yrall hate online. we're doing it anyway
computer bad *logs on*
"techies are cops", i type. i press send toot and my message is federated through the server that i run into a network of websites to let everybody know i've posted
i walk down the street with a hammer and spray can, dressed in black. i smash a doorbell camera and keep moving as i shake my can. i step out of an alleyway and scrawl "FUCK OFF" in jagged hand across the glowing facade of a national bank. three hours later, the bank manager emails a photo to their contact at the local paper before they call the buff crew. my photo appears in the weekly gentrification resistance column
my girlfriend sees the article and sends it to me via an encrypted messaging app funded by DARPA, and then posts a photo of the paper on corporate social media. she cuts out the article and hangs it on her fridge, in her apartment a block away from the bank. i text her back and ask if i can crash after work so i don't have to commute an hour both ways as i clopen
my boss sees me texting and tells me to clean the walk-in. i nod and ignore her. she does another line and asks me to cover her shift tomorrow
i tell her no, i've got another job i'm working after prep. i put my phone away, and plate some lukewarm fries without putting on gloves. i expo the ten-dollar basket of limp salty potatoes to a table full of interns with healthcare and paid vacation days
one of them draws a swastika in the bathroom
stream of conscious piss@_ Transistors are magic artifacts and should be treated as such. I'm a mage I swear