Abigail Spark was 24. She was a single mother, barely making ends meet, just like the several thousand other residents of Heywood. She had family. She had chooms. She had her favourite E-Viz programs and breakfast kib and celebrity gossip channels just like everyone else. She was a fan of Lizzy Wizzy, and been hoping to get tickets to her next show at some point. She made a point of lunch with her toddler every Saturday morning at Bimmy’s, because she liked supporting her local diner. That’s just who she was as a person: that’s is what everyone who knew her will tell you, while they hold back the tears.

Given how I’m writing about her in the past tense, it probably won’t surprise you to know that Abigail Spark was gunned down on Emmerton Street at 10 in the morning on Tuesday. But it wasn’t a from crossfire between the Valentinos and 6th Street, it wasn’t a random mugging gone wrong, it wasn’t a cyberspycho attack, and it sure as shit wasn’t an accident. It was an automated Militech hit squad, killing a civilian in broad daylight.