As she pressed her small hand against the cool glass, six-year-old Gia's wide eyes took in the glittering spires of the Dollhouse's central district from the orphanage window. The towers sparkled like crystal chandeliers in the artificial sunlight, casting a rainbow of colors onto the pristine streets below. Billboards covered in shimmering jewels winked and blinked, their screens filled with the impossibly perfect face of Victoria Sterling. The sound of her voice, accompanied by a familiar jingle, echoed from unseen speakers and sent a thrill through Gia's heart, reminding her that this was where she belonged - among the glamorous elite of the Dollhouse.
“Remember, darlings,” Victoria cooed, her voice syrupy sweet, “Perfection is just a treatment away. Visit your local modification chamber today!”
Gia’s fingers unconsciously traced the patches of pale skin on her arm, stark against her dark complexion. She longed to blend in, to shine like the Dolls on the screens. Behind her, Vanessa scoffed.
“You’re wasting your time, Gia,” Vanessa said. “We will never be a part of the Dollhouse. We were born the old way.”
Gia turned from the window, her eyes wide and hopeful. “But what if... what if we could be, Nessa? What if there’s a way?”
Vanessa’s laugh was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “Don’t be naïve. Look at us.” She gestured to herself, then to Gia, her gaze lingering on the patches of vitiligo. “We’re damaged goods. The Dollhouse doesn’t want imperfections.”
Gia’s shoulders slumped, but a flicker of defiance sparked in her chest. “Maybe they’ll change the rules. Maybe—”
“Maybe nothing!” Vanessa snapped, her carefully constructed facade cracking for a moment. She strode across the room, grabbing a crumpled magazine from her bedside table. She thrusted it at Gia, jabbing a finger at the glossy image of a Doll holding a newborn. The baby looked perfect, not a blemish or extra limb anywhere.
Gia’s eyes widened as she stared at the image. The baby in the Doll’s arms was flawless, its skin a uniform porcelain, its features perfectly symmetrical. It looked more like a doll than a real infant.
“That’s... that’s not natural,” Gia whispered, her voice trembling.
Vanessa’s laugh was bitter. “Of course, it’s not. Nothing in the Dollhouse is natural. That’s the point.”
Gia’s gaze drifted back to the window, to the shimmering city beyond. The artificial sunlight seemed harsher now, exposing the unnaturalness of it all. She felt a sudden, overwhelming longing for something real, something imperfect.
“But we’re real,” Gia said softly, more to herself than to Vanessa. “Doesn’t that count for something?”
“No,” Vanessa deadpanned, “Because someone gave birth to us. Dolls aren’t allowed to give birth naturally. That is why we are stuck in an orphanage outside of the dome with the other imperfects.”
Gia’s fingers curled around the magazine, crumpling its glossy pages. She felt a lump form in her throat as the weight of Vanessa’s words sank in. The orphanage suddenly felt smaller, more confining than ever before.
“But... but there has to be a way,” Gia whispered, her voice barely audible. “We can’t just be stuck here forever.”
Vanessa’s eyes softened for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability passing across her face. “Look, Chris,” she said, using Gia’s other name, “I’ve been here longer than you. I’ve seen girls come and go, always hoping, always dreaming. But the truth is, the Dollhouse doesn’t want us. We’re reminders of what they left behind.”
Gia turned back to the window, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. She still has hope that she will prove Nessa wrong.