A man spends all day being robbed by his boss, goes home to a room he can barely afford, opens his phone, and is told that his real enemy is a refugee in a hotel. His life has given him a wound, but the algorithm has told him who the
This Friday I walked into my GP's office with a plan. I knew what was wrong with me. I knew which medications had failed and why. I knew what I wanted to try next. I had the name of the drug, the mechanism of action, the clinical rationale.
By Sunday, six hundred petrol stations had run dry and the army had been sent to break the blockade at Whitegate, the country's only oil refinery. I watched a smaller protest pass through Cork City Centre from beside the road. I felt a sinking feeling in my chest