You unstick yourself from the sweaty leather of your office chair and hoist yourself up with the armrests and onto your feet. The chair rolls backward slightly as you do this, with a little scuttling sound, as if it were afraid of your display of strength. You swivel it round and position it safely back under the desk, wedged in so it can’t go anywhere. You glance quickly at the others, but they don’t look up. Maybe they’re already dead, you think. Silently, you slip away to the other side of the room, past six more rows of drones. A couple raise their eyes to you as they feel your breeze on their cheeks, but inevitably only linger on you for a second, and then look somewhere else, toward the ceiling, as if using your image as a stepping stone.