Daughter of Zeus ✔

3.3

A week passed.

Ada remained.

She told herself she had to stay, for her mother, to help maintain the house (not that she did much in that department).

Another week passed.

Even though she had missed two shifts at work, Ada's boss didn't care. Turnover was so high that as long as employees mostly showed up, things were copasetic.

During her latest shift, she was sent home early. Ada had gotten into an argument with a customer about the price of an incorrectly shelved item. The customer had called her Undesirable, and she had responded with "Not as undesirable as your wife finds you."

The five-grand sat in an envelope atop Ada's bedroom dresser. Every time she entered the room, she glanced briefly at the envelope and tried in vain to forget about it.

She visited her mother in the hospital daily, which yielded little conversation. Her mother remained comatose, a weak heart barely keeping her alive. Whenever Ada was at her mother's side, she reminded herself not to touch anything. She forgot only once, when she burned a small hole in her mother's bedsheet.

Due to her distressed state, connecting with the hospital computers was a no-go. Ada took deep breaths, seeking to quell her thudding heart so she could concentrate on overriding Gemina's balance from 6 million to PAID. Yet, all the results were always the same: the machine sparked, the screen went blank, and the attendant clicking on the keyboard leapt back yelling how they weren't paid enough. After a half-dozen tries, Ada gave up.

Often, the knowledge of the five-thousand dollars invaded all reason. No matter what she did (shower) (sleep) (sit and stare), she couldn't think of anything else. An internal tug-of-war was taking place inside of her, (just go, it'll be easy) (no, I can't) (goddamn you, your mother is sick and you're still afraid).

Ada took the envelope and buried it at the bottom of the dirty clothes bin.

Another few weeks passed.

The payment department of the hospital called Ada every few days. There was a decision to be made: begin a payment agreement for a new synth or unplug her mother. Tranquility Hospital had a limited number of beds, and they were only willing to keep Gemina for a few more weeks, a month at most.

Ada told them she would have an answer soon.

It was a lie.

She didn't know what she was going to do.

She could've shared her burden with Kressick, but the fog crept in, dictated her actions. Inaction served her much better, and he knew nothing of the momentous decision approaching.

Her work at the store resumed. Ada kept her mouth shut when customers were idiots, and she was allowed to remain for the entirely of her paltry shifts.

At home, there was never anything good on TV. The news was littered with much of the same: Prominent propaganda, mass shootings, kidnappings, and new churches being built. Ada tuned the TV to international channels. Though they hadn't been broadcast in her area for twenty years or more, she had hacked the system months ago, with a bit of maneuvering.

Astral fingers had disappeared inside the machine to program her address in. It wouldn't do to have Prominents knocking on her door, wondering how she had de-crypted and re-programmed one of their satellites, so she had buried her information under thousands of fake addresses, all created in nano-seconds. Instantaneously, her television had been able to stream thousands of international channels, something the State had banned some time ago.

Even with the expanded catalog of channels, she couldn't get interested. The international news reminded her of her stilted abilities. She ended up putting the TV in the coat closet.

Occasionally, Ada ran into Kressick at the hospital. He asked her how she was. She kept up the pretense of being "fine" for five minutes before making an excuse and leaving. He might be able to help her, but she'd lost the will to ask.

Asking for help. How humiliating.

Upon sunset, Ada had every intention of leaving the next morning, sick mother be damned. Her bag would be packed, and she would think, no, I need that sweater for tomorrow. In her pursuit of one clothing item, her hands would unpack the entire bag.

Ada fell asleep each night thinking she was crazy.

~ * ~

A/N: If you like the story so far, I heard the vote button is in need of validation.