Perhaps that's what the symbol means. What's the point of anarchy when the society you live in can shove you into a box no matter how hard you rebel? He can't help but think that's why the system evolved. To contain the uncontainable. Limit the prospects of those with limitless capacity for thought, creativity and analysis.

Thing is you learn a lot in the city; you learn that drugs can hide the worst hurts and exchanging wrong parts for right is only a matter or film or cred. So that's what little Min-seo did. At a mere twelve years of age, after two years of secret hormone treatment, and earlier than most surgeons would allow, Min-seo became the boy he always knew he was, re-christening himself Shock in an ironic nod to the reaction of the entire community at Hanju's Songpa blockstreet.

For Amiga, family has always been part of the problem. Growing up in poverty, in that matriarchal tornado of an indifferent mother and bitter aunts and slamming against immovable walls of her father's disappointment, she learnt to disappear. When Machiko died it was the only way she could cope.

The worst thing about the truth is that you can't hide from it, especially not when it's tearing through your goddamn head with giant circular blade jaws.

She's always scorned his squeamishness, citing the replacement of his vagina with a dick. Joon thinks that's invasion of a far more nail-biting nature. She has no idea. It was fucking heaven. He'd do it again a million times over. And it's one hell of a long way from chopping open your head for the sake of more tech.

She's wanted to erase him from her life for the longest time and never had the courage. Now she realizes it wasn't courage she needed, but this anger. This sickening, all-consuming rage.

It's probably going to hurt him. Hell, it's probably going to hurt her, but it's okay. It's good. Funny thing about taking a stand that, it might hurt like hell but if it's right, there's no feeling better. She's only just realized that, and now she knows she wants to do it every single day. If she lives to see another.

Funny how late is always too late.

Ideas are ephemeral. Easily lost. And his was lost to him long before he realized it. All he's left with is this feeling, a hallowing combination of humiliation and profound shame over time lost, life wasted and potential squandered. But, as always, there's no way to articulate any of this to anyone. Not even to her. So he keeps walking.