Hey, Jim, and you know who you are...

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Hey, man, she's got ice in her eyes and they look like shiny new dimes as she puts something in her coffee with an eyedropper.  Liquid pills, Jim, liquid pills, and her grin breaks and goes all jagged a few minutes later.  "Time to go to work!", she sings, and her grin gets even weirder.  Then she's off to the morgue for another exciting day of finding out why Suzy Rottencrotch died in an alley on 12th avenue at 3AM, at the ripe old age of 19.

She, like a few other people I could mention, can only function with the help of The Spider.  Without the calm he brings, she'd shatter like glass the first time she stepped off the curb.

This century was not designed for the convenience of domesticated primates, as one old hippie said, and it's gotten to the point where we all need enhancements to function at our assigned tasks.  I mean, I guess they're enhancements, in the same way that nitrous oxide enhances a motor...it makes it run like a mad bastard for a while, and you can beat the whole goddamned world with one arm tied behind your soul, but it ain't exactly good for the engine.  Eventually, the whole works blows up, and you have to haul it out and rebuild it.

But where do you rebuild a human, Jim?  Is there a shop somewhere where you can send someone like her or me or you, to get those blown rings and burned valves re-machined?  If you know of a place, I'm all ears.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.  The future was supposed to make life easier, to let humans enjoy themselves, fuck it, let the robots do all the shit work, and we'll all become DaVincis and Wagners, right?  Well, the future is here, and it took us somewhere other than what we were led to expect.  Sure, we have gadgets, fuck, we've got more gadgets than we know what to do with, but gadgets aren't what we needed.

What we needed was to catch our breath, to relax a bit, and maybe enjoy life a little.  The Spider says you can do that, but first there's more work to be done.  Just one more bend in the road, and we're there...But Curly knew better, you could see it in his manic grin, the same way you could see it in Einstein's haunted eyes.

But there's no point worrying about it, Jim, because worrying takes time and time is money and money is your SCORE, right?  It's the basis by which you will be judged, and if you can't be a pinball wizard like Bill Gates, you can at least score well enough to keep that monkey on your back from screeching and chattering and whispering horrible secrets in your ear.

I wonder what she has in that eyedropper, Jim.  I ought to find out...It may help me reach my own personal high score.

Or Kill Me.

[LMNO]

                                        No TIME!
              -High score-
Work/Study – Year end review.  Gotta keep going.
     A third of the team was laid off—
                                                                    --"Performance related," they said--   
                       Workload increased
                                            (no bonuses)
BUT THERE'S FREE COFFEE IN THE BREAK ROOM.

                                                            Just got word they're recording to the minute 
                                                                                     When we log on to the computer.
                'metrics' they call it.
                but we all know 
                  our paychecks
                 are linked to the clock.
 
                                                                             Joe's kid got sick yesterday.
                                                                                           Coughing up blood.
                                               He just sat there at home, wiping dark red phlegm
                                                                        from his bottom lip
                                                                                           until Joe's shift ended.
We're there to make a better life for ourselves
sitting in the office abattoir   
                       waiting at the paper trough
        trying to avoid Upper Management's electric prodding
                                                     and clenching our bowels,
waiting for the mandatory bathroom break.
 
                                                                        This is why we went to college, after all.
                                                                          To earn those tickets.
                                                                             To get the high score.
                                                                               To pay off the debts
                                                                                 We accrued getting the education
                                                                                    We needed to pay off our debts.
   
   I think they're putting something in my cereal.
        In the morning, my mouth is filled with sweetness,
     and then – nothing – and I find myself on the bus – and then
                    - nothing, and I find myself staring at the retina-burning monitor – 
 -and then- 
                                                              -nothing-
                                                                                                        -and then-
                             -home again, watching TV – and then –






...and then...








                                                                                 ...and then...















                        ...and then...

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Someone PDF that shit.

[LMNO]

It's (k), incidentally.  Have at it.

[Reginald Ret]

holey fucknuts, pd is getting awesomer and awesomer.

[Roaring Biscuit!]

Oh you boys, complaining over a silly little thing like that. 

Mummy makes all the effort of going to the doctors and getting you all the right medicines because you feel strange at work and you start moaning over memories.  If that's what it takes for me to get you to work on time then that's what I'll do, and there's no two ways about it.  Sometimes I feel like all I've raised are spoilt little brats, complaining over a silly side-effect, but then, I know my little darlings are just a little distracted sometimes.  The doctor says he can help with that too, you'll make Mummy so proud.

Don't worry about those memories, the past will only make you cry, or smile inappropriately, and we can't have that can we, we don't want the bigger boys to think you're being insolent now do we?

You just keep those stray thoughts quiet and be on time, work hard, make Mummy proud.

Mummy loves you very much.

Mummy loves you to death.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Don't worry about those memories, the past will only make you cry, or smile inappropriately,

Mostly.  Sometimes it gives you nightmares for 20 years, but what's a few bad dreams?  We'll do you proud, you just keep those little yellow pills coming, yes, Ma'am, we'll keep dancing and singing and nailing that pouch shut with 2" brads if we have to, there's no time to look at what we shoved in there and why.  We'll keep climbing that damned cliff, and if once in a while one of us loses our grip and falls, well, you can't build a New American Century™ without breaking a few eggs, right?

And when they fall, it's not so bad.  They stay quiet, all the way down.  You can almost pretend that they weren't even there to begin with.

[Richter]

Trick out your own mind.
Drug free health nut meditating, overclocking.
Tea Tea Tea Ginko biloba and ginseng isntead of amphetamine derivatives, benzodiazapines, straight black coffee.

Higher IQ?  Maybe.  Those brainboys get quirky after awhile.  Better of they can work those OCD style manic states into shuffling data though! 
A few well squished savants will do more for a company than the equivalent money in pills.

Yoga to keep the stress down, relaxation exercises to chill you thought a day face to face to phone with asshole?

The Spider just looks in on it all.  He marvels how some people will wrap themselves tighter with what could pull them away, chuckles about how amny pills he's saved, and skitters off to see who may need a dose.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Trick out your own mind.
Drug free health nut meditating, overclocking.
Tea Tea Tea Ginko biloba and ginseng isntead of amphetamine derivatives, benzodiazapines, straight black coffee.

Higher IQ?  Maybe.  Those brainboys get quirky after awhile.  Better of they can work those OCD style manic states into shuffling data though! 
A few well squished savants will do more for a company than the equivalent money in pills.

Yoga to keep the stress down, relaxation exercises to chill you thought a day face to face to phone with asshole?

The Spider just looks in on it all.  He marvels how some people will wrap themselves tighter with what could pull them away, chuckles about how amny pills he's saved, and skitters off to see who may need a dose.

The Spider doesn't care how you adjust, just that you adjust to the situation, rather than the other way around.

And when you finally blow up, you'll be just another inkstain on the bottom line.

[LMNO]

Oh you boys, complaining over a silly little thing like that.  

Mummy makes all the effort of going to the doctors and getting you all the right medicines because you feel strange at work and you start moaning over memories.  If that's what it takes for me to get you to work on time then that's what I'll do, and there's no two ways about it.  Sometimes I feel like all I've raised are spoilt little brats, complaining over a silly side-effect, but then, I know my little darlings are just a little distracted sometimes.  The doctor says he can help with that too, you'll make Mummy so proud.

Don't worry about those memories, the past will only make you cry, or smile inappropriately, and we can't have that can we, we don't want the bigger boys to think you're being insolent now do we?

You just keep those stray thoughts quiet and be on time, work hard, make Mummy proud.

Mummy loves you very much.

Mummy loves you to death.

^^^
^^^
^^^
^^^ THIS is a disturbing, and good, new direction to explore.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Oh you boys, complaining over a silly little thing like that.  

Mummy makes all the effort of going to the doctors and getting you all the right medicines because you feel strange at work and you start moaning over memories.  If that's what it takes for me to get you to work on time then that's what I'll do, and there's no two ways about it.  Sometimes I feel like all I've raised are spoilt little brats, complaining over a silly side-effect, but then, I know my little darlings are just a little distracted sometimes.  The doctor says he can help with that too, you'll make Mummy so proud.

Don't worry about those memories, the past will only make you cry, or smile inappropriately, and we can't have that can we, we don't want the bigger boys to think you're being insolent now do we?

You just keep those stray thoughts quiet and be on time, work hard, make Mummy proud.

Mummy loves you very much.

Mummy loves you to death.

^^^
^^^
^^^
^^^ THIS is a disturbing, and good, new direction to explore.

Yeah, that's been bouncing around the inside of my cranium since it was posted. 

[Doktor Howl]

Bump.  We never did do anything with that.

[Richter]

Expand the metaphor maybe?  Perscription drugs, diagnoses and the cultural of medical treatment as a current day way of seeking eternal preservation.  Viagra and implants instead of natron and linen?

[Payne]

In a cheap consumerist society, where if something lasts for more than five minutes someone is bound to ask "But surely you're sacrificing performance for reliability?", we are all encouraged into becoming our own monuments.

Our bodies themselves are the statues and carvings and frescoes of our modern "renaissance". We must be beautiful. We must perform. We must reflect the might of our collective philosophy.

We are told that we are individually as the very gods of ancient Rome were (or can be, if we take this pill). Reminded at every turn that The Good Citizen is amongst many things A Virile Lover, Has Perfect Skin, Has Perfect Teeth, Perfect Clothes Perfect Car Perfect Kids Perfect, Perfect, Perfect... BUT ONLY IF YOU BUY THIS FANTASTIC CREAM NOW, BUY ONE GET ONE FREE!

For only then can we be immortal. Only by being these things, and having these dreams, can we be considered worthy of The Futures admiration. Only by having these things can we ever hope to attract a mate and reproduce.

Culture: It's For The Children!

[Doktor Howl]

Hey, man, she's got ice in her eyes and they look like shiny new dimes as she puts something in her coffee with an eyedropper.  Liquid pills, Jim, liquid pills, and her grin breaks and goes all jagged a few minutes later.  "Time to go to work!", she sings, and her grin gets even weirder.  Then she's off to the morgue for another exciting day of finding out why Suzy Rottencrotch died in an alley on 12th avenue at 3AM, at the ripe old age of 19.

She, like a few other people I could mention, can only function with the help of The Spider.  Without the calm he brings, she'd shatter like glass the first time she stepped off the curb.

This century was not designed for the convenience of domesticated primates, as one old hippie said, and it's gotten to the point where we all need enhancements to function at our assigned tasks.  I mean, I guess they're enhancements, in the same way that nitrous oxide enhances a motor...it makes it run like a mad bastard for a while, and you can beat the whole goddamned world with one arm tied behind your soul, but it ain't exactly good for the engine.  Eventually, the whole works blows up, and you have to haul it out and rebuild it.

But where do you rebuild a human, Jim?  Is there a shop somewhere where you can send someone like her or me or you, to get those blown rings and burned valves re-machined?  If you know of a place, I'm all ears.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.  The future was supposed to make life easier, to let humans enjoy themselves, fuck it, let the robots do all the shit work, and we'll all become DaVincis and Wagners, right?  Well, the future is here, and it took us somewhere other than what we were led to expect.  Sure, we have gadgets, fuck, we've got more gadgets than we know what to do with, but gadgets aren't what we needed.

What we needed was to catch our breath, to relax a bit, and maybe enjoy life a little.  The Spider says you can do that, but first there's more work to be done.  Just one more bend in the road, and we're there...But Curly knew better, you could see it in his manic grin, the same way you could see it in Einstein's haunted eyes.

But there's no point worrying about it, Jim, because worrying takes time and time is money and money is your SCORE, right?  It's the basis by which you will be judged, and if you can't be a pinball wizard like Bill Gates, you can at least score well enough to keep that monkey on your back from screeching and chattering and whispering horrible secrets in your ear.

I wonder what she has in that eyedropper, Jim.  I ought to find out...It may help me reach my own personal high score.

Or Kill Me.

Bump for use on burners.