Rich Under Their Hate: The Social Status System
"We’re nobodies now. You realize that? We’re just two girls in a hole."
"That was the plan, wasn't it?" Pim asked, leaning back against the cold wall, exhausted.
Suddenly, a rhythmic ping echoed in the darkness. It was soft, melodic—the sound of an incoming notification.
Pim froze. She looked down at the floor, where a small, waterproof personal data-pad, shielded from the EMP by its rugged casing, had been kicked loose from the debris. It lay face-up, its screen flickering with a single, glowing red notification icon.