False Nomenclature.

(Me and Avery again.)

This chair is comfortable, I can't stop picking at the paint on the tips of my fingers, revealing the microscopic crop circles on them. Almost makes me feel human. I hope this meeting doesn't result in my termination, I'd like to maintain a linear reality. I guess one can call lying on my back linear. Where the hell is this guy the paint is almost gone. A pantsuit-ensconced woman enters, informing me of a reschedule. This day and age, and we androids are still treated like less than filth. We aren't waiting again, fuck John I always knew he was a prick. No use in fighting though. Despite the fact that I have perfectly dysfunctional emotions and am currently thinking thoughts, Humanity Law classifies me as "Sub-human Mark II," disallowing me most freedoms. I'm not even allowed a name. I almost regret opening that door, I almost regret walking through. I'm not trying to be demeaning, but you made that choice. Why did you shut it behind us. (exhale) At least god has a name.