The year is 2033, you just finished your 12 hours of government mandated scrotum waxing duty. You stop by a publically funded food cart to get a maggot burger on a vegan, gluten-free, seaweed bun. You are approached by a Xir in a trench coat offering black market hormones.

You politely decline as you see the Genderatti coming around the corner. You don't need another privilege citation. So you grab your maggot burger and dart into the crowd as you hear the Genderatti question 2 street performers about meeting the diversity quotas. "We have papers"

They shout and continue as you walk out of ear shot. You keep walking and count the days until your public transit suspension is lifted. All thanks to a mistyping of the word "regards" in a private messaging chat. When you finally get home you take a bite of your maggot burger.

"FUCK" you scream. Xhey put Ranch on it. Without hesitation you reach in your kitchen drawer. Pull out an object wrapped in cloth. You unfold it and reveal a revolver. You give it a quick once over and point it at your temple. BANG and silence.