.." ... you wouldn't lie to me. I know." She slipped off the blouse she was wearing for the glamor portrait. Naturally she wore nothing beneath. "I t...ink I'll hang this up, make room for something cold to drink, and grab another Seven-Up. You want something?"I lifted my large insulated mug, estimating its contents by weight. "No, I'm good. What next?"She licked her lips. "You ready for some nude shots?" Depends on which one of us is getting nude."She blinked. Twice. "God, I hate you." Let's. "It must have just slipped my mind that you always dress like this on spaghetti night."Looking directly into my eyes she said, "Jack, I don't know how or why but somehow I had convinced myself that you wanted different things from our relationship than I did. Well, tonight mom talked to me and it was like a light switch had been flipped on inside a dark room and I could see again. In that light I realized that for months I have been focusing only on the little insignificant troublesome things. The freckle-faced redhead lay nude on the backseat of an old Buick, parked on the far side of a small, rural graveyard as a black, handsome classmate named Lee Johnson screwed her senseless. They’d done this many times over the last few weeks and she’d loved them all, but tonight seemed extra special. Maybe it being Halloween night or knowing Lee had left his pissed off wife to rejoin her that did the trick. Whatever the reason, she had absolutely no complaints. For just a moment, she wondered. Any order that did not make enough sense given our situation were usually subject to "interpretation" ... and I could thank the AIs for backing up my interpretation once I explained how reality had to trump the thinking—or lack thereof—of those above me on the food-chain.Orders may flow down-hill, just like shit does, but seldom, if ever, does reality flow the other way.I had already reached the conclusion that body counts were not a useful datum in reports, unlike the REMFs who keep asking for.
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