The Design God
We’re down to the wire now. Tomorrow the review board will focus their arc lamps upon me and judge the efficacy of my labors.
My reaction? An impenetrable self-righteousness. My willful (and liberal) use of non-party propaganda during earlier presentations provoked much uneasy stirring among their ranks. To be precise, I referred to our earnest corps of workers as “[our] dedicated team of trained monkeys.”
Now I see my latest composition circulating much farther from my desk than I’ve intended, eventually finding itself among the true company troglodytes—those whose faces have never been blighted by even the hint of a genuine smile. And when these drones espy my wayward child, they look at one another with sparring-eyebrows cocked, yet say nothing.
I laugh in the face of their consternation. “Perhaps they have forgotten,” I bark with sudden irascibility, “that if they don’t enjoy the compositions then they’re free to bite me. In fact I invite them to bite me!”
Heads turn to where I was standing a moment before, but I’ve already left the room, bored with their puerile games.
Or maybe it would be more effective if I just pictured them naked.
Related Tales
» “Tragedy” (22 of Feb, 2006)
» “Automaton” (31 of Dec, 2005)
» “Slow” (12 of Dec, 2005)
Comments
egads!! this is creepy, even Kafkaesque as they say. creepier still sinceI have some idea of who you are talking about although much to my relief I remain outside (but not too far outside) of the monetizing mania. it lurks around every corner there at the glamorized warehouse.
quoth Wendy on 28 of Jan, 2003