To assure herself of her desirability outside of the superlatives of one man’s description, she uttered “I’m blond-haired, blue-eyed, and small-boned. I’m pretty, and I’m physically fit from being a runner. I’m smart and witty, and I’m very loving. I’ve been told that I’m sexy. I’m a good singer, too!” After snapping another drag, she continued her self-interview with “why can’t I find a good guy to love me? Well, I know of one and I’ve been dreaming about him for years, but I guess it’s too late now, being the End Times and all.” “It’s not the End Times, it’s the Reconstruction” came the answer through the speaker in a quad-copter drone that lowered to a spot five feet in front of her, causing her to stop on a dime in sudden, shocked surprise. Its digitized androgynous voice wasn’t finished, and critiqued “you can’t find a partner because you’re quick-tempered, moody, and taste like an ashtray. And you act like you’re menstrual every day of the month.” “Lord Jesus, please help m...