[A job. How utterly mundane and very much human; he supposes it would be fitting for him to try to fill that role now, given both this body and his new circumstances. But for all of his memories, his years of existence if taking that other self of his into account, V has a feeling he'll still be a bit at a disadvantage.

Never has he really lived as a "normal" human before. He knows the irony in that, but keeps these thoughts to himself.]

It's difficult to imagine how my interests might apply to a job in this sci-fi future. [Because it really does seem like they're living in the pages of a sci-fi narrative, something dystopian and raw.] Manual labor isn't much my forte. Is there much of a call for the arts still, in this day and age?