You’re a mutant, but don’t let it get to you. Life has been better since escaping the decaying cuboid workhell they call Megapolis. Here in the Ninth Communal World Resistance, affiliation G, you have a lot more rights. Especially since getting treatment for the Death-27 infection in your third hand. No copay, either!
You feel out the grip and stance on your battery rifle. Not quite where you want it, and you aren’t happy with the smaller capacity this model needs to make up its lightweight design. Then again, it was probably more effective in its original use case. You’ve gotten in trouble for being too outspoken on politics before, but you stand by your take: it just wasn’t good tactics to let children into the Megapolis infantry. You toss the gun into the recuperator’s maw and plug your lumpy ears as it chews it back up into raw material. Maybe you’ll have to custom-print a design, none of the production models you’ve tried so far are really “the Phoz experience.”
That’ll have to wait, however! Doubtful there’ll be time for it before Rass gets here. Oh, our beloved friend Rass. She needs no introduction!
But he deserves one anyway! Rass is a lovely young freak of indecisive gender, and they have been a great friend. It seems to sport a new guise every day, almost always accompanied with a new scheme to “reinvigorate the resistance, destroy the consumptionist ideology-sphere, liberate the global mind, and bring everlasting joy to the spirits of the righteous,” to quote a particularly inebrious night out.
So far none of those goals have been accomplished.
Rass sometimes says they were never meant to be. It’s just a good way to spend time with a friend, and feel like you did something worthwhile.
