Jack knew the walls had been bugged since last Thursday. He had heard noises near the closet then, and he knew he was being watched. The noises had obviously been installation schemes for a camera and microphone system throughout his studio. He had delivered lectures alone in his room sometimes, knowing that the underlings to the Californians were watching. He hoped that he had reached some of them. Jack knew that as the first body without organs, he alone was responsible for bringing the world towards the final revolution. It would lessen inequality, free man from his stopped up differentiations, and stop all wars from occurring. Everyone would learn to be in touch with themselves, their trauma, and the world would forever be at peace. Oh, if they only knew how oppressive it all was! The cycles of trauma, the classism, the horrible machine perpetuating itself onto the innocent, undifferentiated bodies. The evil came primarily from the city, creating the rural urban divide, a divide which would only accelerate the differentiation. That was right. He was fighting against Nick Land and the adherents of accelerationism. The bodies with organs had to overcome their various traumas and recognize their surroundings in the moment. He knew that the further differentiated, the further one was from the ideal body without organs, the more trauma they had to overcome. He knew that he was the only one so far to have overcome his own trauma, and the rural-urban divide, to become the first body without organs. He wondered if there were others yet.
	He sat on the bed on the inside of the studio. The fridge hummed quietly in the corner. The bathroom, the only place which hadn’t been bugged, was dark. A shower, a sink, and a toilet all crowded around in a space the size of a closet. The only thing which separated the bathroom from the rest of the abode was a sliding door which had no locks. Besides that was a closet, which contained Jack’s minimalist wardrobe of shirts he had obtained for free and various school memorabilia. Jack had dropped all of his classes this semester, as self-actualizing against the Californians and their insipid ideology came first. It was met with much shock by his family, who couldn’t see why he would do such a thing, but self-actualizing and overcoming generational trauma took effort. Getting up, he walked across the room to where his desk and chair was. He took his pills--Adderall, Vyvanse, and Venlafaxine. These were provided at a low cost, ensuring his ability to self-actualize. He wondered about the poor people, the ones who couldn’t self-actualize beyond their own basic needs, as dictated by Maslow’s hierarchy. He pitied them, but their liberation would come soon. Jack was sure of it. He looked into his fridge. Empty, as per usual. Trail mix bags and soda bottles filled up the bag he used for trash. Nothing left on the tabletop besides his prescription pills and a few knicknacks. A rice cooker, along with bags of dried rice and beans, did lie on top of a nightstand in the corner of the room. However, he didn’t really feel like eating any more rice and beans than he had to. He decided to go outside and get some food. But not before a quick word to his captive audience.
	“Hello? Hello. I know you’ve been monitoring me, the first body without organs, on his way to bring about world revolution. I only hope you can get that I am merely bringing about the natural order of things. You know, the bosses, they don’t really care about you. I get it if you need the money. I understand. But the system you fight for is corrupt. If you join me, you can be free from being used by your bosses. Abused by them. Forced to keep quiet about their child sex trafficking rings. You can become free if you side with me against them. Against Californian Ideology. Against that machine outside, humming along by traumatizing all of us.” Nothing responded, except for a faint drip in the sink. “Alright. See you next time, you colonized, bastardized slaves.” Jack went outside.
The apartment was a brick and mortar arrangement tucked away on fourth avenue. The apartment was surrounded by a dirt lot. Further than that, it was surrounded by cracked and pockmarked roads, as well as adobe houses containing loads of college students. Everything was sun bleached, and the maroon of the bricks had faded into a pinkish tone. The asphalt had gone from black to gray, and the houses beside him all had their paint jobs lightened. Torn down Patriot Front and Antifa posters dotted the mailboxes along the sidewalk. The sun was always too loud in this city, especially towards the summer, bearing down with its heat upon Jack and the differentiated, suffering denizens of the city. It was midday--and the sun was at a cacophony, ringing. Jack sweated and squinted. He walked a city block before arriving on campus at the university. There were people still rushing from class to class. The slaves scampered for money, for fame. He wondered if his liberation messages had reached them, or if they too were trapped beneath the machine which stopped them up, telling them to not shit where they ate, how to have sex, how to live… they didn’t need all the fetters of civilization.
Jack walked into the corner store on University avenue. He had passed several differentiated people on the sidewalk. Slaves, all of them. Yet he was not alone. A SUV had two occupants which looked at him as he was crossing the sidewalk where the light rail was. They had followed him from his apartment, assuredly. The Californians, always keeping tabs on him. At least in the store, he was safe. The shelves were stocked with all sorts of pharmacy store food--popcorn, instant noodles, peanut butter. Jack picked up a pack of cajun trail mix and headed towards the exit. He decided to test the cashier lady, as he was checking out. He simply asked how the weather was. Anyone too differentiated or overburdened with the work of Californian Ideology would simply dismiss it as a rural person trying to get too friendly with someone in the city. However, those truly on their way to becoming fellow bodies without organs, only they would know how to judge the local scenery fairly or express some kind of interest in the nature about them, only they would have the time in their balanced schedules to make small talk.
“Good afternoon. How’s the weather?”
“Oh, alright. I hear it’s going to rain pretty soon.”
“Yeah, the monsoon rains are atrocious. You know, it’s funny. Most people here are so busy that they can’t even talk about the weather.”
“I know, it’s like no one really knows how to make small talk anymore.”
“I really do know that feeling! Can I get your number? There’s no one around here to make small talk with, and it’s kinda been stressing me out…”
“No, I can’t do that. It’s company policy, unfortunately. Sorry! Your total will be 8.24$.”
Jack respected that. If only the capitalist structure of the company wasn’t getting in the way of the socialization of a body without organs. Oh well. It turned out Jack wasn’t alone on his quest for self-actualization, a realization which filled him with hope.