Franklin Porter, 26, Development Coordinator at a Nonprofit Museum

A short time prior…

Terra straightened her tie and took a deep breath before knocking on the door to her new…clients’ office. A few days ago she’d been happily going about her work at the grand archives. Her days were filled with cataloguing contestants and challenges for hype packages, collating reports on multiversal interactions for the Goddesses of Continuity, and slipping out to the break room to take advantage of the free espresso machine. Then her boss’s boss decides it finally wants to get into the production game, and before she could grab one last breve she was hauled into a meeting and “congratulated” on her promotion to talent liaison for some rookie showrunners. Sure, maybe way back she had aspirations of being on the production side of things, but she never dreamed it would be by babysitting a couple of jumped-up fanboys trying a frankly ridiculous experiment.

“Come in!” An excited voice called through the door. Terra mentally prepared herself and opened the door.

Inside was an odd take on a fancy study that looked like something out of a parody movie. The dean’s office from Animal House mixed with the audience chamber from The Wizard of Oz, if the wizard had chosen a Ruby and Sapphire city instead of Emerald. Billowing curtains blocked lovely stained-glass windows. A bookcase full of VHS tapes, DVD cases, and film reels dominated the back wall. On her left, Terra spotted a chessboard, left seemingly in the middle of a game. The red and blue pieces seemed to be fairly evenly matched until Terra noticed that both blue bishops were on blue squares and the red side had five knights. On the right, a massive screen displayed an ongoing clip show of various other seasons, haphazardly jumping between steamy sex scenes, dramatic challenges, and twisted transformations. Finally, behind a sturdy oak desk, her life’s two newest problems sat smiling. The Imps, Vee and Dee.

“Heya Terra! Looks like things are off to a great start,” said the crimson imp, Vee, his voice louder than necessary as always. He reached for the remote beside him and muted the volume on the screen. “We’re T-minus a time-dilated vote away from showtime, and our boy is making some progress in the tutorial puzzle.”

“Slow progress,” Vee’s brother grumbled, “And only that because you gave him extra hints. How is he supposed to lead his Harem through the challenges ahead if he can’t figure out a simple puzzle?”

Terra sighed at their bickering and tried to get things back on track. “If the purpose of the puzzle was to show the Master that he has a link to a kind of ‘extraordinary’ information source, then it was likely successful. You’ll just have to balance that out with his own developing agency once you proceed with the season.” She then handed each Imp a page from the clipboard she carried. “Here are the preliminary results of the audience survey.”

“The Casting,” Dee corrected her. “Try and make it sound like the C is capitalized, too.”

“...Sure. As you can see, results were rather spread out, though there are clear leaders in a few places. I do have to question your methodology in some places. Very tall and very short received a near equal share of votes. Does that mean the Master will be average in height, even though that option received the fewest votes?”

The Imps stared at her, and she began to suspect that much like the Master, analysis wasn’t on their own lists of strengths. Vee shrugged, “Well, whatever wins wins, that’s what we wanted. Every vote counts. The Audience eats well, cause we’ve got big, juicy stakes!”

“What should we do with the relationship status question?” Terre pressed on, “Two of the options amount to ‘Not in a relationship’ and the other four are types of ‘in a relationship.’ Overall, that dichotomy is split 50/50.”

“I am sure the last-minute votes will sort that out. We do have plans in place for ties,” Dee responded evasively, drumming his fingers on the desk.

Vee scratched his head as he watched the paper change in real time as the time-shifted results came in. “So what do we know about this guy for sure?”

“As you would expect from a sur…Casting like this, he is a bit of a mess of contradictions.”

Dee deadpanned, “So, human then.” His brother chuckled beside him.

Terra stopped herself from cracking a smile, “Quite. Great scores in Adaptability, Empathy, and Persuasion, but lacking in Eloquence and Technical Savvy, and it appears he has a significant issue with stage fright.”

Vee raised an eyebrow, “Crap, hope he’s not agoraphobic. Would hate to get into a beef with one of the only other seasons that has an Imp.”

“It should be fine, while mildly introverted, his scores in proactivity and optimism wouldn’t indicate such an issue.”

Dee whistled, impressed, “Wow, all wrapped up in some classic pleasure-seeking impulses. Got a bit of an adrenaline junkie.”

“Indeed. Pleasure was chosen as a prime motivating factor in over two-thirds of responses. Challenge, recognition, and learning were all high as well.” Terra continued down the list. “Though I must ask, how is Libido a skill?

Vee stared at her, “Humans can pull off some crazy stuff when they want to get laid. Haven’t you ever had a dream where you, um, you could…you..you want her to do you so much you could do anything?”

Terra ignored the ancient meme before it could make her dumber, and asked, “Are we going to have it be both a strength and a weakness, since it was in the top four of both?”

Dee nodded his head. “Makes sense to me, you live by the sword, etcetera. How about the fetishes?”

“I still can’t believe you included 100 options, but unsurprisingly, it led to a wide net. Only 22 options received no votes, and only 2 were present on over 40% of the submissions,” Terra explained. “While they would make it difficult to establish a consistent theme, that is already covered by the unique audience participation mechanics, so the variety may be an asset.”

“Right, we make sure the master has the two big ones ingrained, and then we can tease out his other major fetishes through the offerings in the Harem,” Dee stroked his chin as he looked at a few options in the 10% range, intrigue obvious on his face.

Terra checked her watch, in the multiversal signal of can we wrap this up? “Well, I should get back to my office and start updating the backend processes. If you want to use your plan for the contestants, we’ll need things to run smoothly and efficiently.”

“Uh…about that?” Vee said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. “We’ll actually need you to take care of something else for us.”

A feeling of unspeakable dread ran up Terra’s spine.

The red Imp continued, “See, we actually asked the audience if they wanted the two of us to host or if we should bring in a proxy. I was sure they’d pick us, cause we’re so awesome, but things didn’t turn out to plan.”

Dee grinned evilly, “I had a hunch, myself. My brother and I will, of course, be happy to give the audience what they want, so we will need to employ your services as the host of the season.”

“What!” Terra shouted, and almost tore her clipboard in two. “That wasn’t part of the assignment! You realize that since we started broadcasting in certain areas of the multiverse, no season has reached its closing ceremony without at least one host either in the harem or…otherwise existentially challenged.”

“Relax, this is a failproof gig. Hosts end up getting punished for overstepping the rules, but there’s only one rule on this season. That’s why we know you’ll do great!” Vee cheered.

Dee elaborated, “No vetos, no mysterious agendas, and we already have a plan for the hotel and its amenities. With how much control is in the audience’s hands, it would be silly for any of them to blame you if anything goes wrong.”

Terra decided not to point out how often other Hosts were blamed for things outside of their control, especially considering the two chucklefucks in front of her had done so on the fan forums enough times that you could print out the comments and use them to wallpaper a mansion. She took a deep breath to steady herself before replying, “Fine. If The Archivist approves, I’ll take care of it.”

Vee grabbed something from the drawer of his desk and tossed it to Terra. She caught it, seeing that it was a golden feather, metallic and heavier than it might look. The red Imp smiled, “Already approved! By the powers invested in Vee, we name you the Host of Harem Hotel: It’s Up to the Audience!”

Terra gave the Imps a look that could curdle milk. “I’ll get changed.” She turned to leave before looking back over her shoulder, “So, what’s this subject’s name, anyway?”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Franklin Porter,” the man spoke aloud to his own reflection. He examined his confused expression, the now familiar short black hair and blue eyes staring back. He ran a hand over his short, closely cropped beard and then placed it next to the frame.

He racked his mind for the last thing he could remember before waking up here.

*****

A string quartet was playing while he hung back watching a mingling crowd. His tuxedo was pressed, fitting nicely, as socialites, journalists, and critics, both professional and amateur, browsed the displays at the museum’s newest exhibition. He was looking over a portrait by Whistler, An Arrangement in Black: La Dame au brodequin jaune, wondering why it fit into an exhibition about supernatural and occult references in American art. Lyra, the Assistant Curator, had seemed irritated that it was a portrait painted in London depicting a Scottish woman, but hadn’t included any information about the occult in her rant.

As if reading his thoughts, the night’s Hostess, Colette Lavigne, the Museum’s curator and his boss’s boss, slotted herself beside him and started speaking immediately. “Lady Archibald Campbell. An orphan who became the ward of a Duke. She was a theater producer and author who wrote about Gaelic folklore and esoterica. Oscar Wilde called her ‘the Moon Lady.’”

Franklin nodded along, always impressed by the amount of facts the Curator could stuff into her head about each piece in her exhibits. The State Museum she ran housed over 100,000, and he’d be hard pressed to bet against her being able to do the same for each one. “Impressive,” he responded, allowing the question of whether he meant the painting or her display of knowledge to hang in the air.

She gave him a wry smile. “Now you can use that information to impress some of our guests. Go be your charming self. We’re never off the clock during an event like this.”

“Right. Of course,” he said, turning to consider the crowd again. He had penned the invitation letters to tonight’s gala, reached out to many of the night’s guests over the phone to encourage their attendance, and even arranged the private viewing for the Governor’s family prior to the festivities kicking off. All a part of the role of Development Coordinator. Franklin liked history and art well enough, so helping the museum keep its funding topped up while schmoozing some rich and beautiful people was a role he could be happy with. He had hated the occasional public tour he was pressed to give, but in small groups, he had proven quite adept at opening pocketbooks, and occasionally, as a bonus, other things. “Member Management” was in his job description, after all.

He noticed the manufacturing heiress, Margaret Haverbrook, arriving with her daughter, Genevieve. The mother was a handsome woman, wearing her 50 years well, with silver hair and an elegant dress. She had been offered an early viewing as well, but chose instead to be fashionably late, Franklin supposed. Her daughter was a youthful vision, inheriting her once chestnut brown hair and piercing green eyes. She was dressed up to be seen, already greeting a few others she’d recognized.

Franklin grabbed two flutes of champagne from a passing member of the catering staff. He figured it couldn’t hurt to greet the two and see if they wanted to hear about a Gaelic folklorist in a jaunty brocade. As he made his way over, he started to feel a bit dizzy. He had indulged in a glass of champagne earlier in the night, but certainly not enough to leave him tipsy. The gallery shrank in as he took a few more unsteady steps, and then he heard the sound of breaking glass and a few gasps as he lost consciousness.

*****

Franklin’s brow creased as he came to the end of his memories. Had he been kidnapped from the gala? If this were for ransom, there were certainly better targets than an entry-level employee in nonprofit management. How did they get him out? Surely someone would have called an ambulance when he dropped in the middle of a crowded room. Was he diverted on the way to the hospital to wherever this place was?

He recalled the note. Harem Hotel. As much fun as a harem sounded, **** and strange white rooms didn’t bode well for the start of his. He needed to prepare himself for whatever was on the other side of that door.

Turning back to the desk, he grabbed the hole punch from where it remained. He supposed it would make a suitable blunt weapon in a pinch but would be difficult to hide. Then he looked back at the mirror. Throwing caution to the wind, he hurled the office supply at the mirror, which broke with a satisfying crack. He took a good-sized chunk of the glass and carefully wrapped it in a strip from his ruined boxers, then walked over to the keypad.

He had heard several numbers in the cacophony of voices that had flitted through his mind while he looked in the mirror. He tried a few, 8008 and 6969, resulting in the familiar sharp tone of rejection. He was beginning to doubt the usefulness of his inner voice when one number seemed to drift to the top of his head. Something about the photo in the red frame, the color that matched the keypad, and the word “Rejected” he could see below it.

The word sparked something deep in his mind. He couldn’t understand how he knew it, but with a confidence born from somewhere that the answer was obvious, he typed in 8898.

The keypad gave a happy beep, and with a mechanical groan, the door slid down slowly. Based on the stark white room he had woken up in, Franklin wasn’t expecting what he found on the other side.

He found himself in the spacious lobby of what looked like a Victorian hotel. Cherrywood columns supported an exposed second floor, with balcony railings fashioned with intricate patterns in wrought iron. A grand staircase dominated one end of the lobby, with the front desk on the other, dark wood with gold trim. A massive chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, lighting up the room in all its ostentatious glory.

Looking back over his shoulder, he saw that the door he had come through had already closed. Not only that, but instead of being a sleek, mechanical white, what stood in its place was a normal wooden door with deep inset panels and a small plaque that read “CDXXXV.”

Before he could start puzzling over this latest inexplicable detail, he was interrupted by a voice from behind. “Master Porter, it is a delight to welcome you to our show. Great work in there! The Casting must have gone very well to give us such a fine specimen.”

Franklin turned back around, keeping the shard of glass behind his back. He was taken aback by the sight that greeted him.

“Greetings, Master Porter. You can call me Terra.”

____________________________________________________________________________

Back in their office, Dee and Vee watched the first meeting of their season’s Master and Host on their big screen, eager to see what happened next. Then they remembered that they had some outstanding business to take care of and turned to the cameras directly.

“Thanks to everyone who voted on the Master! Hopefully you liked the result so far, and don’t worry, we’ll be giving you more insights into his fetishes as we introduce the contestants,” Vee said, bouncing in his seat.

“Speaking of the contestants,” Dee interjected, “this wouldn’t be Harem Hotel: It’s Up to the Audience if we didn’t include you in the selection process, now would it?”

On the desk, three folders materialized, each with a headshot stapled to the front.

Vee explained, “For our first contestant, we’re dipping into the results of the Master’s current romantic situation. The top two options in the Casting were Single and Recent Breakup, so there's no current wife or girlfriend we can bring on in this case.”

“Excellent. Our master seeks pleasure above all. It makes sense that he wouldn’t want to be tied down.” Dee smirked, “Though perhaps he has some old wounds to dig through.”

Dee took the first folder off the desk. “In keeping with our season’s theme, you’ll have the opportunity to decide between multiple options for each contestant spot. One contestant will be cast, while the others will remain in the past.”

Vee gave a fist pump, “Big juicy stakes!”

Dee opened the first folder, and a holographic figure materialized in front of the desk. She was a tall, slender brunette with her long hair up in a ponytail, wearing a crisp uniform of a tour guide.

“Georgia Grant, the Master’s most recent hook-up. She is an intern at the Museum where he works, 21 years old, and studying Art History at college. They hit it off at a company charity drive, and after a night of passion and a somewhat awkward morning, neither has yet chosen to broach the subject of possible further exploits,” the blue Imp explained.

Vee grabbed the second folder, opening it and revealing a woman holding a camera and dressed in a heavy winter coat. Her short, curly red hair poked out from underneath a wool hat.

“If you want an ex that was a bit of a longer-term relationship, might we tempt you with Sloane Murray? She’s a 24-year-old graphic designer and aspiring photographer who our Master met when she was doing some freelance work for the museum. The two felt a spark thanks to their shared, easygoing attitude and struck up a casual relationship that lasted 8 months. They both might have gotten a bit restless, or worried that things were getting too serious, so they eventually ended things as Sloan prepared for a month-long trip touring Europe.”

Dee stroked his chin, musing, “Interesting. Photographer could make an interesting tf path, I think. However, there’s still one more candidate for the audience to consider.” He took the last folder off the desk, and the image of a short, dark-haired woman appeared beside the others. She was a slender woman with dark eyes wearing a lab coat over sensible clothing.

“Dara Li,” The blue Imp said gravely, “A 27-year-old biochemist who was the Master’s college lover and for one tumultuous week, his fiancée. Highly intelligent, logical, and career-driven, she was two grades ahead of our Master, and the pull of graduate school ultimately led to the collapse of their relationship. Might we give them a second chance, or show the woman who broke our Master’s heart that there are more important things than what can be found in a lab?”

Vee clapped, “It’s up to you. Vote at the link below for which former flame you want to be the first contestant we meet in the next chapter! Who do you want to see transformed the most?”

Contestant Casting 1: Former Flames

Vee continued, “Thanks again for your interest! If you have any comments, advice for Franklin, or questions, feel free to post them here or join us on the Harem Hotel Discord! Heck, you can even send us an email at our new address, [email protected]!