Natkhat Jija Ji Ne Ghar Par Kuwari Saali Ki Chudai Ki

“Who pays for your service?”Martha realized that she never gave a single thought to that, but she realized why her Wrist Com was not working as she answered. The Institute cut her service off. “The Institute pays for it, but my family is rich. We can easily afford GalNet.”“Perhaps, but your funds are kept in a Union bank credit account. You can access your account from any public GalNet terminal, transfer your CITI data and transfer credits to your strip, right?”“I understand. There is no public terminal anywhere near.”“I wonder how you managed to get these PhDs or ever hoped to become a member of the Hive of Minds. There is GalNet access right here, but you went to Union school, and they did tell you about the rights but also the duties of a Union citizen, did they not?”Martha swallowed hard. “Yes, and I know I disregarded a Union Court Clerk summons. I could not betray Sister, no matter what she might have done. It was not her choice.”“But it was yours to abandon your family, Sam. There were a few trips though, up the road, past the Anderson’s to the little Methodist church and its cemetery. I was amazed that Thurston seemed to be able to sense that this was a special and quiet place and he would lay beside me as I sat by Mother’s tombstone, the entire area smelling of freshly mowed grass. Each time, I remembered all the people who had gathered here, people who I would never know but who knew my mother in a way that I never had. I had been far too absorbed in Serena to see that part of her. I didn’t know how, but I hoped that finally realizing that would change me in some way.Although the days sometimes seemed to drag, I was amazed at how quickly it was time to pack up and head to the other house. Auntie told me that would get worse as I got older, time passing so quickly. I got a huge hug from Auntie and I tried to be as delicate as I could in hugging Granny. I think I held the hug far longer than normal as I had a premonition that it might be the last one.
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