Bring out your dead!

I’ve been instructed to tell you that I am still alive – at least nominally. On the other hand, I could just be a clone and my original body has been origamied into the freezer we keep in the archive for some reason. There’s a hefty lock on it and nobody seems to know where the key is, so short of bringing in my bolt-cutters, I can only speculate.

I do know that my company will be in weapons-grade doo-doo if I expire before completing my current project, so while they are invested in keeping me functional, the task deadlines are stupidly unreasonable and that places some rather onerous demands on my time.

Home life continues to emulate a kinetic sculpture fashioned out of a spinning fan and ballistic turd launcher and I’m not strong enough to get into that just yet. What do we say to the God of Disaster? Not today!

Curmunication

On a scale of one to Muriel, I’m terrible. I’m no neurologist, but I suspect my mouth is connected directly to my brainstem. It often runs way ahead of my crippled cerebellum and by the time my two long-suffering brain cells arrive on the scene, the valves controlling the floodgates of consequence have been smashed to tiny bits.

My burial in the nether regions of the office is starting to feel normal. The solitude is helpful in moderating my more self-destructive impulses when dealing with management. I have more time to Think About What I Have Done and it gives me the opportunity to spend quality time bonding with the rat that lives in my hard-hat.

The stimulus deprivation hallucinations are fun, too.

Intermission

Time for a break from all the boo hoo.

So I had a fruitful weekend, and by “fruitful” I mean I spent it dicking around on the computer. I asked Bing’s AI image creator to take a shot at producing its version of the other side of the mountain, based on a rudimentary description. I was not disappointed:

It looks like an advert for schizophrenia awareness.

The other two characters are pretty spot-on, but it didn’t quite capture me. I’m much, much uglier and I only smile when I’m having my prostate checked.

The daily double

Human cloning is still allegedly in the realm of science fiction, but I have my suspicions that we have a working prototype hidden in a dusty corner somewhere in the archive.

There has been a noticeable trend in the company where managers become progressively more unhinged as time goes by. I can only conclude that we are experiencing a Multiplicity type scenario – where the copies make copies of themselves and each subsequent copy loses resolution in the process.

Either that, or someone has dosed the executive lounge water cooler with hallucinogens again.

Time machine

If I had some input into the planning of how I’m supposed to allocate my time to various tasks, corporate life wouldn’t be so dire. Unfortunately, the top-down approach usually ends up being something like the project management equivalent of trying to pack a week’s worth of clothing into an overnight bag. Sacrifices need to be made – and I’m not just talking about my sanity and will to live.

The terrifying truth is that this is typical for the industry. Think about that the next time you drive across a bridge. Maybe pack some brown trousers in your overnight bag.