Light peeking from between the heavy curtains of my window knocked on my eyelids. It wasn’t the sun; my internal body clock usually woke me up before sunrise. This was Vegas, so it had to be bullshit drones projecting crappy ads everywhere.

Someone really needed to stop this. My petition-signing idea might prod politicians to act.

Most likely not.

Maybe I should just destroy this city? Not counting the invasive ads issue, a lot of Americans would agree that Las Vegas was long overdue for destruction. This was a gambling city before the advent of bioaugmentronics. That included illegal stuff that went along with gambling, like drugs and money laundering.

Now, Vegas was supposedly the city of the future. Well, yeah. It was a dystopian-future-movie kind of city that shouldn’t be anyone's goal. It was an open secret that illegal augmentations were going on everywhere. All the problems of old Vegas were still present too. Impressive they didn’t have notable Adumbrae problems.

But destroying this city meant our condo would be included. We were in the nicer part of Vegas, at the edge of the skyscrapers forming the business district. Only legitimate augmentations here, or so they say.

Mom bought this unit way back when she was still with Greaves and got assigned to their Vegas office for a stint. Instead of renting, she got this place as an investment. Sure enough, prices skyrocketed and this was currently valued at several times its original price.

I suspected Mom later bought other units she didn’t tell me about. She wasn’t lavish in spending her modestly high income; that money had to go somewhere. Preparing for retirement probably.

Sometimes, I have this feeling she didn’t completely trust me. Me! A twenty-something strong and not-so-independent woman still mooching off of her. Mom should be grateful to me. She should see what crap others of my generation have gotten into. I could be worse.

Did she think I’d be a lazy bum if I knew I had a golden nest to fall back on? She’d be right, actually. She was also right on the part not to trust me. Heck, I was doing adult shenanigans with my best friend while Mom was in the next room.

Was I becoming a delinquent?

To prove that hypothesis wrong, I decided to start my day early and get on with law school work. The option to attend online classes was available because of the Adumbrae stuff that happened in La Esperanza recently. The cases we were assigned to read were online, and we were supposed to pass a bunch of papers as a substitute for recitation. The professors weren’t going to read our submissions, too much work for them, so I’d just do the absolute minimum.

Okay, I guess I’m being a delinquent. It was hard to be serious with normal life knowing that I was no longer normal and had no way of becoming normal. An exercise in futility.

I was about to get out of bed, but something held me back. Or someone.

An arm was inside my shirt, raising it and exposing my midriff, its hand grabbing my left breast. Another arm was under my side, wrapping around my waist. Did this bitch grope me the entire night?

I thought Deen’s sense of shame after the deed—our deeds—would stop her from doing anything to me while I was asleep. She still had shame, didn’t she? She even divided our sides of the bed with pillows. At least, that was what I assumed I heard her do because I was facing the windows the entire night.

Sort of pointless doing that pillow-wall thing. I supposed that was more for stopping herself, removing the temptation, and such… which didn’t work out. Points for the moment of sanity though.

I also heard and felt Deen play with herself. Either that, or she was trying to light a fire. Or maybe shine a shoe. I shouldn’t be too judgmental but I couldn’t think of why she’d moan while rubbing sticks together. So, yeah. I supposed Deen had turned pretty shameless… when it was just the two of us. I hoped she was still terrified of her nasty side getting exposed to the public or else I’d lose a powerful deterrent.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

I didn’t know how long her efforts to primitively make fire lasted—I bet she was super turned on doing it beside me—or how many times she came because I fell asleep soon enough. Pretty tiring that thing we did. I didn’t fake anything because why would I?

Just thinking of it as a perk of manipulating Deen. It was fun, honestly.

Mildly surprised that I didn’t find physical contact with her disgusting anymore. Given all the stuff that we’ve done, this was going to happen eventually. She succeeded in trying to condition me like a dog.

I slowly pulled Deen’s arm off my body. She hugged me tighter.

I frowned. Why was I concerned about waking her up? Ashamed of last night?

Nope. She should be ashamed to face me. I pried her arms open and jumped off the bed. My pervert best friend remained asleep. She felt around the bed for a pillow and hugged that instead of me. I massaged my temple, realizing the horrors I’ve been condemned to endure for the foreseeable future.

Was there no way we could sleep separately? After last night, I couldn’t think of an excuse or reason that’d work.

I fixed my clothes, checked myself in the mirror, and went out of my room, bringing my laptop with me. I should return that stupid mirror outside later.

“Good morning, Erind dear.”

I jolted in surprise. I didn’t expect Mom would be here. She was on the table, in front of her laptop. “Good morning, Mom,” I said. “You’re up early. Did you sleep well?”

When we still lived together, I prepared breakfast and then woke her up. She often worked into the night and had online meetings with various people in different time zones. I figured that she’d be tired from her trip, plus jet lag, that she’d sleep in today. I planned to make tea and do schoolwork.

“Yes, tiredness caught up to me.” She looked up from her work, her aug-eyes changing colors as she focused on me.

She didn’t have x-ray vision, did she? Those eyes weren’t for the mass market. They were prototypes of a big experimental project her friend used to work on. It wouldn’t be far-fetched they’d have over-the-top features. Even thermal vision would be bad if it could pierce the thin walls of our unit and see into my room. If Mom looked at the right time, she’d see our bodies in positions with no logical explanation. I wanted to ask her, but that’d just raise suspicions.

“I slept like a rock,” Mom continued. “But I have work to finish this morning.” She patted the top of her laptop screen. “I want my entire day to be free to spend with my daughter and her best friend.”

I was careful not to show relief that Mom didn’t hear Deen and me making fire. “Sounds great, Mom. What do you want for breakfast? I bought groceries yesterday.”

She grinned. “How responsible of you.”

“I’ve been living on my own for a few years now,” I said, going along with the mother-daughter banter. Part of me did miss Mom. “I know that food is important. Realized that pretty quickly.”

“How about the breakfast your dad used to prepare for us?”

“Bacon, eggs, orange juice? The breakfast of the American Dream.”

“Yes. But I’d also like something sweet.”

“I’ll add in French toast.” I started collecting ingredients from the fridge and pantry. It felt sort of fulfilling doing something responsible. Erind Hartwell was going to be the perfect daughter.

“By the way, dear. Don’t we have a tall mirror here? Where did it go?”

I pressed my eyelids shut for a moment before turning around. “Uh, yeah. Deen transferred it to my room. She has this entire skin care regimen going on each night—pretty insane, actually—and the small mirror on my study table wasn’t enough for her ritual.”

Mom nodded. “Her skin does look flawless. You should ask for beauty tips from her.”

“I’m fine with how I look, Mom. They’re not testing how flawless our skin is in law school.”

Mom chuckled. “I’m not criticizing your looks, dear. You’re very beautiful. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Doesn’t count if a mother says that to her daughter, was what I wanted to say. But I held my tongue.

“It’s just for making conversation with Deen,” Mom went on. “Even if it doesn’t interest you, exert some effort learning about the things your friend is doing. I’m quite surprised you two became friends. An odd pair you make out to be.”

“Odd how?” I asked with narrowed eyes. “Is it because she looks like part of the quintessential cheerleader crowd and I don’t? Like, I was an actual cheerleader and she isn’t. Or do you mean she’s prom queen material? I think she was one. As for me, even if I attended prom, no one’s going to nominate me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, dear. I wasn’t talking about looks. I meant it’s odd a very extroverted person became best friends with you, an introverted girl.”

“Extroverts are required to adopt an introvert, Mrs. Hartwell,” Deen said, popping out of my room. “Erind just so happens to be mine.” The bitch glanced my way. “Sorry for butting in the conversation. And good morning, everyone!”