Journey to the Center

The time for input had come and gone and with it his opportunity to influence their decision. Not that he’d ever really had the chance. He had registered his concerns as he was instructed, knowing even as he made the appointment that he would be ignored. His input was irrelevant, the decision had already been made. He’s been here too long to be fooled by this sad and predictable attempt at making the employees feel like their concerns had been heard. It was all PR these days.

That was probably the worst part of the whole deal. Knowing that these decisions were being made in conference rooms by people that only cared about the bottom line. The didn’t even have any real long term vision. The only thing that matters is what will boost the bottom line today.How on earth did they expect someone to be able to do their work with the impending doom of whatever random change might save a buck today? And when were they going to get the new pens that had been ordered months ago? It was getting absolutely ridiculous.

But despite his misgivings he’d gone in and talked to his boss, a middle manager. He expected a canned script and wasn’t disappointed. All of his objections to this dollar-driven scheme were overriden with what amounted to “Thank you for caring, but we know better than you do.” Nevermind that he’d done the research saying that replacing internal employees with those contracted through an outside firm was bad for retention of those employees not outsourced. Ignore the fact that turnover at outsourcing firms was notoriously high and they’d be losing training time with each new person, let alone all the data that had never quite been written down. And who knew about the employees these new firms would accept.

At the end of all his carefully articulated arguments, his boss ended the session with platitudes and assurances of passing along his concerns while ushering him quickly out of her office. He watched through her side window and she called someone and started a loud and laughter-filled conversation. There really wasn’t any point in going through all of that, but maybe he could get to sleep at night by telling himself he’d tried. He was the one who had to notify those who were being let go and see the shock on their faces as they realized they weren’t immune to the cutbacks. That was swiftly followed by bitterness at him getting to keep his job. As if he enjoyed coming in to work with the new employees.

He looked up from his paperwork, halting that train of thought. It was time for the monthy staff meeting. The desks outside his office showed that all work had stopped - they were waiting for him. It was odd how strong their sense of time was. He stood and walked out of his office, watching as all the heads slowly turned toward him. The difference between the focus of their glassy eyes and those of the people he’d let go never got easier to see. They may be cheaper, but there was definitely something wrong with working around so much decay.

“Good morning.”

“Nnnnnnng” the zombies replied.

From her position on top of the brick wall, she had a full view of the exercize arena. She watched as the groups of people came together and broke apart, splitting and combining like droplets of water. Some of the groups had organized some sort of improvised sporting event - it appeared that they were using rocks as markers and play tools. Others were standing around, some talking some not, enjoying the fresh air. They were only allowed a few hours of relative freedom from their daily confinement. She looked away, glancing back the way she had come and letting her mind wander back over the trail of her life.

She’d started as an idealist. She knew now that they all did, but at the time the movement had meant something, to her particularly. She’d been passed over time and again for promotions that were rightly hers by a supervisor that spent his time at work belittling her in front of colleagues and trying to get in her pants. When she’d heard whispers of a movement that would help her stand up to the man who made her waking hours a living nightmare, she’d found a meeting to attend.

The speakers had been passionate. They’d exhorted the audience to stand up for what they were guaranteed, what the law provided for them. They explained the small steps that needed to be accomplished every day to make the world a better place, one they would bequeath to their daughters when the time came. She’s been entranced by their obvious belief that their actions could and would make a difference and the possibilities had blossomed before her eyes.

She’d stayed behind to talk to the speakers, asking questions and getting their support for her situation, she’d even named her supervisor. It had started the next day, when she’d heard that he’d been severely beaten the night before. There was a small part of her that wondered at the coincidence, but afterward he was a changed man. She applied her new knowledge and he no longer groped her every time she walked by. She was a believer. After that, she attended the meetings regularly, eventually becoming a featured speaker herself. Somewhere along the way, it had stopped being about liberating and had become something more, something different.

She looked down at her uniform and marvelled at it. It still looked new despite its age, the bars of office shone even on this overcast day. She looked back at the men in the exercize yard, watching as some were separated out by her troops and lined up as the others were shooed back toward their barracks. After the doors were locked and the lines had proceeded into their brick huts, she raised her fist to the sky to signal the order. A voice echoed from the radio attached to her shoulder.

“Start the ovens.”