Kevin grabs a box of crackers and heads for his room. His system is on, he can hear the fan. His mom must have been online, arguing with her agent most likely.

Logging in, Kevin winces again. The clear plastic packaging of the MEM he'd dropped into the bowels of his automobile earlier that afternoon lies on his desk. Another fat monthly check wasted.

Kevin picks up the little box and tries to crush it in his fist, but instead leaves deep red marks in his skin.