Week 1: Tuesday, 4th Dec 2029, Day

I pulled an all-nighter, mostly just recording memories—trying to remember everything before it slips away in the confusion. It’s a strange feeling, like I’m watching my life unfold from two perspectives at once. Sometime I was amused, sometime disgusted.

Now I see my legacy a bit differently. My old methods were crude: Find, Catch, Break, Sell. I was known for it. Not for any artistry, but for how efficient I was.

Looking back, maybe I should have done things differently, allowed myself more artistic freedom. But at least those were for sale. The ones I'm gonna work on now? These will be mine, and I'm gonna do them right.

Morning - 8.00 AM

The morning alarm woke me. Not from my sleep, but from my day dreaming. I prepared a rough timeline of my world, making sure I clearly differentiate the life I'm in and the life that I suddenly gain memory of.

My morning coffee was disturbed by the contractor, who came highly recommended of Mr. Janus. The team had done multiple projects in X series arcologies, I asked them to work on the penthouse first, it was completely unrenovated. Guess I have to continue sleeping in my office the next few days. For a "Commerical Line" of product, the free cities network really didn't do a good job. Guess in this world Customer Service is dead.

The morning alarm woke me. Not from sleep, but from daydreams. I’d spent the night sketching a rough timeline of my world, careful to separate the life I’m living from the one that suddenly appeared in my mind.

My coffee was interrupted by the contractor, personally recommended by Mr. Janus. His team had worked on several X-series arcologies. I told them to start with the penthouse; it was still untouched. Looks like I’ll be sleeping in my office a few more nights. For a “Commercial Line” product, the Free Cities Network really dropped the ball. Customer service, it seems, is dead in this world too.

Morning - 10:00 AM

After paying off the contractors, I finally had a moment to breathe. Some delegation is in order.

I dropped the summons across their personal devices. And ten minutes later, they filtered in like notes in a discordant chord.

Jennifer knelt fluidly in front of my desk, posture straight, chin slightly dipped. That's the Jen I know, always on point, held herself to high standards. Yamadera arrived with a swagger and plopped herself onto my destk without asking, picked up a document on my table and started reading as she swung her legs in bored little arcs. She has her strong points, I promise. As for Lisa. Poor Lisa just stood in the middle of the room, uncertain where to put her hands, where to look, or what the hell this was supposed to be.

“What in the French-fried fuck is this?” Yamadera squawked, holding the document like it was stale piece of bread“An employment handbook? For who?”

“For you,” I said without looking up.

“Fuck me sideways, I thought I was signing myself into slavery tonight, not applying for a corporate internship. Twenty pages? It’s just dick. I don’t need a mission statement to **** on it.”

“It’s a shift in tone,” I replied. “Think of it as a full-time position. One that demands complete surrender of your body, mind, and soul.”

“That’s just a fancy way of saying ****, dumbass.”

“It’s called optics,” I said, voice sharpening. “No one’s actually going to read the damn thing. It’s for new girls. Help reduce the 'onboarding resistance'. You know, when slavery hasn't sink in yet."

“Fine, whatever. Doesn’t matter if you ask me to gag on your cock or ‘provide oral stimulation in accordance with clause 3.2.1 subsection B.’ Still ends the same way.”

She caught the edge in my tone and, for once, didn’t push it. I was already reaching for the ping pong ball in my drawer.

“You get it,” I said flatly. “No more questions. You've got contract signing tonight. Get some rest. Stretch. Hydrate."

As they shuffled out with varying degrees of ****, I called after them, “And don’t forget your Pre-Enslavement Resumes. I want them on my desk by noon.”