Issue Three: Resistance Isn’t Futile

Wednesday’s Planned Rain Event glitched, so I hadn’t reached the shuttle bus loading bay when they eventually released the stinging deluge. My day was destined to be a miserable slog, starting when the mandatory morning news bulletin’s top story shrieked that a pack of pre-ape boys had been seen swarming towards the city centre. Even though no one believes that shit anymore, especially during an election year, it made my anxiety about the dressing-down I’d get much worse. 

Admittedly, the yellowing, post-sunrise sky was always beautiful, once the rain rolled up and snaked its way over to the next precinct. We’d be lost without the Events, even if they’ve become somewhat unpredictable. It doesn’t make getting soaked to the bone any more pleasant, but it does help to know there’s no alternative. The glitch could have been caused by anything, though likely will be blamed on the pre-apes. To honest, it could very well be them; I don’t know anyone who has ever met one, but we all know what they look like and where to report them. 

When the rain finally passed, I was relieved to see several of my colleagues waiting in a massive queue of people as three shuttles arrived at once. Rain-delayed traffic is an acceptable reason for lateness in any case, but better yet if you’re not the only one. No use losing my job in an election year, what with so many people out of work and willing to bid for lower wages than I could ever manage. Without the free canteen at this job, I wouldn’t eat. That’s what the people really want: toast and ramen, and we’ll vote for anybody. Not that I bother to. All these men are the same.

Still, we’ve got it pretty good. The bleeders have their tendrils in more precincts than you’d imagine, making our lives even harder. It’s beyond me what kind of maniac thinks you can share and share alike when all you have is a bedsit and a job making useful weaponry. I’m just a guy who fixes shit. If I had enough to share I’d be more than willing to but the bleeders come from a different planet, fucking hypocrites sneering from their riverside townhouses. 

I’m just a guy, a guy late for work and daydreaming of spreading real butter on thick cut toast after a long day of hard work. The bleeders should try it instead of standing in judgment bleating hypocrisies for a change. Or they could take on the pre-ape. If they exist. Do something useful. Or just sit back on a shuttle and appreciate the beauty of a yellow sky.