Under the stars, in the presence of a waning moon, and trying to avoid the streets with a bad reputation, Rebeka walked with her arms crossed to hide her perky nipples. It wasn’t just that she was trying to avoid showing anything that would put her in a difficult situation; she also avoided the alleys inhabited by homeless people and the corners where thugs parked.

With only a piece of paper in her hand with the address of a hospital and a room number written on it, in the wee hours of the morning, Rebeka walked through the thriving city crowded with important buildings and constructions. With nothing in her stomach, tired legs, and only a little will to keep going, she finally reached her mother.

The hospital looked like a city inside; with its numerous corridors and lights on, it was hard to believe that it was not yet daylight. Perhaps for that reason, it was open twenty-four hours a day and allowed visitors at any time. 

After reaching one of the most isolated rooms, where there were more than ten consecutive beds separated by a curtain, Rebeka finally saw her mother, and instead of feeling joy, she felt sorrow inside. Looking at it positively, at least her mother, one of the only people who kept her being a good girl, was not dead, but to see someone who was always gentle and kind to her lying there on a hospital bed, with a swollen face and a dying attitude, broke her soul. So much so that it made her wish she wasn’t a woman in order to seek out the one who had been capable of such a thing and left her face in a worse condition.

‘It’s as if I can feel her pain in me. My stomach shrinks and clenches; it’s so helpless not being able to do anything,’ thought the girl, trying to breathe courage and hold back her tears, wearing a serious look.

What was once a great woman—strong, charismatic, and hardworking—now became a small lump that wailed with every breath. Between the spasms of an aching body, the name “Rebeka” was mentioned.

Responding to the call, she said, "Mom,” without avoiding crying and rushing to hold her mother’s left hand with her two hands and squeeze it as tight as she could, as if that action was substituting a hug.

“Aaah, my baby girl, my precious baby, it’s you. Happy birthday, my baby girl!!!!! Sorry, I couldn’t make it home, and you had to spend it alone. Are you hungry? Have you had a bath? Are you okay? Look at you, my princess... I was so worried about you,” said the worried mother, with short breaths, hiding the pain in her body with a smile on her face.

“Don’t worry about me,” said Rebeka, as if trying to untangle the lump in her throat. “What happened to you, mother? Why didn’t you call me?”

“Nothing, nothing, my heart. I couldn’t call you; I didn’t mean to worry you,” she answered, as if not giving much importance to the matter. “The important thing is that you are well. I was so scared when the authorities came to inform me that they were going to interrogate you. What happened, my girl?”

"Nothing, Mom; it was just a misunderstanding. They wanted to ask some questions regarding a missing phone,” said Rebeka insistently. “Did someone hit you, mom?”

"No, my child; it’s just that your mom is clumsy. When the authorities came to talk to me, I ran off in a panic, looking for you, and inadvertently fell down the stairs. That’s all. It just looks a little ugly, but I’m fine. I have to stay here until I complete my twenty-four hours of observation, although, since everything went well, it will only be twelve hours. I think the nurse should be here by now to discharge me so I can go home. Work gave me a vacation, so you don’t have to worry. We will spend a little more time together, Beky.”

For Rebeka, part of what her mother was telling her was a lie. For some reason, she could feel it, but she didn’t have the courage to keep asking questions. If her mother wanted to hide the truth in some parts, surely it was so she wouldn’t worry; what else could she do but trust and accept something she couldn’t change or solve?

‘It is better for me not to deny what is obvious and settle for other answers. She would never tell me the truth if the truth could harm me. She makes me think that my problems are nothing compared to hers... and she still gives me a smile,’ thought the girl, who also had truths she would hide so as not to worry her mother, such as that she had been rejected in twelve job interviews, that her boyfriend had tried to commit suicide, or that she had lost her last name. These were things that only made her see the negative side of the situation.

 Rebeka had the idea of preparing the ground to say that she was now a woman, that she had slept with a boy, and that he was coming to live in the house. After all, those things were news with reason to rejoice; besides, changing the subject in a situation like that would bring better profit, and so, while waiting for the nurse to arrive, the talk between mother and daughter occurred.

“Mom, I have a lot to tell you. Maybe it’s too sudden for you, but...” Rebeka was filled with courage and told all the good things about her boy and how in love she was; meanwhile, her mother listened.

After putting her hands on her face, Rebeka’s mother was jumping with happiness, if it hadn’t been for her fractured ribs.

 “How nice, my daughter, how nice... Finding someone to accompany you in this life is a blessing. Thank goodness you didn’t have to go through it alone and were in good hands.”

 Rebeka did not expect such a reaction from her mother; maybe she was happy because someone loved her, and so far, not having a boyfriend was just the pessimistic side of an overprotective mother who took care that her daughter did not fall in love because she could be mistreated and played with her heart.

From one moment to the next, between comments, the pain became less present for both mother and daughter, and so a whole hour was spent talking to each other until a nurse came into the room. The woman was the very definition of the sick—cared for the injured, slender, getting on in years, with sunken eyes and an elongated nose.

“Good morning, I see it’s your daughter; you both look alike,” greeted the nurse as she picked up some apparatus to measure the patient’s vital signs.

“I feel fine; it’s been twelve hours... Can I go to the house, like you told me?” said Rebeka’s mother.

“No, I said I was going to see if the doctor would let you go after being under observation for twelve hours. But that’s not the case; you still have twelve more to go, a few more tests, and some consultation with specialists. It won’t do us any good to let you go home if you have to come back worse than when you went in,” said the nurse, correcting her patient’s words. “I’m sure the two of them have been able to talk all night, but they also have to understand that there are more patients in this room who need to rest to recover.”

Rebeka’s eyes widened in surprise as she realized it was almost six in the morning and she had been whispering about very personal matters with her mother in such an inappropriate place.

 “I’m so sorry. I was not aware of it, sorry,” Rebeka said to the nurse with an apologetic attitude, and then added to whoever might be listening. “Forgive me...”

“Don’t worry, I was very pleased to hear them... That boy, if he is good, take good care of him before I take him away from you, if I meet him there,” said one of the old ladies in the next bed.

“Time not knowing about the outside world and how young people open up to the world...my children or grandchildren were never that awake. I remember having to kick them out of the house to get them to socialize.”

“Ahh, it’s good to be young; it makes me remember my good times... Who was looking for a good man if here’s another one?”

 “Don’t grow old, I tell you. Everything you do, you do with pain.”

One after another, comments came from the patients who had been listening, and there were so many that the nurse was forced to shut them up, for it was six o’clock in the morning and the room was becoming a henhouse.

 “There are more rooms! You don’t want to wake up the whole hospital?”

With a smile on her face, Rebeka took advantage of the situation to say goodbye to her mother and let her rest. As she understood, the nurse was about to give her medicine to calm the pain, which caused her to sleep. More embarrassed than anything else, the young girl followed the advice of the nurse and her mother, which was to go home, take a bath, eat something, and rest properly.

Rebeka started her way out of the hospital, moved from one side to the other, and arrived at the train stop. As it was so early, she was going in the opposite direction to where everyone was marching, so she managed to get on an empty carriage.

  ‘I’m exhausted! Back home, sitting inside the train and looking at the ceiling, I have two stops to go before I reach my station. I can see the school for a fleeting moment. To go or not to go is the question. I must confess that I am happy, selfishly happy. Everything has gone wrong for me, but seeing the ones I love the most in worse conditions than me, I am forced to be strong. When I get home, I must see how I can cheer up my boyfriend’s sad cat. Maybe a meal, a good bath, and rough sex will help him through the sorrows, but he doesn’t have any more clothes than what he’s wearing, or does he? I have also thought that my mother will be taking a vacation, which means we will be well short of money, so Omar will have to wear my clothes. How would he look? wearing my panties and pajamas, I must be prepared to take lots of pictures of him... Isn’t there a time when I am alone that I don’t have the intention of touching myself if I am not sad?

 Without sleep for almost twenty-four hours straight, Rebeka got off at her station, and taking advantage of the fact that not many people were still passing through on their way up, she managed to get home as quickly as possible. Miraculously, no one noticed that she wasn’t wearing a bra and her nipples were showing, so there weren’t many eyes on her.

‘Perfect, I’ve arrived, safe and sound, and without being raped, extorted, or kidnapped...’, she said to herself once she was in front of the door. ‘What a pain. Today is the day my feet hurt the most and, rarely, the day I’ve done the least kinky things.’

Rebeka inserted the key and opened the door, after which she was flooded by the characteristic smell of home. ‘Mmm, I can’t believe what I’m imagining.’

“Honey. Are you making breakfast?” She asked aloud.

After dropping everything he had in the kitchen, Omar shot off in the direction of his beloved, as happy as he had ever been. From leap to leap, the young man hugged and kissed her all over, until he paused and said,

“I took the liberty of preparing something for you to take with you in case they wouldn’t let you out... but my heart... they let you free.”

After looking at herself, Rebeka could tell she was a mess. She had left with the authorities as she was on her way back from the park, with a pair of flip-flops instead of shoes, no bra under her blouse, her hair battered, and all her clothes wrinkled. She walked the streets of the city and inside a hospital like that, but Omar didn’t care. All he cared about was that he was finally home.

‘Give me a break,’ she said to herself after closing the door and going all the way into the dining room to see what her boy had prepared for her, as she was hungry.

Even though it was breakfast time, Omar had just brought out two plates with fried chicken.

"Baby,” said Rebeka. “If you call this breakfast, I think you should leave the kitchen to me. Better, make me a strong coffee.”

 “Isn’t chicken to your liking?” He asked with naivety and concern in his eyes.

“Mmm, I don’t think my stomach can handle having to digest the protein in a chicken breast for breakfast. Save them for later. Toast or egg whites; they’ll be enough carbs to give me energy in the morning.”

“Well, bread with chicken, how about that?” I asked Omar, and I could tell he hadn’t slept either and was doing his best to disguise it.

“We’ll have to earn more money to be able to afford those luxuries, for now. The meals must have an order, otherwise we won’t have enough to finish the week.” As soon as she put a piece of meat in her mouth, she changed the expression on her face and looked at her boyfriend with concern. “Also, did you try this chicken?”

After Rebeka’s concerned question, Omar proceeded to take a piece of chicken and also put it in his mouth with the intention of savoring it. After chewing it a few times, he looked back at his girlfriend, and she no longer managed to contain her laughter.

   “You wicked!!!” exclaimed Omar in amusement. “This is the best-fried chicken I’ve ever made in my life. I followed the recipe step by step. I almost had a heart attack. This chicken was the only thing in the fridge, and to think I messed it up!”

“What recipe?! Oil, salt, and fry,” said Rebeka with a mocking tone, to then start running around the kitchen while Omar chased her between tantrums, until he caught her so hard that she didn’t let him go, and with a playful character, he bit her on the neck, directing his intentions to tickle.

 Despite being exhausted and hungry, the chase brought out the playful children in them. For a while, the two played and jumped up and down, as if the world brought no worries with it.

Once the coffee was ready and the bread was toasted with the same oil that fried the chicken, the breakfast tasted delicious to the lovers. Just having each other was enough to live and forget the sorrows of the body and to feel rejuvenated and carefree.

“What do you know about your mom?” Asked Omar, already in a better mood, after all, it was not worth worrying about a future that had not yet  arrived." I’m still nervous that she could arrive at any moment.

“Between tonight and tomorrow, he should be discharged from the hospital. But don’t worry, he’s fine.”

At the word “hospital” mentioned by Rebeka, Omar gasped, as if he could not believe his ears. He also didn’t want to probe the subject any further, due to the fact that his girlfriend had emphasized not to worry and that everything was fine.

“When I finished talking to the authorities, I went to visit her before coming here. She told me that everything was fine and that it was just an accident at work. By the way, in the interrogation, I diverted suspicion from me, but not from you. Why are you so calm? Why didn’t they take you away? And why did they know when I was lying and when I wasn’t?”

  After taking a sip of coffee from the cup and making an expression of distaste for the bitter taste, Omar proceeded to make use of the sugar before speaking:

“For certain, I’m not sure, but there is such a thing as immunity to the system. Because of the position my father has, I believe that no matter what crimes I commit, even if I were disinherited, I could not go to prison or to a mental hospital because that event would generate a bad reputation for my family. The nation’s security system is controlled by a utilitarian machine.”

“A utilitarian machine?” asked Rebeka in surprise.

“Yes, one that determines the value of behavior along with the practicality of the results with respect to its calculations on individuals that make up society or something like that,” replied Omar. “It’s a complicated concept.”

 “I can’t believe it; it sounds like fiction.”

“It’s public information, at least the part of how the authorities work; it’s not that data about the immunity of specific people appears. But if it is positive to punish an innocent person, the machine will put in the balance the criterion that makes the most people happier. That’s what elections are all about: changing, together with the president, the machine’s mode of operation.”

“It’s better to leave it at that,” interrupted Rebeka, after foreshadowing a headache. “Politics isn’t likely to result in anything. With the pain I have in my feet, what I need is a good bath, and a massage, and even if I wanted to lie in bed, I’d rather spend my time looking for a way to make money than worrying about problems that are out of my control. You see, at the end of the day, these fried chickens are all the protein we’ll have to fill our stomachs.”

 “Aren’t you planning to go to school?” asked Omar, glancing at the clock, as there was still time left.

“It wasn’t my fault that the authorities kept me until the wee hours of the morning because they felt like it, nor that I’m tired now, nor that I don’t have any money. Nothing is my fault, and at the same time, it is; therefore, I am responsible for the consequences, and I intend to accept them. Now I need ideas to earn money before we are left without a roof over our heads.”

Omar was silent for a moment, which made Rebeka raise her finger and point in his direction.

“I told you not to even think of stealing or doing anything illegal again; even if you have "immunity,” things have a limit, and I need you by my side... What was it you said about the machine?”

Confused, Omar repeated what he had said:

“It’s public information.”

“The internet is public domain. What if I look for a job there?”

“It’s not a bad idea, because to work on the internet, you don’t need to do an interview; if you did, you could create false information.”

After leaving the bath and massage for later, Rebeka finished the coffee in her cup, and with something on her mind, she set out to find her laptop as fast as she could. Her heart was skipping a beat, and it wasn’t from the joy but from the idea that had entered her head.

Every night she felt lonely or sad; she felt like masturbating; every time she saw herself lost and with no way out, she entertained herself looking for morbid topics to read and clear her mind; when she was curious about something, she searched the internet and, for some reason, ended up watching inappropriate videos and images. But, above all, even if she didn’t want to accept it, she was human, as were those who inhabited the world in which she lived.

The point was that, although they expressed themselves in different ways, they all acted on the basis of the same needs, and pleasure was one of those needs.

As soon as she got up from her room, she hurried downstairs and sat down right next to her beloved at the table. After opening the laptop, she clicked on the browser and, using both her hands, typed.

  {Highest paying jobs online, from home}

If Rebeka already knew the answer, why would she have to look it up on the computer in front of her boyfriend? Precisely because he would play a crucial role in the decision she had to make. After all, he was her boyfriend, and she didn’t want to lose him.

Omar kept silent when he saw the ‘Top three categories found by the search engine.”

# 1: Porn Industry: Video Camera & Editing.

# 2: Cyber Industry: Programmer & Computer Content Developer/Marketing.

# 3: Shareholder industry: virtual currencies, company stocks, digital art.

‘Is love allowing your girlfriend to be someone else’s and still loving her? It all depends on that person’s morals and principles, although it is well known that the need caused by money manages to corrupt people’s principles and morals,’ thought Rebeka while looking at her beloved, who seemed undecided about the situation.

Without thinking twice and pretending to be curious, Rebeka opened the first link and was directed to a page where she needed to click on several adult content warnings in order to see the information waiting to be seen.

Omar continued to remain silent, as one who was walking in explosive territory and at any moment was exposed to stepping on a bomb that would end his life:

 “What if I sell photos and videos of me to make money?” asked Omar, with a serious look on his face.

  Rebeka was left wondering whether to answer yes or no. She definitely wouldn’t answer with a monosyllable when she had in mind that she could tell her boyfriend what steps to take for both of them and what was really considered prostituting their bodies online. After all, premature decisions or jumping to the end of the process could result in unintended consequences, regrets, or unnecessary resentment. For Rebeka, it was safer to take small steps that didn’t jeopardize their love for each other than to throw herself into being judged for not being a good girlfriend or end up judging her boyfriend for not acting appropriately. If she wanted to focus on normalizing something that was not common for couples, one of those steps was to have a discussion beforehand regarding the topic, not to say yes or no, when faced with a crazy idea.

‘After all, it’s best to be sure he has the knowledge of what selling our bodies entails and the consequences it could bring us. Although it’s easy to say, sometimes the heart and mind deceive us with a false sense of security, as thin as the glass of a light bulb,’ thought Rebeka, who intended to give the proper consent to the situation and then move forward little by little.

‘We could start by creating an account and watching other people do it, then try a real scene about what we’ll be doing while telling each other what makes us feel good and what doesn’t, without thinking about money. Working on what you like doesn’t have to feel like work, and if I can reach an orgasm every time I work, phew. Maybe later, we could start by sharing an innocent photo and, little by little, turn up the heat on the sexual scenes that could be uploaded. As well as using photos we have in storage, building relationships, and accepting ideas from clients. Oh my goodness, there really are so many ways to get into the world of online pornography, but first, back to the subject: I must solidify the fundamental foundations of our relationship so that it will stand up no matter what. After all, the purpose is to maintain good communication about every single thing I want to try and talk about, to know how this makes me and makes him feel.’

 Thousands of thoughts were running through Rebeka’s happy and optimistic mind, but she still hadn’t decided to answer Omar’s question. That answer was not as important as confirming whether, in the future, the two of them would come to feel safe and comfortable in the face of the distance it took to walk the path, which would likely take months or years, not days or weeks. By saying yes, she would be jumping straight to the end, and by saying no, she might be risking not dialoguing enough and shutting down the only opportunity she had for easy money in a society teeming with pornography consumers. So Rebeka decided to go ahead with the first step by saying:

“Let’s better talk about it later. First, let’s see what’s inside pages like these and what makes the most money.”

After understanding that the proposed offer was under consideration, Omar kept silent and fixed his eyes directly on the laptop screen.