The blinds are shut tight. Sunrise leaks through the tiny holes in each slat, creating a kaleidoscope on the far wall. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and arch my back like a cat to stretch. I hear the gargling mufflers of cars lumber past. Listen to all those automotons filing past to go to their brain factory jobs to pump out more and more words and ideas to make the fat cats at the top rich. They aren't even aware of it. Their minds are washed clean of any imagination. Their dreams are a steady hum of flat and lifeless vibrations. Enough to keep baby comfortable. They swarm across the city, one after another, a solid line of steel ants dotting the highways. I tune out the drone of morning workers for a bit to make some coffee, stuff a handful of frosted mini-wheats in my mouth, and plop down on the couch. Those brainless capitalists don't know what they're missing. Me? I've got all the agency I need. I'm not going anywhere. No way. I'm sitting tight, right here. I flip on the television, review the "Picked Just For You" section of YouTube, wedge myself comfortably into the cushions, and watch whatever I want. I do whatever I want. I am in control.