Drones need help. And they are also fine on their own. Drones don’t need psychoanalysis–they don’t have the consciousness with the sense of self-censorship and self-help that would encourage them to try to “get to the bottom of” their drives. And yet they could use some working-through. Drones don’t need counseling–their sense of empathy is not behind the reason that they fuck each other from Friday night until the early hours of Saturday morning, sometimes without only the minimal of data exchanged, other times with far too much. And yet sometimes drones just need to talk. Drones don’t need Object-Oriented Ontology or any other philosophy–the copies of the drone version of The Four-Hour Work Week and other novelized pyramid schemes just end up going to the donation bin when drones are in between apartments. And yet, drones have no idea what is going on. Drones just need to go on a good online date. They haven’t had a good one in a while, and it would really be nice if they could just have a good online date this Friday. Not with fucking, necessarily–there’s been plenty of that. But a really nice online date for drones would be just the thing.