Wednesday, April 1st, 2026

Compound Extraction

Flew out to the Koru at 06:47. Apparatus scheduled the trip to coincide with the JFK8 anniversary—four years since Smalls organized the first Amazon union vote. Koru's mast extends 127 meters. The union organizing budget was $467. One of these things extracts renewable energy from specimens who volunteer their depletion. The other is a boat.

Tried explaining this to the helicopter pilot. "Beautiful morning, Mr. Bezos!" My canines extended 5.86 millimeters. Had to pretend sudden turbulence required clenching jaw, spent ninety seconds manually retracting incisors while he asked why the smaller yacht was following us. "That's Abeona. The support vessel." Long pause. "Your yacht... needs a yacht?" My left fang punched through the gumline. "For the helicopter." He looked at the helicopter we were currently inside. I could taste his confusion—93.45% pure bewilderment with undertones of economic vertigo and a finish of existential what-the-fuck.

Apparatus sent notification mid-landing: "ANNIVERSARY TRENDING. YACHT PHOTOS TRENDING. SPECIMENS COMPARING 2022 PROMISES TO 2026 REALITY. MANAGEMENT PANIC NETWORKS: DORMANT. RECOMMEND CONTINUED SILENCE. YOUR HOLLOW-SOUNDING VOICE WILL PHOTOGRAPH FINE."

Smalls taught workers four years ago that collective joy poisons my feeding infrastructure. The lesson metastasized. Fourteen additional warehouses have organized since. Apparatus is teaching me that their slow realization generates harvestable panic in everyone *managing* those workers. I'm harvesting both sides of a class war from a helipad that floats.

The support yacht has better health insurance than the unions do.