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...d it go?

Conal heaved himself out of bed, delighting in the mediterranean temperatures and ocean view. If only it was real.

He slipped a dressing gown on and trudged down the pine staircase. the table responded to his presence by winking on a holo readout of the morning's affairs. More Riots in New Kerala; the party had extended martial law. He yawned and dismissed the report; he preferred lighter media during breakfast. The time was 06:40. Head Office took the view that 5 hours' sleep was more than sufficient, even though a day was 39 minutes longer, here. He noted that he'd slept for 6 and wondered if they logged such infractions. He had 50 minutes to present himself at work; just enough time to shower and ingest what passed for breakfast. Reluctantly he booted up his neural loop, resigning himself to the end of his personal time. Several messages flared angrily before his eyes, demanding attention. He selected the first one, bracing himself for another castigation.

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