What was real and what was a dream, I wasn’t really sure. When I woke once more, I was back in the school. In the infirmary this time. There was no ...ain, exactly, but I felt sore and tired. I sat up slowly, and the nurse came over. Tentatively, unwilling to face the truth, my hand reached back to feel my skull. Intact, no scars, scabs, or even any bruising. For a brief moment, I held out hope that something had gone wrong, or right, and I had been saved before they implanted the chip. But no, I. Like the time I slinked up to him doe-eyed and sensuous in the break room while he was getting coffee, leaned in as if for a kiss, then brusquely said "excuse me" and walked right on past with a brush of my boob leaving him flat-footed and flustered. Or the time in the crowded elevator when I managed to stand directly in front of him, "accidentally" dropped my binder, and, bending to pick it up, made sure that the bulge in his Dockers pressed into the cleavage of my backside. I swear I felt it. More

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