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other slaves, he was quite sure, at the swap parties his master would participate in. If the teachers at Ganymede were correct, swap parties were practically all young gentlemen did with their free time. The masters would trade slaves with one another, and Martin was amenable to this, of course, but what he was looking forward to were the couplings with other slaves, the sex performed for the delectation of masters. It seemed possible he’d meet a boy who’d care for him, another Georgie or Charlie who would like him especially well, and he was very much looking forward to his master’s swap parties for this reason.
    Rex and Otto were enlisted to collect everyone’s cups and sandwich wrappers—Standard boys always did clean-up—and Mr. Elliott asked again if anyone had questions about the auction.
    “Really, don’t you boys have questions about anything? Anything at all? The auction hall? The city?” Mr. Elliott seemed baffled by their lack of curiosity. “We’ve taught you as best we can, but I’m quite sure that living in the city will be a difficult adjustment for most of you.”
    “Why is that, Mr. E?” asked Artie, one of the Standard boys. “Why will it be difficult?”
    “Most boys are overwhelmed by the crowds and the noise and the dirt. Even with so many boys, the farm is very quiet in comparison.” Mr. Elliott considered a moment, then added, “You’ll all be going to grand homes, and you’ll likely be outfitted in good style, but out on the streets you’ll see evidence of poverty like nothing you’ve ever imagined and it can be very shocking.”
    “We weren’t rich at Ganymede, though, Mr. E,” Rex pointed out.
    Mr. Elliott and Mr. Jacob gave each other wry looks. Mr. Elliott said, “Ganymede gave you everything necessary to bring you to this point. You weren’t given luxuries because you didn’t require them, but you certainly didn’t grow up in poverty and deprivation!”
    They had grown up with the knowledge that elsewhere, in the wider world, boys had their own bicycles and needn’t bicker about whose turn it was to ride. Elsewhere, boys had toys all to themselves. Elsewhere, boys had clothes that were bought new, just for them. But none of them had ever met boys like that; all they knew were the others on the farm, so it was hard to be envious of these imagined boys with their myriad privileges.
    Of course, now each one of them was about to become another thing a privileged boy would have all to himself.
    There’d been some attempts to train them to function in a city. Ganymede’s rickety horse-drawn omnibus was pulled up and down the road running past the farm loaded with boys taking turns playing at master and slave traveling via public conveyance. They’d pored over maps and handbooks. They’d been encouraged to be succinct and assertive in their dealings with shopkeepers. It had been impressed upon them that they should never, ever dawdle on a city sidewalk.
    They were encouraged to depend upon their new family’s existing slaves for guidance, to learn from their examples. A family’s more senior companions would hopefully be welcoming to the newcomers and eager to help them learn to best please their young masters. The goal was to provide excellent, high-level service without any disruptions secondary to a slave’s unfamiliarity with city activities like riding public transport or negotiating a busy sidewalk. When a new companion climbed on an omnibus for the first time, his master shouldn’t have any idea he’d never done it before.
    While they didn’t have practical experience of a city, they had practiced everything else. They knew how to dress and undress a gentleman. They knew a multitude of knots for neckties. They knew how to shave a man smoother than he’d ever shaved himself. They’d learned how to massage sore muscles and tense necks. They excelled at schoolwork. They’d learned to play all sorts of games that a young master might enjoy, poker and chess