So what do you do for work here?

I got friends all over this town. People I see every day. Some people actually do look like they're enjoying their lives. Maybe not every corporation is a death sentence, you know? Specially if you own your own place.

Like this bar over here. David owns this shop. He goes home every single day, and he actually gets to be there at a decent time. He's got a wife, a few kids. Happy family.

Maybe he hides it. Or maybe he's actually one of the few people who actually fucking made it in this city. And not the kind of "made it" where, you know, you're rich and powerful. But like, really made it. You got people who care about you. You got love. You got, you know, all of that stuff.

Then there's Abigail. She works for the co-op. Local 311, so she's right here in the Docklands. Brutal fucking work out here. I mean, she's tired every day. Sometimes she comes in this bar and you can just tell: it's another fucking fire that she had to put water over, you know? And for some reason it just drains the shit out of her. She comes in, orders a Dirty Bastard, and pushes it down her throat like she actually hates herself or something. And she just leaves.

Two people. Same city. One's happy, one's ground down to nothing.

Me? I'm somewhere in the middle, I guess. Software contracting. Military orgs, corporate security, whoever's paying. Last month I spent three weeks debugging some surveillance algo for a "client" in Sudan. Don't ask me what it's for. I don't wanna know. I just fix the code, cash the check, and try not to think about it.

Some nights I wonder if I'm David or if I'm Abigail. Or if I'm just fooling myself thinking there's a difference.

But yeah, there's tons of jobs out here. Some people work for the corporations. Some people work for the city. And some people do odd jobs, or you forgo the entire economic system and hook up with one of the gangs, sell drugs on the corner, you know.

Enough about that.

Did you see what was on the infofeeds this morning?

Guy got a new fancy microwave from Wong Industries. One of those ultra powerful 10kW models. Plugs it in, woooosh, the whole apartment building goes up in flames.

So he walks up to the front door with a fist and some well-aquainted vocabulary, starts beating on the glass. Talking about how the renter's agency wants him to pay for them to rebuild his apartment and shit. Corporate security had one of those turrets locked on him in 2 seconds. Zip goes the motor, boom goes the one-shot. He's red mist.

Fucking idiot.

But I get it, you know? Sometimes you just get so tired of eating shit that you do something stupid.

Anyway. You want another round?

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