Any time I start to wonder, Am I dystopian? I laugh and remember that I’ll be dead before dystopia really starts to take hold. I exist in flashbacks only. I’m that guy in the soot-covered photograph that the ragtag band of resistance fighters stare at fondly in the flickering light of the gasoline fire. “He was funny on the internet,” they say. When it all goes south, I want to be remembered, not relied on. —
