The Don's Property
A strange, warm ache blossoms in my chest, and I look away before he can see me smile.
A woman in her thirties steps to the front of the room, herding the group’s attention. “Welcome, everyone. Today is all about the basics of soothing. Your simulators are programmed to react to touch, hunger, and positioning. The goal is to feed them and keep them quiet. Good luck.”
“Sounds simple enough,” Nero says, sitting up straight and squaring his shoulders as if he were entering a boardroom negotiation.
“Right,” I suppress a giggle. “Do you want to start first?”
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