7.32

Worker 3.6 slumped into his ergonomically-correct office chair, scanning his cubicle for any other signs of life. He flipped over his miniature calendar, rotating it to the correct date and staring at the little pre-packaged quote that underlined the day's number. Another quote from anonymous and Worker 3.6 found he was actually smirking on the outside for a change.

Today was the beginning of his life as a human, and the little rebellion he was ready to wage over his imitation colleagues. He groped around his blur of yellow post-it notes, eventually finding the pad and peeling off a new page. He scrawled across it " I think therefore I am. Not I consume therefore I am. I am not what I eat, wear or use" before signing "anonymous" and his smirking procedure repeated itself.

Worker 3.6 moved toward the line, watching the other workers reach a streamlined logic of movements, which allowed the perfect timing of sugar, coffee and milk distribution without anyone actually coming into contact with the other. He saw this pattern of perfect arithmetic in a new light. One that distanced him from the others, making him feel isolated but unique and he was happy to continue the malfunction.

His analysis was abruptly halted, as Supervisor 2.7 hovered over near his floor space, attempting his reprimand spiel.

" How are you today ?" without waiting for a response, Supervisor 2.7 continued.

" Good. It has come to my attention that you logged in at 7.31 AM this morning. Do you know the appropriate procedure for this protocol?"

"No" replied Worker 3.6. "Explain it to me"

"It is a simple procedure where we extract fifteen minutes of pay from your weekly income."

An independent thought erupted inside Worker 3.6.

" So if I stay back 1 minute does that mean you'll pay me fifteen minutes of overtime?"

" The procedure does not allow for that protocol. You will have to speak to the manager in regards to that. Oh well, enough of this banter. There's work to do."

Another independent thought shot into Worker 3.6's mind. " What fucking banter?"

He was surprised at this sudden emission, expecting an independent thought alarm to sound and several security cameras to zoom in on his head. He was making up for lost time and this was beginning to show. He felt pairs of eyes staring at his face and then through it, analyzing all his brain patterns like some collective cat-scan belonging to a mob of disapproving consumers. Workers devoid of emotion that were ready to exile him from their society.

9.46

Worker 3.6 continued despite this all-consuming paranoia, staring through his computer monitor, hoping to find some 3D object behind it. Occasionally he focused on the flickering neon screen and scanned the new images in front of it, pretending to care about the figures that indicated Directors 1.1 through to 1.3 had just amassed more stock percentages. Occasionally he could see his own face in the reflection, staring back indifferently, looking skeletal and wrinkly. He was beginning to pass his 30 year expiry date.

He picked up one of his data sheets and began to fold it, first into halves and then he folded a corner, developing a nose for his paper aeroplane. This was going to be the one piece of paper he could be proud of as he mockingly aimed it at Supervisor 2.7's door. He imagined Supervisor 2.7 preparing one of his ready-to-serve lectures about office behaviour. Next to his paper aeroplane, Worker 3.6 decided to sketch a likeness of Supervisor 2.7, drawing animated features and a speech bubble telling off one of the workers. He would continue to draw, proving that each of his creations had a life of its own. He enjoyed the crude strokes of his pencil, highlighting the free-handed swirls of delightful scribble. This would stick in his memory bank as proudly as his drawings in infants school, showing that the quality was in the life of a drawing, not in its attention to detail and symmetry.

11.13

He had a call on line 1. The ring tone cut through all other thought patterns. He considered ignoring it for a few moments but that would have been impossible, drawing too much attention to his cubicle. He picked it up, reflexively greeting with his usual introductory dialogue. It was another concerned customer, worrying as usual about the product and the price it reflected.

His paranoia came back as he imagined all 3 of the directors homing in on his little cubicle. The wire-tap on his phone feeding off in 3 directions to each of their offices, revealing all the confidential information he was divulging to the concerned customer.

What if he were to reveal company secrets? Wouldn't that be a slap in the corporate face for them? It certainly represented something they feared. He could remember Supervisor 2.7's words echoing to him in no uncertain terms " What goes on in the office, stays in the office." It was one time where Supervisor 2.7 had bypassed normal office dialogue in order to emphasize the point.

1.47

He had skipped lunch again. It was common practice for a bypassing of lunch and once one did it a few times it was easy just to forget it all together. This meant that there was very little social interaction between the workers other than the occasional hello and an automatic friendly face gesture.

He was able to take notice of them now, watching them work systematically. Each of their faces was glued to a monitor and a right index finger attached to a mouse. The occasional phone call would disrupt their routine but each of them followed the same pattern of interaction with the person on the opposite end.

One figure in the room suddenly caught his attention. Worker 3.9 had actually broken his phone routine, using dialogue that reflected emotion and raising his tone ever so slightly. Worker 3.9 started to sweat profusely and replaced the receiver nervously, making it audible enough for a few workers to hear.

Worker 3.6 looked on as Supervisor 2.7 replaced his receiver and hovered over to Worker 3.9, standing by to make his next reprimand spiel. Worker 3.6 followed after him, causing Supervisor 2.7 to glance behind. Supervisor 2.7 returned his attention to Worker 3.9.

Supervisor 2.7 asked " How are you today?" continuing "Good. I was just monitoring that call you made and apparently you deviated from our normal procedure. In fact you made a grave error in altering our company policy on price reference."

Worker 3.6 interjected " So what are you saying. He's in trouble for being too honest isn't he?

Supervisor 2.7 turned back to speak " This matter does not concern you. I suggest you continue back to your cubicle."

" Well it does concern me. It concerns all of us. All you ever do is give us pages of memos and company policies and fine print just to cover your backsides, hoping we'll continue to bullshit to your customers again."

"The company will not tolerate such behaviour. You consider yourself on another warning." Supervisor 2.7 turned to Worker 3.9.

"That goes for you too. In fact we may need to hold a meeting to discuss this afternoon."

Supervisor 2.7 hovered back to his office. Worker 3.6 moved closer to Worker 3.9

"Don't worry" He waited for Worker 3.9 to look up at him before he sang "No one gives two flying fucks, for the flightiest of fucks could not even meet their needs..." in a varying pitch that made 3.9 laugh.

Some of the other workers came to life, sticking their heads over the partitions. They scanned him for a second and then they all malfunctioned, staring away from their monitors, phones and facsimiles. They pricked their ears up, hoping for more of a song as it broke through the noise of machinery whirring and clicking in repetitive beeps. Worker 3.6 simply just smiled and told them:

"We're only human". As if this would somehow justify this new experience for all of them.

He swaggered over to his cubicle, giving them his best John Wayne impersonation. For the first time in his career he had actually seen the spark in their eyes. They were breaking patterns of body movement and dialogue, communicating with what could only be measured as totally and utterly human responses. This would not continue. They would all eventually return to a conformist routine, but for now, he had their undivided attention and he welcomed it like a collective love. He hoped this interaction wouldn't shudder and malfunction back to the daily program. He had to record it. He grabbed at a pen and scribbled down " Welcome to our rebellion". Then he signed it anonymous. It was time to clock off – 5.01PM