Ch. 6
I was jerked awake by a knock on the door. "Christian, Anastasia, dears, it's 7:00. Gretchen will be serving breakfast in half an hour," Grace called out.
"Got it, Grace!" I called. Christian was still waking up.
Christian yawned and stretched from where he'd gotten entangled with me overnight. "Bathroom's over there," he pointed.
I thanked him and went in. I did my prayer to the porcelain god and used a brush to at least tame my hair. Seriously, why did I grow it out this long again? It was so much maintenance. Oh, right, because I had a vision of myself with long hair as a little girl and it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Well, Christian liked long hair, so I'd resist the urge to shave it all off Fantine-style.
I came out so Christian could do his own business. Not feeling like wearing yesterday's clothes, I went snooping through Christian's old drawers. I found a jersey that fell to my knees and some drawstring shorts that at maximum tightness wouldn't be in danger of me mooning passerby.
Christian came out and paused.
"What? Sorry, I should have asked permission before going through your stuff," I realized.
"That's not it. You look… good in my clothes. Somehow cute and sexy at the same time," Christian said.
"I like wearing your clothes. They smell like you," I admitted.
Christian grinned. "I know exactly what you mean. I sniffed your panties quite a few times Saturday morning before you woke up."
"Not quite the sentiment I meant, but same principle, I suppose," I blushed. "Now, do you have a bag I can carry this stuff with?"
Christian found an old backpack and helped me load yesterday's camisole, shirt, and skirt into it. He included a few of his old favorites, including his briefs, for me to keep tucked away for a stay-in day we could spend together. I put on my strappy sandals from yesterday, which clashed with my male casual clothes but whatever, I wasn't getting ready to walk a runway.
Christian led me to the dining room again, apparently they had breakfast and lunch there too in this house. Carrick and Grace were already seated, Carrick in a power suit and tie, Grace in business casual and a white lab coat hung over her chair.
"Morning, Mr. and Dr. Grey. In a couple years, it'll be Dr. and Dr. How will you distinguish each other?" I asked to let them know we'd arrived.
"I hyphenated my name when I married Carrick, he'll be plain Dr. Grey and I'll be Dr. Trevelyan-Grey," Grace beamed at me. "What would you like to drink? We have fresh-squeezed orange juice, whole milk, a variety of teas, and an espresso machine."
"Triple shot Americano, black, if you don't mind," I asked.
"Two shot latte, Mom," Christian gave his own order.
Grace nodded and got up to go to the kitchen, which I may have had a tiny orgasm upon touring yesterday. I couldn't wait to help Gretchen and Grace out with a major 4th of July feast. Hopefully, I'd be around for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner as well. Oh, wait, Christian's birthday was coming sooner. But that would probably be at Escala.
"Did you sleep well, you two?" Carrick asked politely, sipping his juice. He was getting older, cutting back on caffeine for the sake of his heart.
"I don't have nightmares when I sleep with Anastasia. I've never slept better than the nights we're together," Christian said upfront, not embarrassed at all to discuss sleeping with a woman with his own father.
"Well, that's marvelous!" Carrick said brightly.
"I had a bad dream yesterday morning, but last night was fine. And I'll keep quiet about my inner brat complaining about how Christian got a King-sized bed growing up while I got a futon my mom found at a garage sale," I answered, rubbing my eyes.
"Before that bed, I was sleeping on a pile of blankets in the corner of the bedroom, Anastasia," Christian said softly.
"I did not mean to start a deep and profound discussion on socioeconomic status during one's formative years. Forget I said anything. Where's Kate and Elliot?" I asked.
"They got a room to themselves for the night. Last night might have taken a dark turn, but today's a new day. They're both making good use of their morning wood, believe me," Christian chuckled.
"Wouldn't bet against it," Carrick sighed. "Thank God I soundproofed all the bedrooms when we bought this house."
Grace returned with two coffee cups, handing the one with all-black liquid to me and the light brown to Christian.
I slipped the watered espresso and glanced at Grace and Carrick. "Pardon my rudeness, but I have to ask. Why did you adopt 3 children and never have biological children?"
"Anastasia," Christian said sharply.
"Relax, dear, it's a fair question," Grace soothed her son. "Carrick's sperm are immotile. I could have gotten a donor and did IVF or surrogacy, but I realized I didn't want to bring a child into this world that wasn't half his. I donated my eggs to a clinic and we adopted Elliot after we went through the process of being vetted by the agency. Christian I found during the course of my work, and Mia was a girl to round out our little family."
"I'm not familiar with adoption law in general, let alone in the state of Michigan. They really let you take Christian home straight from the hospital after police found him and his birth mom?" I asked.
"Oh, no. We had to wait several months for approval from a judge. Christian went to a foster home until we adopted him once he was discharged," Carrick spoke up.
"I did?" Christian asked in shock.
"You were only 4, dear, and had just had a rather traumatic experience. You can be forgiven for not remembering. I remember one day we came to visit you, you were playing with this older boy. He had a nickname for you, 'Baby Bird'," Grace recalled.
"Jack!" Christian said, the memory snapping into clarity. "I forgot all about him. Wow. Thanks for reminding me. I wonder what happened to him."
"He either got adopted or aged out, sad but true," I said, patting his hand. "If you really want and remember a last name, you can have Welch go digging."
"Hyde. Jack Hyde. I remember now, he had a copy of Jekyll and Hyde and told me how his name was like the character. He was really protective of it, he bloodied another kid's nose for ripping a page out of it," Christian recalled, the whole hall of his memory regarding this chapter of his life refreshed. I always wondered what it must be like to not remember everything perfectly at any moment you wanted.
Gretchen came in with eggs sunny-side up, lox, and small bowls of oatmeal with strawberry slices as garnish. We started to eat. Kate and Elliot finally arrived about halfway through the meal, both grinning unrepentantly when we sent them knowing looks.
"So, what's the plan for the day?" Carrick asked, and I knew this was a ritual from family breakfasts of the past.
"Two surgeries before lunch, then just the rounds on the floor until my shift ends," Grace grinned at her husband.
"We break ground on a new project today, I got a lot of work to do," Elliot grinned, looking forward to the challenge.
"Driving back to Portland with Anastasia and Kate, then teleworking from the hotel," Christian reported.
I sensed Mia would have spoken next if she'd been there. I took her place. "A grand total of bupkis. Free as a bird. Might just go exploring around Portland, use some of that signing bonus on a shopping spree or something. And yes, Christian, before you say anything, I'll bring Prescott."
"Gotta finish off the article on Christian for the graduation issue of the paper, deadline's tonight. It's pretty good, if I do say so myself. I'm thinking of adding it to my portfolio," Kate added.
"Splendid. My day's boring, just three routine cases and a consultation. I have an online class at 3:00, though," Carrick revealed.
We finished off the food, and we all headed for the door. I had the backpack Christian had given me over my shoulder. I saw Carrick and Grace exchanging a quick kiss at the door before both went for their individual cars. I noted Carrick had a plain black Mercedes sedan while Grace had a humble Volvo. Elliot gave Kate her own kiss and left for his Jeep he'd driven here from Portland yesterday. She sighed dreamily, staring at him as he walked away.
I nudged Kate with my hip. "And you accused me of falling for Christian too fast. You met him Friday night!"
"When you know, you know," Kate shrugged.
"Couldn't agree more," Christian said under his breath.
I waited until the 3 cars left and pulled out the driveway. I was on my way to my own red Honda Accord when a minivan with a logo and phone number on the door pulled in and blocked me. The doors opened and uniformed cleaners came out. Their thoughts were a mixture of Russian and English in the way I associated with the bilingual.
"That's the cleaning service Mother hired," Christian explained to us. He looked at me. "They're all Russian immigrants, maybe you could chat with them a bit."
Christian only suggested it so he could hear me speak another language, but I was onboard. I greeted the team, who I learned were all sisters and cousins living in one cramped house of their American-born male relative who ran the business. I introduced myself, Kate, and Christian and just exchanged small talk. I warned them about the vomit waiting in the living room and the team leader, Aleksa, thanked me for alerting them. Finally, after a parting comment that my Russian was flawless, they said they had to get to work and went for the front door.
"Christian, can you purchase a privately-owned business if it doesn't have shares?" I asked in English once they were all inside.
"Sure, just make a big offer to the owner for him to hand over the keys to everything. Why?" Christian asked.
"Their boss, who's Aleksa's brother-in-law by the way, is extorting them. They get exactly zero of the pay for all their work, he takes it all and says it covers their rent and food costs for living in his basement. They have to hand over all their tips, too. They're indentured servants by another name," I said. They hadn't come out and said it, I'd read their minds, but neither Kate nor Christian spoke Russian so I could pretend it had come up.
Christian frowned. "Thanks for telling me. I'll get the ball rolling today. " He took out his phone and took a photo of the minivan door for later so he could track down the owner.
I drove us 2.5 hours back to Vancouver, parking at my and Kate's building. Kate got out to change and finish writing the article. Christian transferred to Taylor's SUV after a long goodbye kiss. I waved Prescott over and said "I'm just going to wander downtown Portland, we might as well stick to one car."
I reflected that my wardrobe didn't have a lot of business formal, and I wanted to fit in at GEH once I started working there. And I wasn't so much a brand snob that I was going to wait until I moved to Seattle so I could shop at Neiman Marcus. I pulled up formal clothing stores on my phone and found Duchess Clothier. I pulled us into the nearest parking lot and Prescott was my loyal shadow as I entered the store. It didn't occur to me until I entered that my jersey and shorts were a bit too casual.
"Welcome to Duchess, how may I help you?" asked a gay 30-something man, eyeing my outfit with something like pity.
"Well, Pierre, as you can clearly see, I'm hopeless when it comes to fashion. And I start a job at a big mergers & acquisitions company next month. I need a week's worth of clothes suitable for the cutthroat world of business. If you could somehow let me keep a smidge of femininity so I don't feel like I'm cross-dressing, I'd appreciate it even more," I said plainly.
"Well, honey, you've come to the right place!" Pierre said brightly. "Just to warn you, just one decent pantsuit can cost over $1000," he added.
"I got a fat signing bonus, we're safe, I promise," I assured him.
Pierre took me aside and asked me questions about fabric, color, and style so he knew what he was working with. Remembering the monochrome scheme of Grey House, I was determined to bring a splash of color to GEH. I asked for bright, vibrant shades. To balance it out, I asked to otherwise be dressed like a male dwarf with breasts. Pierre shrugged and figured the customer was God and went looking through the racks. He alerted me that they did custom tailored pieces, but I said I was moving to Seattle and not to bother, even with a rush job. I got matching jackets, blouses, and pants in each of the 7 shades of the rainbow, along with more muted white, black, grey, and brown. Shoes took a full hour, Pierre insisting I keep to his exacting standards. I paid an eye-watering price at the checkout counter and Prescott helped me carry everything to the trunk of the Accord.
"Cosmetics next," I said. I had a feeling even Ros, a butch lesbian, wore higher quality makeup than my Macy's bargain junk. I drove us to Coral Story Beauty and begged a free sales clerk for help. Apparently my whole color palette was out of alignment with my natural shades, when I described what I usually wore to a horrified Cassie. She happily spent half an hour painting my face, and I hardly recognized myself afterwards, but in a good way. I bought a month's supply of every product she used, along with a couple bottles of fragrances. I tossed that bag in the backseat.
I got Prescott and myself lunch at a Panera. "You know, this is basically hospital food," Prescott commented after a bite of her apple she'd gotten with her sandwich.
I paused in eating my salad. "You know what, you're right. But it's fresh, and the Wi-Fi is free. Anyone catching your eye?"
"Couple guys at the table behind you are commenting on your cup size," Prescott shrugged. "And the girl at the register thought we were a lesbian couple."
I'd picked up on that, but I was a telepath. I was impressed with Prescott's observational skills. "I didn't ask for big boobs," I pouted. "I've seriously considered reduction surgery. But then I remember that the whole point of mammaries is to feed future babies, so I made my peace with the fact I won the genetic lottery and try to ignore the comments and pointing. And for the record, are you a lesbian?"
"No, but everyone in the Corps assumed I was, because no way a straight woman could be tough enough to die for her country," Prescott rolled her eyes.
"You have to admit, you have a very masculine energy. Do you like girly guys or men who make you feel like a woman?" I asked politely after a sip of iced tea.
"I'm a warrior, and I'm attracted to fellow warriors who don't feel the need to baby me and treat me like a princess," Prescott opened up. "There's another CPO, Luke Sawyer. 6'6 Viking. Seen him in the gym, he could bench press me with one hand. And he's actually half-decent and listens when I talk instead of just picturing me naked or waiting for his turn to speak, know what I mean? But now I'm assigned to you full-time, so I won't see him as much."
"Christian is overprotective and prone to extremes. I could talk him into having two CPOs, I'm sure. Since I'll be with Christian half the time and Taylor will be covering me, you two will have a lot of free time together," I offered.
Prescott blushed. "I feel I should refuse on principle. Isn't that nepotism or something?"
"I'll have twice as much security, which will make Christian happy. You'll get to see Sawyer every day, which will make you happy. And I'll have done a good deed, which will make me happy. I fail to see the problem with this," I argued logically.
"Xanatos Gambit… remind me never to play you at chess," Prescott chuckled.
We finished our food and I regarded my 2 year old phone with a subpar data plan. "Fuck it, I'm just letting my old plan on this run out and getting a new phone today."
I used my soon to be old phone and researched plans and phone models, reminding myself that I'd be an income millionaire once I started at GEH and still had a 5-figure checking account even after buying all my new business clothes. I drove us to the nearest T-Mobile outlet and asked if they had any Blackberry Bold phones in stock. Luckily, they did. I got the best plan possible, signing the 2-year contract after actually reading all the terms and conditions, since I was a freak like that.
Unable to think of anything else I needed that I couldn't just get in Seattle after I moved, I drove back to my apartment building. I waved goodbye to Prescott as she returned to her Saturn and I got to the door. I will admit to squealing like a little girl when I saw a number of cardboard boxes stacked outside the door.
I unlocked the door and began carrying the boxes in, one by one. I grabbed my box cutter and opened each one, revealing the top-tier consumer computer products.
"What is all that shit?" Kate asked, looking up from her Macbook where she was putting the final touches on the Christian interview.
"Christian's graduation present. I finally get to build my own PC rig!" I beamed.
"I thought that was just for hardcore gamers or something," Kate frowned.
"Oh, no, you can build your own computer for anything. Mining coin, making your own games instead of just playing someone else's, or nerds like me for research. And then of course there's the most profitable use: hacking," I listed off to my quasi-older sister.
"What the fuck is coin?" Kate asked in bewilderment.
"It's a cryptocurrency, or basically imaginary money. It's based off the blockchain, which is a kind of encryption, and an online ledger. It started in January of 2009. It's marketed as the world's first truly democratized currency in the tech world. In a nutshell, you can use coin to pay for goods or services with any vendor who accepts coin. You earn coin by 'mining' it, or donating computing power to run the blockchain and the worldwide ledger. Its biggest application, at least from what I can tell, is that it's untraceable. It's already being accepted on the Dark Net to pay for drugs and other illegal things. Depending where you spend it, 1 full coin is worth about $30 already, with potential to be worth thousands of dollars about 10 years from now. It's like Microsoft at $21 a share, get in now if you know what you're doing," I lectured even as I began to take each part of my rig out of the packaging.
"Thing is, I don't know what I'm doing. Can you set it up for me on my laptop or something?" Kate asked hopefully.
"Sure, but something you should know is that the mining rate is going to halve at regular points to stop 1% of the miners owning 99% of all coins. You can mine with a laptop today, but in 5-10 years you might need a full server farm running to maintain the same rate as you would get today," I explained.
"Which is why it's important to strike while the iron's hot today. How long did it take you to get in on this shit?" Kate asked.
"I first heard about it from some chatter on a blog in March of '09. I've been mining since April of '09 on my crappy laptop. At the moment, mining one 'block' rewards you with 50 coins. My weak ass laptop can handle about 1 block a week. I have over 5000 coins saved in my digital wallet, and I've already paid for some stuff with it over the last couple years," I told Kate. What I didn't mention was that I'd had a vision of going to a coin ATM in the year 2026 and seeing 1 BTC was valued at over $100k. I hadn't been able to download the mining software fast enough once I woke up.
I knew the rig parts were my reward for graduating college, but I still felt like I had to pay Christian back. And he outright said he wanted to be a trillionaire someday. I pulled out my new Blackberry, which thankfully still had my old number. Testing from my brand new Blackberry. Advice from the quote 'smartest' woman you've ever met: have a talk with Barney and your CFO about the merits of investing in coin mining and other cryptocurrencies. If the three of you have no idea what coin or cryptocurrency is, think digital cash that pays in itself to the people who donate computers to 'print' it. I'm an early adopter and I see real potential.
Christian texted me back 15 minutes later, just as I was getting ready to put my rig together. Barney is losing his shit, he'd never heard of BTC but after 5 minutes of looking into it he's raving that it's the future of money. August is trying to make sense of the data he's finding and he's withholding judgment, but even he thinks it might be a good idea to start mining. Thanks for the good idea, I simply must find a way to reward you.
I thought about it. Counting all of Saturday and then Sunday dinner as two dates, date number 7 can be a night at Ground Kontrol. It's a barcade in Portland, vintage classics like Pac-Man and pinball with a full bar. It should be relatively quiet on a weeknight, does tomorrow night work?
Absolutely. I'll pick you up at, say, 6:00?
Sounds like a plan.
That done, I focused on putting together the computer of my dreams… at least for this year. Moore's law and all that, this thing would be strong as your average smartphone in 2020. I slotted all the components into the case, made sure all the cables and wires were properly connected, and screwed it shut. I hooked it up to the state-of-the-art screen, keyboard, and mouse I'd had Christian purchase alongside the rest. I plugged it into the wall socket and, with a degree of hesitance, hit the power button. The fan started and the lights turned on, but the screen stayed dark as I predicted. I hadn't loaded an OS yet, after all.
I grabbed my laptop and linked it to the PC with a USB. I did my techno wizardry and downloaded my magnum opus into my rig, my very own operating system software. I'd been working on it since I got my first laptop in high school and started to be able to use what I'd picked up from software textbooks in practice. I won't bore you with the specifics, but I'd named it Bartok. As you might imagine, I'd watched a movie that shared my name multiple times as a child, and the talking bat was my favorite character.
Once the download was finished, I shut down the PC. I disconnected my laptop. Moment of truth. I turned my rig back on.
The screen turned on and showed a string of start-up procedures before settling on a blank screen that simply said 'Welcome, Ana'. Then the password prompt appeared.
Given I was unable to forget anything, or at least I don't think I ever had forgotten something, I'd crafted a 36-digit password I used for all my accounts. It was alphanumeric WITH symbols. Even the strongest supercomputer on Earth running a brute force attack would take longer than mankind had a history to break into anything I protected it with. And by the time I had to worry about a quantum computer running Shor's algorithm, I'd have researched post-quantum security and come up with a new solution.
I typed in my password, taking a full 15 seconds with my fingers moving lightning fast. I was let into the home page. I glanced at my watch and decided I should start getting dinner ready. I had included some basic programs with the download, and I pulled up a search engine compatible with Bartok. If I ever got my hand on a couple billion dollars, I could build my own search engine. For now, I had to make do with another's work that was able to talk to my own. I found the cloud server I rented (with coin, for the record) and downloaded everything I'd prepared in anticipation of this special day. Mentally calculating the size of the download and our Wi-Fi speed, I knew this would take all night. I left my new PC and started to cook for me and Kate. I set up the coin miner software for Kate on her Macbook after dinner and helped her set up her digital wallet. Hearing that it was basically free money, she had me program her laptop to use 50% of its available CPU to mine blocks whenever it was turned on and had internet access. That done, we talked about our men as we put on My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
"What do you know about Elliot that I don't?" Kate asked as Toula first met Ian.
"Has he mentioned the hiking and rock climbing?" I asked.
"Ugh, the outdoors," Kate groaned. She was very much a city girl. She'd volunteered to come on my hunting trip with Ray the summer after sophomore year, thinking it would be two girls and a dad having fun in the woods. She was so miserable and annoyingly whiny that Ray and I ended up cutting the trip in half.
"You don't have to be exactly alike. He can have his interests separate from your own," I reminded her.
"Yeah, but Christian tried guns for you and you were over the moon that he ended up liking it," Kate pointed out.
"Well, then give hiking or rock climbing an honest try. Maybe it'll be different doing it with Elliot there than you've experienced in the past," I shrugged.
"So… how hung is Christian?" Kate asked without blinking.
"You first," I rolled my eyes.
Kate unashamedly held up her hands as bookends for Elliot's endowment and gave an estimate of his circumference that I'm pretty sure was accurate to the tenth of an inch. She also added colorful details like the thickness and layout of the veins and the exact shape of his foreskin. She practically painted a word picture.
Then I just shrugged and said "Christian's bigger," and focused on the screen.
"Really? Are you sure you want to start out with a black diamond run, Ana? A battleship is a bit much for a slip that hasn't even taken a dinghy," Kate said, genuinely concerned.
"We'll work it out when we're ready," I shrugged. "I care more about the guy attached to it, anyway."
"Well, yeah, that's what's really important, but still," Kate mused. "So, how far have you two gotten?"
"To date, I've blown him twice, the second time blackout drunk. He's fingered me until I've cum and he's felt my left boob in his palm. We've made out, and we've spooned in bed," I listed.
"About that… why did Elliot and their parents look at you like you were Holy Mary when they saw Christian hugging you?" Kate asked.
"It's not my story to tell," I said firmly. "Suffice to say he had a traumatic childhood before being adopted, and he has issues with touch to his chest and back. He hasn't even hugged Grace, not once in his life. He can hug Mia, but only because he met her when she was a helpless baby and he knows bone-deep that she'd never hurt him. The fact he can bear for me to touch him when we've known each other for exactly 15 days is astounding to his family."
"I always knew you were special, Ana. And in a good way, not the freaky way you seem convinced you are. I know there's even more stuff about you that you hide from me because you worry I'd panic and run away screaming or call the guys in white coats. But I love you like a sister. Whenever you're ready, you can tell me what you're hiding and you'll still be my sister," Kate said.
I swallowed the knot in my throat. "Thanks, Kate." I decided to take a chance. "I have dreams of the future."
"Well, yeah, doesn't everyone?" Kate asked.
"No, I mean sometimes I have visions of what's to come when I'm sleeping. I've had 33 that I can remember, and you know I remember being in diapers. 27 have come true so far, down to every last detail," I confessed, letting someone know about my precognition for the first time since Ray and Carla when I warned them about a coming car accident.
Kate blinked. "Okay… can I have an example?"
"For one that's already come true, I saw 9/11 coming. I called 911 trying to warn them the planes were going to crash into the towers. They didn't take me seriously, of course. Then I had to watch it on the news," I revealed. "They're self-fulfilling, by the way. I can't prevent them. If I see something happen, it's going to happen. The very act of seeing it seems to affect the circumstances leading to their actualization."
"Okay, so what's 1 of the 6 that hasn't come true yet? If and when it happens, that'll be my proof," Kate asked. She was trying to keep her mind open, she really was.
"Christian and I are going to get married. I'll be around 7 or 8 months along on the wedding day. You'll be maid-of-honor, and Elliot will be best man," I told her.
Kate giggled. "I don't need the gift of prophecy to know that's going to happen, though the pregnancy angle was unexpected."
"I'm being dead serious here, Kate. And this is just one of my secrets," I said, afraid she'd run if she knew everything but desperate to have someone besides Ray who knew and accepted me anyway.
"Okay, have you had any visions about me that haven't happened yet?" Kate asked.
"You'll get the Pulitzer Prize for Investigative Reporting in 2019," I recalled.
Kate blinked. "Um, wow. What for?"
"Are you sure you want to know?" I checked.
Kate frowned and shook her head. "On second thought, no. That would make it boring, ruin the suspense. Alright, 3rd time's the charm. Any predictions about the world at large that are yet to come?"
"It's bad news, are you sure?" I asked, pausing the movie since this really was one of the things I was dreading.
"Hit me," Kate said.
"The Supreme Court will overturn Roe v. Wade on June 24th, 2022," I told her.
Kate's face fell. "Are you fucking kidding me? We're going to lose the right to choose?!"
"I was reading a reaction article in the New York Times in my vision. There was a leak of the draft papers weeks earlier, so people knew it was coming. 13 states set up trigger bans that would go into effect within a week of the decision going public," I revealed.
"Shit," Kate breathed. "How could those justices do that?! Do they want us to go back to the Stone Age?!"
"Their job is to make subjective rulings and set precedent based on fairly black-and-white legal jargon. The SCOTUS ruled in 1973 that abortion should be a constitutional right. The SCOTUS in 2022 disagreed, apparently," I sighed. "If it makes you feel better, it came down to a 5-4 vote."
Kate huffed. "Well, good thing we live on the West Coast, that's always been liberal. Abortion was legal here even before Roe v. Wade. I just feel so sorry for all those girls in the Bible Belt who won't have any choice but to have and raise the babies, even if it was rape or incest."
"It's even worse, actually. The decision covers ALL abortions, even medically necessary ones. Ectopic pregnancies, anencephaly, stillborns. It'll be bad, Kate," I sighed.
"... Just, how?" Kate asked. "And how do you sleep at night, knowing horrible shit like that is coming and knowing you can't do a damn thing to stop it?"
"I've had no choice but to adapt," I told her.
"Okay, I believe you. You're a horrible actor, and there's no way you're faking that sadness. You get visions in your sleep. Anything else you feel like telling me?"
I hesitated, but the urge to just trust Kate and show her everything was overpowering. I reached out and the tv remote flew into my hand.
Kate's jaw dropped. "You're a Mover?"
"You only like 'Push' because it has Chris Evans, Djimon Hounsou and Dakota Fanning. If you were a real fan you'd have looked at the original comics," I rolled my eyes at her reference to one of her favorite superhero movies.
"Stay with me here, Ana! You can move shit with your mind?" Kate demanded.
"I have absolutely no idea how it works," I admitted. "And I spent about 15 times as much energy to move this 100 gram remote as I would have spent to just lean over and pick it up. And before you ask, I don't know the heaviest thing I can lift, I haven't exactly practiced. Which leads us to secret number 3: I'm a telepath."
"What numbers am I–" Kate began to ask.
"13, 379, 4927. You got them from that scene in Matilda where Miss Honey says the random multiplication and Matilda answers right away," I cut her off.
"Holy fuck…" Kate breathed. "You've been listening to my thoughts this whole time?!"
"I can't turn off the passive telepathy. If you're in my range, your stream of consciousness is going through my head. I try to tune it out, it's like constantly being in a noisy stadium or auditorium. And if our skin touches, I can read every thought you've ever had. I've only used that on Ray, you, and Christian," I revealed.
"So you know all my secrets?" Kate asked, a real moment of disquiet hitting her.
"Yes," I confirmed. "Do you trust me not to share them? Do you get why I waited until we'd known each other 4 years and I learned we'd be sisters-in-law to tell you?"
"Yes and yes," Kate nodded after a few seconds to really process that. "Anything else? Or is that everything?"
Still sitting on the couch, I lifted the coffee table with one hand. "This isn't telekinesis. I'm just that freaking strong. I'm also, so far as I can tell, invulnerable. I can fall from 4 stories and not even feel it when I hit the ground. I held my finger in a candle flame for over a minute and didn't get burned when I was little. And I know from a vision that I'm bulletproof, I survive a drive-by without a scratch."
"Any chance your birth dad wore blue spandex and was born on Krypton?" Kate asked in a shaky voice as I set the table back down.
"For all I know, he was," I sighed. "Ray was smart, he didn't want too many people to find out about this. I'm unvaccinated, but I've never caught anything, and if I went to get a shot I'm not sure the needle would even pierce my skin. My medical records are thin as I can get away with. For all I know, I have triple-helix DNA. If the wrong person finds out what I can do, I'll end up dissected alive to try and crack how it all works and recreate it to make supersoldiers."
"Does Carla know?" Kate asked in concern.
I froze as her inner monologue registered. "Oh, fuck, you're right. If she realizes she can blackmail Christian through me, she'll milk him for all he's worth."
"I haven't said anything, but apparently you know what I was going to mention anyway," Kate chuckled.
"Well… here's hoping she's not that smart," I said, praying to anyone willing to listen that Carla Wilks wouldn't hold my secrets hostage and risk her daughter's life and safety for something as common as money.
"So… when are you going to tell Christian?" Kate asked.
"When I'm ready. I have a feeling it will take less time for me to trust him than you, wonder why," I chuckled dryly.
"You're falling for him, it's plain to see," Kate grinned.
"It's happening too fast," I protested.
"These things happen on their own time. And if it makes you feel better, it's clearly reciprocal," Kate assured me.
I grabbed the remote the old-fashioned way and hit 'play'. "Let's just watch the Portokalos family's craziness."
We finished the movie, I checked on the progress of the download on my PC, and went to bed after giving Kate a hug with everything I had. I went to sleep feeling like a huge weight had fallen off my shoulders, knowing the number of people I could afford to not hide from had doubled.
I woke up the next morning, had breakfast with Kate, and spent the rest of the day working at my PC. I set up my homescreen how I wanted, ordered my files, made sure the anti-malware software I'd written myself was fully implemented, and basically made sure that my new computer was running smooth as silk. When I was satisfied, I installed and ran the coin miner, and saw that with my much better CPU I could now handle a block a day. I left my old laptop to keep running the search on Elizabeth Morgan, its swan song as it were. Then I spent the rest of the day just doing research and writing down project ideas as I felt out just what this puppy could do and exactly what I was going to do with it.
I'd set a phone alarm for 5:30, so when it went off I knew to get changed for my date with Christian. I went for casual but not like I'd just thrown on the first things I touched. Remembering our first meeting, I pulled my hair back into a bun fixed with two chopsticks that had been a souvenir gift from Kate after her trip to Beijing. I dabbed some gloss on my lips and grinned like a loon when I heard Christian's mind voice enter my range. I was eagerly waiting by the door when he knocked.
"Evening, Fifty," I greeted, looking him up and down. Band t-shirt, The Rolling Stones, and cargo shorts over sneakers. He looked his age for once.
"Evening, angel," he said back, leaning down for a kiss that I happily returned.
"They have food at this arcade or should we stop somewhere first?" Christian asked after a few seconds of tasting each other's mouths.
"They have nachos, hot dogs, and sandwiches, that's it. Are you in the mood for something else?" I asked.
"You know, I've never eaten a Chipotle burrito. Ros posted on Facebook how she gained 5 lb just eating one for lunch, and now I'm curious," Christian admitted.
I pulled up Google on my Blackberry. "There's a Chipotle less than 10 minutes from Ground Kontrol. Plan made!"
Taylor drove us to Portland and the closest commercial parking lot to both the Chipotle and Ground Kontrol. Prescott parked as close to us as she could and then Christian and I just walked to the Mexican fast food chain with them shadowing us. Christian and I waited in line, just an ordinary couple getting dinner on a Tuesday night.
"So, what's the verdict on GEH and coin?" I asked.
"Barney is obsessed, he's already started mining on his at-home computers. He wants us to set up a server farm dedicated purely to mining and assures me it'll pay itself off within 15 years twice over," Christian chuckled. "He also wants to have every computer at Grey House running it in the background."
"Into just one wallet or will you have it spread across a few different accounts?" I checked.
"We're still roughing out all the fine details," Christian shrugged. "What about you? I spotted your rig in the corner when I came in. Enjoying your graduation gift?"
"I'm having oodles of fun," I promised.
We ordered and Christian paid. I knew if our sexes were reversed, he'd still insist on paying since he was richer and that's just how he saw things. He had more to throw around, why not share it with the people he cared about? We got a table and unwrapped our burritos the size of some premature babies.
Christian took a big bite and blinked. "Not bad, for something off an assembly line. And I'm already, like, a quarter full from one bite. How does anyone finish one of these things?"
"The soda helps. The carbonation forces your stomach to expand and you can fit more food than normal," I told my boyfriend. "So, you going to track down Jack Hyde?"
"You're never going to believe it, but he's in Seattle! Welch told me this morning after I told him to run a check yesterday. He's an editor at Seattle Independent Publishing. Small world," Christian chuckled.
"What a coincidence," I grinned, pleased that Christian might get reacquainted with an old friend from his childhood.
We finished our food, Taylor and Prescott standing out like two sore thumbs at their own seats keeping an eye on the whole room.
I got a notification on my phone once I was about two-thirds through my burrito. I took it out and paled when I saw it was my Google alert on Christian. My name was in the hypertext. What scared me is that it wasn't the Seattle Nooz or some yellow tabloid, it was TMZ.
"Anastasia?" he asked, concerned.
"TMZ just posted a story about us," I said.
"Anastasia, you can't live your life in fear of the ignorant masses. We have paid security to keep away and protect us from bad people attracted to our fame. As for everyone else… well, you'll get used to the spotlight. I did, and keep in mind I'm from the slums of Detroit," Christian assured me with a squeeze of my hand.
I nodded, but I still clicked on the link to read the article. The title read 'Billionaire Christian Grey Dates Supergenius Anastasia Steele'. I speed read the whole thing. "Fucking perfect. They got my Mensa membership, the Millennium Prize Problem, and the fact I got a 4.0 with a double major. And you might need to fire someone, my job at GEH is here too, so the hyperpolyglot thing is in between the lines."
"I AM firing someone, the fucker who violated their NDA for the sake of the tip money," Christian growled. "I know it's not Ros, so it must be someone in HR who processed your contract." He pulled out his phone to angrily text his team to track down the leak and blacklist them after firing them as soon as humanly possible. He got a text from his PR head before he could put his phone away. "And now, apparently, we're getting flooded with requests from every publication worth the name in Seattle and half the national ones for an exclusive interview. Don't these people have lives of their own?"
"Keeping track of more important or at least more interesting people's lives IS their life," I sighed. "So, one of the richest men on Earth with one of the proven smartest women on Earth. I know Kate was joking, but our kids really will have the world as their oyster, if we ever have them."
"Forget about all that. Tonight's about us having fun," Christian said determinedly.
We finished the food and walked the short distance to Ground Kontrol. Christian broke a $100 into quarters, split fairly evenly between two big cups. We toured the two-floor arcade, playing as many games as we wanted at whatever struck our fancy. I loved the pinball machines, there was no relatively simple programming to outsmart, just gravity and basic physics.
"Want to get in line for Pac-Man?" Christian asked, eyeing the 5 people waiting patiently for their turn on one of the most popular arcade games in the world.
"We'd be here for hours, I can reach level 200 on one credit," I chuckled. It was all memorizing patterns and reflexes, after all, and I had an unfair advantage in both categories.
"Are you serious?" Christian asked with wide eyes.
"Am I ever not serious?" I fired back.
"This I have to see," he insisted, guiding me to the back of the line.
We ended up waiting about an hour, some of the players were stubborn and skilled to varying degrees. Finally, the guy in front of me admitted defeat and stepped aside. I looked at the line behind us, hoped they wouldn't get too mad that I was about to preoccupy the game for at least 3 hours, and pushed a quarter into the slot.
I don't know if it was because Christian was watching or if I was just hot that night, but it was the best game of my life. I got every dot, ate every fruit, and ate all 4 ghosts with each power dot. Around the 2 hour mark, a girl with a shaved head realized she was in the presence of a master and ran to get the owner. "We got a possible perfect game! Red alert, this is not a drill!" she announced to the whole damn building.
We ended up drawing quite a crowd. From what fraction of my focus wasn't focused on the screen and moving the joystick, I heard the staff agreeing with Christian to keep the whole place open late just so I could finish. These people took gaming very seriously. I eventually reached level 256 and the infamous split-screen. I'd never reached it before, but I'd watched videos online so I had the blocked half of the maze memorized. I got every dot, the screen refreshing each time I allowed a ghost to touch me and kill me. I got every dot each life, and when 'Game Over' finally showed on the screen, my score read '3,333,360 points'.
"PERFECT GAME!" my fan from earlier cheered in full voice. "Hey, can I get an autograph? A selfie?"
"Sure," I chuckled.
"I'm guessing this is a big deal?" Christian said drolly as he saw the crowd of half-drunk arcade goers lose their shit as they processed my historic achievement.
"I just got the highest possible score in a game of Pac-Man. There's been less than 20 confirmed perfect games since the game came out in 1980," I told him.
The bald girl handed me a sharpie and had me sign her arm. Then she handed her phone to Christian and got a picture with me. Half the people who'd watched me play for the last 4 and a half hours begged for the same. The owner shook me by the hand, got a picture of me next to the console, and promised to get a framed picture to commemorate the occasion.
It had gone 1:00 am when we finally left Ground Kontrol. Taylor and Prescott behind us, we walked in companionable silence back to the parking garage. "At some point, I'll learn to stop being surprised when you impress me," Christian said casually as we got buckled into the SUV.
"I didn't try to do a perfect game. Tonight was just a good night," I chuckled. I might have gotten a couple free drinks from the bartender to commemorate my victory.
"Apartment or the hotel?" Taylor asked.
"Hotel's closer," I shrugged.
We were driven to the Heathman and took the elevator up to the top floor. Elevators were a thing with me and Christian, so we ended up attacking each other for at least a minute before we felt the elevator start to move again and realized we'd missed our floor. Giggling, we stepped out on the next floor and took the stairs. Christian used his key to let us into the penthouse and we went straight for the bedroom.
I looked up at him in the light of the lamps, this brilliant man who cared so much for me and was so good, even though he had trouble seeing it. "I'm ready, Christian," I told him.
"Ready for what?" he asked, not getting my meaning.
"Let's fuck, have sex, make love, do the horizontal mambo, whatever you want to call it," I said plainly.
His eyes widened. "Um… we don't have a condom," he protested.
"I'm regular as a metronome, my period starts in 2 days. It's safe," I assured him.
"Fuck, Ana," he breathed. "Are you sure?"
"If you want to say no, just say it," I growled, getting impatient that he wasn't naked yet.
He all but tackled me onto the bed. We kissed harshly until he pulled back. He ripped off his shirt and shucked his shorts and underwear. I wriggled out of my own clothes as well as I could manage, throwing them without a care of where they landed. And then Christian's body was on mine, every hard plane pressing up against my curves.
"Touch me," he breathed against my lips.
I hesitated, knowing this was dangerous territory, but he'd asked so I trailed my arms up his arms until they rested on his shoulders. When he did nothing but keep kissing me, I trailed them down to feel his chest hair tickle my palms and my hypersensitive fingertips traced the lines of his toned, defined muscles. I reached his hips and went around to his back. I roamed my hands up the strong expanse until I was holding him by the shoulders.
"No pain, only pleasure," he promised me. "I love you, Anastasia."
My more rational mind protested that he had no idea what he was saying. But the part of me that could hear what my heart was telling me took over and I said "I love you too, Christian."
One hand went to cup my face as he kissed me with everything he had. The other went to my hip and curled to cup my crotch. When 4 fingers were in me, his thumb was rubbing my clit, and I had cum 3 times already, I couldn't take anymore.
"I'm ready, Christian. Do it!" I begged.
His eyes could have melted the polar ice caps in the dead of winter. He nudged my thighs apart with his and lined himself up. He kissed me, and pushed in.
I'd braced myself for pain so intense it would make me cry. Instead, there was a mild tearing sensation, barely hurt more than getting my ears pierced as a teenager, and then I was nothing but full as every last inch of Christian's manhood slid home into my hungry pussy.
We both moaned as he bottomed out, the tip of his crown poking my cervix and his balls pressed flush against my ass cheeks.
"Fuck, you're perfect," he growled.
"Show me why you were worth the wait," I ordered once I got my breath back.
He withdrew until only the head was still inside, before thrusting back in to the root. We found a rhythm that worked for us, and soon I was seeing stars as I rode one crest of pleasure after another, driven to my peak again and again by Christian's unrelenting efforts.
A tiny part of me had an impulse. I activated my active telepathy.
I didn't so much blackout as whiteout. My every nerve ending went supernova, and I was sailing past the stars into the great beyond. When I finally found my way back to Earth, I felt Christian's weight on my body. He was panting like he'd just run a marathon, which in a way he kind of had.
Uncaring in that perfect moment if he noticed something odd, I maneuvered his whole body further down the bed so his head rested on my chest. I felt liquid begin to dribble out my emptied hole, which assured me he'd found his release as well.
"So… that happened," I said into the half-lit room.
Christian gave an exhausted laugh. "It's seared into my brain, believe me. I don't know what that was at the end, but that was the best sex of my life."
I stroked his hair. "I closed the loop," I said. I could feel it, I'd somehow unlocked a new power. I was an empath now too. I could feel and change other's emotions or project my own. Why that particular power unlocked mid-coital, I had no idea, but when I'd used my active telepathy, I'd felt both my pleasure and Christian's. Then I'd projected our shared pleasure back to him. And it had rebounded back and forth until I lost all sense of mind and stopped.
"What do you mean?" Christian asked, nuzzling his face into my boobs. It wasn't dirty, he just wanted to get closer to his new favorite pillows.
I found the words just pouring out. "I'm psychic. I don't know if it's a consequence of being so smart or if the intellect is just another symptom of being superhuman. I'm invulnerable, telepathic, precognitive, telekinetic, and now empathic. I also have super senses, like the Listening or being able to count the bricks on the building across the street through the window. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I don't tell anyone. I only got the guts to tell Kate last night."
"Anastasia, what are you saying?" Christian asked. I could hear clear as day that he thought I was delusional or the bartender had laced something in my drinks earlier.
I thought of any way to convince him. Well, I'd already unlocked one new power tonight. I laid my hand on his cheek and tried to reverse my active telepathy, upload my mind-file into Christian's brain.
Christian gasped and froze. I heard as if in echo my whole life story, every memory from my earliest days up to this moment going through Christian's brain. When it ended, I pulled my hand away. "Now do you see?" I asked.
He looked up at me with eyes wide with wonder. "We're going to get married," he breathed.
"Is that all you're going to focus on, my vision of our wedding?" I chuckled.
"We're going to get married and have a baby," Christian breathed. I could feel with my new empathy that Christian had never been this happy before. Full stop.
"Sorry for spoiling the surprise," I said lightly.
He kissed me, and it was like our souls were touching.
He pulled back, and I heard that genius mind start to buzz. "It has to be because of your birth father," he reasoned. "No way you just spontaneously evolved all these incredible abilities. Your mother didn't tell you anything about him?"
"I don't know his name or have a picture of his face. And for all we know, he can change those," I sighed. "A comprehensive analysis of my DNA might answer some questions, but the results would have to be top-secret. If the world finds out there's a legit superhuman in their midst, they'll cut me open to find out what makes me tick so they can mass-produce my powers in everybody else, or a chosen few, it'll all be very action movie climax."
"Nobody is going to touch you without your permission, not ever. I'll die first," Christian swore.
I felt a surge of what I now recognized as love in my heart. "Speaking of touching me," I said, my hand going down to grab his ass.
"Again?" he asked, like he couldn't believe his luck.
"I'm curious to see who will beg the other to stop from exhaustion first, the recently plucked albeit superhuman virgin, or the ordinary trained stud," I purred.
By the time we both fell into slumber, the sun was starting to shine on the horizon. I closed my eyes, utterly content, the feel of Christian's body against mine feeling as natural as breathing.
My vision showed me in a spacious, luxurious house, going to pick up a smartphone resting on a counter.
"Who is this?" I heard myself ask. I sounded older, my voice a bit heavier with age and responsibilities, richer and thicker from maturing into a full woman.
"This is your father, Anastasia. Please don't hang up," I heard a baritone voice say politely.
"I was wondering when you would call," future-me said, glancing at a calendar on the refrigerator. I memorized all the handwritten notes on each day at a glance.
"I'm fulfilling the vision you had the morning of May 25th, 2011 in the Gregorian calendar," my father continued.
"Yes, I realize that. Well, say what you're going to say," I prompted. I sounded like I was smiling.
"My name is Baen'thelas. The closest English translation of my species would be 'Progenitor'. We visit planets with intelligent life and impregnate women as part of a mission to create paragons of society, people that will guide the native species down the right path," the faceless voice of my birth father told me.
"Is that all I am to you? An assignment, a squirt of semen in my mother's womb that quickened into a viable child with all these strange, terrible powers?" I heard myself ask.
"Can you imagine what it would be like for me, if I loved all my children when I was doomed to say goodbye to them?" he asked rhetorically.
"Well, seems like your part of the mission is done. What's my part?" I asked.
"Keep doing what you're doing. So long as you stay captain of this particular ship, you will reach the shore safely."
"You're talking about Project Athena," I said, I didn't ask.
"My best to your husband and my grandchildren. I wish I could properly meet you, but the nature of my work… prevents it," Baen'thelas said, and I could hear how sad he was.
"Do you have a wife waiting for you, wherever you call home?" I asked, my mind puzzling over the nature of this alien man who'd helped create me.
"Yes, and the thought of seeing her again is what keeps me going. Maybe one day, I can introduce you to her, if humanity passes all the tests. Farewell, Anastasia."
"Farewell, Father," I wished him before hanging up the blocked number.