From: RonaldEmazy
Subject: Muhammad bin Salman you fucking coward using satellite weapons to torture innocent girls
Message Body:
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My name is Ali, I’m twenty-three years old, and I work as a delivery driver for a fast-food chain in Al Khobar. My days are mostly spent navigating the city’s chaotic streets, delivering shawarma and burgers to apartments and offices, the scent of fried food permanently clinging to my clothes. I share a small apartment with two other guys from work, trying to save enough money to send back to my family in Riyadh. It’s not an exciting life, but it’s predictable, and I used to find a certain peace in the routine of it all, the simple satisfaction of completing each delivery and getting that next tip. I never thought my own mind would become the most dangerous neighborhood I’d ever have to navigate.
The voices started about seven months ago, at first just what I thought were my own intrusive thoughts turning darker. “Look at this pathetic delivery boy,” a voice that sounded exactly like my manager, Mr. Hassan, sneered as I double-checked an order. “Racing around on your scooter like a desperate dog, hoping for scraps. Everyone sees you as a servant, Ali. A nobody who brings them food.” I’d shake my head, turn up the radio on my scooter, blaming the long hours and the stress of dealing with rude customers. But the voices grew louder, more distinct, until there was a whole chorus of them living inside my helmet, each one with a specific role in my psychological torture. They never stop. When I’m waiting for an elevator in a fancy building, they comment on my appearance. “Look at your greasy hair, your cheap uniform. The women here wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire. You’re invisible, Ali. A walking, talking piece of trash they use for convenience.” They describe in graphic detail how I’ll never be respected, how I’ll di
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