Salary Slave.
Part 1.
“No one shall be held in slavery or
servitude; slavery and the slave trade shall be prohibited in all their forms.”
(Article 4, Universal
Declaration of Human Rights, 1948.)
One
hundred years had passed since the General Assembly of the United Nations had
proposed abolishing slavery in all it’s guises yet to millions of people around
the planet it was still ingrained in their collected subconscious. Notoriety’s
had documented it’s prevalence but were powerless to “drive the brute off.”[1]
It’s dominance in the global culture pervaded almost everyone’s life. Only
children, the old and the infirm were lucky enough to escape, albeit
temporarily. What was this slaver of so-called civilised society ? Work.
Bernard
had followed the usual route through school, college and apprenticeship but had
become steadily more disillusioned with the realisation that he had begun his
working life on the bottom rung of the proverbial ladder. The trappings of a
successful life were readily displayed by those above him; the hover car, the
wives, the kid, the luxury apartment (with view), the uniform, the
labour-saving devices, the guest slot on “Perfect People”ä. But Bernard was reaching boiling point, his patience
diminishing like a kite heading for deepest space on the end of an infinite
tether. Then something came into his life just as he needed it most.
It
had been an ordinary morning. He had been hooked up to the business quarter,
shuffling documents around his desktop and answering queries when his
supervisor had interrupted, ordering him to take a break. Welcoming the chance
for some physical interaction he headed for the rest room, the only place where
there were no unwanted interruptions. There were a number of low-ranking
employees standing chatting around the urinals.
“Yeah,
they’re OK, at least you have a chance then.” Said the tallest of the three.
“Yeah,
I guess so. Thing is, can they be trusted ?” Probed a young ginger-haired
youth.
“Well,
I’ve told them everything about my future plans and there’ve been no adverse
repercussions. Quite the opposite.” Answered the Tall Man.
“Hmm…What
was their location again ?” Enquired the third man.
“Just
follow the pointers from my space, look under ‘personal’.”
“What
are you guys talking about ?” Bernard enquired.
“Oh,
best you don’t know.” Answered the Tall Man.
At
which point the three men vacated the lavatorial oasis, leaving Bernard bemused
yet sufficiently intrigued. He took a TRH[2]
patch from a strip he had concealed in his shirt collar which he then deftly
placed on his left shoulder-blade. It’s effect was instantaneous. He rode a
huge wave of ecstatic euphoria out of the rest-room and back to his
workstation. During this heightened emotional/spiritual state he was able to
quickly locate the Tall Man’s home-space, copy the pointers on his personal
desk to his own space then delete all signs of a forced entry. This gave him
all the time in the worlds to put an agent to work sifting through the pointers
for anything unusual.
As he
got on with his bona-fide business Bernard kept wondering what kind of “chance”
the agent may find. However, within no time at all, his question was closer to
being answered. The agent had returned just three pointers. It took a great
deal of self-control for Bernard to wait until the lunch break to look at the
results but he knew that his supervisor would intercept his transactions if he
noticed that they weren’t work related. So he waited.
Lunch
time finally came, the enforced order emblazoned upon his workspace, but
Bernard knew that he had about four minutes before going off-line. The first
pointer was to a child pornography provider so he ditched that and tried the
second. It was a dating agency for the ‘discerning’ adult. God, this guy’s sad,
Bernard thought. Third time lucky.
At
first glance the third pointer looked like a data warehouse, going by the name
of “Home of Planet Earth”. It was mostly a secure site but Bernard had a gut
feeling that he was onto something, that this was an elaborate façade. So, he
decided to file an application for space but instead of conveying the correct
information as requested by the host he simply constructed an acronym of the
warehouse name : HOPE.
All
afternoon Bernard was thinking about the consequences of his actions at the
warehouse. But, he got on with his job, attending to the banal bureaucracies of
his everyday working existence.
Part 2.
The reply from the warehouse read :
Stuck at the bottom ?
See no escape ?
Ambitions are rotten ?
Feel nothing but hate ?
Then join our club,
Hear what we say.
Be part of the hub,
Subscription will pay !”
The message was followed by membership details and formalities
including the location, date and time of the next public meeting. Bernard
jotted down the information then returned to his remedial task before his
supervisor noticed that he was slacking. He would have to wait until the Rest
Day for the chance to further investigate this particular prophetic phenomenon.
The remaining days of Bernard’s week
were as mundane as watching the weather forecast; silver skies, despondent
drizzle and pestilent pollution. But, he was about to take the first step to a
brighter future. This fact alone kept him sane.
Rest Day came after what seemed like
an eternity. They seemed to be getting more and more infrequent due to the
policies of pervasive politicians whose only concern was GNP and the Galaxian
macro-economy.
Bernard found the location of the
meeting, taking assorted vehicles and routes to get there. The entrance to the
disused office block was guarded by two burly cyber-enhanced security guards.
They wore earpieces, a display over their left eye and microphones on their
lapels. Bernard had no doubt that their long black outer garments concealed a
link to HQ and more sinister devices. However, he wasn’t perturbed, walking
straight past them without so much as a hint of recognition in their stern
faces. To his relief though, once inside the building, he was greeted by a HOPE
official who handed him a programme. It was printed on recycled plastic with a
stylised picture of Earth at the centre of eight orbiting satellites, reminding
him of outlawed fission reactors from the previous century.
Bernard joined the back of a densely
packed crowd of people. He noticed that most of them were about his age and all
seemed to be male Caucasians. This made him feel uneasy as did the two long
vertical banners flanking the stage proclaiming the slogans “desire” and
“satisfy”. In the centre of the stage sat three well-dressed, middle-aged men
who, according to the programme, were long-serving members of HOPE.
Right on time, the entrance was
closed and the first speaker rose.
“Good Evening gentlemen. My name is
unimportant. But you can call me Mr.
Unimportant. “ Laughs from the audience.
“No, seriously, your name is not
required here nor is your personal history. No, we at HOPE are more interested
in your future. Allow me to explain. Did you ever get the feeling that your
achievements were going unrecognised ? Perhaps your superiors are taking credit
for your actions ? Well, don’t you think that that’s wrong ? Where are the
ethics that our great civilisation was build upon ? I mean, it’s OK to strive
for a better future, sure, we all want that. But, nobody IN THEIR RIGHT MIND,
wants to beg on the streets suffering insolent comments from people who have no
one’s concern but their own at heart ! What gives people the right to rule over
us ? OK, we live in a so-called democratic state yet we elect our Government
representatives but who elects our bosses ?
The answer, of course, is nobody.
It’s meant to be a meritocracy but we all know how it truly works.
Well, our answer at HOPE is to
collaborate, to share ideals and promote self-awareness. We’re not a secret
society but, on the other hand, we don’t let just anybody join. You, gentlemen,
have all been selected for your strong personality traits, be it ethics,
creativity or even stubbornness. But there’s no room for ambivalence, you must
be dogged in your pursuit of power. If we all work together, striving for
recognition and drawing off each other’s strength then we’ll be a whole lot
happier and”, pointing to the two banners, “our desires would have been
satisfied !”
The assembled crowd clapped and
Bernard joined in. Strong words from a strong man, he thought.
According to the programme the rest
of the time was to be spent meeting with members of HOPE and meeting each
other. Bernard had never felt comfortable when meeting strangers but the
speaker’s words had had their desired effect resulting in him displaying a new
bravado.
The first man he approached was keen
to let the people surrounding him digest his well-chosen words, planting HOPE’s
obvious usefulness deep in their cerebellum. Bernard hung on to every syllable,
turning the man’s dialogue into enchanting enticements and powerful promises. Bernard was again riding
high on the rhythmic intonations of the specialists speech but at no point in
the proceedings did he comprehend the hypnotic reality of HOPE’s methodology.
Bernard was driving down a dark alleyway of terra incognito, unaware of the
ambush awaiting him.
Having spoken to several of the
minor speakers Bernard was alive with the vitality of life and left the
building brimming with new ideas and visions of his future guided by HOPE’s
philosophical insights. He stepped onto the walkway outside then held out his
hand to hail a taxi. One immediately pulled up by his feet. As he approached
the door a young woman appeared from nowhere then began to argue with Bernard.
“Hey, Man, this is my taxi ! Get your
own !” Exclaimed the woman.
“No way, I hailed this then you
stepped in ! In my book that’s the work of a thief !” Argued Bernard.
“You what ? You’re accusing me of
‘stealing’ a taxi ? What planet are you from ?” Asked the woman.
“Earth. My planet, my taxi.”
At this point the taxi driver piped
up over his intercom.
“Excuse me you two but I’ve got a
business to run here and don’t have all day to wait around for the conclusion
of yet another lover’s tiff.”
“What ?” The woman and Bernard
exclaimed together.
“You heard.” Replied the driver.
Bernard and the woman looked at each
other.
“Where are you going ?” She asked.
“Downtown, to Murdoch’s Mall.”
Bernard replied, surprising himself at his divulgence of this personal
information.
“OK, let’s share. I’ll go on from
there.” The woman suggested.
“I’m not sure.” The woman winked at
Bernard. “Well, OK but we split the fare.”
“Sure.”
So, they both got in the taxi, got
talking and ended up having coffee together in the mall. Her name was Tekno, a
derivative of her Japanese parent’s love of 1990’s hard-core dance music. They
spent the rest of the afternoon together, sharing their lives and aspirations.
Somewhere in the heavens, looking down upon them, was one fulfilled Cupid,
satisfied with a job well done.
Epilogue.
Bernard and Tekno’s relationship
went from strength to strength, blossoming like a rose in an arid desert. They
entered into the sanctity of wedlock, were blessed with a healthy baby boy and
eventually appeared on Perfect People.
Bernard forgot all about HOPE, kept
his head down and slowly climbed the career ladder without the help of anyone
except his wife and kid.
HOPE, itself, was audited by the
Government on the pretence of tax evasion. Upon investigation it was discovered
to be a front for a militant white supremacist organisation using under-handed
techniques to infiltrate and influence the workers of planet Earth.
Consequently, HOPE was declared illegal.
“(1) Men and women of full age, without any
limitation due to race, nationality or religion, have the right to marry and
found a family. They are entitled to equal rights as to marriage, during
marriage and at it’s dissolution.
(2) Marriage shall be entered into only with
the free and full consent of the intending spouses.
(3) The family is the natural and fundamental
group unit of society and is entitled to protection by society and the State.”
(Article 16, Universal
Declaration of Human Rights, 1948)