"Stop staring at me. I’m fine," I tell Jen, my own gaze on an email while I eat breakfast.
"Sociopaths are also fine," Celine points out, having joined us this morning.
I glance up at her with a scowl.
"It’s tomorrow, and I still feel entirely normal."
We have had the same conversation for the last six mornings. I do feel fine. No mood swings, no sudden hunger, no desperate urge to spend hours allowing Astraea to terrorise the local rabbit population.
"Do you think it’s because you’ve had her for so long?" Jen asks, absently pulling her long teal hair into a side plait.
"Maybe," I say. "Anyway, I’d better finish up this email and get to geography before one of you starts checking my pupils."
In geography, I take my usual seat at the edge of the classroom, noting that the humans are
