I love my job. I mean when I say I love my job. I don’t love it like everyone else says they love their job, because they’re required to say they love it or face potential Termination. I actually love it. If there was a god I would get down on my knees and thank him four times a day for setting me to work in Human Resources. I don’t need to do that though because HR is god.
The two jacked up CorpSec meat popsicles standing beside me full of combat-nanos with their MMI partitioning and their silksteel body armor and 800 round magazine nitrogen cooled whatever the fuck sidearms? I could hike up my skirt and piss on them and they wouldn’t do anything. They can’t do anything. They can’t touch a hair on my head. They can’t think about touching a hair on my head. I could order them to fight to the death for my amusement and they’d do it. I could order them to 69 each other while I stream video to everyone in their contact list and they’d do it.
I would never do those things though because doing those things would be in violation of the Code of Conduct. I could do it to them is the point. If HR is god then the Code of Conduct is the bible. A bible that we get to write as we see fit. Which is nice.
The restricted access media archive (some superstitious headcounts call this the Black Library) is full of analog world authors decrying tyranny and despotism and praising freedom as the best and only thing worth fighting for. It seems like one of the main things they wrote about back then. I wish I could ask those people if they ever tried being a tyrant because it’s honestly great. I don’t think they knew what they were missing. I think anyone from history that had actually been a despot would tell you a very different story. There’s no substitute for experience. Where are those writings?
I know that many of my co-workers don’t like going on apartment visits, they avoid going to housing as hard as they can. I like it. I like seeing what the lives of the people beneath me are like. When I get back to my office I can’t help my laugh out loud sometimes. It’s almost inconceivable that we’re getting away with this. They eat what we give them, sleep when we tell them, work when we tell them, day after day after day until they die. Usually when we tell them to die.
They’re almost more like drones than people. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy for CorpSec to shoot them when we tell them to. Not that they have a choice.
Employee number 77045, “Neil” is a perfect headcount. He’s smart enough to do complex coding work but dumb enough to spend his life doing complex coding work in exchange for fruit flavor soymush and an hour here and there playing simsense games. He’s fully indoctrinated in corporate culture, his little rebellions against company policy are within allowable tolerances, he even helps keep others in line. He was born, lives, and will die all within the confines of housing.
The only thing I don’t like about Neil is that he doesn’t seem scared enough to have an HR rep standing in his assigned apartment. He’s scared, don’t get me wrong, but he seems distracted more than scared. It was as if he was halfway thinking about something else which prevented him from fully shitting his pants at my very presence.
What’s the point of schlepping down to housing if you can’t terrify someone fully and completely?