[Editor's note: Seventh night. He's finally introducing himself.]
All right, you keep coming and I keep talking. But you probably wanna know a little bit about me, don't you?
My name is Mack. M-A-C-K.
I don't do much here. I come here and Jackson right there gives me a drink, pours it down. I take a few sips and then down the rest of that shit. Something about the burn reminds me that I'm actually alive in this city.
As for work? I don't know. I don't work for one of the big corps. Just a small little software outlet. We do a lot of contract jobs for military organizations around the globe. You know: corporate security, helping out the rebels in Sudan or whatever. I pretend I don't know what's happening so that I can cash a check without thinking about the moral implications of this or that.
Dude, if you're gonna give me a lesson about morality and all that other bullshit, you pay my bills. That's all I'm saying.
Anyway, yeah. Life out here for me ain't too bad. It's not like I really wanna leave this city. I mean, what's somewhere else better than Nuevo Bay, right?
Maybe one day I'll have enough money and I just move out to the Outmarch, or set up shop in Montana or something. Live the rest of my days as a farmer that's not controlled by one of the corporations. Just live off the land, you know?
Oh yeah, and I also have a dog. Well, it's something like a dog, I think? I don't know. It's like half metal, half actual canine, I guess? I don't know. Time kept being told, you know: "If you change this, replace that, he'll live longer." But every time I look at him sometimes, I just wish I never did any of that shit.
Well, I'll probably should get going soon. I got work in the morning, and the boss? He's really anal if I come in even five minutes late.
Maybe tomorrow I'll actually let you talk or something. I don't know.
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