As the drone approached, the playlist faded out and the familiar voice gave a ‘time of arrival’- there was never anything “estimated”. He’d paid extra to opt out of the follow-on upsell adverts, but he couldn’t turn off the earworm jingles behind the announcement. His sigh was picked up and logged, the data sent to the drone. From the balcony he looked over the city. It wasn’t the dark shapes of the drones themselves that clouded the view. He was used to SwarmTime now. It was their holotrails. Glitching, entrancing ad-vapours broadcasting his preferences, wishes and searches to his neighbours.