"Deliver, deliver, deliver, deliver, I'm your delivery deliver, I'm your deliver delivery deliver ... I deliver everything!" raps the “Delivery Heroine” in the battered quarterback dress in some kind of basement storage room. She "delivers'" the sound of a rebellious exhaustion in a world increasingly determined by algorithms and AI in the service of a turbo-accelerated platform capitalism, where everything, without exception, threatens to become a commodity, and we all become breathless suppliers. The limit of growth, which has long since been exceeded, is wonderfully performed and questioned here.