Sooner or later, the simulation has a habit of reminding you that you don't make the rules. You can have a widespread epidemic of lawlessness and people resisting arrest, and you can reframe that problem as a racism problem for a while, and that can run for at least a year going into a second summer, but it can't continue to run without a correction. The simulation is trying to reveal itself. Pay attention. Daunte, with his gang-signs and pistols and fanblades made of Franklins, is the simulation screaming at you. Screaming. A correction is coming. Buckle up. Load for bear? I don't know what form it takes. I just know it is coming. I have beans and lard and enough ammunition to hunt for a while if it really gets bad. I don't know if that's the kind of correction that we have in store. It could be a stock market crash. A cyber-attack. A good old-fashioned war with Russia. I just don't know. I just know it is coming.