Happy 9 year anniversary, <employee name>! In recognition of your service, you have been awarded the following mandatory award: CYBERNETIC IMPLANTS. Please choose three of the following:
_ Buzz saw hands
_ Buzz saw feet
_ Buzz saw eyes
_ Buzz saw large intestine (we had a rather large shipment of buzz saws sent to us in error)
_ Laser eyebrows
_ Ear implant that plays Olivia Newton John’s top 40 hit Physical on endless repeat
_ Aluminum bones
_ Acid spit (please note we cannot make the rest of your mouth immune to acid)
_ Completely non-functional steel wings
_ LED holiday antlers
_ Forearm mounted cassette deck with Gloria Estefan mix tape
_ Explosive knee caps
Our doctors will be along shortly to prep you for surgery. Actually, I’m not legally allowed to call them doctors. Or Engineers. Or technicians. One of them has read one third of a William Gibson novel, so we should be set.
This is the first in a series of replies I have sent out on receiving a company wide email asking me to congratulate someone on an employment anniversary.
Congratulations on reaching your 11th year of service with <company>. As you may know, the average solar cycle lasts 11 years. You may wonder what the two have common. In your special case, your anniversary coincides with an event of dire cosmic importance. Our <company> Archaeological specialists uncovered certain tablets in their digging. Tablets that point to an… occurrence. On the 11th hour of your 11th year something was opened. We do not yet know what it is. A gateway to another world. Perhaps another dimension. The last team we sent to investigate simply… disappeared. Their last garbled transmissions consisted of nightmarish screaming. Inhuman screaming. The video that was captured showed a creature that was nothing but fangs and tentacles and smoke and shadow. We have further translated the stones, and the beast has a name. The ancients called it “The <last name>”, and it seeks something called “The Unification”. The few pictographs we found in the ancient, vine choked ruins of the Temple of Eternal Suffering that have not been worn smooth by the passage of time or scarred into an unreadable mess by constant sacrifice on their pitted, blood crusted surfaces show the creature needs a host. A vessel specially prepared to hold it. A vessel that shares its name. Once joined the ancients wrote that it will begin The Thousand Years of Torment, an age of interminable darkness and destruction that will turn our world to a smoking ruin. You have doomed us all.