He wakes up. He did not sleep well. He learns that Iain Banks has died. He thinks that Iain M. Banks has probably also died but there is little mention of him in the news. Two great authors die at once. There must be some kind of conspiracy at work that goes all the way up to The Bilderberg Group. Alex Jones would know. He should contact Alex Jones. He would know. Nelson Mandela is very ill again. Everyone is on Deathwatch. It is a grim reality of the news cycle. In the same manner that as the Queen was walking around the BBC with her army of zombie journalists the same journalists were preparing all the bits for the coverage of the possible death of her husband. It is a venal dirty world. Then he has a cup of coffee and his landlord gives him a lesson on which doors should be open and closed in the house to get the best out of the air conditioning which he listens to politely and appreciates because it is good to have efficient air conditioning and then he wonders if he should go to the store to buy food but it does mean that he will have to go outside and walk to the grocery store which is something that will require effort. Then he learns that the whistle blower has revealed his identity and he fears for the gentleman’s life but perhaps he will be okay but he really probably will not be okay because the cold clawing terror that he is feeling is as nothing to the gentleman in question who has surely to have real fear from the Most Powerful Nation on Earth. Then he laughs at Alex Jones on a BBC Political Programme. He is doing what Alex Jones normally does but it seems oddly out of place in the calm atmosphere of a BBC Studio. Then he watches some cartoons and then he takes a shower and then he goes to the grocery store. Then he discovers that his unregistered car is about to be towed and he panics and he walks to the grocery store panicking his chest tight and his heart tight and he buys some staple good and he walks home again and then he tells his landlord his problems and then a solution is found but he really needs to start acting like an adult and not like a 36 year old child because that reminds him of the movie Jack which is neither a fine moment for Robin Williams nor for Francis Ford Copolla and then he gets some lovely food given to him at the house of his landlord’s girlfriend and then he goes home and then he wonders if Edward Snowden is still alive or if his skin has been flayed from his bones or his accounts frozen or his family turned into droids or any number of other paranoid although now infinitely more possible options in this terrifying seeming world with no freedom of privacy or privacy of freedom. He watches some more cartoons but they all have fascist undertones and he hugs himself as he falls asleep.