"What can I say," he says, spreading his arms wide in an exaggerated shrug. When he drops them again, he comments, "I wish this place would figure out something useful."

He could do without feeling compelled to eat, especially not so abruptly, as it has been. He would, however, like to be able to sleep, being eternally awake much more tedious than he would have expected it to be -- probably because there's nothing to fucking do here, whereas if he didn't have to sleep at home, there's a hundred things he could have done with the extra time. He'd also like electricity to be a thing, rather than the cheap facsimile of it, in his phone's screen constantly giving off light. And so on and so forth.