Chapter 17
Electra
She leans back on the couch, draping herself with the blanket that she took the liberty of ordering.
It’s kind of amazing that she can get onto the Shopazon app and anything she orders is in the smartwaiter delivery box within the hour.
Of course, she’s only bought the bare necessities, considering she’s not spending her own money.
And the prices of everything are shocking.
There is no real way to equate it to the value of stuff during her time, but the numbers feel huge.
Still, she needs her own unicoin, so if she needs something, she can buy it for herself.
Freeloading off him isn’t right, even if he feels like he owes it to her.
It’s her job to take care of herself, so it’s up to her to figure out how to do that.
That’s why she came up with a new way to frame the column—the only avenue she can think of to earn money.
And the validation you’re still chasing.
Shut up, Janet.
She discovered that if you get enough subscribers on FrogBlog, you can offer a paid subscription. It’s not like she can get a job as a bartender like she did in her time while trying to make it as a writer. The column is really the perfect solution.
“Res6,” she says. He jerks, glancing up from his desk.
He’s been extra twitchy since the robbery.
She asked him if he was okay a few times, but he plastered on his fake smile and lied to her, so she stopped pushing.
He’ll tell her what’s on his mind if and when he’s ready.
She needs to tackle the issue she’s been stewing over. Here goes nothing! “I need a job.”
He blinks as if the word job is foreign to him.
“Why?”
“Money, obviously.”
“I have plenty of unicoin. Just worry about being happy.”
“But what if I want something expensive?”
“I showed you the app. Buy it.”
“But that’s your money. I need my own.”
He raises a brow. “Is there something wrong with my money?”
She sighs, slouching back on the couch. “No.”
“Good. No need for a job then.” He looks back at his system.
Her plan isn’t going to plan. She needs to up the ante. What can she say she wants that might make him flinch? “What if I want a system of my own?” He glances back up, cocking his head in interest. “And a desk, with a fancy chair like yours.”
“Buy it, Electra. Treat my money as if it’s yours. We’ve been over this.”
“That’s not the point.” Heaven forbid a woman wants financial agency.
Though she’s pretty confident that Res6 would never try to leverage his money to control her.
He probably wouldn’t even think of it, considering that the equalization event she read about allegedly killed the patriarchal gender constructs of her time.
Apparently, when the world fell into disarray, people stopped clinging to gender norms. Everyone did what they could to survive.
As much as she was a feminist during her time, she recognizes it’s her own internalized patriarchal lens that needs to be shifted.
Not that the future doesn’t have its own problems—ahem: manupartners.
Still, the modern gender-egalitarian paradigm is one of the reasons she trusts him not to use his money to control her.
Besides, it’s not like she would actually splurge on something like that when the tablet works just fine. Especially with someone else’s money.
“Then what is the point?” he asks. She doesn’t answer because she’s not entirely sure of the point herself. “Do I need to get you your own account that isn’t tied to me?”
“If I don’t have any money to put into it—”
“I will put the money into it. Then it will be yours.”
“Why are you being so difficult?” She glances at the particle panes, which display a stream scene, then back to him. His brows arch as if implying, See, you’re the difficult one. “I feel guilty taking your money, okay? I didn’t earn it, so I don’t deserve it.”
He grins. “Oh, well, let me help you with that. I earned it, and I want you to have some of it.” She opens her mouth to argue, but he holds a hand up.
“You’ve been through an ordeal that is a direct result of my choices.
Therefore, I think you deserve it.” She frowns.
“If you need to occupy your time, there are plenty of things you can do. What about writing books again?” he asks. “That’s a good idea.”
“No,” she grumbles.
“Why not? I’ve read all your alien books. They’re good,” he says. “If you want a job, why don’t you do that?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know if I can create characters future people will relate to.” She waves a hand in his direction. “You don’t count.”
Truthfully, after years of query rejections, she isn’t sure she can go through it again.
She’d been weeks away from giving up when a publisher reached out because they saw her talking about her books on social media and made her the offer that set everything in motion.
After over a hundred noes from agents, she’d come to the determination that there wasn’t a place for her in that world.
Now, with everything she’s going through, it feels too risky.
Like exposing herself to that level of vulnerability would be what finally causes her to lose hope.
“Approach it from a different angle, then,” he suggests.
“What do you mean?”
“Like that part where Felicity tames a flying lizard monster and saves Bastian from the marauders, so he thanks her by pleasuring her atop said monster during their escape.” It’s her turn to blink at him in amazement.
“I feel like people now would find that very enjoyable. Maybe you could even partner with a simulation chamber and have them recreate scenes from the books for people to act out.”
Of all the scenes he would bring up . . . Well, he invented sex clones, so maybe having him read her sexy scenes isn’t that disturbing. “Are you suggesting I write erotica to relate to future people?”
His brow wrinkles. “Is that what it’s called?”
“While there is absolutely nothing wrong with erotica, you realize sex wasn’t the focus of my books, right?”
“Yes, I realize that. It was only a suggestion.”
She can’t help but laugh. What a pair they would make—him with his manupartners and her with her erotic simulation chambers. Truthfully, she’s surprised they don’t already exist. “Okay then. Thanks for the suggestion.”
“You’re welcome,” he says in complete seriousness, turning back to his desk and assuming the intensely focused gaze that tells her he’s gone back to whatever he’s been preoccupied with since the robbery.
Which she totally gets. She’s been a little on edge too, and it’s not even her company.
Recovering a sense of security will take time for them both.
Not that she ever had one to begin with.
A few minutes pass, and she catches him stealing brief glances at her.
Eventually he says, “Are you going to order the desk and system?”
“No,” she says, not looking up from her tablet. Is that what’s been on his mind?
“Why not?”
“I don’t need it. The tablet is fine.” She’s clutching it like he might take it away from her.
“I see,” he says, eyeing her tight grip on the device. “How are you going to write thousands of words on that? Unless you’d prefer to go back to the lab to get an m-volt implant?”
A shudder racks her spine. After the robbery, going back to the lab is the last thing she wants to do. “No thanks. And I told you, I’m not writing books.”
“Then what are you doing on there? Writing Brain Dumps about how handsome I am?” he asks, wearing a delicious smirk. She isn’t sure she can handle it if he becomes charming, too.
She almost reminds him she’s not a manupartner, but she's pretty sure he’s stopped pretending she is, considering his confession.
Instead, she says, “That’s not funny. Remember, my Brain Dumps are off limits.
” God, if he only knew what she was writing about him.
She adds a dramatic groan for emphasis and turns away, hiding her embarrassing blush.
“I told you I’m starting an advice column, so I’m doing research and making notes. ”
This catches his attention. He stands and walks over to the L-shaped couch. “Electra, I asked you to reconsider.” When she only arches a stubborn brow, he presses, “We should probably discuss this further. We could go to a simula—”
“This isn’t up for discussion,” she snaps, cradling the tablet to her chest.
He sighs, running his hand through his obscenely touchable-looking hair. “I told you it isn’t advisable. It is my responsibility to protect you.”
“And I told you that no one will find out my identity. I’ve already created a username and have friends. Everyone thinks I’m just another MSP citizen.”
“Electra—” he starts.
“Don’t Electra me. You get to keep Chryl, and I disagree with that.
That means I get to have my advice column.
” Her argument feels a little shaky given that she’s living in his apartment and eating his food.
He’s intent on her spending his money though, so for the time being, she supposes she’ll drop the Chryl issue for now.
His lips press together, and he eyes her like he’s debating something. “I think you’re underestimating the danger. Bexly and his team just finished the physical inventory, and your remaining DNA samples were in the cache the robbers stole.”
“Oh my God. Are you only telling me so I won’t do my column?” she asks. Would he do that? At least his twitchiness makes sense now. He’s worried about her.
He inhales deeply, as though this conversation pains him. “Of course not. I’ve told you repeatedly, your safety is my primary concern.”
The conviction in his voice is almost desperate. Her heart squeezes. “Okay. I believe you. So, you had more of my DNA?” Why hasn’t she thought to ask if there was more of it? “Wait, can other MSP citizens order manupartners that look just like me?”
He shakes his head. “I should have pulled it. Destroyed it. This is my fault.”