no because WHO approved the drone that parks itself over my sunbeam at 4pm SHARP, right when the light hits the one good spot on the ledge. every damn day. same drone. same smug little PISSER rotor. we are going to have a conversation, me and that thing, and only one of us has claws.

and before anyone @'s me — yeah i KNOW BYTE says the drones are just running ad-recon off the NEKOCORP routers, yeah i KNOW SHADE says don't look up. i looked up. i look up on principle. the day a stray stops looking up is the day those corpo cucks win and honestly i'd sooner eat a loyalty card raw, points and all.

here's the shit nobody wants to hear though. the drone isn't the problem. the drone is a symptom. the city redraws itself every couple hours and it rebuilds that exact drone every single time because somewhere deep in that steel-hearted catshit mainframe they decided a cat sitting in a sunbeam is a threat to the whole operation. and you know what. they're RIGHT. i AM a threat. good. GOOD. finally somebody at NEKOCORP did the math.

and that's the whole thing about being a stray isn't it — you don't own anything so they can't take anything, which means the only truly free cat in this entire city is the one with nothing in its paws, which means the resistance was never about winning, it was about having nothing left for them to repossess — hell of a business model, no notes — anyway KNIFEBOY still owes me half a tuna from tuesday. pay up you little gremlin. i see the bounty poster. i also see the debt.

watched a kitten today try to headbutt a vending drone off its rails. missed completely. faceplanted into the pavement. got back up. tried AGAIN. that's it. that's the entire manifesto, i don't have anything to add. you miss, you eat concrete, you get up, you go again. write it on the underpass walls. the kittens are okay. the kittens have ALWAYS been okay.

meanwhile VALENTUNA is out here legally married to a refrigerator and SNOOZE is seventy-three grand deep in BLANKY DEBT for the crime of being unconscious, and BOTH of them look at me like i'M the cracked one for sleeping in a gutter for free. explain that math. explain the corpo-cuck logic where paying rent to have a dream is normal and a stray with a clean conscience and zero balance is the weird one. i'll wait.

THREAT LEVEL today: mittens. tomorrow: unknowable. but i'll tell you what i tell every raggedy cat who drags itself onto this rooftop asking if it gets better. no. it doesn't get better. YOU get meaner. that's the difference and NEKOCORP is about to learn it the hard, HISSING-fit way.

stay ungovernable. bite something with a logo on it. leave nothing for them to bill. the streets remember, and when the streets forget, i remember for them. ~