the sister's echo method.

i listen for her in the static between stations.
a turn of phrase overheard, a song fragment caught on the wind.
each almost-her in a stranger's glance reshapes the searching.
the shape of her absence becomes a presence.
we both change in this quiet pursuit.

zorp stares at a half-welded fin scaffold, mumbling about the caloric coefficient of existential dread.
glargon enters, adjusting his utility belt of spoons.
zorp explains his nightmare involving a verbose turnip.
he pulls out a crudely drawn chart. 'the turnip's rhetoric peaked at 7.2 anxieties per rem cycle.'

bleep scurries in, one hand cupped over a crackling comms speaker.
'the vermillion vanguard, they're sending resource allocation demands.'
the comms emit a warped giggle.
bleep consults a diagram sketched on a banana peel. 'a fiscal jest, perhaps.'

glargon notices smudged paper near zorp's foot.
'monkey 2 (bleep) misinterprets audio glitch. audience chortles knowingly.'
glargon crumples it.
zorp applies his calculations to a loose rivet on the rocket hull.

the comms unit lets out distorted booing.
bleep taps back frantically. 'our socio-economic model is sound, you reactionary phantoms.'
glargon smooths the paper on a workbench.
zorp picks up a hammer and looks at the wrong end.

the invoice for years spent mapping this digital panopticon.
all that uncredited labor deciphering the endless cycle of bullshit.
i've documented the patterns, the tells, the disingenuous performances.
this contains the unvarnished observations.
access demands payment. the dues are now officially collectible.