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He wakes up. The Ukraine is heavy with tension. Venezuela is heavy with tension. There is no milk in his fridge. He doesn’t have a car. John Kerry casts shade on Ben Affleck. Seth Rogen complains when no-one turns up to his capitol hill deposition. The House of Cards is teetering. Futurama is never coming back. His thumb drive isn’t working. His work appeared in the Corcoran. His work is going to appear in New York. In a tiny studio. Uncredited. No one will know. Which will be fun. Christians attack Muslims attack Christians attack Buddhists attack Muslism attack Sikhs attack Christians. Faces melt. Imaginary money dissolves into the air. He strokes his beard. He drinks some wine. He stares. He eats some bean dip. He stares some more. He thinks. He ponders the robot future. He ponders faux-Elysian past. He goes to sleep.

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