

Interesting. Beauty standards without access to beauty products. Symbolizing nothing will ever be enough?

I saw that there was no makeup for dark skin.

Gahhhhhhhh!!!!!! Grinds my gears. In today's world i only imagine it getting worse.

The truth is, we weren’t interested in getting to know each other—not yet. We were assessing who was the most beautiful and who might cause trouble. At the same time, we were analyzing what our own place in the group might be. Within minutes of speaking to the girls, I knew that I was one of the most beautiful, and one of the least interesting.

I think like this on a daily basis. Patriarchy makes women feel in competition with each other. Although, in their case, they actually are in competition with each other.

Ten of us: myself, Jacintha, Sarah, Candice, Susie, Becca, Melissa, Mia, Vanessa, and Eloise.

I realized that as long as Susie lived in the compound, I would not be the dimmest person there.

Intelligence can be artificial, but charm is always real, and Susie had that in spades.

Becca was the quietest;

Mia was bitchy.

She was a lot, but she was still someone you wanted to be around: she had that kind of energy.

it was Candice who shone, and toward Candice that we all gravitated. She was nice, in an offhand kind of way, and had an air of authority about her that we unquestioningly submitted to.

I had already known the answer: it was the same every year. I only asked out of my old habit of prompting people to explain things to me even when I knew the answer. When I was a child, I found that it would make people more likely to want to help me, and it served me just as well as an adult.

Interesting. I interpret people like that as clueless/needy. Turns me off. Maybe the ditzy act works on men.

“Where were you?” Mia asked. “Why are you always disappearing?”

Why does Mia care so much where everyone is?

Already the ten girls had split into two cliques: throughout the day, Vanessa, Sarah, Melissa, Becca, and Eloise had kept to themselves, cleaning upstairs and eating lunch by the swings, and at dinner they sat a little apart too. Privately, I thought that the second group—comprising Candice, Susie, Jacintha, Mia, and myself—was the better one.

“Vanessa’s the only one of them who’s pretty, anyway.”

Sheesh!

I wondered if any of the boys had fought in the wars.

Weird to hear someone talk about "the wars" meaning present tense and not historically speaking. I'm sure i'll see war in my lifetime.

you stayed in the compound only if you woke in the morning next to someone of the opposite sex. If you slept alone, you would be gone by sunrise.

“It’s good to be around women and be civilized again.”

Reminds me of Lord of the Flies.

We had drunk all of the alcohol already.

Girls left no crumbs, i love it.

Everyone knew how the big screen worked: it would detail daily instructions for all of us to carry out. We could only be rewarded if everyone took part. If successful, we would receive items for the compound: food, furniture, appliances, or other things that would make our lives easier. There would additionally be Personal Tasks, which were detailed on our little screens; these rewards would benefit us individually. There was no limit to how many tasks you could complete on the big or little screens: every time one was completed, another one would appear. If it wasn’t completed in a day, that reward was lost forever; a new task would appear the next morning.

Rules, got it.

That was the other thing: if you won, you got unlimited rewards.

The array of beautiful boys before us was overwhelming, and yet I automatically found myself filing through them to find the best looking.

Paradox of choice/options.

They didn’t know beauty, these boys. They saw blurred outlines and thought they knew the picture.

I didn’t want to cook dinner. I wanted to sit with the girls, and play with someone’s hair, and have someone play with mine.

Mood.

I thought that we had lost some crucial bit of power, not from the act of being judged, but by showing that it meant something to us.

She didn’t mind anyone talking to Andrew; she wasn’t threatened. That’s what it meant to be the most beautiful.

Along with the comb was a slip of paper with the name of the brand. Once you received your Personal Reward, you had to thank the brand that had sent it. It was the best advertisement brands could get, and it meant that there would always be a supply of things for us to win.

Influencer culture strikes again. Everything is an ad.

“It’s a bit strange, talking to everyone, and not being able to ask where they’re from, or what their job is. But isn’t it exciting, too? There’s something valuable about it, I think.

Nothing from the outside world is valuable here.

Then Becca, having not spoken for several hours, recited a poem by Rilke,

Yassss of course she and I both like Rilke!

“Becca,” Tom said, “you’re going to be fine.” He gripped the back of her skull with one huge hand, and she didn’t fight, didn’t make a sound as he angled her down toward the water. She took a breath, a wild gasp, and then her face was under.

Whoah! This seems wildly nonconsentual.

“I’ll say that you did it willingly. That way, you won’t be a target. Otherwise, they’ll pick you out as the weak one.”

Tom plays the game!

My father had been gone long enough that I’d stopped expecting him to come home, but I liked to collect the experiences of other soldiers and pretend that they were his.

“I’m glad you picked me,”

Pick mes ugh!

We might have looked like lovers, gazing at each other with that tenderness that comes out at night—but I was looking at him to see if he would leave, to make sure that I was safe. It had happened before: residents creeping out of bed in the middle of the night and swapping with another, sometimes returning later in the night, and sometimes leaving their bedmate vulnerable.

Task: Skinny-dip in the pool Reward: Lip balm

Nudity aired on tv???

“I wanted to keep an eye out. It’s not safe without a door. Any kind of savage animal could walk in.”

I think Tom is military.

Task: Choose one person to banish from the compound Reward: Freezer

omg ruthless.

She didn’t praise it too much, like other people did when they were looking for a brand deal. She just looked damn good in it. I could imagine all the people at home who would be reaching for their phones, searching Trench and Co. I would have bought it too, if I was watching.

Consumer/influencer culture makes us want to look like everyone else.

I felt an immense sweep of relief: not because it was a particularly special kiss, or because I wanted him, but because I knew that he wanted me.

“Thank you so much, Dorian, for this beautiful necklace,” I said to the camera. “It’s perfect. I can wear it with any outfit.”

I thought they didn't know where the cameras are?

“You have nice skin,” he said, voice so flat and empty that it entirely negated the meaning of the words.

I think Becca might be planting words in his ears.