The alarm chose a sound that was supposed to make him feel like waking up was his choice.

Dima laid in the dark for eleven seconds, his back twisted into an unnatural position. Eleven seconds was just how long his body needed each morning to mourn the fact that its needs will remain unmet for another day.

The feed audio streamed in. His morning arrived on the screens and mirrors of his modest apartment, with subtle variations running to see which tone and vocal speed produced the best balance of calm and readiness. He walked over to the toilet, still listening.