I’ve been lighting incense for him and praying twice a day. Mom said he’s barely coherent anymore. I wish she’d told me sooner. I could petition to study from home for the rest of the term, but Mom says there’s no point and that I should stay and finish the semester. Two more weeks until final exams, and then I can go home and see him. Please, divine Buddha, keep my uncle alive until then.

JOURNAL ENTRY: JOSEPHINE LEE, JUNE 8, 2064

FUCK. Fuck AgriDev, fuck the farming industry, fuck mech-drug hybrid tech. ALL OF IT.

I can’t stop crying. And I’m so infuriated. None of this would’ve happened if we had a better system in this country. Capitalism in America is evil. The Buddha teaches us to be compassionate, and I’m trying, I really am, Uncle Phil. Wherever your soul is now. But it’s hard to forgive the people who are ultimately responsible for your death.

His body at the end… ugh, it was awful. Weeping sores at the insertion points. His nerves barely worked. The smell… I almost couldn’t stand to be in the room with him. All that pain and suffering so he could wear a mech-suit and pick fruit faster. I hate the world we live in.

JOURNAL ENTRY: JOSEPHINE LEE, JUNE 23, 2064

I went downtown yesterday for another protest. They’re happening everywhere now. Times Square was packed like New Year’s Eve. Lots of guards wearing mech-armor and moving faster than any human being should. It reminded me so much of watching Uncle Phil at work. Half tractor, half man, all wrong.

I almost couldn’t take it, but then it got so crowded that I couldn’t leave. And then people started passing out guns.

I couldn’t do it. I’m such a chickenshit.

I bet if Don had been there, he would’ve shot at the guards. He says he wouldn’t, but I think he’s just being nice to me. He doesn’t believe in Kanata-san’s philosophy of nonviolence.

We can’t really injure the guards. They feel pain and they’re still human, but they almost can’t die anymore. You’d have to get past all the armor and the micropills running through them.

I keep wondering what it feels like to die. What it must feel like to kill someone. Murder is practically an anachronism, but what about indirect actions that lead to someone else’s death? What about the assholes at AgriDev who pressured Uncle Phil and all the other workers to take their bullshit drugs? They ought to face consequences.