Karaaz the Flagrant tears the corner off the ichor packet and drips it onto her zomburger. “I don’t get how you’re supposed to advance in this system,” she says. “When the faculty has eternal unlife and tenure…”

“It’s rigged,” says Jensen the Wroth. “Dumb program to get into.”

“You’re in it.”

He jams fingerfries into his mouth and waggles his eyebrows. “I’m sleeping my way to the top.”

Karaaz makes a genuine face, picturing that, and Jensen laughs hard enough to inhale his food. He’s a cute choker. Necromancy is a dumb program, she thinks, pounding him, but there are perks.