7 hours into my shift at the Sydney Port Customs patrol and while I stand and reminisce about how far the technology of the world has come, how much culture has changed. I'm called by one of the recruits, a local guy, smart. He's got his feathers quite literally ruffled over the fact that this shipping container says it's an import of Foster's Lager.

Now, I'm telling you, this guy is an owl, he can see stuff, not talking about ghosts or hallucinations, but details in dark rooms. And if he can't see what looks like Foster's all the way to the back of the container, that gets us worried. The fact the guys on the boat are armed to the teeth may be legal here but whether they acquired the hardware may well be a different kettle'a fish entirely. Anyone can hack up a hololicense and fake a digital signature, it's something Avast antivirus is still insisting they are combating. But we gotta take what they show us anyway.

Either way, you don't have to be descended from an owl family to be wise enough to realise that Foster's has next to no value in Sydney. Not since the local mob stole and replaced all imports of beer with Foster's in the big scandal. Everybody was sick to death of drinking it before, why the hell they thought anyone would bother buying it even with the embargo on all other beers is beyond anyone. But as you probably know, a lot of criminals are not very bright folks.

Nobody and I mean, literally nobody except edgy, underage drinking kids, drinks Foster's around 'ere. Something is gonna get opened up, whether it's the shipping container or one of these Somali Pirate-like guy's chest plates.

Art by the awesome  commissar-k