By the time he got to work he was almost an hour late. His line manager could not look more pleased. But his smile was icy-cold and joyless; the very definition of vengeful glee.
“Ah now, look at what the cat has dragged in!” he had whispered to Mr Smith.
CentComp had immediately responded, “A fine of two dollars has been logged for the unauthorised use of a trade-marked phrase.” It never missed a single infraction.
“Fuck!” said the line manager, quietly, then he turned to Mr Smith, “I’ll get you back for that one, you little piece of shit.”
Mr Smith wondered why centComp had not come to his rescue, and issued a morality violation for the cursing. He certainly would not have been allowed to use any profanity against the line manager. Then he realised, the machine was allowing this behaviour, as he was in violation of his work duties. You might think that you could win, but in the end centComp would triumph. No one ever beat the system.
Yet, somehow, he did not care! A girl had winked at him, had blown him a kiss. And it had been a pretty girl at that! He wondered who she was, and how she had been able to avoid the morality police.
He did not think of much else that morning, and by the time lunch time came he was in high spirits.
When he tried to go to the cafeteria the line manager had stopped him. “You come in an hour late, and then you have the cheek to try to have lunch! I don’t think so!”
Mr Smith, for perhaps the first time in his life, brushed past the manager, and said, in passing, “Well I do. I am hungry and I need my lunch!”
He left the line manager purple faced, and speechless, and went in search of food.
As always centComp chose his meal for him. This was not done to as a matter of what nutrients he might need, or how the food would taste to him, but in deference to the lifelong obligation he owed to the corporations that sustained him.
When anyone entered the cafeteria their idChip was automatically scanned, and their purchase log was compared to their monthly quota requirements. Whatever was outstanding on that person’s list of required purchases would be flagged for them. Images of the product were displayed along the banks of screens as they passed, enticing them to pick that item. But regardless of what they might choose, it would be that product that would always be supplied. No one was allowed to break their pre-arranged corporate allocation.
The lunch, as always, was plain, bland, and lacking in any sense of flavour. Ruefully Mr Smith recalled the delicious looking images that had assailed him in the queue, and wondered how they could so blatantly distort the reality of what had been deposited on his plate. He quickly sought to suppress that notion; it did not pay to think too deeply on such matters. He knew all too well how easy it was to get in the habit of denigration, and that surely lead to discontentment. The yearly reviews always looked for signs of such anti-social behaviour.
Despite the unappealing presentation and the lack-lustre look of the food, it still managed to be the best tasting food that Mr Smith had eaten for many years. But lunch was over all too soon, and he had to return to his cold, grey, little cubicle.
The line manager had recovered his composure and was waiting with a baleful grin.
“Ah Smith, there you are! So glad to have you back with us. I do hope you have enjoyed your lunch, as it will likely be the last you have in a while. At least, if you plan to keep your job! You do know that you are way behind in your duties, don’t you?”
“I am sure you are right. That is what my wife keeps telling me.” For the first time since obtaining this job Mr Smith looked his line manager in the eye, “But just as I say to her, every time she asks for my services, ‘you’ll have to wait in line. I’m a busy man.’ Now, if you will excuse me, I do have work to finish, and you are in my way.”
The line manager had never heard such insolence. He never dreamed that one of his minions could turn so bold, and as a result was, once more, left speechless.
Mr Smith sauntered down the passageway between the aisles, smiling at all the secretaries, and nodding at all his co-workers. He could feel the smouldering eyes of his line manager trying to burn holes in his back, but he did not really care. When he came to his cubicle he stopped and turned to the manager, and just before entering that place of pain, gave him a little friendly wave, and then a gentle little shooing motion.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Normally he would find himself turning periodically towards the entrance of his cubicle to see if his line manager was surreptitiously watching him. All too often he would be proven right and the hated man would be peering around the edge of the door. But today he felt no dreaded presence, and rather surprisingly, by the end of the day he found that, in the absence of such fear of oversight, he had managed to catch up a significant amount of his backlog.
As he clocked out the centComp speaker came to life. “Mr Smith, in recognition of your impressive performance at work this day, you are rewarded with an exemplary chit of four units.”
He stood stunned. He had never been given such a chit. In fact he had never been given any chit before. Even the most obsequious sycophant in the department had only ever been given a chit of two units. “I am sorry, but are you sure that is the correct amount?”
CentComp hummed for a moment, and then replied, “Given the performance delta you would normally be due five chits, but due to your earlier infractions, and your tardiness in arriving for work it has been decided to only award four chits.” It paused for a moment then continued in a rather ominous tone, “Do you wish to lodge an objection, request a review, or record a complaint?”
Christ no! Of all things, he most certainly did not want to do any of those things. “Oh no! I simply wished to clarify. I assumed that the chits would be cancelled due to … the other events of today.”
“That has been fully accounted for. If you perform similarly tomorrow then it has been decided to rescind the request for you to undergo a morality evaluation.”
Good God, he would move heaven and earth to get that one off his back!
At this rate the line manager would not even be able to discipline him for his comments at lunch! He left the building with head held high and an even greater spring in his step.
He decided on the way home to get a little alcohol. Perhaps that way he could complete his monthly duties this evening, and hope for a greater chance of pleasing centComp.
Part 2 - Obsession
The Kubic Kat Page 3
