Page 99 of CHOICE Lover
She bites her lip, considering as she eyes the exceedingly large number of zeros in her temporary account. The value of unicoin isn’t anything like the dollar she’s used to, so she has no idea how much she’s earning. At least she’s earning.
Two hours later, she’s ordering cocktails at the Bright Lights, Big City Bar with Sister Xelna. A-Pawstle Calico is curled up beside her on a stool shaped like a skyscraper from her time, “sleeping.” Neon signs displaying adages light up the rest of the room. The only quote she recognizes is “Here’s looking at you, kid.” Next to it is a neon image of a baby goat chewing on a slipper. The energy of the bar is perfect for sharing exciting things.
“I have news!” she cries. She eyes the synth-cat, whose ears twitch.
Sister Xelna puts a hand on her shoulder. “Not to worry. I have Calico’s sleep setting set to four.” Electra has no idea whatfourmeans in terms of robo-animal sleep settings, but she nods anyway. It seems to please the priestess, who continues, matching her energy. “Tell me!”
She grins, sharing about her subscribers and the monetization, while Sister Xelna listens intently, eyes going wider and wider.
When she finally finishes her boisterous mini-monologue, Sister Xelna throws her arms in the air, exclaiming, “How wonderful! I knew you would be MSP’s next social phenomenon.” She pulls Electra into an embrace. “I’m so proud of you!”
The praise feels so good it almost strikes Electra oddly. Has it really been that long since someone told her they were proud of her?
Xelna must read her apprehension, because she continues, “You should be proud of yourself, too. How many people”—she leans forward, lowering her voice—“could wake up in the future and become an overnight advice sensation? It’s like you, and possibly the divine Feline Essence Miss Kitty, knew exactly what we were missing.” She raises a brow as if to impress her point.
“Yeah, I guess so. It’s all so unreal. It’s like I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but everything seems to be turning out okay.”
Sister Xelna chuckles. “Aside from discovering you died in your last life.”
Electra grins. Now that she’s come to terms with it, she can see the humorous calamity that is her life, dark as it is. “Yes, aside from that.”
“So what are you going to do with your newfound fame? Oh!” Sister Xelna straightens so abruptly that Electra glances over her shoulder to see what startled the woman, but there’s nothing there. A hand wraps around her wrist, tugging. She turns back to a nearly maniacally grinning priestess. “NewNews will probably want to interview you. Just think—maybe they’ll offer you a video segment like your stepmom! Then everyone will get freckles!”
It hasn’t slipped Electra’s notice that she’s seen more and more people with artificial polka dots on their cheeks. There were even a few people with sheer outfits showing off entirely speckled bodies. Good on one hand because it makes her freckled avatar less conspicuous.
“I don’t know about an interview. If Res6 sees it, he’ll flip out, and things are going so well between us,” she says, chewing on her lip.
Sister Xelna’s mouth pinches in disapproval. “Has he told you what’s in his supersecret room?”
“No,” she admits.
“Well then, he can just deal with your fame.”
Electra isn’t entirely sure she’s following the logic, considering the idea is for him not to find out. Granted, with a million subscribers, he’ll probably learn of her column eventually.
“What do you think he’s hiding in there, anyway?” Sister Xelna asks.
“Oh, he isn’t necessarily hiding anything.” The lie rolls so easily off her tongue that she almost believes it. Almost as easily as the unease that settles in her gut every time she thinks about the Room of Shoes Waiting to Drop.
Sister Xelna’s brows shoot up. “Electra, dearest. People hide all kinds of things behind closed doors. There was a man in my building who got monthlong leases for manupartners from each manufacturer, including the off-brand ones. His plan was to have a monthlong orgythen turn them all in for recycling at the end of the term. He saved up vacation time and everything. I guess he got so addicted, he failed to turn them in. He barricaded them in his unit, and NHOS had to show up and break his door down. It was quite the scandal.”
Beside her, the synth-cat raises its head, side-eyeing her. Does it know something she doesn’t?No, Electra. It’s a machine. Res6 isn’t hiding a monthslong orgy from you. He got rid of Chryl. You’re safe and everything is fine. Great, even.
She tunes into Sister Xelna, who’s saying “. . . an electronic lockpick with your funds. Hand me your device. I’ll show you how.”
Electra chokes on the sip she just took. “An electronic lockpick?”
The priestess leans forward, collecting her tablet off the bar. She turns the screen toward Electra to unlock it and taps the glass a dozen times. “Yes, see this app I just downloaded for you?” Sister Xelna shows her the Special Ops app she’s using. “There. I loaded some unicoin into your account. When you get your ID and Worldbank account, you can pay me back.”
“But I thought lending money was illegal,” Electra says.
“It is. That’s why I’m paying you for the service of fortune-telling. And when you pay me back, you can make a donation to The Sacred Order of Feline Transcendence.”
“Okay . . .” Does that mean the cat church is a front?
“So all you have to do is purchase one entry. Then, when you’re standing next to the door you want to open, you click Pick. It usually takes a few minutes for the program to hack the entry, but I’ve never had it fail.”
“Okay . . .” Electra repeats, eyeing the woman incredulously. Does she even want to know what locks Sister Xelna is picking?
