Like a Boss by Adam Rakunas

THROUGH SELF-DEFENSE . Jesus, even the names were straight out of the Life Corporate. What was going on here?
    “I don’t expect you to be able to do that right away,” said Serena, and the people laughed. “But if you continue with your practice, you’ll be faster, stronger, and better equipped to take on your daily challenges. And we all want to be prepared for anything that might happen, right?”
    “YES, SIFU!” the class responded in unison.
    She bowed, and they bowed, and everyone went for fruit smoothies.
    I blinked up my buffer from Saarien’s trial. The woman on the stand was definitely not the woman toweling herself off at the front of the room. Two years ago, Serena Llorens looked exhausted and ill, like she was going to throw up and pass out. Now, her skin flushed from an evening of beating up people, she looked like she could knock out the world with one punch.
    “You here for the next class?” she said. “You’re going to have to put on appropriate clothing…” She stopped and blinked.
    I held up my hands. “Please don’t hit me.”
    She focused back on me. “Why would I?”
    “I have no idea,” I said. “But that seems like a good thing to say in a place like this.” The walls were decorated with WalWa motivational art: nude people climbing mountains, lines of happy customers buying NutriFood, executives trading grooming tips and social diseases. “Though, I have to admit, I’m not sure what kind of place it is.”
    Serena licked her lips and nodded at the art. “Nostalgia. Or something like it.”
    “For the Life Corporate?”
    She tossed the towel into a battered bag. “You ever miss it?”
    “Hell, no.”
    Serene shook her head. “That was a pretty quick answer.”
    “Because it’s the truth. Working for WalWa was a disaster. I gave everything to climb the ladder, and it almost killed me.”
    “How?”
    The Fear stirred. “That’s none of your business.”
    “Then what is? What are you doing here, Padma?”
    “I should ask you the same question.” I tapped a poster, an image of a multi-ethnic crowd, all of them smiling, their teeth identical. “I realize we don’t know each other, but after all that time basking in Evanrute Saarien’s bullshit, you really want to tell me you’re longing for the days before you Breached?”
    “The one has little to do with the other,” said Serena. She picked up the bag. “You want a beverage?”
    “No, I want a drink.”
    She snorted. “With an attitude like that, you should have some juice. My treat.”
    I followed her out of the room as eager students in jodhpurs and riding boots entered. I gawped at them; where in the world could they have found equestrian outfits? What kind of weird hell had I entered?
    At the bar, Serena got two glasses and filled them from the taps. She gave me one. It smelled like lawn trimmings. “To nutritional optimization,” she said. When I realized it was a toast, I clinked glasses and slugged it in one go. Serena laughed. “It’s better if you sip.”
    “What was it?” I put the glass back and tried to swallow the taste away.
    “Sea grapes, collards, and ong choy. All locally grown.”
    “Well, I can sure taste it.”
    She took a sip. “You must think we’re all mad. To be here.”
    I looked around the room and remembered the hundreds of conferences, mixers, and think-alongs I had attended during my illustrious Indenture. “There was a time when stuff like this was my life. Nineteen hours Standard Time, we would clock out and socialize with our colleagues, try out the latest improved intoxicants, attempt the latest sexual positions, work for another couple of hours in our housing, then collapse and do it all over again. I thought that was all there was until I Breached. Then I learned that you can leave work, hang out with friends , drink stuff that people had made with care, fall in love, try and build a future on our own.”
    She smiled. “I remember feeling like that, too.”
    “But