Hearing Anaïs say she's hungry flips a switch in my head. The thankless, endless chore of cooking — gone. Forever. That's the thing about the book; it doesn't just solve the problem in front of you, it quietly deletes the problem from your future.

I need someone who can do the housework for me. Not Anaïs. I don't see her as a... slave. The word sticks a little, and I'm surprised by that. She's my girlfriend. Girlfriends get taken to the movies, not handed a mop. So I need to find someone I don't value. Someone whose wants and plans and little opinions I could shrug off without feeling it.

In the meantime, though, I'm just hungry.

I order on Uber Eats. It's a waste of my money, and I know it, but it won't be a problem for much longer. I let Anaïs pick. Sushi. I get a dish for myself, we get dressed before the delivery guy knocks, and we eat cross-legged on the floor. The sushi isn't bad, actually.

"Anaïs? Is there a girl you want to... hurt?"

She stops mid-bite, chopsticks hovering. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Just — if I ever had the chance to take control of someone and make them my slave. Would you have any ideas?"

"Be your slave?" She blinks at me like I've said something silly. "But that's not a chore."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're a great person. Being at your service isn't slavery."

I sit with that one. It's not the answer I expected, and I like it more than I probably should.

"There's still a loss of personal freedom..." I say.

"Pffff." She waves a hand. "It doesn't bother me. I love you."

So that's how it is. Asking her to be my girlfriend means she follows me into anything. All the way down. Something in my chest goes warm and a little cold at the same time.

"If I were a Nazi, would you still love me?"

"Of course I would," she says, very seriously. No hesitation. No joke.

Okay. Fine.

"Would you be able to recruit someone to be my slave?" I ask her.

She chews and thinks. "It seems difficult to convince someone to do that."

Is this the moment? Do I confess everything? I wonder if she'd be comfortable with the idea of the notebook — not the fact of it, …