Mr Mazoid Man sweeps passed the Loony Ham as she scratches her head and mutters to herself, - “What I don’t know won’t matter, right?” Mazoid scuttles off to find someone who will listen to him – the words are bubbling upward from that place where no one should know – a grin begins to grow on his face.
Loony Ham slips into her glass cage and immediately begins typing furiously at the keyboard, the screen flickers and springs into life like a lover that she has just caressed. The chattering of her mind is echoed by the clicking of teeth synchronizing with the tapping of the keys of her IBM clone, she imagines that she is a code warrior springing into battle to trap and eliminate those bugs that infest her mind and make her twitch with indignation.
“Can’t tell Mr.Dickhead that nothing works” – no matter she thinks, he wouldn’t notice since he has never used the system and only knows what she tells him, she remembers many a time the hot rush of a wave of embarrassment as Dickhead would spout on about the system’s ability to be able to dynamically map event messages into data tables” what a crock of dung balls” she thought, “What planet did he come from, YOUR ANUS!!”
The system was a series of broken threads that required the poor CSR slobs to massage the messages to get them through – indeed that was their unsung motto, “MASSAGE IS THE MESSAGE” but the what the heck - as she always said, to herself, “what you don’t know can’t hurt you, can it?”
Yes the Dickhead wouldn’t notice if the system was hard-coded just to pass QA’s tests, which it was and by then she pondered, she would have tracked down all those code bugs and have gotten the engineers to code and fix it to make it simple – just like Dickhead had always wanted. “Keep it simple!” he’d said “just like me, eh?” Now what did he mean by that, she pondered awhile until her mental loop was interrupted by a fetch command, the blood slowly drained from her face like a contagious disease.
Osiris steals slowly away from the cacophony which like an unruly rash is breaking out all around him. Another Post Traumatic Software release has done it’s usual belly-up, and like a collection of tortured rabbits the work-force is attempting to correct matters by running around very fast and screaming techno clap trap at each other, Lindy Ham had perfected spinning around in a tight circle very fast, the suction of her personal vortex causes all the paper-work in her office to swirl around her and she quickly grabs at each wastrel document confident that she has the matter in hand.
Osiris recalls the immortal words of the CEO Crinky Bollocks – “we have assembled the finest experienced set of technical staff into our organization” – he would continually say this to the board members who had more money than sense, to the sales team who for three quarters running had managed to sell nothing to nobody, and to potential customers who wandered into the office looking for a place to piss. Crinky thought, it was so sexy that they couldn’t feel the exquisite “hand-in-their-pocket’ as he executed the “lemon squeezer” on their testicles, ah but life was grand and he was driving a BMW series 8 with GSP.
Having escaped the madness, Osiris lurches hesitantly towards his chair grabbing it with an overwhelming sense of relief. The familiarity of his own chaotic desktop fills him with the sense of something real. Osiris presses his PC into life; its hard-drive starts to hum spinning around at some ridiculous speed while Heisenberg’s uncertainty principal prevents his screen from becoming a giant vagina as he observes it!
The air around his desk starts to feel electric, a quantum probability wave collapses behind his head, and a strange feeling of deja-vu overwhelms his mind. Is this really happening or is he being manipulated, after all he really doesn’t want to be here with these strange creatures from the office lagoon.