Complaint Call Center, Five Hours Later:

Grew-Ella hung up the phone after hearing customers drone about their lousy lives or faulty workhouse products.

She tore off her headset and hid under a muted green cloak. Theatrical cosmetics disguised her face, and rubber lifts attached to the outside of her boots gave her a false height to disguise the fact she was five-foot-four and average.

A recorded radio announcement went over the overhead speakers and interrupted the classical music.

Grew-Ella's ex, Chase, spoke. "Since Avery-Joy Haworth relinquished her crown, the king and queen titles are up for grabs. Do you have what it takes? No, then you can enter our smaller contest. It's this Monday! Monday! Monday! Prizes include frozen pizza and a gift bag of used cosmetics. Sponsored by Captain Cardboard's Magical Pizza."

Women with unacceptable badges glued on their arms moved in and out of their cubicles.

Moth designs etched on each badge proclaimed the unacceptable women's faults in red lettering, hideous, in debt, unauthorized clothing colors, silicone lumps, collapsed nose, and dozens of other insults.

Reject men wore muted uniforms with the letter R sewn into the cloth, but all their ugliness sins were embroidered onto the sleeves of their matching jackets.

Attractive officers of all genders wore black uniforms, decorated with moth-shaped buttons on the collar in either gold or pink. Each member wore shiny squad badges on their chest and cheap laser guns strapped to their sides.

A squad member grabbed a woman dressed in medical scrubs with cartoon cats. Strands of red hair slipped from her bun as they dragged her toward the doorway.

"You're receiving your third unacceptable badge and will live in the workhouse when the tanks arrive for not wearing muted green in the workplace," the foreman said.

Nurse Ruby trembled. "This isn't my workplace, and they badged me twice yesterday. I'm not a citizen and have a medical waiver, and I'm allowed to wear scrubs."

He furrowed his brow and smirked. "The workhouse leaders would've told you anything. Stanton is desperate for the workhouses to house quality medical personnel, but refuses to pay the imperfect-looking ones."

Ruby flapped her hands. "I'm a village princess and a nurse, and you would need to change my title before you slapped stickers on me that need industrial solvents to remove. I moved here to assist with medical staff shortages and to receive plastic surgery on my jaw."

"Odd, it doesn't appear you have had work done, and are you sure you're a princess? If so, your status provides you with free plastic surgery in the next beauty contest." He poked her shoulder with his finger.

"The gruesome blood sports you call beauty contests are idiotic, and I realized my chin is acceptable, and I learned to like it. Sir, I don't fully understand the badges or the rules I broke. I'm from the Ivy Kingdom. What does the badge, Pseudo-Spinster, mean? I'm seeing someone." Ruby started stimming and tried to wave her hands to comfort herself.

"We could cancel or badge you for having an opinion." The foreman swatted her knuckles, and she screeched.

"Oh, Ruby, you dropped your beauty lotto tickets. Don't discard these. They buy you extra time." Grew-Ella rushed to Nurse Ruby and slipped the yellow paper into her hand. "Take deep breaths."

Ruby mouthed, 'thank you.'

The foreman counted ten tickets. "You earned three weeks of freedom, and if you win, we'll pay for your makeover and change your status. Unless you find a male that is classified as regular, acceptable, or broken elite to marry you. Our laws forbid you from marrying squad members, celebrities, noble elites, or anyone in government."

"I'm a lesbian. Is that why you badged me? Or is it because I have autism?" Nurse Ruby asked.

The man spoke. "Your options are to marry an acceptable or a broken elite woman. If your girlfriend is branded unacceptable or is a full elite, then you're out of luck."

"She has no badges," Ruby said.

"Then I suggest you plan a wedding, but the storm prevents you from marrying. Hang out in the lunchroom or choose another shift, and you'll receive two extra lotto tickets for overtime," the foreman said.

"I have a ride home." She located her muted green cloak on a rack, draped the heavy cloth over her clothes, and headed out.

The foreman tugged at Grew-Ella's falsified name tag. "Miss, we delayed adding your third badge because of the storm, but the squad will be here with tanks."

"But I've earned tickets." Grew-Ella mimicked the fake woman's voice as thoughts danced around her head. 'I hope they don't examine me too closely.'

The foreman caressed her wrist. "You'll freeze to death if you run."

"I'll wait in the lunchroom. I'm hungry." Grew-Ella slipped lotto tickets into the donation pot and left two on a desk belonging to a friend. She strolled through the lunchroom with her brother, Madd-Ox, disguised as a guard. He helped her escape into the lobby and fled in the other direction to draw laser fire from his sister.

Nurse Ruby clocked out, opened the door, and bumped into a glowing ivy wreath. She escaped into the snow-covered street, allowing Grew-Ella to follow.

Ruby hopped into a florist delivery van equipped with snow tires. The front fit three, and there was a second row of seats, but the back was stuffed to the rim with flowers, real and silk.

Grew-Ella yanked the imitation badges and flung them into the snow. Pieces of fine, almost invisible arm hair ripped off, but she didn't scream. Her shivering hands removed the lifts from the underside of her boots as she stumbled on the icy ground, trying to reach the vehicle's door.