Dog Days
an excerpt

“What are you, Cid?” asks Jensen. “A decent guy? A new kid on the block, out of undergrad, fighting his way towards a useless MFA? A talented young artist with low monetary prospects?” Cid doesn’t know how to answer this. Jensen says, “Sure you are. That’s just what you are. You’re a good kid. You’re an artist. You’re a scrawny little indie boy, a would-be vegetarian, who likes the meat too much but always recycles and brings his own bag to the grocery store.”
He takes a swig of fizzy lemonade, screws the cap back on with one hand, looking at Cid rather than the bottle.
“They won’t see you that way, Cid. The Grey Gears see you as a monster. Monsters that they are, they’ll see you as a monster, and you and your MFA and your fine artistic eye and your charming romance and all your fine young self will be blown away without a thought, without a Grey Gear blink. Don’t get on their bad side, Cid. Don’t get on their radar. And if you do, if you absolutely can’t help it. . .don’t die.”