Mia held her breath as she retrieved her phone from under the pillow. She slid it over, keeping its screen pressed down against the bed. In a combination of practiced motions she turned it on, set it to silent, and lowered the screen's brightness down to minimum. Satisfied that she had done everything on her mental checklist, she turned the phone over and entered the lock screen password.
Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap-tap, tap-tap, tap. Tap. Tap tap taptaptap tap-tap, tap tap. Tap. Tap.
Tap.
She was in. Mia exhaled in a slow, quiet breath as she moved past several screens of installed apps, all the way to the end, then one additional screen over. She tried to slide the display over to the right once, twice, then an undisclosed amount of times further in a memorized staccato rhythm. At last, the display relented, shifting over to its final, empty screen.
Or so it would appear to the unsuspecting user. Mia pressed a finger to a spot just off the middle of the screen—careful not to scratch it—and from the blank spot she'd touched launched an otherwise unassuming messaging application. She selected the only entry in the contact list, and began writing.
"Day 274. Status unchanged. No new developments." Her fingers deftly tapped out her message on the on-screen keyboard, carefully hitting the virtual keys with the soft spots of her fingers to avoid making any more noise. She'd gotten better at that. "No suspicious activity observed." SEND.
"Latest group operation was social action at local community center. Maintenance of resident devices, language classes, beginner-level yoga. No attempts to recruit beyond small booth-sized shrine to group leader. No new sightings of group leader since first and only contact on day 51." SEND.
"Conclusion remains the same: cult unlikely. Group seems inoffensive. No ulterior motives detected. Recommend end of operation."
This was correct, accurate, by-the-book. Every professional bone in her body told her to leave it at that. And yet her heart only beat faster and faster, wresting itself free of its usual metronome-like rhythm.
She couldn't leave it like that. She didn't want to. Before she realized it, her fingers were moving of their own accord.
"Conclusion remains the same: cult unlikely. Group seems inoffensive for now. No ulterior motives detected yet. Recommend end of operation Will remain on standby and report later."
Mia sighed shakily as her heartrate returned to normal. She looked at the edited message. She knew that it was wrong. So why did it feel right? Her instinct had never fought her training before, and now it was too late to stop them. All she could do was wait to see which of the two would emerge victorious. Both were evenly matched; either wanted to steer her in dramatically different directions.
Was there one she was rooting for more than the other?
A sleepy hand ran up the small of her back all the way up to her neck, long slender fingers grabbing ahold of her shoulder.
SEND.
A wild shiver rippled through Mia's spine as she quickly closed the app before the covers were pulled back from over her head.
"Tsk tsk tsk," chided the tall figure next to her as she moved her hand up to Mia's head, gently but firmly scratching at the base of her triangular ears. "No phones in bed, remember?"
"Mmn," Mia replied as she inched her way to the center of the bed, pressing her back against the taller girl's body, both of their tails lazily intertwining. She turned the phone off and pushed it away, out of reach.
"That's better," the taller girl said as she snuggled up to Mia, putting an arm and a leg over her body, pinning her in place. "Now get some rest so you don't sleep through your shift at the bodega again. You can post as much as you want once we're at the pizza place, alright?"
Mia's ears perked up from her warm, cozy prison as she held back an involuntary rumbling that rose within her. "It's pizza day?"
She heard a chuckle as long fingers returned to her ears to give more scritches. "That's right," the taller girl said. "You've been a very good girl."
Mia replied not in words so much as sounds; very pleased ones at that. She tried to push back any thoughts of the bodega's checklist of opening tasks as she abandoned herself to the comfort of just a little more time in bed, before the day truly began.
Soon enough she drifted off to sleep, her actual job the furthest thing from her mind.
