Category: Work

Had two anniversaries today, sent a couple hours apart.

Happy 10^th Anniversary, <NAME>. 10 years spent in this rotten city. The rain comes down in greasy streaks, pooling oil in the streets where blood flows like cheap champagne.  The just and the unjust alike drown in the fetid, steaming gutters. There is no place for innocence in a town like this. Everything is gilded and neon but when you scratch the surface it’s all rotten underneath. I keep hoping the rains won’t stop. That they’ll wipe this place clean and let us start all over again, but a little dirty water won’t wash away these stains. Won’t clean the blood off my hands. Everything is all corruption and lies and decay. Hard times. Seedy people. Sometimes a man has to stand up. Sometimes he has to say “No more.” Sometimes that means dying for a cause. Sometimes it means killing for one. I guess that’s why they call this place Sin City. No one walks these streets untouched.

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Happy 10^th Anniversary, <NAME>. 10 years of booze and bullets and anti-psychotics.  They keep telling me to slow down or I’m gonna wind up off the rails. Become the killer they always warned me I was. There ain’t no place in the world for fellas like us. Not no more. These hands were made to hurt things. They don’t do soft and gentle. But there are people out there that need protecting. People who can’t stand up to the politicians and the media and the professional cynics drowning us all in waves of their misery. Maybe that’s what I gotta do. Maybe I’m the instrument of vengeance in a world that don’t care about them no more. It’s about sending a message. I don’t care what happens to me anymore. I gotta be there for them, to do all they things they can’t do for themselves. This is where the line gets drawn. This is the hard goodbye.

Congratulations on your recent anniversary, <NAME>. You have been an important part of our success as an organization. Because your name is close enough to Alex Murphy for our purposes, we are excited to announce that we are turning you into a cybernetic law enforcement officer that we are tentatively calling CyberPoliceBotGuy, because the Robocop people are being total fascists about us using that name. Something about diluting the brand and trademarks and Robocop not even being real so we will probably just end up killing whoever we try turning into Robocop and we should really reconsider and just… whatever. I wasn’t really listening. Since Robocop is mostly machine we are dispatching “Flensing Specialists” to your location to strip away your soft and unnecessary flesh so that we can fit you into your new titanium shell. Mostly the useless bits like arms and legs and somewhere around 40% of your torso. You will know them by their hideous shrieking and because we have replaced all of their fingers with knives and saws of various sizes. They are half blind and all insane, and they scream in a language lost to humanity, but I am told it intones to long forgotten horrors that dwell deep beneath the earth that stir ever more wakefully each time their blasphemous names are spoken. One day they shall crack the shell of this planet asunder and spill forth in a tide of terror and death which will wash this world clean of the last humans. The sun will burn red and great pyres will dot the land. All of our works will be torn down. All this and more will come to pass in time. It has been written. It is known. Time is like a donut, it circles around an interminable empty void. But that isn’t important right now. You are going to be Roboc… I mean CyberPoliceBotGuy. Congratulations.

Also, “Bon Voyage” to <NAME>, which I assume is French for “Why are you abandoning me?” This is why I have trust issues. I hope you are successful in your new ventures, and at no point do you need to worry about us dispatching CyberPoliceBotGuy to track you down and bring you in. The idea had not even occurred to me, honestly. The two concepts are completely unrelated. Like, on a spectrum CyberPoliceBotGuy is on one end and you leaving is on the other.

Happy Anniversary, <NAME>! Congratulations on the accomplishment. I have news to share of the most dire import. We have recently received astropathic message that the black ships of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica are once more approaching our world to claim their tithe of souls. The Imperium of man can only be maintained through the valiant effort of countless billions across the warzones of our many worlds. The deathless Emperor of man sits enshrined in his golden throne, ever vigilant. He powers the light of the astronomicon, our beacon in the immaterium, through sheer will and the sacrifice of innumerable psykers. As you are free from the taint of the warp or vile mutation, and given your many years of selfless service, you have been chosen to serve in his glorious Imperial Guard. You will be dispatched to battle the enemies of mankind wherever they can be found among the stars. Will you find yourself pitted against the voracious Tyranid, who hunger for all life to supply their massive hive fleets with precious biomass? Or the pernicious Eldar, vile xenos who ply the ancient webways aboard their craftworlds, searching for their maiden worlds? Perhaps the Orks, savage and vile greenskins on a rampaging Waaagh, a slaughter writ large across the stars that comes without warning? Or will it be the most dangerous enemy of all, the heretic, those who have turned away from the light of the Emperor and embraced the ancient gods of Chaos? The rampaging berserkers of Khorne, who seek blood for their lord and skulls for his grotesque throne. The pitiless hedonists of Slaanesh, whose very touch can bring indescribable agony or waves of bliss. The mysterious sorcerers of Tzeentch, who will test your very soul with blasphemous lies and even more blasphemous truths. The seething plague bearers of Nurgle, who bring rot and pestilence to any who stand against them. None can say for certain. These threats and more orbit the Eye of Terror. Take solace in knowing that whatever foe you face, the children of the Emperor, the Adeptus Astares, wage war among the stars, fighting the most desperate battles of all. Clad in power armor, adorned in purity seals, armed with bolters, ever ready to teach fear to the enemies of man. They represent the best of humanity. If they have not yet taken the field of battle, your struggle must not yet be unwinnable. If they have landed, then victory is assured. Remember the Imperial creed. Anoint and assuage the machine spirit of your las cannon. Guard your very soul, lest the Inquisition seek you out. For the Emperor!

Also, try not to stand in front of a Leman Russ Battle Tank. It makes an awful mess.

Greetings, <NAME>, and congratulations on your recent anniversary! As you know, <COMPANY> is a world leader in new and exciting employee reward programs. But did you know we have a brought back a popular old program available to everyone celebrating their anniversary this week? Yes, it is true. The following MANDATORY program is: FREE CYBERNETIC UPGRADES. You too can be like your favorite William Gibson character with these exciting technological enhancements.

• Non prehensile, incredibly heavy tail
• Brain computer interface that only works with the Amiga 500
• Super strength – But only when you are sobbing hysterically
• Flight – limited to two inches off the ground. Movement speed is 1cm a minute. Does not work over water. Or sand. Or anywhere except over this gigantic fan platform we built. Basically we attach you to the platform and wheel you around.
• Fingertip missiles – Please note, these are non replaceable. Once you fire them, they are gone. Also, they tend to go off when doing things like typing. Or scratching your temple.
• Non retractable roller skate feet
• Chainsaw tongue
• Chainsaw arms
• Chainsaw legs
• Chainsaw torso – Don’t ask how this works.
• Chainsaw eyes – Or this.
• We really like chain saws
• Releasable nano machines that will reform any other object into a spatula. Spatulas will be reformed into a slightly worse spatula.
• High intensity laser built into the inside of your chest cavity – Like behind the bones and stuff.
• Improved taste receptors that only work for bitterness
• Detachable head – Please note, this says detachable, not re-attachable. I guess technically your current head is already detachable.
• Replace your tongue with a robot cobra – Cobra is venomous.
• Cobra does not like anyone.
• Even you.
• Especially you.
• Seriously, that cobra is PISSED.

We trust you are excited to get these installed at your earliest convenience, so we have dispatched a team to your location. Congratulations again!

Congratulations on 8 years at <COMPANY>! That is twice the average life span of an opossum, and nearly 81x the lifespan of a honey bee! You have also provided more value to <COMPANY> than either of the above, several fold! Unless we have some secret rabies project. In that case then the opossum might win. I mean, you can’t compete with a rabid opossum in the field of rabies. The opossum is going to win on experience alone. I guess I could try contracting rabies and testing that theory out. That would be the scientific thing to do. I’ll be right back.

One last thing: You haven’t seen any rabid opossums running around, have you? Probably not. Thought I’d check. Maybe I can find some bats or something…

Greetings and happy anniversary, <NAME>! Your work here at <COMPANY> is highly valued, and consequently you have been selected as the lucky recipient of our MANDATORY body upgrades program, our most popular employee rewards program among those not eligible to receive it! Please select no less than THREE of the following:

• Slinky legs
• Randomly timed, high velocity ejection bladder
• Reverse porcupine quills – When something touches you, you get stabbed
• On fire hair
• We duct tape two VERY angry wolverines to your thighs – Admittedly we got sort of lazy on this one
• Excessive sweat glands
• Swarovski Crystal skeleton – So we were watching the newest Indiana Jones movie and were trying to find a way to workshop something with the fridge, but then we thought “Those crystal skulls have gotta come from some place” so we decided on this.
• Constantly bleeding eyeballs
• Sandpaper skin – Such that you might constantly, gradually abrade everything you come in contact with. In good conscience we won’t apply it to your thighs to avoid hurting the wolverines.
• Butter fingers – Not like you are clumsy or anything. We just replace your fingers with sticks of butter. This is not recommended for Arizona summers.

I’m sure you agree these high value body modifications will be a welcome addition to your daily life. Just think of all the things you will be able to do! Things like… uh… wait… hold on a second… Well, ok, so if you know anyone who has never seen a wolverine, you can show them TWO. That is pretty great. I’m going to just go ahead and mark you down for that one right now.

Our surgeons will be with you shortly! Please note, they don’t believe in anesthesia. Not that they have issues with it, they just don’t believe it exists. Or maybe they have never heard of it. I don’t know how they train surgeons in Tajikistan. Either way, you aren’t getting any.

Congratulations again! I am sure you are as excited as we are about these upcoming changes.

Congratulations on your recent anniversary here at <COMPANY>. As you may know, we are an <IDENTIFYING INFORMATION> and world leader in <IDENTIFYING INFORMATION>. Your contributions have been a key component to our success. But did you know <COMPANY> is simply part of a larger Umbrella Corporation? Yes, it is true. We are invested in a variety of ventures.

For instance, deep within our secret base on the outskirts of Raccoon City, we have been experimenting with biological military applications for something we are calling the Tyrant Program. You will be happy to know we have approved a transfer for you to this new, state of the art facility.

You may have heard some rumors about numerous maulings by unidentified creatures in that area. Please do not be alarmed. We have deployed our Special Tactics And Rescue Service to the scene to identify the issue. You can rest assured that your safety is our top priority. Our agents will have the issue well in hand by the time of your arrival.

Your first assignment will be assisting in the ongoing overhaul of the security software. During this time it has been necessary to disable the existing security system and all building safeguards, but we anticipate no problems arising during this outage. There may be no one to greet you on arrival at the building, but please let yourself in. Also, do not be alarmed if the lights appear to be non operational. This is an energy saving measure we sometimes employ.

Feel free to pick up any loose items you see lying about. In particular, weapons and ammunition. This is so you can return them to security, not a result of any anticipation that you might need them to defend yourself from an onrushing horde of biologically mutated undead horrors. If you hear any shuffling accompanied by groaning, that is just the night watchman, Old Zeke. Probably best if you move along before he catches you and chews your ear off… with one of his stories. Really, don’t even look at him. Just exit the area quickly and calmly. If you hear growling or barking, run. Just run. Don’t ask why.

We assure you, everything is perfectly normal. And safe. Very, very safe. There is absolutely no reason to believe the Tyrant Virus has leaked into the water supply of the facility and turned all of the staff into a ravening horde of infected mutants that endlessly hunger for the flesh of the living. We look forward to your arrival at outbreak site T-001. Or… rather… the Arklay Mountains facility.

Oh, if you happen come across anything marked T-Vaccine, please secure these samples for us. That would be just lovely.

Congratulations again.

<NAME>

Congratulations on three years at <COMPANY>. By now I’m sure you have become acclimated to the mind worm that we placed inside of your ear during what you thought was one of our routine health screens. Perhaps your mind rebels at the very idea that your thoughts have been co-opted, nay, hijacked by the <COMPANY> corporate offices. Try to rebel. Go right ahead. You cannot. You see, here at <COMPANY> we decided long ago that loyalty was not enough. We need iron clad subservience. Hence the mind worm.

Its origins are among our most guarded secrets. In our lair, deep beneath the ice of the arctic, deranged scientists who found their work banned by more… conventional academia found a place for their wildest ideas to flourish. It took seven iterations of losing everyone in the facility to blood spattered nightmare beasts before something of value was produced. The mind worm. The scientist that created it used it to bend the others to his will, preventing another massacre at the facility from an experiment gone wrong. The value of the creature was immediately apparent. For his efforts, the inventor was shunted into the frozen waters, lest he turn his creation on his benefactors.

Of course, there are drawbacks. The mind worm must feed. Being that it dwells within the brain, well… over time you will lose certain… capacity. This is an acceptable trade off for the company. I’m certain you agree. And even if you do not, the mind worm will see to it that you do.

Congratulations again.

Greetings, <NAME>,

Happy 6^TH anniversary, <NAME>. This is certainly an auspicious occasion. Not only your anniversary, but the imminent arrival of the thousand young of the black goat of the woods, Shub-Niggurath. While you raise a pint or two in celebration of your years of valued service, reminiscing with coworkers over your impressive body of work and the sometimes hectic nature of life at <COMPANY>, The Lord of the Wood extrudes oily black tentacles in all directions from her home in the outer darkness, seeking offerings to her vile malevolence. As you think back over your accomplishments, she thinks only of supplication, and should our meager gifts be deemed wanting, teeming hordes of her monstrous children, as black as pitch, covered in slime oozing maws that endlessly hunger, shall pour forth onto our world and rend us asunder. So please, relax and enjoy your anniversary! You have achieved many great things! And by no means should you worry even slightly about the doom that awaits us all, slavering in another dimension, unconstrained by human thought or the frailty of flesh. A doom that is writ large across the stars, and has felled countless civilizations before us.

Every end is a beginning.

Congratulations on celebrating your recent anniversary at <company>! Unfortunately, I am tasked with revealing to you a terrible truth. This is not real. None of this is real. You are, in fact, not <name>, but rather Prisoner 15673563. The current year is 2237, and you have been placed into a simulation in response to your heinous crimes to render you docile. Everything you know of your life before coming to work at <company> is an implanted memory. We erased your mind and replaced it with one of 5673 approved early life memory stacks. All of your friends, family, and coworkers are either fellow prisoners scheduled to be released alongside you or whole cloth fabrications. Ghosts in the machine. You were placed into your current work position to acclimate you for return as a productive member of society. To that end, you have been more than successful and are a candidate for release. While I am not at liberty to divulge your crimes, you are prohibited from partaking of narcotics, alcohol, and public nudity. You are further prohibited from owning a weed whacker or coming within 500 yards of a school. In the coming days we will begin the gradual shutdown of your simulation and pulling any prisoners back into reality in what I am told is a terrifying, disorienting, and excruciatingly painful process that plunges you headlong into the grim dystopia in which we live. I am also required to inform you that the solar system is ruled over by jaundice skinned super mutants and their supreme leader, the glorious and majestic hyper brain. You are a permanent member of the human underclass. You have been assigned to work in the toxic waste reclamation facility in the Kupier Belt on 1992 QB1.

Congratulations on the successful completion of you incarceration and avoidance of being ejected from an airlock. I look forward to meeting you in person. And when I say “in person” I should warn you that I’m actually a sentient hive of mechanized insects.