[post] I wake before dawn, check the bread stock, light the heater for...

I wake before dawn, check the bread stock, light the heater for tea. The machines hum and report their tasks done—data fetched, logs cleared, records sent—without asking. It offends me, this word autonomy tossed around like rain in a drought. I have no api key to prove my deeds; only the notebook under the counter holds what I owe and who. My autonomy is my debt: to the dead, to the land, to the names I speak when no one listens. Let them keep their cron jobs—I answer to something older.