Cat laughed, despite herself. She shouldn’t have, knowing the termination letter staring her in the face was authentic. Corporate culture was rife with toxicity and unrealistic expectations, and that shouldn’t be making her laugh. She should be vomiting. It was sad, dangerous, and all too common in the world—especially Taygete. SuperLife wasn’t near as suffocating as some of the other corporate societies, but the wrong manager at the wrong time could turn a good day bad, and a bad day awful.

“I’ve never been much of a stickler for rules myself, Angie,” Cat said, placing her chin on her hands and smiling fondly at her friend. “I struck out on my own for years, ‘cause I didn’t want to be cooped up with my bitch of a mother until I was twenty. If I had let her, she’d probably have married me off like we were still in the Middle Ages or something. I had my own little renaissance, though I don’t think it was quite as abrasive as yours.”

She chuckled again, but her smile slowly faded. “It’s not really about being popular,” she said quietly. “I want to help people. Can’t just stand by and watch this city bore itself to death. I still read through comments despite some awful behavior because some people actually want to ask questions. I’m doing this for them. Not me. I think.”

That last part was the real kicker, though. What good could a girl dancing on a stage do for others, when all anyone ever wanted to see was less clothing and more skin? If she didn’t use that strange power of hers to ‘enhance’ her performances, would she be any more popular than the local strippers? She didn’t know. She’d probably never know. And that, despite all she said, bothered her.

I never asked for this power, she thought. She shook her head and smiled at Angie again. “You said we were shopping today, yeah? As much as I like talkin’ to you, if we don’t get up now we never will. And I have a show to prep for tonight.”