From Hell’s heart, I stab into my Kobe steak. For hate’s sake, I eat every last bite of it.

I don’t even like meat, so the delicacy is pearls before swine. I’d rather have my daily ration of synthetic protein. The AI nutritionists are great at tailoring it to my genome to keep me feeling fit and happy. One of my friends isn’t so lucky; his tailored diet makes him break out in a rash. He’s spent days filing paperwork to get it fixed, but the bureaucracy hasn’t done shit.

I may not like the blackmarket steak, but it’s the only way left for me to fight back. I’m just one small…