Kurt fiddled with the tag on his wrist, tied down with a cable tie that was on just a bit too tight so it was making a mark in his flesh.  He wanted to know what was included in the shipping statement in the tag, but he knew he would be reprimanded if he took it out of the plastic holder it was in.  

He wanted to desperately know if he had done something wrong and was being demoted.

They never told you, the guys that showed up and took him away from the farm he'd been serving for the past two years.  They just showed up, said you were being transferred, and loaded you onto the back of the truck once they'd scanned behind your ear where your data chip was inserted to make sure you were you.  No goodbye's, no packing (not that he had anything to his name), and no delay's.  

Across the seat from him, a boy about his age with bright blonde hair shook his head at him.  Kurt lifted one of his eyebrows in curiosity which prompted the boy to look to Kurt's tag and then back to his eyes, sending a very clear message.

Don't play with it.

Kurt sighed and sat back.  There was nothing to do on the trip to wherever it was he was going.  It was hardly comfortable enough to sleep with all the kids packed in with him like sardines, and he wasn't going to stare at them all like he'd noted the dark-haired girl at the front of the van was.  Checking them all out and sizing them all up.  

They weren't allowed to talk either.  Everyone knew that from orientation days.

He had been lucky.  For his first placement he had gotten to work at a farm.  The work was toilsome, but he had been out in the fresh air and the supervisor was pretty laid back so they could talk and play in their off hours.  Sure he didn't have a bed, but the hay in the barn worked well enough and he had gotten used to it, and they knew they always had food since they worked with the animals and crops, but now, now he just didn't know.

He'd heard rumours from the other Dents at the farm.  Some places were brutal.  They'd whip you if you so much as looked at a boss.  Some places only fed you once a day if you were lucky.  Some places paid the officials to look the other way so they didn't see that the Dents there were being hurt.  

Kurt was definitely afraid of ending up in a place like that.  He didn't know how many more years he had to work to pay off his family's debt, but he knew he didn't want to spend a minute of any of them in a place that hurt him.  He hoped his dad wasn't in one of those places either.

He hadn't seen his dad in two years now.  It had just been a couple week after his mom's funeral when the officials came and pulled him away from his dad.  Kurt didn't understand then what was going on, he only knew he didn't want to be away from his dad.  He had cried, and gotten a shock for it.  More shocks were given every time he cried at the orientation center until he understood what life would be like now.

He was indentured.  He was to serve.  His dad had ended up in debt trying to pay for any miracle to cure Kurt's mom, and now they were both paying it off.  He wouldn't see his dad until the debt was paid and Kurt had tried to be a good worker so that maybe he could be promoted to a better paying job that would pay things off quicker.  

He had gotten some sympathy.  Most of the other indentured kids were from homes where parents had lost their jobs and had racked up too many loans trying to pay it off, or from homes where gambling or drinking habits were common.  His supervisor at the farm had said it was a “bum deal” but that was the way the system worked and now at least he'd know never to risk getting into debt ever when he got out of servitude.

He was pretty sure he would never borrow money ever if this is what it led to.

The van stopped abruptly and all the kids in the back perked up, looking around even though there were no windows to look out of.  After a couple minutes, the back of the van was opened and everyone flinched at the light that came through.

One by one they were taken off, scanned behind the ear, and their tags removed and checked over before being scanned into some kind of machine.  The girls and boys were separated into two lines where they were then taken to get a physical from a doctor that had hands that were far too clammy and cold for Kurt's comfort, and then to shower and change before forming a line in front of their new supervisor.

The whole process was done in silence, with worried and questioning glances being shared between the boys and no answer that could be given.

“Welcome to your new service center.  I am Will, supervisor for the boys!  Come this way please!”

The boys followed, single line, through a corridor that led them to a big, open area.  Rows upon rows of tables were set up, all with workers who didn't pay them any mind as they worked on either sewing with machines or painting on little items Kurt couldn't see.  They were taken through this main area to another room, aptly labeled as “Boys Dorms” where again they lined up in front of Will and he spoke.

“This is a promotion!....”

A cumulitive sigh of relief fell from all their lips.

“You have all been selected to work at Anderson Co.  A number of goods are produced at this location.  You work in four hours on, two off, four on, two off, four on, and then get eight hours for sleep.  You will do your school work by modules here and must get them done during one of your two hour periods off.  If you do not maintain a passing average in all your courses you will be demoted.  Bunks are hot.  If you don't know what that means, it means you share them with two other people so they are always in use.  You must always wear company issued uniforms with your ID on it.  You have two pairs.  All workers must maintain their personal hygiene or they will be demoted.  A common area that connects to the girls bunks is at the back of this dorm and may be used for socialization or schoolwork during your free four hours a day.  Meals are prepackaged with your ID and you will get three per day....”

Will continued, on and one, about the rules and expectations - all of which came with the warning that if you didn't adhere to them, you'd be demoted.  Found sleeping on the job? Demoted.  Fighting?  Demoted.  Using inappropriate language?  Demoted.  Talking bad about the site?  Demoted.  There were almost a hundred ways Kurt could get in trouble here.

But it was a promotion, so he didn't intend to get in trouble.  He would work hard, get the debt paid off, see his dad again.  That was his master plan.  That was what kept him focused.

They were given a meal, shown which bunks each of them were assigned, and then handed their embroidered button up shirts, each with their identification on it.  Kurt's was HK206.  

ES515 came up to him when they were left alone to eat in the common area - the blonde haired boy from the bus.  

“Hey.  I'm Sam.”

“Kurt.”

“Where were you before?”

“Farm.  You?”

“Junkyard.”

It was an old script, one Kurt had used with kids new to the farm to first get to know them - except that the farm was usually the first for them.  Certain occupations were always used for kids early on in their servitude he guessed.  The only time someone hadn't come straight from the training center to the farm was when they had been demoted.

LS313 came up to them and sat down without saying a thing - the dark haired girl from the bus that had been scanning them all over.

“What a dump.”

Both Kurt and Sam's eyes shot straight up and Sam hissed over, “You want to be demoted?”

“Don't care.  I'm a lifer anyhow.”

Lifer's were those whose debts were so outrageous that they would probably be serving for life.  Kurt had only met one before, a middle-aged demotee that didn't last long on the farm after he had been caught with one of the farmer's daughters.  He couldn't imagine having no freedom for his whole life.  At least right now he had something to look forward to.

“You're a kid, you can't be here for life…”  Sam argued in a whisper, and Kurt's brows bunched together as he considered it, recalling that in the training center they had said that a worst case scenario for a kid was working until you were nineteen.

She shrugged, “Name's Santana.  Who're you two losers?”

“Kurt.”
“Sam.”

Santana had come from a hotel where she lived and worked in the laundry room.  Like Kurt, she didn't have a bed there, but did get to sleep on freshly washed linens which sounded great compared to the hay he had nestled in every night.  Kurt discovered her mother had a huge gambling problem which led to the whole family being in huge debt before they even knew anything was wrong.  

Sam's story was more typical.  Dad was laid off work, and neither of his parents could find work so they went bankrupt which meant instant indentured servitude for him and his parents.  His little siblings were put into foster care in the meantime though since to serve you had to be able to read and they had both been too young for that when he was taken away.

Once they had finished eating, they were all lined up again and trained in each of the things they might end up working on at any given time.  Clothing, shoes, accessories… all brand named with Anderson.  Apparently the line was a big deal, though given that Kurt had only ever worn a few things in the past couple years, he would hardly know.

“Upstairs you can see the windows where the bosses are.  You never speak to them directly.  You do not look them in the eye.  You only go up there if you are requested for special tasks.  Know that they are watching you and if you value this position you will do anything questionable in their presence.”  Will stated as Kurt glanced up to see the sheen of the windows up there, a small walk path and railing in front of them with only one staircase on the side of the room allowing anyone to go up or down.

“Dad!  Look!  New Dents!” A sharp voice rang out over the room.  Kurt made the mistake of looking for the source but a sharp smack on his arm from Sam reminded him to look down.

“SW101… this the new crop?” A stronger, more solid male voice asked as Kurt focused on the ground intently.  A boss.  It had to be a boss.

“Yes sir.  As you requested.”

“Good… good…. get them to work as soon as possible.  We're opening up several new factories this year and I need Dents trained for all of them.”

“Yes sir.”

The conversation was interrupted by a yelp beside Kurt, coming from Sam, who was now hopping on one foot while the owner of the original voice that interrupted them laughed giddily.

“Blaine!  Don't touch them!”

“But dad… I wasn't.  I was just kicking one of them!”

Kurt let his eyes glance to the side at Sam, who was wincing and trying to hold it together.  

“Don't do that either!  Stay back from them!  They could have diseases!”

Kurt grimaced to himself.  Well these bosses were already turning out to be wonderful.  As Will and the boss reengaged in conversation, the boss' kid roamed around the group, eventually coming back to where Sam and Kurt were.

That's when Kurt was kicked.

He had braced for it, knowing that by being so close to Sam it might come, but it didn't make it hurt any less when the kid's toe shot into the side of his calf and sent tremors right up his body that tried to make him fall in place.  

Another laugh came out of the boy, and Kurt couldn't stop his head from snapping up to glare at the kid.

A kid that was apparently his own age as well.  A shock of black curls falling over his head and eyes that reminded him of the brown cow he used to milk back at the farm.  The boy seemed shocked that Kurt would look at him at all and sucked in a breath before jumping back and tattling.

“Dad!  That Dent is looking at me!”

Kurt dropped his head back down, staring intently at the floor again.  He had hardly been here an hour and he had already screwed up.  Please don't demote me, please don't demote me, he chanted to himself in his head.

Thankfully, the boss ignored his son's complaint, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief for the second time that day.  Small blessings.  Small blessings….