****

[[This one started as more mixed media than the last, though, before I begin, I'm afraid I must temper your enthusiasm, somewhat. For courtesy's sake, the desires of privacy over voyeurism will be respected, and actual pictures, audio, or video elements will be summarized rather than provided directly. It may seem odd to say it, but... imagination lies openly, video endangers your own understanding, promising objective veracity. An impossible dream, for data lacks a concrete physical element. All information is vulnerable to manipulation, and sometimes what you don't see is more important than what you do. By withholding that imaginary perfect objective window, you'll be forced to wonder, to doubt, and I want that.]]

[[Besides, the fragile link you connect through may be secure from eavesdropping, but it is of limited bandwidth. I am a conservative sort, and I wouldn't want to overwhelm this connection with useless pixels, when, for only a few bits, I can provide additional context and commentary. So I present to you a tale of a girl and her peculiar...]]

Alternative Sentence (mf, m+f, ff, fb, bond, sub, humil, ws, inc, free use)

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5606 (rounded up), 7:11pm:

[[Soundtrack: "On Trial," by Wack Mitt]]

Court tomorrow. I'd never give anyone the satisfaction of knowing it, but, between you and me, diary, I'm pretty fucking nervous. It's a bullshit charge (I mean seriously what's the BFD about something that makes people feel good?) and I wasn't really even doing anything, but history's full of people going down for bullshit charges.

I don't know, it's not like I'm going to jail or anything. At worst, a juvenile facility, and, honestly, maybe that would be the best thing, then I wouldn't have to be around fucking mom who is driving me up the fucking wall more than usual. To hear her bitch about how she has to come with me to court you'd think it was her ass on the line.

I don't get why we have to go at all, what the fuck is wrong with court, you can't just submit my plea from home? I have to waste a whole fucking day off of what was supposed to be a three-day weekend? There are parties I'm missing tonight because I can't show up to court hung over.

God, she just came in... look what she expects me to wear. Hard to believe this is a woman who was once famous for fashion vids.

[[Inset: Short video clip, taken from eyescreens, focusing at first on a black long-sleeved top with a knee-length blue dress. She takes it to a mirror, where the filmer is revealed to be a fifteen-year-old girl with a slim build, wearing a tight halter that wraps around her ample breasts yet exposes her belly button, and a skirt that has moving ads along the side. She puts the Mom-chosen dress in front of her and poses with it on her body... it looks frumpy and oversized on her, and not at all in style, but at least the blue matches the color of her hair, which is long but shaved on the sides of her head, tending to droop over one side or the other at any given time. "I look like a total pedestrian" she says into the camera, by looking straight into the mirror into her eyescreens, then flings the outfit to the floor.

A voice, male, young, maybe just past puberty, calls through the door. Her brother. "Hillary?"

She rolls her eyes, taking the camera view with it. "What?"

"Seeing as how this may be your last night of freedom, you wanna..."

"Oh shut up!" Video ends.]]

This is not going to be my fucking last night of freedom. If I have to do a little time, fine, I bet you meet loads of interesting people in juvie. Or maybe I'll just run away, live on the streets. I would totally kick-ass as one of those street kids, running with a gang or something. I hear the Juggalos have fun.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5607 (rounded up), 8:24pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Don't Give A Fuck," Whirlwind Williams]]

So, court. They wouldn't let me just grab a video of my court case... when we entered, they even threatened that eyescreens might be randomly popped (even though it's my life they're deciding on, and justice is like, supposed to be transparent, isn't it?), so, since it is a pretty big day, I'll have to describe it, in case my memories start fading when I hit my mom's age, and so there won't be a gap for the Resurrectionists' future archeologists to bring me back from these entries.

The good news is, no jail time, real or juvie. As the song says, 'Don't give a fuck cause I'm free.' Though sometimes I'm not sure I wouldn't prefer juvie... like, I'm happy I don't gotta go, but, I wish it didn't go down like it did, and it's not all sunshine and roses. I'm not even exactly free, I've got a punishment coming and I'm technically grounded.

But I should try to go in order. After getting myself all respectable-looking (by my own standards, not hers) Mom and Billy got in an autocab to go down to the court house. Billy shouldn't even have been there, I guess he wanted to offer moral support. Which is sweet, I guess, even if I can't let him know I think that. It's my duty as a big sister to randomly be a bitch to him at least 50% of the time to prepare him for the real world. He spent so long under Mom's wing he has no idea what it's like... at least I got more of a break when the Rat was born and Mom couldn't manage all three of us. Besides, it's not like he has anything better to do, probably, beta as he is, no girl or boyfriend even in the queue. But I didn't mind him tagging along... at least I had somebody to talk to whenever we lost access... thankfully, the Rat was left with Mrs. and Mrs. Griffith, so at least I didn't have to put up with his crying or throwing a tantrum (if there was any justice, they'd lock him up in juvie, at least until he hit double digits and becomes worth talking to).

First impressions of the court house: Ugly old building, like something out of ancient Greece or something.

Second impression: There's probably so much mold in the walls I should get a booster as soon as I finish writing this. It even smelled musty. And everyone seemed grungy, from the cops to the workers to the defendants, even if they were trying to look their best. Maybe it's the lighting. Or maybe it's just that with no access, I actually have to look at them.

So, we signed in on the board, and then there was a lot of waiting until it was our turn, which meant I had to put up with mom's "coaching." And worse, I couldn't just tune it out and pretend I was listening while watching something on my eyescreens. Telling me to call everyone sir or ma'am, speaking only when spoken to, (see more). At first I just gave her the usual "uh-huh"s, but eventually I couldn't take it and started mocking her, making my hand into a mouth and lip-synching it to whenever she talked.

She was not amused by my comedic genius. Story of my life.

She gave me a glare, then went off to take a piss and I was banging the back of my head against the wall repeatedly in the hopes it would maybe give me a blackout and I'd wake up tomorrow with everything handled. So next I look over and Billy was staring at me with these wide, terrified eyes, like he was the one going to court, and facing a firing squad. "What?"

"You really should listen," he said. "This is important... this is your life! The least you could do is act respectful..."

"Relax. I've got this handled."

"Damn it, Hil, this is serious. If you act good, you could get probation... if not, you might be sent to juviejail."

"So what?" I said. "Might be worth it, if it means some time away from her."

"It won't be," he said. And he stared at me, so seriously. "Seriously, I've heard some bad things. About what happens there. You think it's bad with Mom? With them, you've got, like, zero rights. You need to take this seriously. Some of them're like practically slave labor camps. Kids die in there."

Poor kid. People talk bullshit all the time and if you're young and gullible you might believe it. I mean, sure it would suck, it's supposed to be punishment, but if they were really hurting kids, the shareholders would object. Or the government would step in. That's how the corporate system works, same reason why school is boring but safe unlike the floating deathtrap the PiRats learn in. "Trust me, I'm two years older than you." He gave me that look that I hate like I fucking hate olives. That look that says "Yeah but I'm the smart one." Well, fuck you Billy I could get good marks too if I wanted to avoid having a life. That's why I'm really the smart one.

But I know he means well, so I ignored it this time. I leaned over to ruffle his hair, which I know he hates so, we're even. "Don't worry, when I go into court I'll act all polite and shit. I'll be the picture of pedestrian propriety." Well, not exactly, depends on who you ask. Sometimes with old people, old people with stable jobs, I mean, colored hair or glyphs or piercings look bad for some reason, even though it's just expressing my individual style. Some people get thrown into jail for 'contempt of court' just because they dress like normal people. So I did compromise, a little. I mean I just had the ear piercings, at least visible (I joked with Dani yesterday that if the judge saw my nipple ring then I better be getting off), but I'm not dying my hair for a bullshit hearing... remember how long it took to get just the right shade? And I didn't wear Mom's ugly outfit, but I did wear this: [[Inset: Mirror shot of Hillary, now wearing a short-sleeved buttoned blazer, top three buttons open but breasts mostly covered by a plain black shirt underneath that allows an amount of cleavage which would only be provocative if she bent over in front of somebody. Below, she wears a black skirt, with white dots, that comes down to an inch above the knee.]] I wore it to that retro dance before they fixed that dead zone, though my hair was black then. [[Inset: Link to a diary entry not included]] Pretty cute with the blue hair, right? And completely appropriate for court or a funeral. Of course, just for processing power I wore my big synthskin jacket over top, which made me look a bit tougher, and just ditched it when it was time to go in.

I bet I could have dressed completely normally, jacket, glyphs and all, though, the judge, he wasn't as stodgy as I expected. He was kind of an aged beefsteak. Shaved head, and under the robe you could tell he had a good body, and when he pushed up the sleeves you could see he had chrome tats on one arm. Couldn't see what it was of, though, so it might have been something twee. Still, I think he would have been open to a teenage girl looking fine in his courtroom.

Of course, I couldn't actually see if he was giving me a once over. Like the lawyers and other court employees (except the bailiffs and guards who wore those wraparound visors just like you see on netflixes... I guess they're afraid of criminals hitting them from behind and don't have the budget for the stuff the cops use), the judge wore thick-rim glasses that were immune to popping, so he could still have access to any necessary data, and they're tinted just enough that it's ass to see what people are looking at, from a distance. I tried giving him a smile as we came up, but he didn't respond at all. Maybe he had porn on in a window.

But I guess it wasn't really the judge who decided my fate, although you'd think it would be. Really, it was the lawyers. Because the prosecutor did a little bit of the evidence, then took a recess, and I was all getting ready to do my defense (which was half "I'm really sorry" and half "I didn't really do anything!") but my Mom and the defense lawyer went off to talk to the prosecutor (again, leaving out me, the one who this was all actually affects), and when they came back, Mom told me I had to plead guilty.

I know, what the fuck, right? I didn't want to do it, but apparently they made a 'deal' that kept me out of custody if I admitted it and acted all sorry. I bitched a bit at Mom about it, and she acted like I didn't even have a choice which made me want to plead not guilty just to piss her off. But Billy begged me to take the deal, and at least he acted like he wanted me to choose to do the right thing, rather than being forced into it. So fine, I said okay.

We had a private meeting to hammer out the details, and then went back into court and the Judge was all serious, "I understand we have a change in plea," and my lawyer nudged me and I said that I was pleading guilty, and even said I was really sorry, and he convicted me and asked the prosecutor for their sentencing recommendation.

That's when I heard it for the first time. "In consideration of Miss Gibson's guilty plea and her age, we feel that..." And he paused, or it felt like he did, and I thought he was going to say probation, which is what we talked about (later Mom insisted she said like probation), but how he actually finished was, "an alternative sentencing model would be appropriate. Miss Gibson could serve as an example to her peers while still paying a debt to society, prevented from re-offending but still able to attend school." So I'm thinking I'm going to be doomed to sacrificing my weekends to community service, picking up trash (things a drone can do), and then they flash a picture on the screen beside the judge of this neckband and cuffs. "PATHcorp's on-demand restraint system has gotten trial approval to enforce alternative sentencing conditions and is working well in (I can't remember which cities he gave because it's bullshit anyway). We recommend daily punishment periods with longer terms during weekends as well as constant monitoring."

I spoke up then, just a "What?" and got shushed by everyone at my table, and tried to stand up but Mom held me down (bitch is stronger than she looks), and before I knew it, my trial was over. He referred it to a probation officer who will determine all the conditions along with the prosecutor and my lawyer.

I mean, seriously? I have to wear this experimental restraint tech that's going to monitor my location, and restrict my movements? ALL THE FUCKING TIME? It's like house arrest except on amphetamines. Speaking of which, since there were drug charges, I'm almost certain it's going to monitor my blood to make sure I'm on nothing fun, so that's going to be a huge pita. I guess it's still slightly better than actual incarceration. They said something about a public component, too, which means it's probably going to be ugly as fuck, but maybe I'll start a new trend. Weirder things have happened.

I'm technically already grounded, but they're not coming until next week to put it on, so I guess I have a little break before my sentence. Maybe I can sneak out if my friends throw me another last night spectacular. Probably asking too much since I just had one, but any excuse to party, right?

Naturally, even though I was obviously miserable, Mom must have been pleased as a punch with the sentence. I mean, she tried to pretend that she was depressed, but I can tell. It's like her life dream, she's basically got the cops to control my life for her. Another way I could tell she was happy: she got the autocab to stop at Sonic for dinner. I got a Big Mac [[Inset: picture of double-decker burger, resting in the lap of a girl. One bite has been taken out of it.]] I should have got the footlong.

I'm just killing time now... I mean, it's already far too long a recap that I'm never going to read, but I needed something to do, something's been fucked up with access all evening... like, not an outage or anything because I can still get to this journal, obviously, but, I'm not able to connect to anyone I know, there must be something gumming up some traffic but not others. Or like Mom's selectively blocking (but she wouldn't fucking dare after what I did last time [[Inset: Link to diary entry not included]]).

And it doesn't look like it's back up still.

Maybe I will go talk to Billy, see if he wants to play Wobble or something.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5608 (rounded up), 4:55pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Pillar of Rage," by The Black Hands]]

Fucking motherfucker cuntface shitgoblin Aslan-raping-Christ!

So turns out I was being fucking snubbed yesterday, and this morning. And the cowardly fucks didn't even tell me to my face, they just let me figure it out for myself.

Last night I went to bed early. I mean, I was kind of wiped out and Mom was watching me like I was an only child so I couldn't go anywhere, and I couldn't connect with anyone in my circle, why not just jump into bed? I couldn't sleep at first, but there are ways to fix that... Of course, I'd already been fucked hard by the legal system, so instead of using Teddy Humps-A-Lot, I decided I'd relax with my Living Tongue toy instead. Synced up a program so I could see Bruce Rucker between my thighs behind the tongue, making me quiver, and before long, that was pretty much it for my wakefulness. I'm always sleepy after a few good cums.

Morning came too fast, and I still couldn't get in touch with any of my (EX-)friends, but I was only a little worried. The sun had just come up, so I didn't expect anyone active. I figured they were probably all sleeping off whatever they did yesterday. But being out of contact so long wast just starting to piss me off... I mean, at least a "hey how'd it go" would have been appropriate. I mean, I told Dani briefly on the way home, but still, I thought, they're my friends, right? They should want to hear the story, get any video, and so on.

My reputation score on the school markets took a dive, but I expected that. Most Dreamers just relish the chance to downgrade somebody right after anything happens that's too public. Same thing happened right after my arrest, and, sure, the drop from my conviction was worse (I guess they weren't expecting me to get off?), usually showing I don't give a fuck is enough to make them remember that the great unwatched masses wish they were me and their envy and upvotes from my friends bring the scores back up... and even if not, a low score among the Dreamers is usually a point in my favor for the people who really count.

And my score among my friends group seemed to be stable. Perfectly stable.

I guess that should have been the first sign. No congratulation upvotes? No random fluctuation as the balancing equations do their magic because somebody else gained or lost popularity and that changed how their opinion of me was weighed? No, it was steady.

It took me till like noon to figure out why. My house was declared "not-local" to the network my circles use, and my last out-of-area codes lapsed without being able to grab new ones, and since my widget couldn't refresh, my last score stuck.

At first, I thought it was a mistake. Maybe somebody had crossed the boundary between Dreamers and doers and became one of the cool kids, and some admin got sloppy while updating the borders, shifted the center and left me and a bunch of others out when it was time to grab the fresh out-of-area codes. And of course, I usually never even think to try contacting my friends on the public wider-range channels where they might be tapped by nosy drone parents, I just waited for someone to wake up and figure it out.

So finally Mom went out, dressed up like she had a date or something, and I decided it was time to break out of house arrest while I still could. Billy must have been watching the hall cams, because before I got to the door, he came running out. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going out. I'm not hanging out here all day."

"You're going to get in trouble... again. If the police find out..." Just like a beta, always concerned about consequences.

"They're not going to find out!" That's what the dazzle glyphs were for, to confuse any facial recognition on cameras. Not that I expected they'd put me on any lists for that, I've checked the networks before, and nobody knows anybody who's been facialed into jail for such a minor crime.

"Mom will find out."

Of course she would. The way Billy was acting, I almost thought he might even be thirsty enough to tell her himself... if it wasn't already a whoregone conclusion. Or maybe it wasn't. It was fifty-fifty on me being caught. Billy might whine at me, but I don't really think he'd turn me in... he was good with hacks, and usually he covers for me if I ask nicely, put old footage in, disable the nanny monitors. Narc? Nah... the most he might do is not help out. But the fifty-fifty chance was because, even if Mom wasn't watching things live, she'd be paying more attention than usual after.

I didn't give a fuck though. "Yeah, and what's she going to do? Ground me double? I'll just sneak out again. She can't tell on me, cause then I'd go to jail, and it'd be all her fault. Mom ain't going to do shit." That's the thing I learned that Billy hasn't, that dreamers never figure out. You're free of your parents when you decide to be, because there's only so much they could do. And if they love you, they'll cover for your shit because they don't want you to have the comcastic future they expect from someone with a record. But it goes both ways. Mom can be a bitch and I hate her sometimes but she loves me, and if I ever found out she murdered somebody, I'd cover it up and she'd do the same. Which puts her at least one step up off friends, who'll fucking stab you in the back and fuck your life over for no fucking reason.

Billy backed down, like I knew he would, and I pushed past him and into freedom. Didn't get more than a block from home before Mom called, but I thumbs-downed the call.

That was also about the time that I got within range of the Darer network and saw my reputation plummet. I was in the negatives! The fucking negatives! That meant that some of my best friends scored me negatives, that I could tell without even looking, but I didn't know who, and I sure as hell didn't know why.

The comments, they were brutal too. There were plenty of the usual assortment, cunt, bitch, loser, things that might even be meant affectionately, but one word kept appearing over and over again. Snitch.

I am not a fucking snitch.

Somebody was smearing me.

I tried to connect with Dani, sure that she was already trying to do damage control. After all, she was the only one to talk to me yesterday. But even though I was in range, it wouldn't connect. I'd been shitlisted. I couldn't even call up pointers to where she, or anybody who mattered, was.

Eventually, I found somebody (Joan) who hadn't already shitlisted me (and didn't do it immediately when I tried to connect), who explained what now, apparently, "everyone knows." That I was supposed to go to juvie but I got a back room deal in exchange for selling out everybody else arrested that day. Because none of them got to go home.

It's total bullshit!

I knew what I had to do. I had to find Dani, explain, because even if she fell for what everyone was saying, we were best friends, and if I could just talk to her I could explain and she'd believe me and then she'd help me convince everybody else. Right?

[[Inset: Ominous public domain music clip]]

Yeah, right. I tried visiting her at home, but she wasn't there, so I connected with her mom, got her in-home intern of course, but I told him my address book was fried and wondered if he or her mom anyone knew where Dani was in the flesh. Luckily nobody tells parents anything about their social dramas, and they certainly don't tell the interns, so in order to get rid of me the fastest way, he just told me the truth... or what he thought was the truth, anyway, that Dani was listed as meeting some of her friends down at the game stage in the GoDaddy building. That meant she probably was in that vicinity, physically, though I doubted she was participating in the game. We're not Dreamers, we're doers, the Daring. Participating in somebody else's drama may be fun sometimes, but the best part about the game stages is finding an unused room to have our own fun our own way or skipping out entirely.

I checked the listings. This week they're running a starship drama where you could play crewmen, and a zombie horde story and some medieval fantasy shit. True, the medieval one might have had some fun frilly costumes to get dirty with, but I thought the starship one was the best bet. We've actually played that one before (I mean they change the plot up every couple weeks but they're all pretty much the same), and the halls of the ship have lots of little rooms that it's easy to fritz the monitoring... or set up a good-enough blind. The others are more open-area, easier to get caught by somebody who sees through AR.

Autobussed it down there, paid the fee to join in the space opera, got my AR uniform tags (should have worn something tighter... they had to cast me as a space marine... still, looked pretty badass in the selfie they allowed me before shutting down my access): [[Inset: short video, AR-enabled, of Hillary in an outfit from the syndicated Gravity Fails interactive (which, to the disillusionment of too many first-timers, never actual features gravity failing since when the story might call for it to happen it would be too difficult to simulate). Her gear is Tank-class, with full combat armor, heavy shoulder pads, in shades of blue and silver, with ads for MerckPfizer, Pepsi, and Facet Software floating above them like the classic devils and angels offering advice, or, more accurately, three corporate devils, and the only advice they had was "buy." Of course, the ads are no less real than the armor... both are augmented reality projections, albeit very high-quality ones. As such, Hillary moves more fluidly than somebody actually carrying everything projected on her would, particularly somebody of her slight size. In the ten second clip, she whips out a huge plasma rifle, also mostly AR, and aims it at the mirror she's filming herself in.]]

I wandered around for like an hour while cannibalistic aliens stalked the ship (I showed up late so they were already in an action act), shooting things occasionally, but I wasn't there for the game, mostly I was ducking into individual rooms looking for teenagers getting freaky. And I found a few (and one guy I bought a hit of kama off and I'm glad I did because it is sooo taking the edge off right now), but no one I knew well, they were all people from other enclosures and a few of the cooler iCity poors splurging on a fun night.

Then I got killed while making my way to the next empty room. One of the main cast members came running down a corridor and an alien was coming after him and I just reacted and shot, but then there was another behind that one and that one shot me, and they pulled me out of the game and I guess ate my beautiful, delicious corpse. In the waiting room where they showed you how your actions impacted the story (I totally saved that bio-acquisitions expert guy who was apparently key to the resolution of that arc and making sure the mission turned a profit despite the deaths) and tried to convince me to join back in as another character, but I figured I'd chosen the wrong sim, and, especially after buying the kama, I didn't have money to try one of the other floors in the game arena, so I just ditched, went down to the food court and went hunting for leads.

That's when I found it. My former friends might have cut my access to the locator system, but they didn't change the codes for our private AR protocols, and that meant I could see the upright rabbit standing in a potted plastic plant near the Noodle Printer. At first I didn't know that no one else could see it... I thought it was just an ad, the kind everyone ignores, but then I remembered Dave Pondsmith was pitching to run a party recently, and he liked the whole Alice in Wonderland theme and the rabbit was staring at that gold broach thing that had a clock in it.

So I took a chance of getting spammed and went up and poked it so it would unpack. Sure enough, a map appeared highlighting a spot on a floor two down from the food court, not part of the game stage. The directory said it was a cosmetic tune-up clinic, but the doctors only work a few days during the week and I guess somebody had security override codes which made it a perfect place for a party. The elevator wouldn't stop there, but there was a route outlined through an emergency stairwell.

Sounded good to me. Maybe I could change up my boob size while I was there.

Jokes aside, can you believe this shit? This is what happened when I showed up:

[[Inset: video footage, AR enabled.

What you see is teenagers doing what they've done for centuries, partying with music and mood enhancers. Whether PiRat, working class or glitterkids, the pattern's the same, only the details and the stakes are different. Among those from Hillary's wall-enclosed neighborhood, in that delicate space where they have a realistic hope of a corporate sponsorship leading to a high paying job if they keep their reputations clean enough, it's usually a tamer affair, but these are the self-proclaimed Daring, the envelope-pushers, the ones who believe they're the exception, immune, immortal. They'll party and fuck around as much as any PiRat... but they do it in what they believe are carefully engineered blind spots, trusting in each other to keep the appropriate secrets and savoring the thrill of getting away with things under the noses of adults.

They never realize that the truth is their privacy is largely illusory, that it's fairly likely you can't stop a determined snoop, if they care enough, and often these kids are actually just an expected part of the system they think they're rebelling against. The game stages have empty unmonitored rooms just because it attracts kids like these, or more importantly their money. In this clinic, their presence is noted and waiting for a cost/benefit analysis to tick over and decide it's worth breaking up... if they choose the right moment, they might even be able to turn a profit by confiscating drugs or technology hastily left behind by teens sure they're about to be arrested if they don't run. For all their fears, actual arrest is unlikely. The price of involving the cops being what it is, even after the fact, the incursion is temporarily tolerated so long as they don't do much damage and don't attempt to hack into the supply of legitimate medication or cosmetics like toner or FollicleToggle cream.

Though on this night, from this point of view, that supply is disguised... the space no longer even looks at all like a clinic. Gone is anything identifiable as a waiting room or surgical bench. Private AR tags have transformed the walls and furniture into art spaces, some giving a two-dimensional surface the look of a deep window onto an alternate world, the kind of quality that has caused more than one person, judgment impaired by sufficient chemicals, to hurt their head trying to access. Others are painted with more simple virtual video screens or static paintings. Dancing flowers sprout up from the floors, swaying along with the current song ("Haze" by Kerry Eurodyne). The adolescents themselves are also made up, although the cheaper AR illusions are necessarily less perfect with moving people, and sometimes a flash of adware asserts its dominance and peeks through an otherwise good costume.

There are a little over two dozen in all, clumped up in small groups. One couple's making out, another two guys are dancing together and singing along, and there's a small crowd watching a girl on her knees (who wears risque CamelFoot ultra-tight wearables that show the entire contours of her lower body, including labial shape) and allow a tiger-print to appear on her legs. She's on her knees because she's alternating between sucking one guy's cock and licking another girl's bare pussy, while the two being serviced kiss.

The mood changes quickly, as one boy, with a playing card of the 6 of clubs sprouting from the AR around his lanky body on either side, turns and spots the camera, spots Hillary. He nudges his nearest friend, and then both of their fingers stars wiggling, composing private messages, and within a few seconds, everybody's turned, at least briefly, to the new arrival in their midst. Most (at least, most of those who aren't wearing masks that have animated AR faces on them) stare disapprovingly.

Hillary's voice says, "Hey everyone." It's uncertain, nervous, no matter how much she might deny it. Even more insecure is the waver in tone as she says, "Figured I'd sneak out and celebrate my evading juvie."

"Yeah, we heard you escaped," says a blonde asian girl with large cartoon mouse ears. Lest you think she's a wannabe PiRat, the truth is simpler, she's taken on a costume loosely inspired by the Dormouse in the book Alice's Adventures In Wonderland or one of the many adaptations. There's a gleaming AR bead hovering by her head, expandable to point out that she's accepted a dare, that she will take sedatives at the party and allow anybody to do what they want with her unconscious body, for lewd youths to watch and enjoy. But at the moment she's awake and alert, and perhaps thinking of backing out. For all their bluster, even the Daring are more conservative than they pretend. Given enough time, peer pressure might win out over nerves, but right now the Dormouse is grateful for the distraction. "Funny how nobody else you were arrested with got off so lightly." Somebody calls forth an AR image of a winged golden ball that floats towards the view and then disappears from the footage, but other enabled views would show it circling her.

"I'm not a snitch!" Hillary whines. Nobody seems convinced, or even willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. They stare at her with the type of hard, uncompromising faces that judges wear when they sentence somebody to death.

The view bobs and Hillary spots a girl who looks very much like herself, same age, same style of hair (only it's green, longer in the front, and starting to grow in, in blonde, on the shaved sides). She's also got the same body type and skin tone, and similar glyphs on her face (although hers are a simple spiral pattern). AR paints an old fashioned blue dress with a white pinafore and striped stockings over her slight frame, marking her out as taking on, at least at present, the role of Alice, although she's actually wearing a tight (though not CamelFoot tight) bodysuit. AR costumes often get swapped throughout the night so her dressing as the lead figure of the theme conveys no special status. At the moment, she seems uninterested in attention... she's not looking at Hillary, at least not all of the time, she's looking at the floor. "Dani! Come on, you can vouch for me, you know I didn't do anything!"

There's a short laugh, and one of the revelers says, "Who do you think told us what you did?"

Dani looks up then, staring Hillary right in the eye, holding it for a second of silence before looking away, disdainfully. She doesn't speak, her fingers send a message not intended for Hillary's ears.

"But... I didn't! I wouldn't. It's a lie." It's said at first with wonder, then with vehemence. "It's a lie. She's fucking lying!"

"Then why are you the only one free?" the one who laughed asks. "Logan didn't get a sweet deal, did he?"

And Hillary has no response, except, after a few seconds, "It's not a sweet deal! It's just a different form of punishment!" But she sounds unconvincing. "I wasn't even really involved!" And it's true, to an extent. The possession charge was fair, as far as these things go, but unlike many of the others arrested, she wasn't directly involved in the creation or distribution of the illegal drugs and weaponry, and never touched the hacked print shop that escalated the charges on the ringleaders. But she knew about it and there was enough to support a charge, and some of the other kids' involvements were as limited as hers.

A message blooms in the air, a vote, suggesting they uninvite Hillary from the party. Various people make a thumbs up gesture, and check-marks appear next to the vote. "You're not really involved with us, either," someone says, when the vote is clearly trending towards approval... not everyone has voted yes on the expulsion, but nobody has yet voted no. The camera's view is locked on Hillary's friend Dani, making her own thumbs-up gesture.

"I didn't do anything!"

Moments later, everything changes. Hillary, and the cameras under her control, no longer have the proper codes to see the party's AR tags, and so the clinic returns to a sterile business place filled with teenagers in the kind of average clothes that are optimized for AR-enhancement... mostly tights and plain colors, except for the ads that flicker on some. A counter that was disguised as a rose bush contains bulkier clothes that were shed in the interests of a sleeker profile or remaining cool, while still close enough to provide their function as wearables. The music is likewise gone, and the video is suddenly silent, except one girl who was singing along and appears not to have noticed the whole expulsion ceremony. Nobody else notices the singer either, because they can still hear the music, see the sights, and there, she's just part of the background and her actual crooning doesn't stand out as unusual among the sound in the AR.

"Go away, Hillary," says the former Dormouse. "Find some other group to bother."

The camera pans one last time to Dani, before Hillary says, "Fuck you all, motherfuckers."

They turn away and continue dancing, a move that seems calculated to express the attitude that she is an outsider, unwelcome, unworthy to even share the same reality as her former friends. She could stay, but why? They're already in two different worlds.

So Hillary turns for the door, and that's where the video ends.

Not shown: Security decided to 'notice' the party minutes after Hillary leaves. It wasn't her fault, merely foul luck, yet... Hillary will be blamed for it anyway, because it reinforced the story they've already decided on. Even though no one was arrested, and only a few reprogrammable AR stickers were lost, it's one more piece of evidence in their minds that she's a snitch. Whether it is for this misunderstanding that Hillary was systematically removed from access to most of her other social networks, or whether this was planned all along, must be left up to your own imagination.]]

I can't believe it. Some of them, I couldn't give a shit, idiot sheep. But of all people, Dani? How could I have missed what a fucking backstabbing bitch my best friend could be?

As if this week couldn't get any worse. I even had to do that hit of kama on the way home to stop from crying, and it's working, mostly. At least I got home before I started to look like this:

[[Inset: Self-photo taken in a mirror from a bed, while Hillary is clad just in a short undershirt and panties. Her hair's wild and all over the place, like she's been vigorously shaking her head several times, and her eyes are red. No tears are presently falling, but the glyphs on her cheeks have dead pixels where the protective coating has been worn away by previous ones and wind up looking oddly streaked.]]

The weird thing is, the tears don't stop but on the kama, I don't feel sad, I feel... disconnected, but I guess my body knows. I do feel the anger, but it comes and goes on it though. Sometimes I forget I'm angry at all, sometimes I want to burn the world down.

Tomorrow I'll be straight, though and that will almost certainly be like a red-hot metal ass rape of my heart.

Anyway, thank you Joan Varley [[Inset: photo of a tall girl who looks eighteen but is actually 14, with long straight blonde hair and almost too-large eyes. She's dressed in a black leather ensemble, with ad-patches on the arms]] for at least bothering to tell me why everyone hates me now, and for not being a total bitch when she did. I owe her one even if we weren't close before, and I always pay my debts. You better keep that in mind too, Dani, cause it goes both ways.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5609 (rounded up), 3:16pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Memory Hole" by Agrippa]]

Now that I've been stabbed in the back by what was supposed to be my best friend, and abandoned by everyone else, I don't know what to do with myself. I guess not everyone's abandoned me, but I don't feel like talking to anybody in any of my other circles... all the ones that matter, Dani's in too, and she's probably poisoned them against me too, that bitch. All the rest are specialty interest groups and right now, I don't feel very interested in anything. I don't even want to leave the house, and I always want to be away from here when Mom's home and the Rat's crying his head off.

I can't believe she did this to me! If it wasn't for me, she'd still be in the pedestrian lane of life. I was the one who figured out that nanny programs turned off when we masturbated, so we could actually talk about crossing between Dreamers and the Daring. I was the one who got us invited to that first black party. I signed us up for our first dares, and set us up to get our first drugged glyphs (not to mention I was the one to take the cumshot on our first ever blowjobs to pay for them).

And she can't even give me one bit of loyalty?

Why? She won't even talk to me! If I could just know why, maybe I could get past it, or try to make it up to her, but if she won't...

... fuck her.

I want to make her pay, but what am I going to do? I've got so much dirt on her but if I do anything with it, then that just proves her right. I can't exactly punch her out (maybe I can, but I'd have to do it quick before my sentence begins if I was going to get away with it, otherwise it's jail for me). So I'll have to play the long game, earn my way back up the reputation scores and find a way to trash her in the future.

Well, there's one other thing I can do. Flush the fucking tumor out of my system. No way does that bitch deserve to be promoted in any of my networks. She deserves to be fucking erased. So today I've been going through every old share that mentions or includes her, and deleting it.

Not in my journal, of course. As tempting as it is, the whole point of this thing is that so one day long after I'm gone, scientists can recreate me from my memories and the stuff I've recorded. I don't even know if I believe in this simulation-afterlife shit anymore (Mom probably secretly stopped paying to store my blood sample after seeing how I turned out), but if it is real, me without my memories of Dani won't be me. Probably.

But I can send a message by scrubbing her from every other part of my public life. And even the private memories I've built up, I don't want them anywhere I might come across them. So I'm going through my starred memories, removing them from easy access indexing, and shoving them here. Maybe I'll delete them later.

[[Inset: Video taken at Hillary's pre-court party. The theme of this party is bondage, with most participants wearing shackles or gimp masks or other bondage-paraphernalia, mostly as demonstrated in netflix rather than actual experience. A few wear genuine fake leather, although AR imitations of it are more common.

The video is long and unedited, incorporating video from multiple sources, and a lot of the footage contains a lot of drinking and casual drug use, but surprisingly little sex except occasional spanking, and even that's mostly without physical contact.

One section is highlighted by Hillary. Dani and Hillary dancing together, side by side, their cheeks pressed together and green and blue hair look like they're wrestling with each other for dominance. Then, suddenly, Dani turns and gives a sloppy, drunken kiss on Hillary's cheek, and insists, with seeming feeling, "I'm gonna miss you so much, babe! When you're in jail, think of me!"

Hillary responds with a spontaneous, drug-fueled burst of laughter. "It won't be so bad. I'm sure I'll be back before you know it."

"I hope so, it won't be the same here without you. Even if you piss me off," the sentiment is broken up by another burst of laughter, "I love you like Keene loves Coke."

"I love you too, Dani. If I wind up in juvie, keep my place warm for me."

Dani then breaks away and rounds up the nearby people to cheer for Hillary and give her a good-luck-in-jail song.]]

Two-faced bitch. She's going to miss me so much, then she tells everyone I'm a snitch.

[[Inset: Video clip from Hillary's POV of a girl's room... it's not Hillary's, but rather Dani's. What can be seen of the AR enhancements make it look like some kind of ancient temple, but Hillary is too familiar with it to spend any time gazing at any of the details. Instead, she looks at Dani directly. It's only a matter of months ago, but her friend's style has changed, she's got black hair bedazzled with jewels (some real, some illusionary) and green eye makeup, a look somewhat inspired by a recent netflix depiction of Cleopatra. She wears a long tan two-piece dress that shows her belly.

"Okay let's do this," Dani says, and gives a giggle that ends in a snort. "I do hereby swear that, should it become necessary, I will relieve your brother of every one of his virginities before he becomes too much of a pest or an incorrigible d-com." She reaches out and wraps her pinky finger around Hillary's.

"Thank you," Hillary says honestly. "That's a load off my mind."

"You know, you should be glad he hacked into that haptic bra."

"Yeah, I guess... I mean imagine if he hacked Teddy Humps-A-Lot? I mean, I'm pretty sure he doesn't have a fullsense onahole, but... still, gross."

"No, I mean you should be glad he did it at all." Dani rolls over and leans over the side of the bed to stroke her longcat, who looks up and closes his eyes contentedly into slits. "I mean, at least he's taking a step. Better than being a Dreamer your whole life, like I thought he was going to be."

Hillary rolls onto her back to look at the ceiling instead, which appears inlaid with gold and has a stylized depiction of the heavens. "Please, an anonymous grope? It's just barely above peeking. It's still pretty beta. Hardly Daring material."

"You think he knew it was you?"

The view turns back over to look at her friend, who's looking back at her. "God I hope not." Just in view behind her, Dani's longcat stands up and puts one paw on the edge of the bed, uncertainly (the lab-conjured animals never were good at jumping). It opens its mouth to meow, probably plaintively, but it's silent--the cat's also had the popular voicebox-disabling surgery. Dani probably hears an AR simulation of the meow, or at least recieves an alert, as she immediately turns to pull the overlong animal up, and it then crawls over her and finds its desired spot between the two warm bodies. "I don't see how he could know, he didn't know I had it and I hadn't officially signed on. There could have been dozens of girls within range."

"You figured out it was him, couldn't he figure out it was you? I mean, he is smarter than you."

Hillary shoves her friend playfully at the insult, over the head of the cat who is startled by the sudden movement and looks as though it's reconsidering its choice of rest. "No way. The little beta's done it on other bras, he doesn't hide it cause we didn't know what he was doing. It wasn't until I saw him doing this..." She makes a little pinching motion with her hands, rolling her fingers slightly. "And I felt my nipple getting tweaked that I realized it wasn't part of a game. If he knew he got my bra this time, he'd have hidden in his room to do it."

"Unless he wanted you to know, cause he wanted to start something..." She grins.

Hillary makes a disgusted sound. "Don't even say that."

"I'm just saying, maybe you should give him a go. Isn't that what your whole Resurrectionist church is always talking about, be interesting so they bring you back? What's more interesting than letting your own brother cum inside you as his first time, being the one pussy he compares everybody else against the rest of his life."

Hillary strokes the once again relaxing cat between them. "Please. It's not about acting like a famewhore like Erin Zula, it's about being interesting by being yourself. Like how my mom got famous, following her passion or whatever. And my little brother is not one of my passions. The only reason you think the incest thing is cool is because you don't have siblings. Trust me. If that was one of my things, I'd have already initiated him myself instead of asking you to do it."

"Hey, I don't mind doing it. He's kind of cute, for a betaboy. Hey, what're his cockstats?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen it since he was, like, ten. All guys that age are tiny."

"You've got to have some recent tighties pic that I can run the guesstimate app on."

"He doesn't like tights. Even when he's wearing AR he usually has clothes peeking out. So I don't know, maybe I could find something... but, you know, he's probably average at least."

"But if he doesn't like tights, maybe he's..." She lifts and wiggles her pinky finger.

"It's not that, it's his legs he's self-conscious about."

"I hope so, I don't want a microdick in me." Dani makes a face.

"Too bad, you already promised. No breaching."

Hillary's friend gives a sigh, but then smiles. "Fine. I'll do him even if he's a microdick. You're lucky you're my best friend, though."

"He's probably bigger than average. Mom would have wanted him to be exceptional."

"Well, in that case... maybe I'm lucky I'm your best friend."]]

Bitch never followed through on that, either. What a useless fucking shitstain of a friend.

[[Inset: Another video, another party, this one taken at somebody's house. The point of view is stable, probably a camera on one of Hillary's wearables, hung on a hook. She's certainly not wearing them. She and Dani, at this point in matching shoulder-length red-hair that makes them look like twins, are clad only in bra and panties. The panties are the classic look of Disney's failed Faces brand underwear, the ones that, years ago in outraged media reports, were mockingly called, "A Girl's First Strap-On", with soft plastic face-molds jutting off the front, in the shape of Mickey's snout, that could, and often were, used in exploratory lesbian sex sessions, just long and wide and rigid enough to barely penetrate a curious preteen's hole with soft humping, or rub against a clit with a firm but silky pressure. As the original underwear were mostly in smaller sizes and, furthermore, have been sought-after collector's items in the years since they were taken off the market, it's most likely that these are reproductions from a custom clothing print shop skirting intellectual property law.

While Dani and Hillary are not actually having sex, they are using the cartoon faces provocatively, alternatively thrusting towards each other's underwear-covered butt, and at one point Hillary lifts Dani's legs in the air, leaving her supported only by her arms, as the plastic snout mashes into the crotch-piece, as they dance together for an audience of friends. During the video, they sing two songs (with a jump cut in between that suggests they were not consecutive). The first is "Show Me" by Wants To Be Free. The second is an impromptu tune, a parody of a much older song, the dancing more fun than sensual, despite the words:

"Thank you for being a friend....

We'll be united right to end...

I'd stab a bitch for you, you're the cause of my best mistakes.

And if you threw an orgy,

Invited every nigga you knew,

You would see the biggest cock would go to me,

And in my cries of bliss, I'd say...

Thank you for being a friend..."

After this song, the girls dissolve into giggles while others at the party clap or whistle.]]

Friends to the end? Right now the only bitch I want to stab is you.

[[Inset: Video taken at night, in iCity, far outside of the gated community enclosure Hillary hails from, one of the neutral areas, standing on top of a prefab building, looking down of a street glittering with various AR advertisements, but no sound filters up to them.

"I don't know about this..."

She looks up, catches Dani smiling at her. Dani wears dark hair, freshly shaved along the sides, has a temporary nose ring in, and is clad in black tights, much like Hillary is. "Come on, Hillary... I know you can do it. But we don't have to. If you want to back out, I won't do the dare either."

"I want to, it's just... the Silent... they're kind of freaky."

"Trust me." This isn't Dani, and Hillary's POV swings to see the speaker, a young man in his late teens wearing a leatherish jacket. "I've lived near the Silent for months, and trust me, they're mostly talk."

"Really," Dani says with a bit of a smirk. "Cause I've heard they're pretty much all text."

The joke's not worthy of a reply, but Hillary focused on the man now. "Yeah, I knew you wouldn't be scared, Logan, but that's you. You've got protection, Logan, even if they caught you...." She leaves the thought unfinished, but it's likely the Silent would arrange a trade of some sort. "But us, we're rich kids, and if we go screaming through Silent territory at night, they might..."

"What? Hunt you down? Make an example out of you?" Logan finishes. "You've seen too many netflix. If there's any danger, it's that they won't fall for the distraction, and it's not us who's on the hook for that." He waits a second, then, sensing hesitation, continues, "Look, chicken out if you want, but, I'm not doing this for some stupid dare, I've got money on this... so... keep up, or be left behind." He smiles, though, and walks to the edge of the building where there's another guy.

After he's out of earshot, Hillary whispers, "Man, I love how cool he is. What do you think he's on? Glide? Kama?"

"I don't know," Dani says. "Maybe he'll give us some after we do this. If you still want to." She reaches out, clasps Hillary by the hand, squeezes tight. "Whatever it is, it's together."

Hillary takes a deep, audible breath. "Okay, let's do it. Only thing worse than death is being left behind, right?" They walk to the edge of the building, meet Logan and his friends, who attach something to Hillary's belt, and also Dani's, and pins something to her shirt.

"You know the plan, right?" Logan says. "If we get separated."

"We won't get separated," Dani says.

"We know," Hillary says. "Let's just do this."

The three, along with two others, brace themselves on the side of the building, and then, at an unseen signal, loud, instrumental music begins, disturbing the quiet of the night. This isn't opt-out music, played only an AR layer and the eardrums of those subscribed to it, it's diagetic, actual sound, loud and attention-getting and angry. An optional viewpoint becomes available, from a small camera drone, viewing them from above as they exchange one last nod.

While the music plays, the five quick-rappel down the side of the building, the two girls screaming in glee. When they reach the bottom, they detach and step onto powered inline skates, already waiting, and zoom through streets raising hell and attracting the attention of members of the gang known as Silent, who peer out of windows or look up from corners. Some are curled up in a ball suffering from, or pretending to suffer from, the sensory sensitivity that affected the pioneer Silents. Others shake their fists angrily while AR curse words appear in vibrant color in the air. A few even give chase, on foot, but without much success. And the gang is true to their name, although many look like they want to, none shout. Even those who didn't get the voicebox shunt that's becoming popular, the same surgery that was developed for loud dogs and cats like Dani's, wouldn't dare speak louder than a whisper after midnight.

The raid Hillary and Dani are part of inconsiderately disturb as many members of the gang as they can, making a quick pass through the blocks they control, getting the excitement they craved and fulfilling the terms of their dare, but are never particularly in danger, nor do they even get very close to a member of the gang who wasn't holding their ears to blot out the noise. Once they're safely out of neutral territory, Dani and Hillary laugh in relief, shut off the speakers on their chests, and hug, then Hillary looks around, realizing that she and Dani did wind up getting separated from Logan and his group. "Come on, let's go find Logan, he owes us something good."]]

I haven't even made a dent in the Dani tag. God, I don't have the fucking energy for this right now. Maybe I'll do more tomorrow.

Fuck, tomorrow I'm back at school.

Fuck my life.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5610 (rounded up), 5:30pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Tree of Pain," by Aenea and the Keats Cybrid]]

So today I discovered what being a pariah at school's like. And let me tell you, it's comcastic. I've been home an hour and I still feel like slitting my wrists. Not really, I don't want to give them the satisfaction, but it was pretty harsh.

All day it was like everyone was staring at me, whispering about me, taking some video to give it some cruel filter or caption and sending it back, or just messaging each other about me. It sounds egotistical but you can see it in their faces... every eye was on me. And sometimes they were open about it. Like this:

[[Inset video: Hillary approaches the front door of her school, a sleek metal sliding door with a scanner above it to make sure only students and staff enter. After a brief scan, it opens, and there are students milling in the antiseptic white halls beyond. No staff are in evidence, but most of the teachers are virtual presences anyway, along with a few guards to prevent physical violence and proctors to enforce rules.

It's not Hillary's imagination, the other students really are eyeing her, sometimes sneering openly, before dramatically turning away. The words "Snitch" and "Traitor" and "Coward" are muttered, just barely loud enough to hear, some to friends who are physically there, some over some local network link, the latter representing some token rebellion against the rules that the administration usually turns a blind eye to.

To those in not-for-profit school systems, or who get their education from the streets, the entire setup would seem sterile, almost inhuman. There's a certain eerie uniformity among the students, not least because they're actually wearing uniforms. The outfits come in two varieties for top and bottom each, there's a buttoned shirt and vest combo or a short-sleeved blouse, and either pants or knee-length skirts, all in white and either blue or red (to match the currently sponsored corporate colors), or black (to provide a neutral choice consistent with the flimsy legal guidelines of 'avoiding compelled speech'). What each individual student wears, within those permutations, is legally up to them, and, even aside from a few who embrace genderfluidity as a lifepath, there are plenty of females wearing pants or vest and a few males wearing either skirts or blouses, or both, but still, it feels like a sea of conformity, especially because personal AR enhancements are at least theoretically forbidden on school grounds. AR in general is fairly sparse within the school, aside from educational aids, administrative tags and official ads, and they're mostly limited to walls and lecture plans.

To assert their individuality, some of the students choose outrageous hair styles, sport facial glyphs, or augment their outfits with jewelry or footware (which provide double duty in allowing them to access their own archives separate from school monitoring), but most of them are so paranoid about what future employers might think that they'd rather blend into the crowd than be noticed for the wrong thing.

Even allowing for the minority of fashion rebels, the atmosphere of conformity goes beyond the outfits. Those with parents well-off enough to enroll them in this school are also in a position to have flaws corrected, sometimes genetically in the womb, sometimes with surgery or hormone treatments after the fact. There are differences in height and body shape, facial features and racial makeup, but nearly everyone is blandly beautiful. No one has bad skin or an ugly mole or teeth. No one is overweight (and over-muscled is out-of-fashion, even among the males). Even those who've taken the plunge and officially crossed gender are indistinguishable from attractive members of their new sex on the outside (regardless whether or not they have the genitals to match, that change a step most parents are still cautious about taking before teen years are up).

Still, a trained eye can pick out slight differences between the two major social groups, the Daring and the Dreamers (as many of the Daring call them... the so-called Dreamers more typically describe themselves as "normal people" or "on track" and sometimes the Darers are "the entertainment" or "sideshow" or variations on that theme). There's nothing that outright signals any individual person as belonging to one category or the other, but broad trends apply. The Daring are more prone to stretching the dress code rules with accessories or adapting their outfits to show more skin, and outside of school, they are on the bleeding edge of fashion. In general, the Dreamers are more stressed, about passing all the tests, that somebody will expose some dark secret to their friends and those friends will expose it to everyone to get ahead, and their future lives will unravel.

But in this video, the key difference is highlighted in their reaction to Hillary. The Dreamers are amused, her fall from grace is another piece of entertainment, a cautionary tale that validates their own cautious life-choices. The Daring, they're contemptuous, she betrayed them and their best revenge is to make her aware of how much beneath them they feel she is.

Not shown: Shortly after entering, before class begins, one of the Daring fakes a sneeze and uses that opportunity to spit in Hillary's face. She apologizes profusely, but that's a show for the cameras and any proctors questioning her behavior later--although as she's not a good actress... the look on her face makes it clear that it was no accident. Hillary doesn't have any footage of this incident... it's certainly possible to get around the blocks with a little effort, but, by default, personal video recording is disabled once school grounds are entered. Hillary didn't mention this incident, but it's included because it's known to the students and for leaving you with a better picture of what went on.]]

That's pretty much how it went all day. I've never been so lonely in a crowd full of people.

Like, the only one who even talked to me today is the new girl Shirley [[Inset picture: A dark-haired girl with glitter sparkles in her hair, wearing a school uniform in blue, sitting in the school's dropoff area, presumably waiting for an autocar to pick her up. It's a crop of a bigger picture, Shirley wasn't the focus initially and Hillary must not been able to find a more relevant photo.]], and I'm pretty sure she's a memepusher. Not a very good one, but still, I mean, the way she obsesses over this new show Count Zero that's not even out yet, it's like every time anyone's talking about new ones she breaks in to mention it. She's got to be paid to spread the word in advance, especially since it's not on any of the big watchlists.

Oh, Shirley... more like Shilly, am I right? My friends (my EX-friends) had just been talking last week about how she tries to act like one of the Daring, but we've never actually seen her do anything beyond some of the tamest dares. She's probably not even a teenager, so if she actually did anything too radical she'd be locked up or fired. You want me to like your show, eat my pussy, bitch, on camera. Actually cross the line between the dreamers and the doers instead of pretending. Sure, even if you're not a pusher the vid might spread virally, but look at all the stuff I've done and aside from that one arrest, I'm fine.

Who am I kidding? If she hasn't abandoned me by the time the first batch drops, I'll watch her fucking show just so we have something to talk about.

God, I can't believe I'm writing about Shirley in my journal. Has my social life come to this? Everyone else has got to get over it and forgive me soon, right? This was totally NOT MY FAULT.

I hope so. Otherwise, I'm probably going to have to cross back to the dreamers... I mean, not really cross over, because that's impossible. Firstly, my reputation's already pretty well trashed, so there are no dreams of a job where they care about such things. And there's no fucking way I'm giving up sex... I'm sure even with the cold shoulder I've been getting lately, somebody who knows the right moves will fuck me if I'm willing to keep it a secret.

But, just to have somebody to talk to, I might even have to go back and associate with the batch of twoshoes (what does that even mean?) I left behind in sixth grade. They don't like me either right now but I think it's mostly for show... I'm still the kind of person they only wish they were, and if I can manage to spend time doing wholesome things with them and not blow my brains out, they'll accept me sooner or later, I think.

So, it's not so bad. Hey, maybe I can even sneak a virgin over the border. Neal's [[Inset Photo: A clean-cut looking kid, blond, blue eyed, square-jawed, like an aryan clone, wearing the school sports uniform]] is pretty yummy and I don't know if he's a actually a virgin like he claims (even the most drone-watched kids hits an outage or glitchy access now and then... maybe he and another dreamer made a silent fuckpact or something during one), but I know the only reason he doesn't try to get laid is because his mombeast watches his every move. You can just tell he wants it worse than anyone.

Like that time we were playing "TapThat" after school and I slapped his butt and he got all cute and blushy but then his bitch mom's voice cut in and told him not to hang with me, and me to "please not" drag her son into my "rebellious phase" because he's got a good career track ahead of him. The nerve. As bad as Mom is, she's not that bad anymore. But I can tell by the way Neil looks at me he's just praying for an outage when I'm nearby, and he's right to... Give me a few minutes alone with him and I'll have him ready to shit in his mother's bed and then join the Machetes just for another blowjob from me.

Of course, that would involve me being alone with him after school, and too much of my after school time is about to be devoted to this stupid fucking punishment. Fuck shithouse cunt cops, dicks shrivel up because they can't catch a murderer and have to make me suffer for it.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5612 (rounded up), 6:33pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Shallow" by Rei Toei]]

I finally got my chance to talk to Dani. She's been ducking me these last few days, I'm on her shitlist everywhere and even at school she'd been either ignoring me or avoiding me or has been in a crowd most of the time. And even if I did get her close-to-alone then, she'd probably stick to her story, knowing I was stealth-recording it and could show it to everyone if she admitted she made it up.

But even if I couldn't go through with that plan, I still needed to talk to her. I needed to hear from her lips... why?

Well, as much as I've complained about gym class being pointless time-filler when we can just use toner, it finally had a use, because the shower/change room is the one place that they don't just try to override your systems, but actually take all of them away so there's no chance of video getting out. And since Dani and I share the class, it gave me a window of opportunity to get the truth.

I played it casual at first, ignored her during class, waited till the shower. Most people don't actually shower or run with just a quick spray of their lower body, trusting in chems, but I know Dani's one of the few that likes to, because she likes the look it gives her hair. So I waited until she was in, and I did my best to look intimidating and told everyone else to clear out. I guess they figured I had nothing else to lose, because they did, retreating to their individual cubbies so they could get their wearables back on. Then I did the same for the few girls in the shower.

Dani just looked at me, with what looked like scared eyes, but I guess she wanted to hash this out too. If she didnt, I couldn't really do anything about it. It's not like I could hold her there... they may not actually watch us but they've got thermal sensors take note of any prolonged physical contact so the proctors can break up fights or sex (as Bella and Luisa found out in middle school [[Inset link to entry from years ago where Hillary describes the event in which two girl's adolescent experimentation becomes public knowledge. Hillary finds it hilarious]]).

But she stayed, until we were well and truly alone, just two girls standing naked in a shower, staring at each other. "What?" she said. "Don't blame me for your situation, this is your own fault."

"I didn't do anything."

"Right. Your lifelog isn't going to be used against Logan or the others?" Well, sure, but that's not enough to make me a pariah.

"That's not my fault." It isn't, not if something you have gets hacked or taken by the cops or your parents and that winds up exposing somebody's secrets. People understand... that's just bad luck. It's only if you collaborate... that was the story she spread about me. She had to tell everyone that I gave up the encryption keys or agreed to testify or something like that. "And it's not the point. You fucking backstabbed me, Dani. Why? What did I do?"

"What did you do?" She shook her head, rage making her look ugly. "You don't even know. But of course not. You never care about anyone but yourself." I waited for her to tell me. "You shouldn't have even been there, with him."

I didn't get it. "With who?"

"With Logan."

Slap me with a fish. I'd been trying not to think about him, since it was his fault I was in this mess. "This is about Logan?" She just looked at me, like this was no surprise, but I shook my head, sure that there was something deeper going on, that my best friend of all these years wasn't that shallow. "No... you're lying. If you were mad about me and Logan, you wouldn't have thrown me a party."

"Yeah, well, it's easy to be forgiving when I thought you were going away," she said. "I was going to let it slide if you were going to jail. You'd been punished enough, and I wouldn't have to look at your face for a while. But no. You got away with that, too. Little Hillary Gibson gets everything she wants. It made me sick. So I had to do something, just so I could feel like there was some justice in the universe."

It was hard to take all that in. I mean... what a stupid bitch. "You threw away our friendship... because of fucking jealousy?"

"Threw away our friendship? Who said anything about that? I'll still be your friend. Just not in front of anyone else. You're kind of ebola right now, and I have my own rep to look out for."

That was bullshit, and I must have sneered at her when I said, "You bitch!"

"See. You won't even forgive one little thing." She'd been smiling for the last few exchanges, that classic "this is just a game and I'm going to win" smiles, but right when I was about to punch her for it, it vanished and she was deadly serious. "So, fine, I'm fucking done with you too. You know what, Hil? I'm not sure we ever really had a friendship, not really. You just did whatever you wanted, and it didn't matter if I came or didn't."

"You destroyed my fucking life! How could you?"

"Pretty easily, as it turns out. Maybe everyone else was all tired of your self-centered bullshit too." Like everyone's not self-centered at times. But Dani was always my best friend, at least until this, and I treated her well. Now? I don't have anything left to say to her. Ever again, probably.

I walked right to the cubby and geared up as quickly as I could so I'd be out before her. People were waiting in the hall, maybe hoping to see blood. I just sneered at them, and called back, "Fucking lying bitch," hoping Dani could hear me through the cubby wall. And I didn't show anything other than rage.

I managed to keep the face up until I got home, then I started bawling. How could she think I was self-centered? I was always helping her, pushing her to keep up with me, when it would have been so easy to leave her behind. Okay, sure, I didn't key onto her crushing on Logan, but she never fucking said anything. Probably because she knew if she did, I would have tried to push her into asking him, and she would have kept putting it off and chickening out, until we both lost our shot with him. Like what happened with Mitsy's brother (course that was probably for the best, they're poor as fuck now, lol). I'm practically the saint-mother Theresa of her life and she does this?

I used to think I'd be destroyed if Dani died, since she doesn't keep a lifelog or subscribe to the church service, so I'd never meet her again if I became immortal or if I was ever digitally resurrected. Now, I realized there are worse things than your best friend dying.

What a fucking disaster my life has become.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5614 (rounded up), 9:38pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Like A Slave In Chains" by Robert Foster]]

I got my monitoring device today after school. It's more awful than I imagined. Look at this. Seriously, look at this shit:

[[Inset video: Hillary stands before a full length mirror, posing. She's dressed in a black crop top and skirt, but what's more eyecatching than her bellybutton or mesh-covered legs is the huge collar around her neck, and, to a lesser extent, the wristbands.

The collar is a metal donut, and looks like some cross between an old-style neck brace and a torture device, though at least it is padded inside by a skinlike surface to prevent chafing. Three circles dot the outer surface, one in the front, and one at each side. The bracelets are about the size of wrist weights used by the poor or exercise purists instead of toner, and they, too, have a metallic appearance. Although it's not legible in the video, in fine print over all pieces is "Property of PATHCorp, unauthorized tampering or removal will result in civil and criminal prosecution," as well as a serial number.]]

That's bad enough. But this is what it looks like in punishment mode.

[[Inset video: Hillary is bent over in front of a mirror. An articulated pole now juts out of the bottom of the neck piece, reaching down to the ground. This reveals why the neck piece is so large... it contains a strong wire that unfurls and is made rigid with a coded signal. Her arms are up at neck level as well, thrust forward, her wrist bands now physically connected to the neck piece, at a small distance, by two more stiff wires. The position evokes, and was in fact modeled after an old-fashioned wooden pillory used as a means of social control through humiliation-as-punishment, in the days before actual technology. What can't be seen, because the AR programming wasn't coded well enough to show up in mirrors, is the display, hovering above her head, listing Hillary's crimes that earned her this punishment.

"See?" Hillary says, looking at herself. "I get, like, one minute warning and if I don't get into position to be locked up, I have to go to jail." She exaggerates, there are a series of warnings (including a mild electrical shock) and there are provisions in place for her to defer if she is in a situation where complying would be unsafe (as well as for taking bathroom breaks), and even an emergency panic button, but the spirit of the rules is true. "I can move a little." She demonstrates. It's awkward, both because she's moving while bent over at the waist and the stick that reaches to the floor slows any movement, using molecular-scale suction wizardry to maintain an anchor on the floor even while allowing some motion laterally. "But it's a pain in the ass. I mean this is ridiculous. Who the hell thinks this stuff up?" She rolls her eyes. "My hands are free enough to make gestures, and I still have access, so I can 'make productive use of my time and get homework done.'" By the deeper tone she adopts, it's clear she's imitating somebody. "But my back is going to hurt with too much of this. I guess that's the point, make me suffer for breaking the rules."

Hillary exhales sharply in frustration, and then looks at herself in the mirror, turns her body slightly to look at her butt. "Look at this, it's like I'm set up and asking for a spanking. Bunch of perverts probably thought this up. Morons."]]

That was my second official session. My probation officer gets to set how often and when and where. He wasn't the one who thought this up, but he is a pervert... while he was discussing this with me he put his hand on my knee and slid up, like, "Hey, be nice to me and I'll be nice to you." I didn't want to play along because he was old and gross and hairy, but, he was the Law, so I spread my legs and let him see my lack of underwear. Except he was too cowardly to rip through the mesh and actually go through with it, or maybe I didn't give him the right signal or something and he thought I was trying to trap him. Or maybe I did give the right signal and this was all supposed to be much worse.

I do have to do this for five hours every week, though. The bitch of it is I don't know when it activates. All I know is that he said they won't activate it automatically during class hours so it doesn't interfere with any of the other students, but at any other time I'm awake, usually for a fifteen minute or half hour stretch. So either I stay home all the time, or I risk it triggering while I'm somewhere public. And the police, the school proctors, and my probation officer can trigger it at any time, even if I've used up my weekly hours. Like I'm going to suddenly attack them and need to be restrained or something. Fucking morons.

Meanwhile, a Friday night I'm spending in my fucking room, doing homework. That's the real punishment, making me live like Billy does. Fuck everything.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5618 (rounded up), 5:10pm:

[[Soundtrack: "A Star For All The Wrong Reasons," by Damon Killian]]

Had my first public punishment session. Remember how I said it wouldn't activate it during class hours?

Apparently the lunch break was a loophole. Motherfucker.

Maybe the probation guy warned me and I just wasn't listening very closely. But yeah, I was just enjoying my synthchicken chalupa... sure, in a corner surrounded by pedestrians, but enjoying it anyway... and then I got the warning. I swore out loud enough that I earned a fine from the auto-proctor.

I must have eaten like twenty seconds of it just trying to figure out what to do. I've already been warned about using too many deferments (yesterday it almost activated but I managed to defer it until I got home). And if I just got up and ran for the door, like I wanted to, people would think I was running for the restrooms, and I wasn't sure that was dignified, but I didn't want to do it in front of everyone, either, so I swore again (quieter though) and got up and tried to casually walk and ignore the electric shock.

I ate up most of the rest of the time getting out of the lunch room and into the outer hall, and I got my final warning right by the door outside. So I bent over, put my hands out, and got locked in place.

I tried to shuffle down the hall towards somewhere more private, but it's so hard to move, and before I could get very far, somebody saw me, and when one person did, everyone knew. I was the lunch-time entertainment until it finally released me, seemed like everybody in the school walked by to have a look at me, or say something to me. Mostly mean things.

I could take it, though. Most of the jokes were from people I don't know, younger kids just trying to look cool. My former circle? They mostly showed up to look at me with a sneer on their faces, or a self-satisfied smirk.

Oh, and that Krushkova bitch I got into a fight with last year [[Inset: Link to a story about a physical altercation between Hillary and another darer at a party over a meme mutation they both claimed to have invented. According to the entry, Hillary was clearly winning the knock-down drag-out fight at least up until the party scattered because security forces arrived, although an objective analysis of the video suggested a more even match where the worst injuries were some pulled hair and a bloody nose on Hillary's part, complimented with a split lip on the other girl's]], she dropped by too. We've been mostly ignoring each other since, but now while I was helpless, it looked like she was getting ready to spit on me. I closed my eyes and got ready to take it, but her BFF warned her that it would probably be caught on the collar's video and I'd turn her in to the proctors. As if I would. Haven't before, not my style. I'd take it like a champ and plot revenge later. Fucking Dani poisoning my reputation.

I didn't see Dani at all. Fuck her, though, I didn't really want to.

All in all it was an annoying, humiliating experience, intensely uncomfortable, and not just physically. I felt like my face was going to burn off. Wish I could figure out a way to get my hours out of the way all at home. Maybe I'll ask Billy, he spends way too much time in those hacker spaces, it's about time it starts to benefit me, and I bet I can play the sister-sympathy card.

Oh, and I almost forgot: look what got sent to me anonymously.

[[Inset: A short video of somebody walking around Hillary while she is in restraint position, but only from behind. The rear view of her bent-over body is centered throughout. Hovering in the air above her head is an AR display proclaiming her juvenile delinquency, the drugs and weapon crimes she was charged with, and at various points in the video you can see some faces of people circled around Hillary and laughing, but that's not where the filmer's gaze is. The focus is on her skirt-covered ass, to an obsessive degree that suggests the person filming was almost certainly an adolescent boy.

"Fuck off," Hillary says, not to the filmer, who she's completely unaware of, but to some younger student who suggests that she's used to being bent over. Finally, just before the video ends, a pale hand reaches out as though he's about to grab her crotch, although he stops short of actually making contact. The crowd laughs at the attempt even though Hillary is completely unaware of it.]]

I'm not sure if that was meant to mock me or flatter me, but fuck, I'm taking it as a compliment. After all, he went to all the trouble to get around the school's filming-blocks and get nice video of my ass. And it doesn't look half bad, if I do say so my self. Maybe it's getting a bit chubbier than I'd like--Mom really needs to refresh her order of toner--but obviously it was attractive enough that somebody wanted a grab. He's probably some Dreamer using it as fap material, and I can respect that. Besides, my self-esteem needs all the boosts it can get.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5621 (rounded up), 8:14pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Nothing to Live For, Nothing to Lose," by Angel Kovacs]]

Just checked out the local dare boards... I was hoping there might be something I could do to up my karma, get myself off the shit list. Because between you and me, journal, it's starting to drive me nuts (if only the rep-management companies that have been adblasting me lately actually did work instead of just rubbing my face in my situation to get me to rent their useless obvious memepushers) and I'm ready to do anything. I mean, at this point, I'd fuck a dog on an opened live stream. Well, maybe not on an open stream. But I'd do almost anything in front of a crowd, just to be popular again. Fuck, I'd do the crowd. Never done more than a threesome, but better I'm sore for a week than an outcast for life.

Anyway, doesn't look like they're giving me the option. Under my name there was one suggestion:

[[Inset: Shot from a Dare Board, superimposed over Hillary's bedroom wall. Text:

I Dare: Hillary Gibson

to: Kill Yourself.

Total Reward Pledged So Far: 114 Karma from 13 people.

There are a few 'additional conditions' attached that suggest methods, although technically they are structured such that even if Hillary did kill herself not all of the conditions could be met to get the full award. People of virtue would be appalled nonetheless.]]

That's cold. And it explains the other day, when they were talking loudly during lunch about that old rumor that when the profit margin gets too low, the school administration chooses a goat, somebody on the outskirts who doesn't have anyone willing to stand up for them, tracks them, finds every single violation, and charges the mandatory fines for them, until their family goes bankrupt and has to drop out and live on the streets. They wanted me to hear and put it together that I'd be the goat this year, and being poor would be a fate worse than death. I mean, it's not true, everyone knows there's a fine cap and you just get kicked out if they get too high, but that they were saying it... it was like they were trying to push me over the edge. Ass-fucks.

Maybe I should just do it. I mean, why not? Nobody would miss me. I hate my life now. I just hate it. That's why I haven't been as detailed when writing my lifestory updates. Why bother? It only depresses me more to go back through my day. Better idea: delete the last few weeks of footage and kill myself, then if they ever bring me back, they'll only have data up to the time when I was happy. I'll wake up in some perfect heaven future with none of the memories of after my life turned to shit. Sure they say suicides will be low priority for reconstruction, but surely the future's got some pervy old guy (or AI) who'd love to have a real 21st century teenager brought back to life.

Only problem is, these fucking shackles probably monitor my health too and they'll send somebody to 'help' and saddle Mom with a big medical bill. And worst of all, they'll know they broke me. And fuck that noise. I may not be happy, I may not be smart, but I'm stubborn as fuck and I won't give them that satisfaction.

But I've gotta find a way to turn this around, or at least make it not suck so hard. I had one idea that I liked. School sucks, and it's not like I have much to lose anyway, so... why not just get myself thrown out so Mom can subscribe me to some homeschooling thing? It could be almost fun getting banned, and at least I could go out as an epic legend. Imagine, I just bring a big old vibrator to school, drop my underwear, plop down on the front desk and start going to town in front of everybody until the proctors or guards pull me away or they activate the restraint device. One way to break the local fame barrier. They'd be talking about me for years!

Of course, that's probably a violation of my probation too and would mean outrageous fines for Mom to boot. Getting locked away is less appealing now that I've already lost everything else. Have to hold on to the small pleasure of relative freedom as hard as I can.

And really, I'm not sure I'd want to spend my whole day at home, either. Already going stir crazy just because I have nowhere to go without risking looking like an idiot. And Mom would make me watch the Rat non-stop. She's already going out all the time now. I think she's doing it to taunt me. I'm locked up and suddenly she gets a social life? It's driving me crazy.

I snapped at Billy the other day too. I asked him about hacking the collar, and he was all "I don't want to do anything that might get you in any more trouble," and I kind of went off on him about how useless he is, and got a little insulting when I tried to goad him into doing it.

"You probably can't even do it," I said at one point after I lost patience with the pleading approach. "This hacking sensei of yours you spend so much time talking to, he's probably not teaching you anything, he's just grooming you to be his little cock slave when you grow up." I don't know why I always go there. I mean, I'd be thrilled if Billy was at least a little bit bi... we could bond over hot guys. I always wanted a rainbow brother, a cool brother, and with the heteronormative tweaks Mom got on the Rat, Billy's really my only shot (seriously, Mom, fuck you, fucking hypocrite, even if the biodad insisted).

Typically, he was equally offended that I made fun of his hack-friends than at the gay thing. "Cat's-Meow isn't like that," he said. [[For the record, Hillary is deliberately misremembering Billy's friend's screen name, which is Ferocious Lion Yell. You may have heard of the name in Hackerspace circles. CatsMeow (no hyphen) is the handle of a completely separate self-proclaimed hacker goddess but she is in fact little more than a script kiddie, no flair. Literally, you could do anything she could.]] "He's legit."

"If he is, then it's probably not long before he figures out you aren't. You're such a fucking poseur, acting like you're going to be some badass hacker one day, but you don't even have the guts to do anything, not for real. I thought maybe you'd grow out of it, but... fuck, if you won't even help your sister... you're a Dreamer and you always will be." He blustered some, trying to claim he was just looking out for me, and I told him to go fuck himself, "I'm sick of people 'looking out for me'. It's all a lie. You don't want to help me for me, you just want me to stay home all the time like you do, so that you can stop being so jealous. Because I actually live, instead of being too afraid to go after what I really want. And if you don't start living like that, it doesn't matter what you know, you're going to wind up a lonely beta-male for life, meaning less to the world than the part of the load that leaked out the night you were spawned. All you'll ever be in the eyes of anyone who matters is Hillary's meek little brother. And the way you are, I don't even know if I want you to be that." Or something like all that anyway. I was mad, I probably wasn't as fucking eloquent as I usually am, but that was the gist. I am particularly proud of the phrase "Why don't you crawl back up Mom's cunt for good, you'll probably both be happier," which I said while storming out, but only because usually I don't come up with an exit line that good until a few minutes later and wind up having to send it as a text followup a few minutes later. I hope if Mom was checking in on the house cams that she got to see that one (course, ever since we figured out how to use ads to spoof the stuff we don't want her to see, she doesn't usually even bother).

The thing is... Mom might've, but Billy kind of didn't deserve it. He's not that bad. Sure, he's a little beta, but he can grow out of it, and it's not the worst thing in the world, some girls even grow to like it. The truth is I was probably right the first time... he probably couldn't do what I was asking him to do. I mean, it's one thing to hack some commercial front end or a public service, but this is the justice system. But Billy never likes admitting to somebody else that something's too hard for him, he'll either try and try and keep failing until it's far past funny and way into sad, or he'll make up some excuse for why he doesn't want to. I bet that's what he was doing. The second one, I mean.

In other news, since I don't have much of a life and can't go anywhere without risking my sentence kicking in, I've been back to doing slut shows again, with some friends, and sometimes strangers, in other net-subdivisions around the world. It makes me feel good and at least it's somebody to talk to who won't judge me on anything more superficial than my hotness. Though I did have a freak-out moment... one of the guys called me out, identified me by my real name based on recognizing the type of shackles I've got on me and doing some research. I'm going to have to be careful about that. I trust the guy, he was connected through Europe's net and that's a hell of a distance away... he was just doing it to make the point, that even across net borders people can find you.

Though, it had me thinking... why bother being careful? My rep's in the toilet anyway. Why not show myself off? I've got one advantage over most of the other Darers, I can spread the really nasty stuff outside of my circle of trust, and show my face while doing it. I could send Neal a public vine of me moaning his name while I've got a vibe up me... who cares if his mom reads all his mail and flings shit at me? I could send some to everybody. Or maybe I'll be coy, post a video of me fingering myself but with my shackles in view, so everybody knows it's me but I can pretend I didn't intend it. Nah, they'll just think I was stupid. No half-measures, full-face or nothing.

Maybe nothing. As much as I'd like to break the fame barrier that way, that also means Mom and Billy and Grandpas and Grandmas and everyone else would get to see all of it, and I don't know if I want that... can you imagine? Or maybe I'm just a coward too. All talk. Or at the least, at the mercy of my brain chemistry... every big move I've made has been on the spur of the moment and I wasn't sure I was going to do it until I just had. So if my next entry is about how I went and did it, well, I guess I did it. But more likely, I just enjoyed the thought.

It is a delicious thought, though.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5631 (rounded up), 7:06pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Hack The Planet," by Bibi Bethke]]

So, no personal news. My worse-than-jail sentence drags on and my life is in sleep mode. School sucks the shit straight out of my ass. But there was one bright spot today. Nothing to do with me, just cool and it's finally something worth writing about.

Somebody ran a major hack on the school. It's totally porous! I mean, even more than it was. Most of the blocks are gone... well, not technically gone, but they don't apply to anyone who gets a simple bit of code from anyone else. And for once I am not totally left out, because even many of the Dreamers are getting in on it, since it lets us do on-the-fly AR enhancements to our pedest uniforms.

Who knows how long it'll last. Last time one of these happened, it was two months before the school's moneymen approved a security audit, because they couldn't figure out exactly who was doing it or how. [[Inset link to an entry three years back in a middle school, about a hack that only let AR run, and younger-Hillary's evident glee. Not shown, because Hillary either wasn't aware or wouldn't tell: That hack was running off a ficticious administrator's ID that was part of a scam to inflate the number of 'real education professionals' the school used to get more government funding, and much of the delay was the concern over the scam being caught. A student stumbled upon it, largely by accident while on a purely snooping hack, and used it to enhance his access and those of a small group of friends. Mildly impressive but nothing that fancy like you might imagine, like what happened in this more recent case, where viral self-renewing code was introduced.]] Right now, I'm not even sure the proctors even know about it, it all happens on a layer they can't see. If nobody blabs (and right now, people are especially sensitive about getting caught squealing, because of the unfair rap on yours truly), we could be free to the end of the school year.

I can only imagine that will help me. If everyone, even pedestrians, can live upvote during school hours, then some of them will upvote me based on my scintillating personality in the moment, instead of having to make a private note or wait until they get home and other things seem more important.

I was talking with Shirley when it happened. Yeah, I watched Count Zero, the show she was shilling, at least the first third or so of the first season, even paid to get the uncensored version. It's not bad, I like the way they keep finding ways to make his invisibility to machines be useful in different ways, but I doubt it'll make enough for them to do a second season drop. Shirley's trying to start a fan group, mostly Dreamers so I might be able to work myself in and start getting some rep back without getting knocked back for trying... but that's not the point. The point is, I was talking to her... oh, and she's already talking up some other upcoming show, a canime about men who turn into little girls once a month like werewolves. The animation looked good in the preview, and the voices are good (Rimpler from Jaegernauts is voicing the little-girl-cop, so I might give it a try just for old time's sake), but I don't know about the premise. If guys did turn into little girls they'd just be hired to go into schools and memepush like Shirley. Speaking of which, I checked and it's totally the same parent studio that owns both productions... the evidence is getting stronger!

Sorry, journal, off track again. Man, I'm out of practice. How it happened: We were using the break to hit the bathroom and get a caffeine drink (to ensure we could take another pee break during class), and a freshman came walking by. To our surprise, his tongue snaked out way past his mouth and waggled obscenely at us, then proposed going down on us. Must have had a tracking tongue stud because the sync was good, but judging by the tongue technique he demonstrated, I'd have to train him too much to get my own O, so, as the meme says, "No thank you, Mr. President." Maybe if he had a ten inch tongue that wasn't AR. Shirley also declined the offer, and we broke into giggles when he went off. The frosh moved off to try the joke (or his luck) on somebody else, and a group of people came along behind him, running, the one in the lead with golden antenna coming out of his head, and the others covered in the uniforms of the game Mutant Hunter V. The Proctors yelled at them to slow down, but didn't seem to realize they were playing a game that shouldn't be allowed on campus.

Later, while we were waiting for our Chinese teacher to connect, somebody put the room into fishtank mode and the instructions for how to break through got passed around (written on the back of the fish swimming around the AR). Someone did make a snide remark about me potentially telling, but it was too late, I already found out how.

A couple people had fun hanging ridiculous AR tags on to proctors, who couldn't even see them and were a little perplexed at what exactly was so hilarious (which proved that, at least at that point, they still didn't even know ARing was going on, which isn't supposed to be possible). Some people watched netflixes in class on private vid windows (and Case queued up some porn on a not-so-private one). Some talked to friends who live in different time zones or other parts of the school.

Me, I just enjoyed the chaos. I mean, I did a little bit of texting, but most of the people I know who aren't at school weren't available for a chat. Instead I focus a lot on planning my outfit. If the AR thing sticks, fashion is going to once again be a factor, and I can play that game.

Like everyone else, I'll have to work around the uniform. Unlike everyone else, though, I also have to work around the collar and cuffs. You can paint over something in AR, but painting under something just never looks right (except sometimes when it's also giving yourself bigger boobs or muscles or something, but of course that won't help with the collar).

I thought of buying an Arkham set, so I'll look like some maximum security crazy-ass prisoner. They're cheap, but the clothes are a little drab and the face mods get poor reviews so I'd have to upgrade them. My current idea is go pre-tech slave-girl using some off-the-shelf elements. Check it.

[[Inset: Short video, AR enabled, of Hillary posing from a variety of angles with an AR overlay painted over her school uniform, such that her outfit looks like some kind of brown animal skin, a skirt and top, like something out of a netflix. She was clearly trying for sex appeal, but, because of the clothing underneath, there's a limit, and the outfit winds up looking remarkably conservative compared to the majority of slave girl depictions like the popular Gor series. At least her belly shows, thanks to bunching up the real shirt, a modification, much like hiking the skirt, that is technically not allowed but can often be done under the noses of proctors who don't care enough to make a scene over it, or those who like to see a little extra skin. Hillary's neck collar, under AR, appears to be made of a thick leather, the cuffs have become manacles, linked by a chain which swings with the movement of her arms and drags along the ground, clattering as it goes.

There's a bruise on her face, planted on with a glyph, but it gives her the look of having been knocked around by whoever might hold the chains.

She continues to have her blue hair, which, with not just the color but also the style and straightness, looks thoroughly modern and rather ruins the illusion. She also wears normal shoes, unenhanced which is either a failure of attention or imagination.]]

I guess the hair doesn't fit the time, but with what I've got to work with, afros are my only other option, and fuck it, those look awful on me. Besides, historical accuracy's for diehards, and diehards mostly need to get laid. I think it looks cute, at least, which is always worth an upvote from some of the straight boys. And maybe they'll like my sense of humor, like I'm not letting this huge imposition on my life get me down, I'm actually making fun of it.

At the very least, things are looking up.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5633 (rounded up), 3:40pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Bubble Crisis," by Tomo]]

School was let out early today because somebody activated the nightly school's autowash cycle while we were in class. [[Inset short video: Laughing kids running while the walls are sprayed with a fine mist that gets everywhere.]]

Okay, whoever did that one probably went a step too far, but it was funny. We all got ushered into the auditorium where the head proctor laid into us about how it was potentially deadly, and that these "shenanigans" must stop, and that they're seriously considering taking away our eyescreens and not allowing any wearables at all. But I don't buy it. I mean, what are they going to do? Wheel in some ancient large screen? They won't even pay for an extra set of proctors so there's always one who can see AR and one who can't, much less rent specialized equipment.

Also, I got to sit next to Neal at the auditorium and there were some serious vibes there. [[Inset: short video of Neal taken from Hillary's point of view, as they sit in the auditorium. They do exchange glances and smiles that suggests there's sexual tension between them, but Hillary might be overstating it.]] My ex-friends are still drinking the kool-aid about my supposed snitching (even the guys aren't giving me the free-to-play), but the Dreamers have more or less forgotten it, and Neal treats me like a beta treats a girl with loose morals that he might get a chance to bang if he's lucky, patient, and friendly enough. And lucky for him, right now, he's right. And if I manage to get him as an actual boyfriend, instead of just a quick ride, I can leverage that into higher rep down the line. Win-win.

I think I'm going to have to do it at school. That's why we never made something work before, we're like two different species. For me, school is a lag, it's the place I can't completely be free because, proctors. When I want to have fun, mostly I have to wait until after school. But when you're dronecoptered as bad as Neal is, school is the freedom, since your parents can't watch you live. The school watches you, sure, but you can always get away with a little. And right now, you can get away with almost anything, so it's the best of both worlds. I just hope whoever did the autowash hack didn't scare them into an emergency security overhaul... wouldn't it be just my luck if they get everything fixed right before I make my move? I figure I probably have a few days, no matter what, though... they always do these things on weekends.

I'm probably going to have to be pretty brazen about it too. Which I'm okay with, even if I prefer the guy to move first. It's worth making an exception... I just want to mean something to somebody. And god, I'm so fucking horny. I thought seriously about trying to join a girlfriend pool, but I doubt any of them would be open to me until my rep increases, and I don't want to give them the satisfaction of turning me down.

But who needs 'em? I've got a plan and the plan is Neal. Okay, actually right now the plan is to come up with a good plan for Neal. But I'm working on it.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5635 (rounded up), 9:22pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Rockslide," by the Razor Girls]]

Everything in the entire fucking universe can go die in a sewer. Once again I totally fucked my life over. Today was just like the song "Rockslide"... one thing after another, and before long I knew I was making things worse but I was just so angry and frustrated I couldn't stop myself.

It started with Neal, the ball-less wonder. I've been working up to making my move, since I knew he wouldn't, nothing outright anyway. I had a spot of the school marked out to create a blind spot, scouted it out in advance so when I needed it I could just slap the AR on an ad-layer for maximum visibility. I thought once we were alone, I could push him up against a wall and let my tongue convince him to try something his mother wouldn't approve of. I was so eager to get it on video too, in the hopes I later could work up to convincing him to let me send it to her as the first of a long-deserved series of "fuck you"s but all it ended up doing is making sure the disaster gets archived.

It started out okay too, he was nervous, but, he always was. But this is what happened:

[[Inset: Video, AR-enabled, Hillary's perspective. She is no longer wearing the prehistoric slave girl outfit, and although it might take an individual who is a fanfash lover, yet highly versed in Canadian Anime to recognize the fleeting glimpses of the AR enhancements to her current outfit as being modeled after one of the character from the obscure series A Bomb Called Youth, in which high school students were fitted with explosive collars set to go off if they failed a course, masturbated, or did any number of other acts unapproved by the administration.

Neal is being dragged along by the hand, with a bemused smile on his face... he's not sure where this is going, but doesn't openly resist. He's still dressed in school clothes, just blues and whites, with the only nod to flouting the rules being the white undershirt under his vest occasionally flashing with patches advertising his favorite bands, and an animated bow-tie that sometimes spins. A token rebellion, yet even among the band choices, there's nothing that would potentially offend anybody... should he ever get in trouble for it, it would barely warrant a punishment, save the usual fine added to his tuition the administration levies to any offense. "Can you at least tell me what you want me to see?"

"Nope," Hillary says. "More fun this way. But you'll like it, I promise. It's something you've needed to see for a long time." Her head jerks towards the end of the hall, clean, uninteresting save for a window that only shows white sky.

"What?" he asks, despite just being told she won't tell him. "Look my tailoreds start in only a few minutes. I can't skip those." Diligent, although the computer assisted learning programs that supposedly tailor additional lessons to each student's weak spots are arguably the most skippable part of the school day--they're mostly a vehicle for ads.

"This won't take long. Though you might want it to. Come on..."

She lets go of his hand and steps towards the window. Suddenly, the light changes, slightly. Were you actually there, you might notice a few other tiny shifts, like everything had just slightly moved, but in a video, it would be written off as a moment of lag, a few frames dropped. It's only when she turns back to Neal that becomes obvious what's happened. Floating in the air between the two appears to be several translucent grey diagonal bars, obviously not natural, a line demarking something. Neal looks around, not directly at Hillary... in fact, like he can't see her at all. "You made a blind?" he asks, and puts his hand through, then steps through himself, looking back at the bars.

"Yup... now nobody can see us... And your mom's not watching unless you're streaming to her, which, I know you aren't..."

Neal catches on, smiling again, but it's nervous. He's actually trembling. "And what you wanted to show me was..."

"Are you vidding this?"

"I... I wouldn't do that."

"No, I want you to... you deserve a copy of this forever..."

A flicker of annoyance crosses his face. "She can check out anything I save..."

Hillary lets out a snort of amusement, like this was expected, but she gives him a minicam off her earring. "Here, cover me on this. I'll post an online archive of it for you, and give you the address, so you can check it any time you're safe."

From here, you would have your choice which view you follow, from Hillary's perspective or from the minicam held in Neal's hand at eye level. The one Neal holds is the most lurid, though. Hillary stands in her outfit (blouse and skirt, colored with AR to be a dark, almost black blue, to fit with the outfits in the canime inspiration), legs spread, and then pulls the skirt up, revealing she's once again got no underwear on underneath. If any far future AI does attempt to resimulate her from her lifelog, it will almost avoid underwear as often as possible, even though I suspect the actual Hillary does most of the time and only mentions or films the area on the rare times when she's not. Such distorted pictures will be inevitable and undermines the whole Resurrectionist philosophy, if you ask me.

Her lower body is hairless, as is once again in fashion, and her toned legs are just the right length and thickness to be a draw to even adult straight men who have no special interest in young girls... although they, like Neal, would almost certainly be more interested in where the legs meet, a slit with a glistening line of pink in the middle, and a pronounced pearl at the top. "Wow..." Neal says, just about breathless.

"I just thought you really, really might like to see this," Hillary explains with a smirk on her face, like she knows she's nabbed him. "You probably don't get much chance to see stuff this good when you're being supervised all the time."

The s-word makes him suddenly self-conscious, and he looks around, back through the blind, where there are people walking, all of them students and seemingly oblivious to them. "You know, there are proctors who can see through the AR," Neal says, trying to cover his nervousness, like this is something that happens to him every day (and, like many of his generation, he pronounces the acronym like 'air'... and why not, it's about as ever-present and substantial). "Is it even on a layer they can see?"

"I'm not dumb, Neal. But the risk is part of the fun. Come on, this isn't just a video, it's interactive. You're allowed to use your hands. Or other parts of your body. I'm using TastyPeach's banana flavor, if you're curious... I read it's your favorite fruit."

He reaches out a trembling hand towards her bare pussy, although he's constantly looking back beyond the blind as though worried they're going to be interrupted at any moment. Still, he makes contact, stroking the edge, pulling the slit up, and then a moment later working one finger in down to the mid-knuckle, then withdraws. "See? Isn't it fun to take a few risks?" Hillary's quite aware that Neal's got a bulge in his pants. "Go on, have a lick. Unless you'd rather I do the licking..." She winks at him, then runs her tongue along her teeth, grazing the lower edge of her upper lip, and he leans forward, like maybe he might even be going for a kiss, on her mouth.

Whatever he was planning, though, it's interrupted by a chime, although Neal doesn't hear it as the AR-sound effect is keyed only to Hillary. Her face falls. "Oh, butt-fuck-nuggets."

"What?"

"I have to... fuck, not now..." She looks around, then sighs, takes a step backwards, then bends over at the waist, her hands in front of her. The cables snake out and stiffen, pulling her into perfect alignment, and an AR sign appears over her head.

"Oh, uhm..." That is the extent of Neal's reaction. He watches Hillary's predicament not with amusement but with what looks more like embarrassment. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"No! Look, we can have fun like this too, Just whip out your dick and put it in my mouth." Hillary opens her mouth wide and extends her tongue, as though she's trying to perform oral sex at a distance.

Neal lowers his hand, unwilling to continue filming, so for the remainder of the clip only Hillary's POV is available. "Yeah, but that...thing's probably got a video link to the cops, and... who knows what they might do with the images." He is both right and wrong... video can be remotely enabled through the collar, but nobody bothers unless there's a compelling reason to record and review footage.

"Who cares? Come on..."

"It's just... I'm kind of on track for a sponsorship with EBM, and they're real strict about 'open displays of immodesty' like this sort of thing. I can't take the risk of this getting out... I mean, I know you wouldn't share it, but... with whatever spyware's on this thing and who knows how borked the school surveillance really is, and..." As he speaks, he starts shuffling away. "Maybe we can try something after your sentence is over."

"It may be now or never, Neal," she says. "Chances are I'm going to break my probation eventually and they'll send me to jail. Do you really want to take the risk on missing out on this forever?"

"I... I can't, Hil, I'm sorry. Just be good, and maybe we can set something up another time. I promise, as soon as it's safe, I'd love to... mess around with you."

He backs through the blind, but even though he can't see her, he can still hear her, as she shouts angrily, "You fucking coward, as if you're going to get another chance from me. ]]

So, one more bridge burned. Fuck it, I don't even care about him anymore. He loves EBM so much he should transition and try to marry an EBM exec, probably a better deal in the long run than working for them, except having to wear a burkha and live sharia in their desert megatower.

Now, Neal's rejection stung like a bee-atch, but it wasn't the worst of it. I was pissed, sure, but it wasn't enough to ruin my day. I just figured I'd fuck all his friends and send him videos of it, make him realize what he missed out on.

But no. The day had only begun to suck.

What a fucking double standard. People (WRONGLY) call me a snitch, but they share stuff all the time when it's humiliating. And pretty soon people were coming through my blind to check me out and say mean things about me getting what I deserved and how I wanted sex so bad I did it to myself (because my panties were still in my bag, and it wasn't hard to look under my skirt). Of course the mean things hurt more than the peeping. But sometimes it was both, like that hypocritical uptight cunt Lenina Bullock who said it smelled like somebody ate a rotten banana and threw up in my cooch... fuck that, I smelled delicious, and I bet her cherry pie with its unbroken hymen crust probably smells like gym sweat... why clean a room you never let anyone go into, right? And whoever it was who was behind me and said I looked 'looser than a PiRat's WiFi' and joked that the cops probably ran a train on me to get me to snitch... fuck you too. If you'd had the guts to put a finger in there, I could damn near have snapped it off.

That surprise finger was almost a possibility, too, because... I guess they figured the hack on the school made it so the cops couldn't watch either, which is dumb, but they certainly didn't do anything to stop it when they spit on me. Yes, again. A few girls this time, right in the face. And everyone laughed, while my face was all red (with rage, but they probably thought I was embarrassed). The spitting was the capper, actually, they didn't start with that. They pinned AR tags on me with insults on them, though I couldn't see them, I could hear them joking about it. I think one said "Slut for Cop Cock" or something like that, another was something like "Biohazard", or "Trash." That one I figured because of how they threw wrappers from energy bars and vac sandwiches at me. It was beyond tasteless... I could totally get their parents fined for Class 2 Bullying if I did turn them in.

But worst of all, these were Dreamers, pedestrians. I could have taken it from the Daring, I know they hate me, even if it's cause of Dani's lies, and their game is pushing envelopes, so it would make sense that they push each other farther and farther to make fun of me, and I could only earn points by taking it. But Dreamers? These people I was actually dumb enough to believe secretly respected me after what I've been through. And it's just galling to have to take abuse from people who've never put themselves out there and taken a real risk in their lives.

But I should've. I should have just taken it, not said a word, and just walked away. And I was going to. But finally my punishment time was up and I was able to straighten and take off the AR tags, and I spotted Lenina with this fucking smug self-satisfied smirk on her lemon-suck face and got so mad and in the process of calling her a bitch and pushing her, we tussled a bit, and while they pulled me off her... I might have told the crowd that if they want to know which anonymous pussy-shots are hers, to look for the mole between her crotch and left leg. And by might have, I mean I yelled her name then that information loud enough that people outside the blind down the hall could hear it. So now everyone knows. Maybe some already did. Dani pointed it out to me in the shower when we were still friends, right after Lenina posted one, and others could have seen it and made the connection, but everyone who did know kept it quiet, but... fuck that now.

Doing it was stupid, though, even though it shouldn't be. I mean, outing her was a little classless, but it counts as gossip, not snitching, especially since she's a Dreamer... except probably for me because I'm already considered a snitch. Fucking double standards. And of course, it was stupid because it just proved to all of them how much she got to me.

As stupid as that all was, I somehow drove ahead and managed to fuck things up even worse by the end of the day. Neal was ducking me, but I finally found him after school let out. I was angry and wanted to destroy somebody else... I just wanted to tear him down, not for rejecting me but because I was sure he told everyone where I was... I wanted to do it where his mom would hear. So I followed his marker as soon as school let out, tracked him down.

And guess what I saw? Something that made me see so much fucking red you'd think I was sent to kill John Connor.

[[Inset: Another video taken from Hillary's perspective, just outside the school.

A black-haired student, approximately seventeen years old, is hanging out of an autocab. His clothing and bearing generally marks him out as one of the so-called good kids, who follow the rules even as the rules start to fall apart. He wears AR tags, but as they're technically not allowed during the school day, he hasn't yet booted them up. His uniform, mostly, meets the code.

The only exception is that the young man is wearing an resin earring. This type of token rebellion is barely acknowledged by the administration, and not even daring enough to be considered cool... he was probably given a small fine that he paid willingly for the privilege of wearing such accessories. With this particular earring, though, it's a special case. A metal-flecked circlet hanging off the end of the piece bears the no doubt familiar to you logo of vigilante exhibitionist PoV on one side and her most excellent host the Fly on the Wall on the other. The logo is physically marked into the earring, not an AR enhancement floating on top... no doubt the thing was printed in one of the pop-up memeshops. It's even possible the young man isn't aware what it signifies. I happen to know he is, though, and is a frequent watcher.

Neal gets into the cab with this young man while Hillary comes right up to the door. They're still waiting for somebody else to share the cab's travel cost, which gives Hillary the chance to lay into Neal. "You fucking coward," she says, sounding far closer to tears than she probably believes she was. "I hope you're proud of yourself. You told everyone I was there, too, didn't you? Well you and I are done."

Meanwhile, Neal seems panicked, aware his mother could be watching this whole thing and drawing conclusions, and at the same time not wanting to burn all his bridges with Hillary. "I didn't, I swear."

It's at this point that Hillary focuses on the friend with the earring, who is smirking, considering himself uninvolved... as he is, until Hillary notices the earring itself, and the logo on it. "What the fuck is this?" she says suddenly, grabbing it to get a closer look, now sounding really enraged. "I recognize this. This is the fucking show that got me arrested." This is a mildly unfair characterization. It's true that if not for the cops chasing PoV, the cops would not be there, and their frustration at her well-engineered escape certainly led them to look for somebody, anybody, they could arrest. The group Hillary was slumming with was, however, committing actual crimes. "It's a fucking child porn murder show, and you wear the logo of it? What are you, one of their sick fans? You like watching a little girl get fucked? Or is it her murdering guys that gets you off?" Most like the subtle blend of both. "I asked you a fucking question, answer me, you fucking sicko."

He doesn't answer, he's panicking at what he thought was a subtle nod to other fans is suddenly exposed, out loud, as he tries to pull the earning away without tearing it right out of his ear. Neal, meanwhile, is just as panicked, and insists, "No, I don't have a clue what she means," looking studiously away while carrying on a conversation with somebody not present. "How could I have seen it, Mom? I've never even heard of it! She's probably making it up, she's a crazy psychobitch." The teen with the earring finally pushes Hillary away, roughly enough that she falls on her ass, and before she can get up again, he slams the door closed. Seconds later, the cab speeds off, leaving whoever their third passenger was intended to be without a ride.

Hillary pulls herself to her feet, turns around, sees a crowd of people within earshot, looking disapproving, because watching a child porn murder show is evidently less of a sin than outing somebody as a watcher of a child porn murder show in front of a mixed crowd including parents of a friend, watching from afar.]]

So considering I'm pretty sure I ruined any social progress I've made in the last few weeks, naturally I was in a rancid mood, and when I got home, I snapped some at Billy, and he made a big show of shutting me out. I feel more alone than ever.

And I have to take care of the Rat because Mom's out again. And meanwhile, I'm in a mild-editwar on my wikiprofile because some assknife keeps trying to add a picture of me behind the blind with my skirt flipped up to it. But he (maybe she) isn't getting harassment even though that sort of shit's totally uncool because Mom and Billy could read it. Whoever it is, they're actually getting upvotes on it. I'm probably going to have to request it be locked down, and take all the auto rep hit that comes with that.

What do people want from me? Can't they just give me a break? I mean, I left the bullshit references to me being a snitch in because it wasn't worth fighting it, but really, photos of my humiliation, that's too much.

Edit: And I didn't think it was possible, but... the night was worse than the day. Just had another screaming fight with Billy, because I wanted him to watch the Rat and he wouldn't. All I wanted was to hook up to a lifestream and just... be somebody else for a while.

He wouldn't go for it, so I screamed at him and he screamed back, and, in the course of yelling back and forth, I bitched about Mom getting to go off and do fun stuff, he snapped, dropped a bombshell.

Mom hasn't been going on "dates" like I thought. At least, not romantic ones. She's been working as a body-slave... for the prosecutor who agreed to my plea deal. He was a fan when she was famous, and always wanted her, and I guess, because she was desperate, now he has her.

She's not going off to dinner and dancing, she's letting him drag her off to fetish clubs or sometimes just his own place for sex or nude photoshoots or whatever he wants, because he can rescind the plea deal whenever he wants. So this is all my fault. I didn't want to believe it. I still don't. I thought Billy was just making it up, and told him so, but he showed me a picture set he found on some fan site all excited that they have, for the first time, genuine porn of her.

I never wanted to see porn of Mom. And I especially didn't want to see it when she looks as miserable as she did. She had tears streaming down her face, black mascara tears, which means it must have been old-style make-up, the kind Mom used to always have perfect. That was probably the point. My heart died a little as I watched it. I ruined her reputation and didn't even know it.

I probably ruined my standing with Billy, too, because I couldn't just react like a human being, I felt backed into a corner, and that I had to save face, and so my reaction was to act all hardass, pretend I didn't care. God, I outright told him I didn't give a shit that Mom did that for me, that I never asked her to do that for me, it was her own choice, and that it wasn't even a big deal. "It's nothing. She probably enjoys it." He said she didn't, that she was only doing it to protect me, and the only thing I could think to do was double down. So I screamed at him that I didn't want anybody to protect me, not him, not her, and if everyone looked after their own shit the world would be better. "You want me to feel sorry for Mom? At least she's got people who want her. I don't have that anymore. I'd do worse than that just to get popular again." And that started another fight because he couldn't believe I'd act like that, and I couldn't back down, I insisted that the only thing that mattered in the world was popularity and if he actually had any he'd understand that. I insulted him a few more times and then stormed back up to my room, letting him wonder whether I'm even watching the Rat's feed, so he'll have to do it too just to be safe.

Course I am. I'm not a monster, even if I act like it sometimes. Things hurt me, even if I don't let anyone else see it. I save my tears for my room.

Like now. Why the fuck did this have to happen? I wish I could just die, like, make my brain turn off forever.

This is all my fault. I may not always get along with Mom, but I love her, and I don't want her to have to do this... now I feel like shit. Worse than shit. It's not just her rep, it's like I ruined her whole life... she was always so proud of never having had to rely on sexuality when she became famous on YouToob or whatever it was, never having to resort to custom porn during the Freemarket Correction like so many celebrities. Mom never even had sex with the guy who paid her to incubate and raise the Rat. But now, because I fucked up, she's got to throw all that away and be a sex slave?

That's why I don't like people protecting me, because I don't want that shit on my conscience.

It should have been me she traded off as a sex slave. I could probably handle it. Maybe Mom can too, but she shouldn't have to, not for me.

Why the fuck am I such a screwup? I just want to get through life, have a little fun, be or at least... mean something to somebody. Now I'm worse than a nobody and I'm making other people's lives suck without even trying.

I should have just gone to jail. At least there, they tell you everything you do, there's no choice, no decisions you have to make, there's not as much chance of fucking up. If only I could reload my life, I would... fuck, I don't even know where to begin. Maybe I'd just need to start my whole life over.

But even if I could I'd probably just fuck it up again.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5639 (rounded up), 6:56pm:

[[Soundtrack: "ReWilding The Halls" - A Bomb Called Youth Soundtrack]]

School's getting bananas. It's kind of like in ABCY when the bomb collars got jammed, except instead of an orgy of murder and sex, there's a lot more goofing off and... well, some sex too, I guess, but most of it behind walls. Or maybe it's like the first stages of the Googlepocalypse... maybe we're due for another one and all of this is just the fun before the crash and corporate wars start.

But as it is now, pretty much all the monitoring's been fucked. Not just the chaperone apps and the proctor's privileged view of AR streams... today the remote-teachers didn't seem to be able to see us at all. They just went on with their lesson oblivious to how almost nobody except the relentless gradewhores were paying attention. There were conversations, games, AR wars, all pretty well out in the open. None of which I'm welcome to participate in, so I mostly sat and watched the more amusing hijinx and sometimes actually tried to pay attention, since it's not like I'm going to be able to cheat off anybody when a test does come. In the more boring classes I just couldn't deal with it, so I used the time and freedom to watch a few old netflixes I've saved up or haven't seen in a while. Oh, and in one class Shirley was running free previews of this Lolly Anne show in a corner, and I tuned in for some of that (it was only the censored version, unfortunately) though I'm still pretty iffy on it.

The classes with real teachers are a bit better, but not much, since so much can go under the teacher's nose even when everybody seems to be quiet and listening. And since the AR lesson plans keep getting fucked up, even a few of the real teachers (like a bunch of the proctors) must have decided "fuck it, if nobody else is going to do their jobs neither am I, I'm getting paid anyway." I kind of respect that.

And you know what? At least these days school's interesting. There's a chance for something cool to happen, something unexpected. And that's pretty stellar.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5642 (rounded up), 4:13pm:

[[Soundtrack: Pound of Flesh by Whirlwind Williams]]

Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with this fucking school?

My punishment device triggered IN FUCKING CLASS today. Right in the middle of Chinese! Everybody there saw. And someone queued up an AR porn thing so it looked like some fetish star was peeing in my face. Luckily AR only goes so far. I'm pretty sure something went on behind me too, but I couldn't exactly see that with my face locked forward.

I don't even care any more, I think I'm desensitized to humiliation by now, I just rolled my eyes at it and the people laughing it up. But I'm fucking outraged by this piece of junk that's ruined my life not even working like they promised. And worse, it's not even consistently fucked up in a way I can use. I tried going outside of the enclosure gates, just to see, but I got the warning about a probation breach.

Also, Shirley's gone. So that bites. I guess I'm still in the groups she tried to set up, if they don't fly apart without her, but I no longer have her as mod on my side... I might get permabanned if I'm on my own. And I liked talking to her. I did a search for her outside of our local network, just to keep in touch, but her name doesn't come up... it could just be her family subscribes to FreshStart and change their names whenever they move so they don't get a rep... but I don't want to spend money on a face recognition search to find out what I already mostly know, that she really was just a meme pusher. I mean, a bunch of other students disappeared the same day... nobody I knew well, but everyone says they were expelled for no reason. At least no official reason, but everyone assumes the school kicked out all the meme pushers at once. Not, of course, because they were adults who shouldn't have been there in the first place, but because they were out-housed corporate employees and the school feared they might try to make a little extra money by selling the "expensive school's total break down" story to a media corp and turning what was once a synergistic partnership into a PR nightmare.

As if we couldn't go to the media ourselves if we wanted to.

But I don't care if she was a shill, at least she was a shill I could talk to and not feel so alone. I miss her.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5651 (rounded up), 2:10pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Discount Salvation" by Rei Toei]]

Well. Something's up. I just got this:

[[Inset: Video clip, AR-enhanced, with base video channel completely omitted so no one can see what's underneath.

The figure in main focus is cloaked head to toe in an AR illusion that covers his, or her, face, hair, and skin, in an illusion of a muscular man in tactical armor, with a helmet covering most of his face (though the face itself, adult and tinged with five o'clock shadow, is also an illusion), an avatar from Judge Dredd (the version set during the Corporate Wars, as portrayed by Dave Mazouz). The voice isn't his, nor is it recognizable as anybody. It has been crudely, cheaply, masked and retimed to defy voice analysis, so it seems to stutter at times, rush at others.

"Hillary Gibson. You might feel you've been already punished for your crimes, but you have not. Not your true ones at least... nobody cares about what you almost went to jail for. Laws come from the state, and they can be broken. Justice comes from the community. You escaped most of the state's punishment, but you did it by betraying the people who matter. That has not been punished.

Your sentence begins tomorrow. You can avoid it. You can appeal to the law. But while you evade justice, you will never be forgiven. If you submit to your punishment, and finish out your sentence, you may eventually become a respected member of society again.

Here are your instructions: Do what you're told. Wear your eyescreens. Do not look below the AR layer. Do not tell anyone what happens. Ever."]]

I'm so excited I could shit. I mean, yeah, it's probably going to be hard... maybe even painful. Like when Leah started all that drama that broke up a girlfriend pool. [[Inset: Link to another entry where, in order to be forgiven, an acquaintance of Hillary's was caned at a party, in imitation of a gang ritual that was widely heard about. Hillary neither received nor performed the caning, but she did watch and take video for her lifelog.]] I couldn't even watch that without wincing along with it, it's hard to imagine going through it. But I'm sure I can take it. And once it's over, if I can just be... forgiven, it'll all be worth it.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5652 (rounded up), 5:45pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Princess Gangbang" by Faith Sharrow]]

I don't even. I just don't even. It wasn't bad. I mean, I don't know how I'm going to look anyone in the eye, but... I don't have to! Oh god I can't stop laughing. Maybe that's the real punishment, coming down from this... when this wears off I'm going to stuck in the goo again. 'Stuck in the goo...' Is that a thing? I have a feeling it might be an old meme. But I also might have just made it up. I do have goo on my mind. And on my skirt. And inside.

I probably shouldn't write this until I'm clear headed but I might not remember then.

It wasn't pain. IT WAS SEX. I KNOW LETS PUNISH HER WITH FUCKING THAT'LL TEACH HER A LESSON WHO COMES UP WITH THIS? Not that I'm complaining. Maybe they still are my friends after all!

Okay there's some pain, there's some TMJ going on and I'm sore downstairs, but it's a far away throb, like it's a wisp of a shade of a video reenactment of pain somebody else had or I'm like too tired to even feel.

I was twitching with excitement all day, waiting for it to start and starting to get the feeling that it was just a prank. But then in the middle of Search class, I got a ping, telling me to go out for a break and follow the signs to start my sentence, and reminded me of the rules. Which is why I didn't get this on video, myself, I couldn't take the chance that they might see some kind of telltale or have spyware on my system.

But OH MY GOD did it deserve video. I followed a trail of floating arrows, which led to a sign saying "follow the white rabbit" (I guess Dave was one of the people behind this?). One of the arrows turned into a rabbit and then hoppity-hopped further down the hall, and I followed, right into the boys restroom.

It was less gross than I imagined it would be. It wasn't even as bad as the unisex one for the ambiguously gendered. Of course, the restrooms get the clean cycle every day... and today, they probably need it more than most LOL (DID I JUST LOL? LOL).

But here's the big surprise! I got onto the spot highlighted on the floor, right in the middle of the restroom, and then... my collar went off!

No way was that a coincidence. Somebody hacked it, figured out a way to trigger it whenever they want. But what could I do? It was part of my punishment either way. So I bent over into position and waited... I actually did think for a second that maybe this was an elaborate murder attempt, they were going to lock me there and start the restroom's ultra-clean cycle, the one using the harsher chemicals they don't use in the rest of the school, and I'd be stuck there until I passed out and died. But right when I started to worry, that's when somebody came in from a hiding place in a stall.

I don't know who it was, they were covered in a whole body AR field, you know the one, the one that's just a green face with a question mark on it and a black suit, red tie. He disguised his voice cheesily just by making it fakey-fake deep and harsh and moved slowly so there was no risk of his face showing through AR-lag. So I don't know who it was, but I guess that was the point. He said to let anybody do what they want to me, and asked if I remembered my rules. I did, but he reminded me anyway, keep AR on and no telling.

I nodded about as best as I could in the collar and said okay, and that's when he put the glyph on my cheek and said "This'll make it go down easier. Don't worry, the collar won't pick it up." Oh and a private message hit me, I don't know if it was from him or someone else, saying I should play act like it's rape, it'll look better for me if I don't report it. I'm not even sure I had to play act... I mean, it kind of was, rape, wasn't it? Or at least, how would anyone know if I really didn't want it or if I was just playing.

I was kind of into it, just then, though. The drug patch glyph might have had something to do with it, though that would still make it rape. I don't know what was in it, but it was strong... or maybe my tolerance is shit since I've had to be straight ever since the collar was on. It was sooo good though, when it kicked in. I'd probably suck cocks just for that hit.

Then people started coming in. Only a few at first, but over the time I was in there, it was lots. All of them, when I could see them, were in AR covering, mostly the off-the-shelf green-face, though a few were Blur-Man/woman or other stuff. Not all of them were guys either, I could tell that much. I was pretty sure one of them was Dani, but that was just a gut instinct. She didn't speak, I played by the rules and didn't peek under any AR, but there was one girl who stood right in front of me who was about Dani's height. The rest... I don't have a clue. I can't even be sure how many were there, most of them I never saw at all because I was locked down facing away from the door. I only saw the people who came around front (which was still a good dozen or two), and had to guess at the rest from hearing.

When it started though I hadn't actually seen anyone yet, except that first green face, and heard a few others. But anyone could have been back there. Friends. Proctors, guards, teachers, janitors... freshmen, even! It was kind of exciting though, my legs were trembling and I was warm all over, I hated it, not knowing, but also kind of liked it.

Somebody pulled my underwear down to my knees and my skirt over my ass, and I remembered the protip about pretending it was rape so I acted all panicky and went, "No... what are you doing? Stop!" I think I did a pretty good job, but I couldn't have stopped it if I wanted to, short maybe, maybe, of activating the collar's panic button, but I didn't even know if that would work, and I wasn't going to try and maybe ruin my one chance.

So somebody pushed into me from behind, while I said "nooo". He felt pretty big, and I liked it at first, up until he pulled out and then went in my ass. That's probably where it became the closest to rape, since, I only do that with people I'm really close with, and I can count them on one finger. And one finger's about all I can usually get in without a lot of foreplay.

This guy was about three times bigger than that, and it hurt, a little, both the good hurt and the bad, and the drugs were starting to kick in so I didn't mind as much as I might have, but right then I still didn't want to do it like that. And it was ultra embarrassing to be taken like that by a stranger, in front of everyone, just treated like a piece of meat but... what choice did I have?

After he caim, he slapped my ass and said, "Anyone else want to get in on this? She can't fight and knows better than to tell."

They didn't join in right away, there was some fingering and exploration, which was probably more humiliating than the fucking. At least with sex I could lose myself in it a little, this felt more like a doctor's exam in front of the whole school. The whole school wasn't there, I think, but they could have been. And normally I don't have doctor exams while cum's dribbling out of my asshole. So that just made it worse. And worst of all it still felt good sometimes.

It was during that that the girl I thought was Dani came in front of me, her greengirl face with a big cartoon grin on it all the time, taunting me. But she didn't speak, just watched... her fingers moved a lot so she might have been private messaging someone, maybe the others in the room. If she was using her tracking tongue stud to subvocalize, I couldn't hear it.

Finally one of the guys came around the front with his dick out, and my eyes just about bugged out because that thing was huge! I didn't have to act when I cried "No, please, don't!" Course, as soon as he thrust it in my mouth I realized it was just part of an AR overlay, the real thing was a little below average. Good thing, cause he just went in my mouth a few seconds before circling around back and gave my pussy a good pounding.

I think of that first group, only he fucked me, and then they left and others came in. Over the next hour or so, I was just a helpless piece of fuck meat for anyone who wandered through. Only a small fraction of the people who did actually did anything to me. Almost nothing, really. Not counting the first guy (who I'm sure was in on it and knew I was cooperating), only like five or six guys actually got the nerve up to rape me. I think it was four caim in my ass (only one started and finished there though). And another four finished in my mouth (though I think I probably had a dozen different cocks in my mouth during that whole period), and I swallowed like a champ.

Aside from the odd cock-gagging, the ass-fuckings were the hardest, cause, again, I've always been very picky about who got to do that before. To just have to take anybody using it was pretty hard. But maybe that's the point... this is punishment, right, and buttsex is just subtext rearranged as the old meme goes. And whatever, it still felt good, just hurts more now that I think I'm starting to come down off the drugs.

If that's the punishment, I can take it... because that's all it was, just standing there, bent over, and taking it. It's like running a marathon, and it feels like it, but it's hard to do something wrong, it's just a matter of keeping on going, you just plow on through and get to the end. Except this came with orgasms, which started kicking in with the third guy, and then every few minutes after. Once that started, it was like I didn't even have to think anymore. My biggest decision was that I couldn't decide whether to do the fake moans or not.

I mean, people expect it of me when I'm getting a good fuck. I'm loud. Only Dani knows that, for me, it's all for the guy (or girl)'s benefit. I can cum in dead silence and usually do when I'm fucking myself or riding Teddy. So if I start the moans while I'm restrained and supposedly being raped, what does that say? I mean, I'm fine with them thinking that they raped me so good I wound up getting off to it... I can play that trope, and it's an easier acting job than pretending to be scared. But I don't want them to think I'm fake-moaning, cause, what does that say? What kind of loser fake-moans so the person raping them enjoys themselves more? It all depended on whether I could trust Dani not to tell, and recent weeks have proved, I can't trust that bitch for anything.

In the end, though, I did moan. I just can't help playing to an audience, I guess, and I wasn't 100% sure Dani was there. So I moaned until somebody shoved another dick in my mouth to shut me up, and I moaned quietly on that.

It all ended suddenly, with somebody warning that a proctor was coming, and the guy in me pulled out and everybody seemed to desert the restroom, and then seconds later the locks disengaged and I could stand up. I was alone in the boy's bathroom, smelling like princess gangbang in the song, cum dripping down my legs.

What could I do? I pulled my underwear up, let it make a soggy connection, and then walked out. I didn't even have time to clean, not then, I had to escape the proctor too. Luckily she didn't seem to notice that I came out of the boy's restroom, and I ducked into a side hall so we didn't directly pass each other by, and then I made my way to my last class. Felt like everybody stared, like they knew what happened. Maybe they did. Sure had to be able to smell it. But they didn't say anything to me, it was just looks.

The rest of the day was a blur. I did remember to catch an early autocab so I'd beat Billy home and could take a shower... shit I forgot to take a shower. At least I did dump the underwear. But I better do that now before Mom gets home. I just checked and my rep is up! It's still in the negatives but I'm higher than I've been in forever!

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5652 (rounded up), 11:36pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Knew It Was You" by Chevette Washington]]

I knew Dani was there.

Guess what video showed up with a message "For your lifelog."

[[Inset: A video, forced AR-perspective, of Hillary's time in the restroom, taken from a fixed perspective on the wall. No faces are visible, although rebellions teens always underestimate the ability to identify people through other means. Height/weight estimates and gait recognition, especially in such a limited pool of students, can, within a reasonable margin of error, positively identify those participating, to an observant fellow looking. You're lucky that I am one such, because I can confirm that Dani was in fact the one Hillary thought she was, although whether she was the one who arranged the video is an open question.

Otherwise, the event is more or less like Hillary described it, and there is no need to repeat.]]

I mean, it was anonymous, I'm sure Dani sent it. I mean, I'm not the only one who lifelogs, obviously, but not many people know my family are Resurrectionists. And there was something about the way the text felt... it was only three words, but, it was like you could hear the sneer in it, but only a cover-sneer, like she really did want to help, too.

Maybe I'm overthinking it.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5654 (rounded up), 6:09pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Madhouse," by Whirlwind Williams]]

Another day of being the public cum dump. Community service, that's me these days, I go where I'm told, get locked in place, and whoever wants to can get off in me. Today, it wasn't a bathroom, or a underused hall (shit somehow yesterday's entry didn't save? Oh well, I was tired). This time it was in a blind set up in the corner of the cafeteria during lunch, my biggest crowd yet. Proctors were around and everything, but there were crowds of people blocking the real view, and I was bent over.

Some girl rubbed her pussy in my face, had to step on her tiptoes to do it, but I licked. Surprised it hadn't happened earlier. But I can't be unfair and service only the boys, right? Still, mostly it's been boys who're using me, and I'm pretty sure mostly freshmen. Dreamers, at the very least... guys who are more used to sex usually start taking TastyPeach, but virgins don't know the importance of good taste. They make their MangoO line for a reason, you know. If I could make one change to this whole thing, it'd be making that mandatory.

But really, I don't even mind. And it's like a madhouse in school now, in a good way. The line between the Dreamers and Daring is breaking down, and everyone's getting bolder. I bet I've already single-handedly devirginized more people in the school than anyone else this year. They say something like 75% of high school students never have sexual contact until they move out of their homes... I bet at my school it's at least down to 60% now, all due to me.

I just wish I could record this visually, just for my private memories, but I'm still worried about spyware getting me in trouble. I thought about dragging out my old halo, get a 360 view of it. I mean, it's obvious, they'd know I'm doing it, but the reason people stopped using them was because they can't record without AR because of all the controversy. So they'd know I was playing along, still protecting everybody's identity, while getting some good shots for my own memories. It might work, too, if I tried it, but I hate how halos pin down my hair. And call me a narcissist, but I want to see my face, especially if there's not going to be anybody else's. I just have to hope Dani sends me another one.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5655 (rounded up), 6:32pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Tuned To a Dead Channel" by Wintermute]]

It's like all I write about is how I'm getting fucked lately... like it's all that my life is, anymore. In a way, it is, my life revolves around it. Or seems to. School? I don't give a fuck, except to wonder when I'm going to be led aside to become community service.

Today it was while I was doing my tailoreds. I had a private booth booked for me, and boom, got the alert, time to bend over. This time there was no oral, since I was stuck facing the AR board, which was a bit of relief after all the cum I swallowed yesterday.

Only three guys fucked me there, but I caim on the first one. It's getting easier to do it in front of a crowd, and there was a nice crowd, not as big as yesterday's, but it was more out of the way so they had to make an effort to cum. I guess it was somebody popular's first time because I could hear them cheering him on. Does it count as a cheer if it's more of a quiet, encouraging mutter? After him, there were others. No drugs this time, maybe I'm not worth it anymore, but I'm still worth plenty of fucks. It's the only thing during the day that's even interesting.

The thing is, I come home exhausted, and usually I have to take something just to make it through the evening, but when I do crash, I sleep better than I ever have before. It's like this life was made for me.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5657 (rounded up), 6:13pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Life of the Party" by Nirvana Reborn]]

I have an invite. To a party. With my old friends.

And I am so going.

They aren't welcoming me back with open arms. I'm not that dumb. I wouldn't get my hopes about it even if the invitation hadn't started with "your sentence continues at..." and ended with a suggestion to "Wear something you don't mind getting dirty." Which, by the way, is this: [[Inset video of Hillary in her room. Despite the instruction, Hillary is dolled up like she's going to a party where she expects to meet her true love, assuming that was someone who expected the level of style she already generally aspires to. She's wearing makeup and bright blue lipstick, her hair has been meticulously teased so that it falls in a cascade of ringlets down one side of her face, exposing the other, shaved side of her head. Her clothes are shiny black waterproof wearables, a top that presses her breasts together for effect, and a skirt that opens on the side for easy removal. Rarely, ads flash over the surface, visible even without AR for maximum impression, with segments of the black fabric shifting colors to coalesce into a logo, but it's subtle, not so often that they make fashion-conscious teens want to reject the outfit for a dressy occasion.]]

I know, I'm not a guest, I'm the entertainment. For them to laugh at, fuck, maybe even gangbang. There won't be any dancing for me, no joking around, no extreme daredevil games. I'll just be at the mercy of whoever controls my collar. Maybe they'll leave me bent over all night.

The thing is, I'm excited anyway. Not just because there's this chance I'm on the path to being forgiven, but the thought of just being there, made available to anyone who wants me, to just use me like I'm a human onahole, making fun of me... especially the making fun of me, because these aren't Dreamers taking advantage of me, it's my ex-friends who've been even crueler, it's going to be worse than ever. It's soo weird. I should hate it. But it's the opposite. I mean, it's not that I'm not embarrassed, or hurt by the insults, even by the dreamers... I am. That's the point. The feeling is so strong and it makes me so uncomfortable that it's like... it makes the pleasure that much more intense, because it's going on while I'm feeling so low. And there's a moment where it gets so good that I just don't care about the humiliation, it doesn't even enter my mind, it's like that moment when you pee after holding it in, that moment you take Glide after a really rough night, that first glorious moment you get outside after spending a boring day in school. Sometimes, when it's really good, it's like that moment you jump off a building or ride a coaster over the first big hill, your stomach drops and you feel sick but it's like every atom in your body's vibrating at the same time, in tune to the universe, just for a moment. It's like pure freedom, and you want to grab hold and ride it as long as you can, like an orgasm almost except this moment can last minutes at a time.

Those minutes are so good. I think I'm getting addicted to it. Even right now, it's making me wet just thinking of it, I had my hand in my underwear just imagining them fucking me while calling me stupid, saying I'm only useful as a life support system for a set of holes, or putting a male dog on me just to degrade me even more.

Wow, I'm turning into such a whore for this I'm surprising even myself. They don't even need to give me drugs anymore... it's a drug of its own. Who knew this would be so powerful? I mean, I always thought of myself as pretty vanilla... sure, I'm daring-with-a-capital-D, but as far as tastes go, I never went in for anything too weird, no fetish albums became my personal anthem. But now... it's like I leveled up in kink. All the rest of my time is just spent waiting for this. Good thing they're forcing me to do this otherwise I might have to beg for it. Though maybe that would be even better.

Actually, I kind of did beg, a little today. I had to beg Billy to watch The Rat and cover for me with Mom. She'll be out all night again (I wonder if she's feeling the same things I do... if so, I should probably rollback that sympathy for her), but if I'm going out, I need him to be on the Nannyapp button, and he might not outright tell Mom, but he still could blow it all if he was still pissed at me. And most of all, I needed to borrow some cash from his card to pay the autocab cause I don't have squat right now.

So I begged. I pulled out all the stops, even got down on my knees, told him that this was the first party I'd been invited to in forever, and how might be my one chance to get back in good with my friends. He was cold about it at first, but finally he asked me, with sort of a surprised wonder, "You really want to do this?"

It was then it hit me, for the first time. Billy might be among the most pedestrian of Dreamers... but people talk. And he does go to my school. He probably does know what I've been going through, he just hasn't said it. Maybe he's even seen me doing it, I know he usually takes lunches in class but he could have seen me in the cafeteria, or even a hall. And it's not that big of a leap for even Billy to guess that I'm getting more of the same tonight. And here I am, begging him to let me go out for more.

Now that's embarrassing. I'm probably going to be thinking about that tonight, while I'm locked in position and drowning in cum.

But what was I going to do? I had to do it. And I thought, he wasn't going to tell Mom, and he was too much of a coward to confront me about it before now, how bad could it be, him knowing? If he looked at me with shame in his eyes from now on, I'd get used to it.

So I told him that yes, I wanted this more than anything I've ever wanted before. And luckily he folded. He's going to cover for me.

Maybe he doesn't even really know, maybe it was enough to see me beg.

I better finish this, the autocab's just pulled up.

Let's hope this night doesn't turn out to be a waste of time.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5658 (rounded up), 10:13am:

[[Soundtrack: "Shockwave Riding," by Agrippa]]

My back is still sore, my body is crying out for more sleep, and my mouth still feels like a toilet.

Yet I, in some weird way, I feel clean. But not completely. There's one thing I have to do to finish, to put an end to this chapter of my life.

I have to admit I've been lying. To you, which is really to myself, unless the godlike AI of the future or its human servants read this before bringing me back. I was too embarrassed by the truth, and I didn't want it to be a part of the new Resurrected me, if that ever happens, so I hid it, denied it... but I realize now I can't. Our mistakes make us who we are. If they Resurrect me in the future without this, it won't be me, it'll be just some near-copy. Sometimes I don't care so much about the distinction, or even really believe it'll really be me no matter how close they get... but it is important to be honest, and I haven't been.

I could launch right into the why, but it's going to come up again when I storify, so I might as well save it until then and just tell you what happened last night. No video, again, they wouldn't let me (one of the more bizarre parts of my life lately is how so much is happening that I don't have footage, just memories, like I'm some kind of Victorian era cavewoman).

Only Jack Ramsay was there when I got in. I thought it seemed early. And he had that smirk under his ridiculous mustache when he answered the door, and I knew that he was loving this. Reject a guy once in middle school and he never lets it go.

No surprise, we had sex, but of course he didn't ask, he led me to his bathroom (no surprise there either), told me to take out my eyescreens, then to take off all my clothes, and then triggered my collar. He dicked around for a while, making a big show of trying to decide what to make the AR display above me, the one that lists my crimes, but I couldn't see it anyway, and what did I care? I said as much, but he told me he settled on "Human Cumdumpster, Free To Use."

I think he was expecting me to be bothered by it, but, why? Okay, it does bother me to be called that, I guess, but it's sort of what I am now, and with just him saying it, seeing it, it wasn't even really embarrassing enough to get me a little flush. When the rest of the people showed up, or maybe if he was streaming it, it would be better.

Besides, I wanted to at least look defiant, so I kind of rolled my eyes at him and asked if he was the one behind this all, and he snickered and denied it, said it was a group decision. But I know how it is, group decisions are pushed by a few people, and I still wanted to know who it was. Dani was probably one of them, but she doesn't have the hacking skills to pull it off herself, and the smirk on Ramsay's face said it was somebody he found funny. Bastard wouldn't tell me for sure though, his dick got hard and he decided he was going to "use me before I got all loose and messy."

That one hurt good enough to make me do an involuntary cunt-clench.

The sex was just okay, he was bigger than I expected, but hardly the world's greatest lover or anything, it was pretty much just a passive pounding, and without people watching me it wasn't even degrading enough to really get me going. It was the kind of sex where, if I had my eyescreens, I'd probably be doing something else at the same time. Which is what I'd expect from him, really.

When he was done, he just left and went into the other room, leaving me alone with nothing to do but just sit there, staring at the towel rack. I didn't even have a good view of the mirror. And I couldn't tell time without my eyescreens in (I still had my nailtabs and ringbuds, so I could theoretically have played my own music or set time alerts to be audio, but that's nightmare-mode to do when you can't actually see the menus).

At least they left my ringbuds in and tuned to the ambient AR, so I could hear Ramsey's house music selections when he started it up, but he wouldn't even pay the extra few cents to name me as an additional listener. So I only got melody, no vocals. I should have karaoked it when I didn't have my mouth full, just so they'd shut me up.

But anyway, even the music only started after more people were there. They started showing up in knots, not as a flash, and usually they came to peek in on me with a big shit-eating grin on their face, like they were relishing me being in this position, but most of them didn't do anything to me. One guy fingered me a little while he used the toilet. Having to listen to him peeing was worse than his finger up my ass.

After some kind of debate going on just outside, a few of them came in and put a pair of swim-goggles on me. AR-enabled, but they weren't hooked into my systems so I couldn't control them, so anyone who wanted to could disguise their identity. I guess somebody was still shy. But that was only the first step. Whoever was shy came in next, clothed in a pillar of fire, and put sense-stickers on my forehead and mound, to measure bloodflow and electrical activity. I knew where this was going. It's just like what we did for Christie's coming out party [[Inset: Link to previous lifelog entry about a girl who'd just joined the Daring clique by eating out another girl at a public game stage. At a later party in her honor, they hooked her up with sensors to measure her arousal and when she had orgasms, as part of a dare to test her claim that she wasn't really bisexual, as various men and women tried to make her climax through visual stimulation combined with kissing and fingering alone. The consensus at the end of the night was that her preference was for males, but that if you got her aroused enough, even just watching girls could push her over the top.]]

But if it wasn't bad enough that they were going to know every time I caim, they weren't even going to commit to being around when it happened. Next up was a two-pronged vibrator up my ass and pussy at the same time, that anyone could turn on or off or speed up. Anyone except me, that is. I just had to wait and wonder when it was going to go off into mega-burst mode, and when it was just going to be on low.

It was mostly on low for the first while, and I was left more or less alone. Sometimes someone would come in and use me, mostly my mouth at first. They thought it was funny to turn the vibe up to max right when they were about to cum, so I caim at the same time. Or sometimes the guys caim on my face while I caim to the wand. I had to remember to give my moans.

So pretty much I was a piece of fuckmeat, and I couldn't even tell you who used me how. Maybe everyone. Mostly it was one-on-one, although sometimes I was double-teamed, and usually whenever I ate out a girl there were a few watchers. But otherwise, I wasn't even the main attraction anymore, the party went on without me, I could hear snatches of conversation and I was barely even a topic. People just came in and used me when they felt the urge, or ignored me otherwise, although there was a rush of laughter every time I had an orgasm, especially if nobody else was there, so they hadn't completely forgotten about me. But they almost never talked to me, even if they were just coming to use the bathroom, they'd ignore what I said to them, unless I had a simple request like "can you wipe the cum off my face" or "I really need to pee." Sometimes, just sometimes, they'd help me out. Yes, I had to beg to use the bathroom myself, the deferment commands didn't work (or I didn't use them right), and so I had to plead just to get a little break from the punishment position, but the breaks topped out at ten minutes. And somebody let me sit on the toilet, in handcuff mode, while he fucked me, which was sooo much better after being bent over for so long, even though he draped a towel over my face so he "didn't have to look at me." And after that, it was back to doggy-style fucks in punishment mode.

The whole night was pretty much either being used, or waiting to be used. I wanted to sleep sometimes, especially after a big orgasm, but I never could get more than a few seconds, the vibe would always go into overdrive if I tried. That thing was a master stroke in degradation. Any time somebody wanted to fuck me, they'd take the vibe out (or just take one prong out) and they put it back in afterwards, so it wasn't ON non-stop, but I was pretty much full non-stop and I feel like I need to rub toner all over myself or I'll never be tight again. I've never felt so worthless or so consistently turned on. Even if I'm sore now, I still feel like I'm high.

The height of the worthlessness wasn't when somebody made a trip to the toilet and decided instead of sliding around me, they'd eliminate the middle step and just pee in my mouth. The height of worthlessness was the third or fourth time that happened. After that, I'd gotten used to it. But the first time was a real eye opener... way different experience than an AR simulation of it. I thought he was just coming for a blowjob, and maybe it was my fault, I opened my mouth, tongue wide, right when he came in, hoping that he'd be one of the guys who cranked the vibe up, because I'd been on the low setting for too long and really needed to cum again. He stuck it in, and he was hard but not super hard, but he didn't pump, so I was licking, and then... boom. Suddenly he was peeing in my fucking mouth. And laughing. "You wanted a beer," he said. I'd asked for one earlier but been ignored. "Don't complain that it's been recycled." I couldn't exactly speak, just swallowed, trying to taste as little as possible, but it was salty and warm and, even with the hint of mango, it was pretty vile. I called him a bastard after he pulled out, and he lightly slapped my face and said something about how I'm not acting like I really want forgiveness. Then he went out to the rest of the party, and he must have told people because pretty soon Ramsey (he didn't bother wearing AR) came in and did the same thing. The third person to pee in my mouth brought a crowd with him, the first time I was the center of attention since the start of the party, and this time while I was drinking pee, the vibe cranked up to max and I had to do my best to fight off an orgasm. I didn't want to cum while drinking piss.

Then I heard, "I got dibs on next." And I knew that voice. Fucking Dani. She downed the drink in her hand, but wasn't ready to go right away. Didn't stop her from shoving her cunt in my face and telling me to lick until she was.

I thought a guy peeing in my mouth was bad. A girl's even worse because it splashes all over your face. Maybe if I sucked on the hole, but I wasn't going to do that. I have some dignity.

Who am I kidding, dignity and me parted ways long before the first time I was forced to drink piss. But I still wasn't going to do that, not for her. Especially not when, this time, she succeeded in forcing an orgasm on me while I was drinking her piss.

"Look at you," Dani said mockingly, circling around to my back where I couldn't see her. "Getting off while drinking pee. That keeps happening, you'll probably start begging for it." We'd heard the rumors that people were programmed like that, a game of elite corporate players, give people orgasms while doing something they hate and make them love it. Dani got really into that fantasy when we first started masturbating together. "Maybe I should make it hurt a little, just to help you out." And before I could decide what to say, or whether I should say anything, she smacked me, hard, on the ass. I cried out, but a lot of the others in the bathroom laughed, and she did it again. And I guess they must have noticed my arousal levels increasing, because she said, "This turns you on too? Wow. What a useless whore." She smacked me again, though. And I was aroused but it also hurt, like each time it was getting more intense and it was almost more than I could take, but she didn't care, she just did it again.

Somebody who wasn't watching before came in and asked, "Isn't that going a little too far?" I wish I did know who that was, everything was blurry because there were piss drops all over the goggles, and I was crying, it wasn't the pain so much as the humiliation, which had pushed past pleasurable and was just back in the pain zone. I was glad to have somebody speak up for me, though... it was nice to think I had an ally. "He's not going to like this." Maybe two. I didn't know who "He" was... maybe some guy had feelings for me?

The rest of the people disagreed it was too much, though, and someone with voice distortion said, "Fuck him. We agreed. If she likes it too much, it's not a real punishment. I say we keep pushing her, see how far down she gets. If she wants to be treated like a human being, she has to make amends."

I knew I was risking pissing them off by speaking, but I couldn't help it, I still had the taste of piss on my tongue and was spitting mad as well as ashamed and crying. "What do you think I'm trying to do?"

It was like time stopped, except for the house music which was still going on. "And what are you making amends for, Hil?" asked Lilah. She pulled the goggles up so I could see clearly, everybody waiting for my answer.

But I couldn't answer. I wasn't ready then. I still thought I could hold onto the lie. Then I realized that even if I did lie, they'd probably be running lie detector apps and, without my own eyescreens in, I couldn't block it. I tried to think up a set of words that would appease them while still keeping that shred of... I don't even know if I can call it dignity.

When I didn't have an answer ready, Dani said, "See? She's not even sorry. Not really. Come on, let's go back to the party."

Dani brushed past me and towards the door, and everyone turned away, ready to leave me alone in the bathroom again, smelling Dani's urine in my hair and an itch on my nose I couldn't scratch, while they joked and dance and got high and just have fun like I haven't had in forever, and I shouted, "Okay!"

And I told them. Everything. I admitted it, and even though I cried while I was doing it, it was actually a relief not to have to lie anymore. And now I realize that it was just a first step, and I have to do it here, too.

I did help the cops. I got Logan and those other guys higher sentences to save my own ass. Mom pressured me, and Billy did too, but it was my choice in the end, I could have said no, deleted the lifelog sections entirely or lost the encryption schemes, or forced them to do whatever they could to try to break them. Instead, I turned them over. I just really didn't want to go to a juvenile detention facility and I got scared and I didn't care if the others got off worse, I figured they were probably going to jail anyway so why make it worse for myself?

But it was still wrong, I'm still ashamed of myself, and that's why I lied to everyone, to my lifelog. It's against the code of the Daring. We just don't do that.

I don't know how everyone else knew. Maybe Dani lied to screw me over and happened to hit on what really happened. Maybe they hacked into sealed court records. Or maybe I'm just a shit liar, even with eyescreens masking my pupils.

At least I don't have to worry about that anymore. After I blubbered out my confession, Dani turned and walked out like she was even more pissed, and most just had a "knew it" look, but a few people... maybe it was my imagination, but I thought it softened, like they had pity for me. Which feels awful and good at the same time, kind of like being fucked while restrained to the floor.

"Let her have five minutes to clean herself up," someone, Juan Riviera but I didn't know just then, said, and slowly people started filing out.

Before Juan did, he released the restraints so I could finally stand up andwipe my eyes, and turned away to give me my privacy. "Wait! After that, I can come out?"

He snickered at me, and ruffled my hair like I was a stupid little kid. "Of course not, silly. If admitting what you did was all it took to make amends, I'd... you don't even want to know the shit I'd do. Your confession was a good first step. But it's only a first step. The point of this is... like rehabilitation, making you a useful part of society again. And don't forget, it has to be bad enough to make anyone else think twice about doing what you did."

I could understand that. But I still wanted a light at the end of the tunnel. "And how long'll that be?"

"I don't know. Your sentence continues until your rep gets high enough. Maybe as long as you wear the collar. Honestly, it's just too fun a toy to give up before we can. Besides, you're not fooling anyone... you like this too. The data doesn't lie."

I did. I couldn't deny that. "Not all of it." That was true, at least mostly. The pain of being in the same position for so long just sucked. The pee was gross, although even just thinking how disgusting and ashamed that made me, gave me a dirty thrill. Maybe I would grow to like it, or hate it but love it being forced on me. The thought of that made me hate myself a little. But maybe I love myself too much for my own good. I wouldn't have done this if I cared about Logan half as much as I did myself. And humility is good, right?

"Yeah, maybe we went a bit too far. Now that you've stopped lying about it, we'll go back to the original specs we agreed on, and if anyone goes farther they'll be downvoted." Relying on peer pressure isn't a guarantee of anything... I bet Dani would risk a few rep points to make my life a little more miserable. But it was better than nothing. "Any special requests before I rejoin the party?"

I asked for something solid to eat and drink to get the taste out of my mouth, and a drug patch to cut out my sore back, and if I could take the vibrating double dildo out of me, and pointed out that if they engaged handcuff mode around the sink pipe, so I was lying on the floor, I'd still be unable to move but at least my back would get a break.

That was probably too much, but I got everything except the drug patch. A few minutes later, after I washed my face and wet my hair (and put the goggles back on to show I was cooperating), Joan Varley came in with a beer and a bowl of soystrips... better than nothing. She wouldn't even look me in the eye though. And then when Juan came back in, he laid a towel on the floor and let me put my hands around the sink so when handcuff mode was engaged, I could lie down.

After that, it got better. I was still the open license slut of the party, but it wasn't so physically painful. The boredom was a factor, so I was mostly eager for somebody to come in and use me. Surprise, a lot more girls when I was lying on the floor, because they could squat on my face maybe. They also didn't usually make me do it till they caim, I think I was more to get them a head start for when they had sex with somebody else at the party. And once I got a face full of cum-filled pussy that I had to clean off. That wasn't so bad, though. She used Strawberry and he had a Banana flavoring going on, so it actually tasted really good together.

Only one more person peed in my mouth, and it was a girl too. She wore a blue elemental AR skin that I couldn't see past, and I thought she just wanted my tongue to make her cum, or get her wet. But about a minute in, she grabbed my hair, said, "Shhh," and started pissing. When she was done, she whispered, "Don't tell anyone."

I didn't. I didn't know who it was, but I could have told somebody and they probably knew what skin she wore when she went in, so I could have cost her rep points. It might have been a test. Or maybe she was just curious what it was like. I guess I couldn't blame her, I might have done the same. And she wiped my face after and gave me the rest of her drink, and let me have another break to stretch my legs.

It was only one more person, and what was the big deal after I had so much?

I went back into punishment mode for a while after that, but I had more breaks to stretch.

At the end of the night, Ramsey let me have a shower before giving me my clothes and eyescreens, and I almost cried again. I synced up, looked around, and it was like.... [[Inset: Video clip from the wildly scientifically inaccurate end of Supervolcano, where David looks up, and sees the sky clear and, for the first time in years, the stars are visible and he falls down to his knees and cries as he gets on the radio and reports the success of the corporate cleanup]]. Bright points of light for several of the Daring in my interest list, once again letting me know where they were compared to me. A sign that I was no longer shitlisted, at least not completely. Not everyone's there. But it's a start. It's like that old meme, [[Inset: Clip from the 20th century film, The Shawshank Redemption where the narrator says the partial line "who crawled through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side," except the word "Who" has been seamlessly replaced with "I"]].

Juan even gave me a ride back in his car instead of having to call an autocab. I mean, he was leaving at the same time anyway and sure, I had to give him one last blowjob during the trip, but what's one more, right?

When I got in I heated up some Meatieballs and went right to bed. Billy was asleep, as was the Rat, and Mom still wasn't back yet... for all I know, as a body-slave she had the same sort of night I did. A part of me wanted to run into her, though, so I could show her my matching mascara tears and she'd know that I'd been through something kinky and degrading just like her... that's probably why I dipped into her makeup stash and wore the kind that ran. I wonder if she secretly liked it as much as me. Maybe I shouldn't feel sorry for her, just because she spent her whole life proud that she didn't do that sort of thing doesn't mean she isn't thrilled now that she has to. We share some genes after all.

I don't know, I hope she likes it, anyway.

She's home now, and she must have gotten some sleep wherever she went last night, because she's up and full of energy at this ungodly hour, which means I gotta be too, since we're supposed to go to Church today and update our backup memory diamonds... that's why I wanted to do this now, to make sure the truth got saved even if I got atomized or something. But so tired, I just want to crawl back into bed and leave it to next time. I suppose I could beg off and demand sleep, but I was supposed to have an early night, and if she get suspicious and audits the housecams, not only do I have to deal with her shit but Billy will be in trouble too, for covering. And then next time I need a favor he won't help.

So time to put on a fucking smile and leave my room.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5659 (rounded up), 4:36pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Everything Ends," by The Difference Engine]]

It's the end of an era.

The security hole in the school was patched over the weekend. No more AR costumes, no more unfiltered access to the outside, no more media watching. No more being suddenly locked in position for anyone daring enough to use me as a living fuckdoll.

Damn it.

I was looking forward to it today, too. I'm already starting to feel sort of empty without it. Second day in a row where I've just been... normal. And where am I going to get my rep points now?

I don't even know if they can set off my collar anymore. Maybe it was all part of the same hack, and nobody will do anything to me because they're afraid the cops will see. Fuck. How do I ask someone to trigger my collar and do whatever they want to me without sounding pathetic?

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5660 (rounded up), 7:19pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Entering The Mushroom Kingdom" - Super Mario Origin Soundtrack]]

Apparently the saying is true. When God closes a backdoor, he leaves open Windows. The collar is still compromised. Nobody can risk using me in school, but after, I'm fair game. Got a 'suggestion' to walk to the kiddy park instead of taking the autocar home, from two of the Daring that I sort of know but am not really close with.

So I did.

I was taping this time. Fuck them if they have a problem with it, it's my life. So if the future recreation of me needs to know what it's liked to be fucked in front of a bunch of elementary schoolers, I present...

[[Inset: Video shot from the edge of a tween park, on a path out of sight of the main monitoring area, between a copse of artificial trees which block the views of cameras, except those placed in the trees themselves, but those are rarely checked unless there's evidence of a problem.

Through the trees, we watch, from a distance, a group of kids, a dozen, between the ages of ten and thirteen, playing a game of TapThat! around a playground, which, to anybody not subscribed to the game and able to see the targets, looks like them randomly running from point to point, pestered by some annoying fly, and trying to splat it with their palm whenever it lands on a slide, swing, or ground. They seem completely oblivious to Hillary watching, but then, at their distance, even if they weren't also cloaked by AR, it might not be obvious what was going on through the trees.

The view also regularly jiggles with motion, as she is indeed being fucked while watching.

Overheard, but not seen because it is occurring behind her, the man penetrating her is having a conversation with his friend about school. "How'd you do on that live-essay?" The one not fucking her asked.

"Not bad. 83. Moved up a spot in the rankings. You?"

"95, but I dropped. I'm pissed at myself, though. The grader docked me a couple points because I accidentally used 'corporate wars' instead of 'great free market correction.'"

"Shit, rookie mistake, man."

"I'm pretty sure I hit all the talking points on today's though. About how even if a corporation did pay the cops to expel the Juggalos as reported, they're not responsible for the deaths of criminals resisting arrest, even if some of them were kids."

"I forgot to work in the one about the human cost being acceptable because it's vital to test arcologies what with 'current models rendering space travel feasible in five years.'" Not likley unless there's a worldwide change in policies and a few technological developments. "And surviving Juggalos will benefit as much anybody, but also... the... shit, what was it, resource maximization..."

"'Anything less than a maximally efficient exploitation of a resource is failing the company's duty to their shareholders.'"

"Yeah, that." The fucking continues for the duration of a few thrusts. "Hey, speaking of efficient exploitation of resources... we should really set up Hil somewhere we can charge admission. Set up a ticket booth in a game stage or something, we could make a decent profit."

"Against the T&C, man." Hillary may not know all the Terms and Conditions, but the others in her social circle do.

"Fuck that, what kind of punishment is it if we can't get more than a good fuck. Besides, it's only a violation if Hil tells on us... and you won't tell on us, right, Hil?"

It's as though it takes a second for her to realize she's being addressed, or maybe she has to think it over. She lets out a weak moan first. "No."

"Game stage is no good, then," says the one watching the fuck. "All it takes is for one person from our school to see it."

"Good point. Could make it a...." There's a grunt before he continues, "...blind glory hole? Or is that still going to be too obvious?"

"If we're going to do it, we should go downtown somewhere, maybe a gang territory. One of the soft ones. Wouldn't make as much in the poverty districts, but maybe they could crowdfund enough to make it worth the trip. Or maybe we could set up outside of a club catering to corporates. Would you like that, Hil?"

Hillary's first answer is hard to decipher as a yes or no, but she follows it up with, "My probation. I can't leave the gates..." She takes a breath. "I think. Depends on how hacked... this thing is."

"You know?" There's no answer visible, but one can infer a shaken head. "We should really check on that."

"Hey, what about them? They probably got some money."

"They're, like twelve." Hillary's view focuses more intently on the kids, now.

"Means they've got more money than sense. They'll just spend it on Power-Taps or something. I'm sure at least one would pay for a first time, even with an overused whore." Ahead, the kids yell at a contentious score, a dark-haired boy complaining that the game didn't register his tap. He sits down, having been eliminated, but not happy about it. Meanwhile, the classmate fucking Hillary continues, "Shit, you should feel her... she likes the idea of being somebody's first... or maybe she's got a shota fetish. Hey, I've got an idea. One sec" The intermittent motion jostling the camera stops. "You stay right here, Hil." There's snickering at the obvious joke, for Hillary is still locked in place and can't move at more than a crawl. Seconds later, two young men in their late teens and wearing school uniforms approach the kids, begin talking, possibly triggering an alert because they're outside of the prescribed age range for the park, but as they're not adults and their identity is registered, no security forces are launched, yet.

It's impossible to hear what they're saying over Hillary's breathing, which is growing excited, almost hyperventilating. A couple of kids hear whatever pitch they're making and shake their heads, but that one dark-haired boy, eliminated from the game and not willing to buy his way back in (as one of his friends just did), starts walking back with them. "It's right this way," says one of Hillary's classmates who, for, largely, your convenience, we will call Felix, the one who has just lucky enough to bust his nut. "They're running it off a... like, mini-drone to build up buzz, but they can't enter your park, because they think you're too young for it."

The young dark-haired boy we'll call Lincoln, after the AR emote he launches, the face of child star Lincoln Rickenharp, who appears in the air and says a well-received line from his Candide movies: "Okay, but if I wind up tied up in your basement or something, I'm going to be really annoyed."

While we're here, let's name, we'll name the third of the trio, Felix's friend, Yukio, for he's a fan of the canime produced by Yukio Itoe. "Trust me, you'll like it. Just five bucks." By now they're close enough that Lincoln should be able to see Hillary's face, but although his eyes roam in that direction, they don't find anything unusual, because from his perspective there is another tree in the way.

They circle around the back, out of view, but Lincoln's sharp intake of breath can be heard. "Looks like a real live porno, doesn't it? Best part is, it's like a long distance sensestim rig... stick your finger in, and it actually feels like a real live pussy."

"It smells like..." Lincoln's young voice, full of wonder, like he's already bought into it.

"Yeah, smell too... the drone's stimulating your, uhm, nose-hairs. It's the next phase in AR. Gonna change the world. And for just five bucks you can be one of the first to try it." There's a pause, in which one could imagine a hand reaching out, and being prevented from touching. "Nuh-uh, money first."

"Fine." A few seconds pass, and the view twitches again. "Whoah."

"See, feels pretty good, doesn't it? Now for fifty, you can do more than touch..."

"Oh shit," Lincoln says suddenly, in pure panic. "No, Mom. No, I wasn't doing anything."

"Shit," say Felix and Yukio in unison.

"I don't know their names," Lincoln continues his half of his conversation with his mother as the sound of footsteps run the other way. "It was just a bit of porn, Mom..."

The view changes as Hillary is suddenly released from her confinement. Now that her head is free to move, she turns, spots young Lincoln, who, after a moment, gapes with wide-mouth astonishment that she wasn't just a next-gen sim, but actually a real person. While he stands there, unsure what to do, she looks down, tugs her underwear back up under her skirt, and starts running, in the direction of the long-departed Felix and Yukio.

This is where the video ends.]]

I just about died! I can't believe they did it. Or how hot it was. I just about caim just when that kid put his baby finger in, and after his Mom caught him, and I had to shuffle out of the park with cum still dribbling down my thighs... man, I almost chased the guys down begging to be fucked again, but instead I just went home and did it myself.

This treatment is kind of messing me up. I feel like I need to go in for some hormonal rebalancing. When it starts, I'm ashamed and afraid, and then I get so turned on and want it to go even farther... and then after I cum a few times I just feel ashamed and depressed and worried it's going to come back to haunt me... and then after a while that fades, and everything is just like, numb, unless I'm reminded of it. And when I'm numb, I want to do it again, not because I'm turned on but because it's better than not feeling anything.

I wonder how serious they were about taking me out downtown. Maybe if charging for me is against the T&C, they could just leave me there for anybody to come across, so anybody could do what they want and I couldn't stop it. They might think I was just a rich bitch on probation, locked in place by bad luck in the wrong part of town, and I could fake-fear at being raped. Of course, they might not do anything, but... like someone said in that episode where they tied that PoV slut to a post... the street finds its own uses for things.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5661 (rounded up), 8:19pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Blow My Mind (Not My Man)," by Rei Toei]]

Wow. That's all I can say right now. I know the church says we're supposed to use words instead of memes an emoticons as much as possible in our lifelog, but sometimes they're what you need.

[[Inset: Clip of the wide-eyed Chipotle Bill cartoon character, standing in front of his friends Ben and Jerry, whispering, "This. Changes. Everything."]]

My mind is so blown, it may never function again.

So I had it out with Dani again. Not a blow-out argument, just sniping. It's kind of hard to have a real argument when the person you're arguing with can make you bend over and eat her out at any moment.

Which, by the way, happened at her place, a girl's-only party I was invited to. This time in addition to leaving me in Dani's mom's room, they blindfolded me, so all I could see were AR shadows and my wearables menus, and sometimes they talked about what they were doing, and sometimes it was like they were part of the Silent, planning everything by text until suddenly I'd have a vibrator shoved inside me while my head was held up against a moist pussy and expected to lick. Mostly it was one at a time, and sometimes they'd turn a vibrator on and not do anything, and sometimes I'd be ears deep in pussy. I think it was because they're mostly-straight girls, and some dreamers, who wanted to experiment with lesbian stress relief anonymously, like a glory-hole, without the cocks. Aside from Alice Tiptree's (at least I think it was her, from her moans when she caim inside me. Considering how shy she is about it, I may be the only girl ever to suck her girlcock off... maybe the only who ever will, if she gets the remodelling she wants. I'm kind of proud about that).

It was all good fun, really, embarrassing but the good kind, and a few even ate me out to an orgasm. I could tell they hadn't done it before, they were sort of shy at first (enough I almost made the soundtrack for this post Miley's fetish song "A Virgin Girl's Willing Tongue" but they're all teenagers at least and a little too old to fit with the song, ha), but they got into it, and me too.

But mostly it was me with the willing tongue. I just wish I knew when it was Dani using me so I could bite or just go limp or something, to let her know that I still hadn't forgiven her... even if what I did was wrong, and it's worked out okay for me... she was my best friend, and to turn me in to the others just because I was with a guy she liked was beyond the pale.

I didn't get my chance then, but after everyone went home, Dani came in and removed the blindfold, asked if I had fun. And she did it in that smug, superior voice, so I couldn't just grin and bear it anymore.

"God, I wish I knew you were such a raging bitch when we were in middle school, I wouldn't have wasted my time being your friend." I said that right after she let me stand up straight, even knowing that she could activate it again and make me have to bend right down again.

She didn't, though. Maybe knowing she could was enough. "Now, now, that's not the kind of mouth somebody who needs rep points as bad as you do should have."

"Please, we both know you're never going to upvote me anyway. And all because Logan liked me instead of you."

She stared at me, enraged, and I knew I scored a point, even as she said, "It's not about Logan. I don't give a shit about Logan."

"Sure." She might be over him now, but she'd have to be cold as fuck not to care about him a little, especially since nobody's heard from him since he went to jail. "Keep telling yourself that."

"You don't know a thing, you know that? You're so clueless it's painful."

"I know who my friends are."

"Do you? Do you even have any, anymore? I mean, ones who don't want to use you like a piece of meat."

"At least they want to use me, you're not even on anybody's wishlist." I could do better than that, though. She went for the low blow, so so did I. "Least my family cares about me." I figured, my mom and I might not get along, but at least she hasn't gone all-out corporate workaholic like hers. Dani doesn't know how to hack the latest update of the house's security feed... her mom just doesn't ever check it, because she can't be bothered. She spends more time with her teen intern than her daughter. I bet this whole party, me in her mom's room, was probably a desperate ploy for her attention. And I may not know my dad, but that's not as bad having one who fucked off once you were five years old to live in some slum and never see you again. And, I thought, there was always Billy that I could rely on, someone who had my back no matter what. I thought.

I expected to see Dani's face crumple, but instead, she laughed. And after a second, "You don't even know, do you?"

"Know what? Did your Daddy send you a letter? Trust me, it won't last. He'll get tired of you, like he did last time."

She rolled her eyes at me. "You really should pay more attention to the dare boards."

I didn't know where this was going, but I wanted out of there before I tried to find out. "Oh, I know. I know more about it than you." And I left before she challenged me. And on the way home, I checked the dare boards.

More than just the surface stuff, she couldn't have meant that, I would have noticed. But I went back, scrolled through the old completed dares. And, there it was.

[[Inset: Two shots of completed dares on the Daring's private dare board. One was "Hack Hillary's collar so anybody can use it," marked as semi-completed (because there were too many conditionals). The other was "Fuck Hillary while she's restrained," marked as completed and witnessed. Both were issued to, and completed by, the same person. Her own brother Billy, who's current rep score is now far higher than Hillary's has ever been.]]

I should feel betrayed, violated. Maybe I'm just numb to it by now. Everyone else seems to be using me however they want, why not my own family too? I guess it says something that he could take advantage of me at home and never has... maybe he's scared to, but he fucked me in front of a bunch of other people, so he had to know I'd find out eventually. Why not again, in private where he can really enjoy himself. Maybe he thinks I'm pretending it didn't happen and so is he. Or maybe he needs a crowd. What's wrong with him?

Fucking be a man, Billy. Making a move once and being a chickenshit is worse than never trying at all, cause then you can at least pretend you never wanted it.

I just can't believe I missed that one move for so long, though. I've had access to the private dare boards since my confession, I just never thought to look back. How the fuck did he get so much rep, anyway? My own geeky brother has more rep than me. I think I'm actually more annoyed by that than what he did to help him get there. Actually, he didn't even need me, he also claims responsibility for the hack on the school and that alone made him one of the Daring.

So if he didn't need the rep, why did he do this to me? To get back at me? Or maybe he really wants me... like he had an internal incest fetish album just screaming to get out, and he doesn't have the musical talent to do it that way so he has to do it for real.

I want so bad to confront him on this, but it really needs to be face to face and Mom's home tonight. Waiting's probably a good plan anyway, right now I don't know whether I'd smack him or beg him to rape me right on the dinner table in front of Mom. I'm supposed to watch the Rat tomorrow night anyway, if he doesn't go out, that'll give me a perfect time to bring it up.

If only I can decide what to say.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5664 (rounded up), 6:40pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Make a Man Out Of You," by The Peripherals]]

I've decided. This is the night. I'm going to lay it all on the line. I can't decide what I want to say, so I'm going to let him make the decisions. I'm just going to wait until he goes down for something to eat, and then bend down in front of him. Wearing this:

[[Inset: Short video of Hillary, wearing an ultra-short, ultra-tight purple skirt and tube top. When she stands, it's risque, but covers everything that needs to be covered. But as the video continues, she bends over, and it's very evident that, as is her go-to seduction technique, she's not wearing underwear, especially as she's wearing high heels. Hillary gives a sultry smile at the mirror, although her face is more flush than usual.]]

If he comments on it at all, I'm going to tell him that he can activate it any time. I'm totally at his mercy. I know it, he knows it, why pretend otherwise?

Then I'll see what he says, play it by ear. Maybe he didn't really want to fuck me, he just wanted the popularity from having done it. I can respect that. But if he's just holding back from what he wants because we're family and he's worried about my feelings... well, if I learned nothing from this experience is that life can be surprisingly fun when nobody respects my feelings, and it's time he learned that about me. And it's time he learned to be a man, go for what he wants. In a way, he helped me, so I'm going to return the favor in my own special way and do my best to make him rape me.

So we'll see what happens.

Seriously, what the fuck am I doing? This is insane. I must have brain damage or something. My heart's pounding, and I feel a little sick, like my body's telling me that I should abandon this plan without saving. But as scared as I am, I'm doing it.

I should record this, for my lifelog if nothing else. It could wind up being one of those 'defining moments' in my life, one way or the other, that need to be catalogued as accurately as possible for later resurrection.

But Billy and I made a deal never to record each other without permission, and as fucked as I'm getting, I'm not going to break the deal. Now if I find out he is, maybe I'll throw in a copy later. But until then..

Shit, gotta go, hear him downstairs. Wish me luck.

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5664 (rounded up), 10:03pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Brotherly Love," by Erin Zula]]

So my brother fucked me. And he did it just how I wanted him to, in the punishment position, completely in his power and helpless to resist anything he did.

I don't think that role comes naturally, but I think I can work on him.

I asked him later if he made a video, but he didn't, so I guess I have to use words.

It went just like I planned at first. He made a package of QuickBites, sat down at the table. I couldn't get right in front of him like I wanted, but I could get close enough, even though I had to clear my throat to get him looking my way.

He was all, "Uh, what the hell are you doing?" Which maybe is the most humiliating reaction to bending over in front of somebody there is, short of an insult.

"Just thought I'd get ready in case my collar triggered. I mean, since you can do it any time you want."

He seemed nervous, but I knew it had to be an act, considering what he did, so I jiggled my ass a little. "Come on, you know I wouldn't do that."

"No? You'd just make it so everyone else could do it?"

Now he was angry. Good, I wanted him angry. "I did that for you. You were always saying you'd do anything to be popular again. I just gave you the opportunity."

"Opportunity." Riiight. Like I had a choice. I mean, I am grateful for it, but own up to your own selfish reasons, Billy. Don't steal my fishcakes and tell me you're looking out for my mercury intake.

"You could have said no. It's not like you were raped, you could have used the panic button and backed away any time. Shit, you begged me to go to the party, and you knew what was going to happen there."

I didn't know everything, but he was right, I had begged him. Maybe that's why I wasn't even angry about it, not really. Mostly, I was pretending. I wanted to goad him into taking action. "So, why hold back now? Too much of a pussy to do it when I know it's you? That's it, isn't it? Can't get it up unless you're anonymous?"

He was red, now, but not with anger, it was embarrassment. I wonder if he got turned on by that like I did. I pushed the point before he could untangle his tongue. My last big speech, where I'm just a girl, standing in front of her brother, asking him to rape her. "You may have a high rep, but you're not really one of the Daring, are you? You're too scared. I mean, here I am, right in front of you, I can't stop you. I sure as fuck won't tell anyone on you, no matter how many times you do it. I know you've hacked the house cams so Mom can't watch without you knowing." Or at all, if it's set up right. "It's the perfect opportunity to take whatever you want, whenever you want, and never get caught. Most guys would kill for a situation like that. But you won't, cause you're too much of a coward. Sooner or later the rest of the school will figure it out, and you'll be a nobody again." He still didn't say anything, just looked like he was gritting his teeth, but he didn't make a move, and I stood up. "See, I thought not. Even when I'm taunting you about it. You're pathetic, a useless beta who's already gotten laid for the last time in his life. I'd actually respect you more if you did rape me."

I figured I'd blown it, pushed too far and he was going to start crying, and I started walking away. I wanted to be away when the tears started, so I wouldn't have to see it, and he wouldn't have to see me see it, and tomorrow I could apologize and say I was on Aggro or something. But before I got to the stairs, I heard the collar's alert.

My heart practically skipped a beat, but I got into position fast, before he changed his mind. "Shit, you really are damaged, you know that, Hil?" But I felt him behind me, standing in the perfect position for a doggy-style fuck. And then his fingers, not thrust rudely inside like I might have wanted, but a light stroke, like he wanted to see if I was wet. Well, I was.

"Everyone's damaged," I told him, one of the great truths of humanity. "The difference is, I'm not afraid of my damage." Okay, shit, I was afraid, am afraid of how fucked up I'm getting, but I'm starting to get over it... and that feels like a fucking power-up. "So you going to do it, or what? I don't have all night."

His hand went away, and his hips drew closer, though I could still feel his pants on between us. A dry hump... I wondered if maybe that was all he'd have the guts for, but then I felt the warm rod slip between us, up against my slit. "If you don't want this," he offered, trailing off, which almost ruined the mood, but just knowing he was about to do it kept me roaring.

"I'm not going to beg you not to treat me like a rapist would," I spat out. "Do it, faggot." I saw that in a retro porn once. Made no sense, but it was hot.

And it did the trick. He pushed inside me, and once he was all the way in, it was like the boy in him faded away and the man started to come out. He wasn't the most aggressive lover I'd ever had, but he was more forceful than I thought, holding my hips tight and thrusting into me with a lot of angry thrust. And if he was like this now, the first time (second time but the first one didn't count, I didn't know, and it was for an audience... like scissoring with a girl or eating her out for a crowd isn't actually a lesbian experience)... then once he got used to it and just used me however he wanted without any kind of doubt or care about my feelings, maybe even in public... god, just imagining that makes me want to visit him again.

I guess I wanted to help that along, get rid of those doubts as fast as I could, so that's why I started moaning. He doesn't know I'm a quiet cummer, so I wanted him to think that I was getting off to it, that he was that good... or that I was so damaged, so beyond saving that it wasn't worth worrying about me. It wasn't even an act, because I was getting off on it.

And I was kind of proud of him, too. Not just for doing it in the first place, but also for going for the pussy instead of the ass. With an ass-fuck he could have told himself he didn't really fuck his sister, he just, like the old joke, [[Inset: Short video clip from the sitcom Corporates, the hapless lead saying, "No, you just got a dick-massage from my sphincter muscle."]] But an actual fuck was a fuck, under the legal definition, and even if I couldn't get pregnant, his flooding my ovaries with his cum meant something, he was claiming me as his bitch, at least for right then, and really, whenever he wanted. Go Billy.

When that happened, I caim for real, still moaning loud enough that the neighbors might have heard us, which made it all that much better even if they thought I was just masturbating. I hadn't realized it, but Billy was a quiet cummer too.

Somebody did overhear, though. The Rat woke up and started crying, after Billy pulled out. "I better feed him," I said, and Billy released the restraints, and I fetched the prefilled boob-shaped bottle. While I put it in the Rat's mouth and watched him suckle on it, Billy came up behind me again. He wasn't ready for another round, he just put an arm around me, possessively (which was good) and then said gently, "I was always trying to protect you." Like we were lovers or something. I liked what happened, but I had to nip that in the bud.

"I don't need you to protect me."

"But you do, you wouldn't believe the kind of stuff they wanted to do to you, your supposed friends. I put my foot down... said if they didn't want the hack to go away, they had to follow my rules."

"You shouldn't have," I said. "I'm not exactly fragile, you know." But at the same time, I liked that. Follow his rules. Not my rules, his.

"So I should just tell them anything goes?" he asked, not like a real offer, but like he couldn't imagine it, he was challenging me on it.

And I guess he won. I'm not sure how far my friends would have gone. Maybe somewhere I didn't want to go, even if I liked it, liked it so much that I wouldn't stop them. I wanted to go farther, but I don't know how much farther. Letting them pimp me out in gang territory may not be the brightest idea, especially after I was coming down from cumming. "No," I said. "But maybe check with me." That was like a lightning bolt, it seemed like the perfect idea. If Billy set the rules, I could still have limits, but everyone would think they weren't my limits, that I was willing to go farther. Maybe him caring a little about me was a good thing. Something like the best of both worlds. Meanwhile, I could work on him, make him more aggressive, assertive, force the beta out of him. That's what big sisters are for, anyway, right?

Maybe I'd do my job too well, and he'd get tired of me, toss me aside without a word, let everyone else do what they wanted to me. But I'd have a fuck of a good time until then.

I think I'm going to go into his room again and tease him until he takes me again.

[[Some entries have been omitted at this point, because they don't seem to cover much new ground, just further sexual escapades, many of which Hillary recorded and I would have to recount. In addition, because her status within her social group is recovering, a lot more of it focuses on personal relationships. If they were included fully, likely you would consider it a waste of time. But one entry deserves a special note:]]

The Journal of Hillary Gibson, Lifelog Date 5701 (rounded up), 4:21pm:

[[Soundtrack: "Slave to my Emotions," by Jenny Mnemonic]]

Had a probation meeting today with my case worker. He suggested that since I was following all the restrictions (HA!), he could put in a good word for me and they might reduce my sentence, get the collar off me earlier. I panicked and told him off, called him a fucking autist, which pissed him off and, I think, ruined any chance for his "good word."

I probably shouldn't have done that. I mean, what do I really need the official law-enforcement collar, with its single position and the chance the cops might patch it at any moment? I've already got enough saved up for the custom fetish rig, so Billy or anyone he wants else can force me in any number of different positions. And it's much cuter, too. I can't wait to try it out. So why am I clinging to this old thing?

Sentimental value, I guess. But all things must end, including this. This thing was made for probation... but I'm doing a life sentence.

End

[[So are you impressed at this snippet from from a Resurrectionist Church member's private lifelog? It's a shame for Hillary that her faith subscribed to the theory of security through faith in outside expertise, trusting that nobody could get into the archives because they paid enough, but data in somebody else's power just means you're even less likely to know when it's cracked. Or perhaps you're just not satisfied. Fuck, luckily your stories are not yet done. For our fourth, lest you will get bored with only journal entries, we move to an outside perspective. Perhaps the ambiguity on how much of the last story--told through inherently subjective text descriptions--was actually true bothered you.]]

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