..Did she really think of herself as lower class now?Surely not.But she did. Sort of. But only in a positive way. She just saw the stuckup people from...the upper class more objectively now. She looked down onthem! If anything she saw herself as above every class now as she had allthe best of all the differing traits.Eventually she found the kind of establishment she was looking for.As a woman she'd never been to one of course - had never even seen one!Truth be told she hadn't even heard about. "Shit! Brent! You Ok?" Came the call from Helen, who stood about twenty yards away, a strung bow gripped tightly in her left hand."No. I'm fine." I gasped out, my mind still reeling from a combination of sexual exhilaration and near assassination. "Just startled me a little."I looked over at Helen as she raced up to me. She wore a white tank top, a slightly unusual choice for the weather, which partially covered a black jogging bra. She had replaced her jeans from the night before with a pair. "Darren shuffled some papers, pretending to find the one he sought as he pulled a sheaf at random from the stack. "But according to my research, you took in some twelve million in donations last year. What did you do with all that money?" You're welcome to examine our books, Mr. Winchell." She replied without indignation. He could see she suspected where he was going. "All of that money went to medicines, medical supplies, and transportation for the doctors." But it says here that you treated. His work ethic was the main reason she kept him hired here.But she had done it! She had separated the right chemicals, and synthesized a few of her own, and based on how the rats were currently humping away in front of her, she had done it!"You didn't work all night, did you?" Harold's voice behind her startled her, and she watched in horror as the plugged glass vial she had held in her hand fell to the table and shattered. The contents, recently under pressure and in liquid concentrated form,.