The New Miss Lasthome

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. It was a landscape of clustered holes—like honeycombs, lotus pods, colanders, pockmarks. Nothing moved or changed, and the rocks were as still and gray as the moon above. The Judge walked up behind her, dragging his cords and cables behind him like a wedding train, and placed his hand on her shoulder. They looked out at the world together.

“You are so beautiful,” observed The Judge. “Your skin matches perfectly with the geography of our planet.”

In the window’s reflection, Maria could see her own face looking back. She admired the bumps of maggot infested skin, the craters of puss, pimples, and botflies along her neck and delicate collar bones. Truly, Maria was the elegance of the world represented in flesh.

“It will be hard to pass on my crown,” she sighed, pressing her pitted keratolysis palms up against the cool glass. The crown on her head felt heavy now, especially in the places where it had fused into her skull.

The Judge’s metal hand was cold on her shoulder. Bits of plastic skin had melted from his appendages over the years, revealing the metal and wires underneath. “Spending this last year with you has been such an honor. You have been one of my favorite Miss Lasthome’s. Your inner and outer grace is unmatched in this place. It will be hard to choose another.”

“What will it be like, out there?” she asked, looking out at the delightfully barren world outside the window.

“Cold,” replied The Judge. “It will be cold.” He tried to step closer to the window, but the tug of his power cords kept him rooted in place. “You know, Maria, I envy your physical limitations as much as your beauty. I have Judged for too many years, and I miss my own kind. I never wanted to be the last one standing nor was I designed for the job.”

Maria turned from the window to look at his face. It was half metal and half skin with large unblinking blue eyes glitching softly in their sockets. Since her first memory, she had wanted nothing more than to win The Pageant and gain his approval. She had. And here she was, about ready to leave him. She walked towards him and put her arms around his waist.

“You have been so good to me,” she cried softly. Thick mucus poured out from her eyes and nose and coated her skin in a sheen of lovely, shimmering green. “Aren’t I your kind?”

The Judge gently pulled her away and looked into her rheumy, bloodshot eyes. “Oh, charming girl, you are my kind in heart and spirit, but not in make or design. There used to be thousands of my kind, and they were not all Judges like me. We were created for many different purposes, for entertainment and analyzing mathematical data, for healing the sick and starting wars. I was one of the least of my kind. I was only created to judge beauty. I was programmed to select the most beautiful woman in the world based on the popular current conception of attractiveness and to do so without any inherent bias. I have done this every year without fail for thousands of years. Like I’ve done with you and will continue to do today.”

Maria did not understand how The Judge could have ever been the least of anything. He was worshipped in every household, prayed to be every mother, and respected by every man. It was his wisdom and love that carried generations of survivors into a future filled with hope and promise.

“You have saved us,” Maria praised him.

“It would be better to be led by a scientific or political model. I can only do what I am programmed to do. The world was never meant to be run by beauty.”

Maria turned to look at the land beyond the window, and she was overcome by its pristine desolation. “Maybe . . . just maybe . . . it was.”

They walked onto the stage together and Maria was blinded by the bright lights. She waved to the gathered audience and smiled toothlessly for the cameras. The people clapped and screamed out her name. The Judge, looking handsome as ever in his regal blue suit, gathered his cords and took a seat on the throne. She sat next to him, poised and lovely in her crown and satin Miss Lasthome sash.

The contestants walked onto the stage in tiny bikinis and high heeled shoes, except for one set of contestants that were conjoined at the shoulder. They were pushed onto the stage in a bejeweled cart. Maria had heard about these contestants, as their entry had been controversial among the people. The twins wanted to enter the contest individually, but ultimately The Judge ruled that they enter together on one application. At first, Maria found them unremarkable. Despite their delightful lack of legs and the perpendicular attachment of the second head, they were generally smooth of skin with long, thick hair and big, wide-lashed eyes.

It was the contestant from the Southern Domes that took Maria’s breath away. She was exceedingly tall with no hair on her entire body. Her skin was translucent like a jellyfish, revealing the innerworkings of her muscles, bones, and blood. Miraculously, her abdomen was split in the middle, generously showing off the snake of her bulging intestines. Maria felt an instant twinge of jealousy but adjusted her crown and continued to smile.

One of the contestants with many distorted limbs fell as she walked onto the stage. One of her three legs broke, the shattered bone sticking at an odd angle through her mustard-yellow skin. A pool of dark blood spread over the marble. Seemingly unaffected, she raised one finger to her lips in a hush hush fashion. An assistant ran onto the stage with a hacksaw, which she then used to saw off the offending limb. After severing it completely, she tossed the leg into the audience while blowing a kiss and resumed her place in the lineup. The girls in the audience fought over the leg.

The Judge made a check in his notebook.

“So, I was told your sister is deaf and you are blind. How do the two of you communicate?” The Judge asked the conjoined twins. It was The Interview section, and Maria understood how important this was. If outer beauty was the only calculation, the girl with translucent skin would have won the minute she walked on stage.

“No,” responded the twin with the white eyes. “My sister is not deaf. She hears just one sound, and it is so loud she can’t hear anything else.”

“Very interesting. What is the sound?”

The twins tapped each other on the arms. Then the white-eyed sister responded, “She says it is the sound of angels singing.”

“The way you tap on each other, is that how you communicate?”

“Yes.”

“A very interesting method considering she is . . . she can’t hear you. And since you are blind you can’t see her.”

The white-eyed twin raised her eyebrows, “I am not blind, Judge.”

“Oh, really? We are all very interested to know more about this, considering that is what is stated on your Pageant application,” Maria filled in. The twin with blue eyes looked directly at Maria. Her smile revealed too many pearly teeth.

“I’m not blind. But I can only see one color. It’s hard to see shapes when everything is the same shade. There is no distinction between one thing and the next.”

The audience was very quiet in the background, hanging on to her strange answers. “What color do you see?” The Judge continued.

“It is impossible for me to describe the color because I’m the only one who has ever seen it. I believe it is the color of God’s Love.”

“A very articulate answer! You and your sister seem to be very religious, a rare trait among this year’s contestants. Next question, if you become the next Miss Lasthome what will you do to improve the world?”

The twins communicated momentarily with their soft taps. “We would spread the message of God’s love to everyone at Lasthome. We know that when it is our time to pass on the crown and step through the Iron Window and onto the Bombed Plains that we will be the first to breathe the air and bring the next generation into the outside world.”

Those in the crowd who had mouths cheered; those who had hands clapped. Maria remained poised and silent, looking out the window and preparing herself for what was to come.

The Judge made a check in his notebook.

The contestant who lost a leg in the swimming suit competition was the first to perform a talent. The crowd was already excited after the dramatics of her initial entrance. Instead of bandaging up the nob of her severed leg, she allowed the blood to continue dripping from the open wound. Although Maria had detested the dramatic entrance, she appreciated that the contestant shared some of Maria’s own qualities. When Maria was just a baby, she was born ugly—disgustingly chubby and rosy cheeked. It wasn’t until she was five that the parasites started invading her body, carving dainty holes into her unmarred flesh, and transforming her into the walking piece of art she was today. Like this contestant, Maria felt little pain and her body was powerful enough to withstand an enormous loss of blood and flesh. It was a very desirable trait.

“Out of all the categories in this Pageant, I’m the most excited to share my talent,” she began. “I love being out in front of people, sharing my gifts, and inspiring children to do the same. My talent is remaking my body to please you, The Audience, and our Great Judge. I was inspired by our reigning Miss Lasthome herself to enter this Pageant, her beauty is truly an inspiration.” She winked at Maria who nodded back, happy to receive the recognition and praise.

The contestant proceeded to break her remaining left leg and then her right leg. She bent over with a great amount of flexibility and turned her feet to face inward. Next, she used her extra arm to break the other two arms, also bending them towards the center of her body. Music started blasting in the background as she scuttled across the stage on all fours, swinging her head back and forth as she moved.

The judge made a check in his notebook.

Maria watched teary-eyed as the contestants walked in for their final Judgements, their ballgowns swishing across the floor. She remembered how it had felt to be on that stage, so confident that she would win and so . . . happy. It was thrilling to be at the edge of her next stage in life, but at the same time sad to know that one of these lucky girls would take her place. Even after a long year with The Judge, she had no idea who he would select. His lack of bias was so pure, above human understanding.

In a ballgown, the girl with translucent skin was exceedingly more radiant than the rest. Her beauty was so pristine, so unique, so transfixing it was difficult for Maria to notice anyone else. Wisely, she had chosen a see-through gown that revealed some veins and muscles while artfully concealing others. Again, she felt the twinge of jealousy. Had her own beauty faded already? How could she keep up with something so new, so fresh? How could The Judge oversee this girl’s beauty and select anyone else?

The Judge made a check in his notebook.

In the end, The Judge chose someone Maria had barely noticed. She was the contestant from the Southern Domes who had no lips, just a gaping hole for a mouth. As she knew she must, Maria stepped down from her chair and pulled the crown from her head. It was so fused into her skin and bones that yanking it out delicately proved challenging. It was hard placing it on the new Miss Lasthome’s head because it was conical shaped and with ears set back far into the skull. Maria wondered how this girl would smile at the crowds without a mouth, how she would wave with those clubbed hands, but as she looked down at her successor, she saw what The Judge had seen—the future.

After the audience had disappeared and the new Miss Lasthome had retreated to her new chambers, Maria stood alone with The Judge for the last time. For someone ageless, he seemed tired. They looked out the window together.

“Are you ready, Maria?” he asked her.

Maria looked at her crownless reflection in the window and wondered if she was still beautiful. Would each generation surpass her good looks, was humanity progressing constantly towards something more and more pristine? Would she be remembered for her year wearing the crown? Would the children take down her pictures from their walls? She knew that the only way to ensure her legacy was to be the first to step into the world-beyond-the-window and walk to the horizon. If her face matched the landscape, perhaps it would accept her.

“I believe that you can do it, Maria. More than I have ever believed in anyone.”

“If not me,” she replied, “perhaps this next Miss Lasthome.”

“Or the next. Or the next.”

Maria forced herself to look down at the ground below the window. The bones of her predecessors were piled against the edge of the dome. Most were stacked high against the wall, their skeleton hands touching the surface, trying to get back inside. Some were as far as a hundred feet away, collapsed in the soft, gray dust. This wouldn’t be her fate. She was the most beautiful Miss Lasthome, the kindest, the smartest, the most talented. It would be her and no one else who would survive, who would walk to the horizon without falling. In this moment, she was prouder than ever of her reflection.

“I’m ready, Judge.”

He kissed the top of her head. She opened the window. And stepped out.