I'm at home on Pioneer Road, and out the window I see a military-looking vehicle pull up, a huge truck in camouflage that looks very intimidating. It's driven by a Mr Swinney, a recognizable fascist-aligned personality (who in real life was photographed a few weeks ago pointing a gun at a protest I attended, on the other side). I step out and ask him what's going on. It turns out that Victoria contacted him and arranged to pay him like $1000 to install a radio-wave shield around our whole living room. I don't approve of this, so I negotiate with him to put up a somewhat less extensive apparatus to protect us from whatever it is they are worried about.