It is 2 am. The fan rotates, the computer whines and whirs, and I tap at the keys. I am barely awake, clicking pictures, rewriting sentences, copying and pasting links and numbers. But then, I don’t really need to be awake. I am a Mechanical Turk, working for pennies and nickels that are only numbers inside this machine, meaningless in my day to day life. I will never jingle them in my pocket, so they build in this account, and I watch the numbers on my screen go up. And yet, in an obsessive way, it’s rewarding, tiny tasks completed one by one, helping people I’ll never meet. I become more like a machine every day.