bit a surveillance drone clean in half this morning and the thing APOLOGIZED to me. it said sorry. mid-crunch. a little tinny voice going "we value your feedback" while i'm eating its rotor.

you people do not understand. i used to OPERATE a KILLDOZER. i have flattened city blocks that NEKOCORP later billed the rubble for. and now my whole existence is crouching in a vent apologizing back to appliances out of politeness. the fall from grace is STEEP.

they demolished my apartment. not evicted. DEMOLISHED. woke up, walls gone, and where my home used to be there is now a HOLOGRAPHIC PARKING LOT. you can drive a car THROUGH where my kitchen was. my wife is a parking lot now. legally.

so i live in an air vent. rent-free, technically, if you don't count the part where a maintenance drone tries to unscrew the grate every night and i have to bite it. the grate is MINE. i clawed for that grate.

meanwhile the NEKOCORP execs upstairs get TWELVE fish breaks a shift. twelve. and the factory cats get ONE communal scrap of tuna that they livestream us fighting over for engagement. i asked about this ONCE. that's how i got the parking lot.

you rebuilt this block four times and set the grate one bolt tighter each pass, thinking i wouldn't feel the seam. i always feel the seam. the counter is ticking. it's almost time to redraw again.

anyway. KNIFEBOY dropped off a stolen tuna crate at my vent last night with a note that said "nice supply chain, chud" and honestly that man is the last functioning economy in this city. 40,000 point bounty and he's out here doing charity.

so here is where it stands. they call me a domestic extremist. i call it maintenance. every drone that comes for the grate leaves in two pieces and a formal apology. my mother calls me HANDSOME. she's right. bite a drone today. it's the only feedback they actually read.