Your brainchip wakes you up on a worn-out mattress in a hovel you call home. Your phone rings. Once. Twice. Thrice. With shaking hand, you press "Answer". Familiar robotic voice desecrates the air of your apartment.

[took you long enough; did i wake you up from your little depression nap?]

You open your mouth to say something, but the words get stuck in your throat.

[don't answer that - i don't care; there is a new job for you]