Ever since he'd lost his job as head of graphic design at a prestigious vlog due to the last galactic pandemic in 2051 Dave had been an Amazon Intergalactic delivery driver. For the past 3 years it was literally the only job hiring in the entire galaxy. Now that the entire 10G pigeon fleet had been grounded too he'd been stuck inside his pressurised geodesic dome for the past 6 weeks with his Venusian wife and their brood of 12 telepathic hybrid children. Things were getting tense.
He watched helplessly in between online schooling whilst his hired van was repeatedly vandalised by taggerbots with nothing else to do and what he reckoned must be some kind of architectural detailing-bot that was clearly on the fritz. He didn't have enough money for air to be fooling around outside but also didn't have the money to get the van cleaned. He barely had enough to keep energon in the van's tank and the hyperdrive on it was already failing. He knew it. The kids knew it too...
I think I'm finally beginning the slow descent into madness for that's all I have. A tale of Dave and a digital collage based on a photo I took of a graffiti van and a photo I took of an architectural detail. Am I allowed out yet?