Thursday, March 24, 2016

Story 127: Sadistic Lottery Scratch-Off Ticket Creator



            You think all those lottery scratch-off tickets are generated by some non-sentient computer?
           You presume incorrectly.  That stuff is outsourced, like everything else, only this went to a human instead of a computer, because computers can’t be programmed to be evil.  Yet.
            Remember THAW: The House Always Wins.  Life would be so much easier for everyone if they only understood that universal truth, but they all strangely think that they can beat a system that is specifically designed for them to fail.  The few who do win are allowed to only so the authorities can’t call "Shenanigans!" on the whole thing.
            In my field, I am an artist.  Just because my subject is numbers and my medium is silvery film, those do not make it any less of an art.  My task is to create an infinite combination of losers, with a dash of the hope of a win that culminates in that much larger magnitude of defeat.
            My favorite is choosing numbers that are one digit away from the winning set they are supposed to match.  Ah, I can just hear the screams of loss resonating across gas stations and convenience stores everywhere.
            I also like making up the little clip art the scratched-off film reveals, just like a slot machine, except with more effort and less noise.  One time I snuck in dirty pictures on every twentieth ticket just to see what would happen, but I never heard any complaints so I guess no one noticed.  Either that or they were too ashamed to show the proof: I also had had the numbers arranged to spell out the word “LOSER” upside-down (30% chance that that would hit the target).
            No, I have never played the lottery and I never will: I know too much.  It’s also illegal for me to play since I work for the organizers, so that’s that.  My advice, though, for those who love to gamble: save your money from the established systems (state lotteries, casinos, etc.) and only make bets that you know you will win, like betting that you will never make enough of the money that you really need.
            That’s an odds-on favorite.

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Story 126: Industrial Revolution Charter School



(Severe-looking schoolmistress faces a family of four)
Schoolmistress: Welcome to the Industrial Revolution Charter School.  You made the right decision in enrolling with us: our philosophy is that there will be no whiny, weak, sissy-baby children or parents in any of the families who participate in our program.  Any signs of cowardice or self-pity will be drilled out of you with our regime of good old-fashioned backbreaking labor and deprivation.
(Family of four move to a two-room shack and sleep on the floor.  At 4:00 a.m., Schoolmistress blows a whistle by their ears)
Schoolmistress: Rise and shine before the sun does, my lovelies!  Move!  Move!  Move!
(The family rushes through their breakfast of cold gruel and walk five miles to school in the pre-dawn hours, accompanied by Schoolmistress shouting encouragement from her buggy)
Schoolmistress: Literally uphill both ways!  Ahahahahaha!
(The school is a factory)
Schoolmistress: Today, children, you will be using your wee fingers to run thread through machines for 14 hours, while Mom and Dad will be using whichever developed muscles they may or may not have to haul coal and work the assembly line of whatever textile is being manufactured here.  There will be one 15-minute break for food, but you will then need to make that time up at the end of the day.  Even though this is school, you technically are working so you will each receive 12¢ by shift’s end – I suggest you spend it on food to fuel yourselves for the next day of work.
(As the family work in the factory, Schoolmistress issues orders through a bullhorn from the upstairs office)
Schoolmistress: Faster!  No slackening the pace or you’ll be terminated!  Just push any creative or lazy thoughts out of your mind and focus on the task at hand!  You’re not being paid to dream on duty!
(At the end of the day, the exhausted family walk home through coal dust for the full effect.  They collapse on the floor of the shack’s main room)
Schoolmistress: Just what do you think you’re doing?  The floors aren’t going to scrub themselves, that rug’s needed beating for hours, dinner needs to be whipped up, clothes need to be wrung out, and lice need to be searched for!  On the double, slackers!
(The family members scatter to their chores; hours later, they collapse on the floor of their shared bedroom)
Schoolmistress: Right, you get five hours of sleep – don’t waste them.
(At the end of the program)
Schoolmistress: I have not heard one complaint from this family, and they will now be able to view any so-called disaster as the mild-disturbance it really is.  They have truer characters now than they ever would have had they been allowed to continue the way they were behaving previously 24/7.
(Previously)
Daughter: I don’t wanna go to school!
Son: I don’t wanna clean my room!
Mom: I don’t wanna face my life of emptiness!
Dad: I don’t wanna sit through another activity of middle-class comfort!
(Presently)
Family of Four: [Silence of gratitude for their daily bread and rest]
Schoolmistress: See?  A sense of perspective always silences entitled whining.

Thursday, March 10, 2016

Story 125: No Need




“I’m tired of this,” the Boss said to his Friend as they sat at a table in the cafeteria.  Friend also happened to be one of Boss’s subordinates in the office (they had a very good friendship).
“Tired of what?”  Friend asked, fearing he was about to be told on the sly that yet another company merger was in the works.
“This!”  Boss gestured to his half-eaten sandwich.  “Having to stop every few hours to shove processed food into my mouth just to keep everything running.  Do you know how much of a disruption meals are to my day?”
“I’m sure starving people would disagree,” Friend said with his mouth full.
“On the contrary, I think they’d wholeheartedly agree with the freedom that comes from no longer needing to eat!  Think of how much money could be saved, how much time wasted in meal preparation that would be regained, how much less stress there would be in not wondering where your next meal is coming from, how much less crime there would be in not needing to steal to eat, how much less violence, how much less oppression of people over the control of the food supply, the list is endless!  I think world peace would be an attainable goal at that point.”
Friend mulled this over while chewing his salad.  “That makes some sense, I suppose, although the stronger argument would be for water.  It’s a nice hypothesis.”
“I’m going to test it.”
“Test what?”
“Not eating!  Ever again!”
“Oooh… kay… you do realize that you would be dead inside a month, right?”
“Says who?”
“Science?  The Laws of Nature?  God?  The Gods?  Pick one!”
Boss threw his napkin onto the table, stood, and gathered his tray.  “Well, I’m not just going to keep bowing to the whims of some outside force anymore.  It’s time someone took a stand and said ‘Enough is enough!’”  And he left.
Friend shook his head as he finished his lunch.  Looks like that promotion could happen any day now, after all.

ONE MONTH LATER

“So, you haven’t asked me,” Boss said, leaning on Friend’s cubicle wall as he stood by the desk.
Friend had to pull himself away from the report Boss had just sent him an e-mail telling him to do.  “Asked you what?”
“How my experiment is going!”
“What experiment?”
“The one where I said I wasn’t going to eat anymore!”
“Oh, that?  I thought you were just doing a Lent thing.”
“No, I gave up running red lights for Lent.  For this, I actually completely stopped eating.”
“For what, two hours?”
“Thirty-three days.”
Friend would have spit out his coffee if he was drinking it.  “You are such a liar.”
“Honest to goodness, I have not eaten a single thing since we had lunch together a month ago.”
“Ba-lo-ney.”
“You haven’t seen me eat anything since, right?”
“Yes, I haven’t seen you eat anything – that doesn’t mean you haven’t all the other times I don’t see you.”
“I haven’t been standing you up for lunch because of the upcoming merger where they might let you go – I’ve been standing you up for lunch because I no longer need the fuel.  My productivity has increased by 30% just from the lack of interruptions alone.”
“First of all, we need to discuss my possibly being let go, real soon.  Secondly, that’s half an hour a day where you’re not getting paid to work.”
“I’m management and salaried, not hourly like the rest of you expendables.”
“Oh.  Right.  So, have you saved lots of money with your new initiative?”
“You bet!  About $1,000 a month, now that I no longer have my caviar habit.”
“Really.”
“And you know what?  I also noticed that so much activity revolves around food, it’s sickening.  Every party I go to is focused on the meal, it’s like, what would a group of 30 people do for four hours if there wasn’t food to socialize around?  Boy, humanity’s come a long way in a short time – food in most places went from ‘essential to survival’ to ‘recreational activity’ just like that!”
“I see.”
“So, since I’ve saved so much time in doing away with meals, I’m now going to tackle the next obstacle.”
“What, breathing?”
“Ha ha, no: sleeping.”
“Whaaaat?”
“We lose practically a third of a day, every day, just recharging our batteries – you know how much more could get accomplished if we didn’t need to reboot constantly and for so long?  Plus, how less tired we’d all feel, and how much more productive?”
Friend looked around nervously.  “Please don’t let H.R. hear you!” he hissed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll test it out first and let you know the results,” Boss slapped Friend on the shoulder and went off whistling “Brahms’s Lullaby.”

ONE WEEK LATER

Friend was suddenly awakened to his phone ringing on his bedside table.  He turned on the lamp, saw the time on his clock read 4:32 a.m., and picked up the phone in a panic.
“Hello?!  What happened?!”
“Nothing, it’s just me,” Boss said.  “Listen, I’ve been looking for an open store for hours and all I can find are sleazy gas stations – you mind if I come over and hang out?”
“It’s 4:00 in the morning.”
“Yeah, and?”
“And, I was sleeping.  Like most day shift people.”
“Oh right, I’ve been losing track of the time lately.  You won’t believe how much work I’ve been able to get done since I gave up sleep: don’t tell anyone, but I think I might be promoted to CEO soon, even though there’re about 20 people in line ahead of me!”
“Wonderful.”
“Are you mad that I woke you up?”
“Extremely.”
“You should give sleep up like I did!  It’s so freeing – I can make my own schedule, close down bars, throw out my bed, chase away those teens prowling on my property at night, figure out how to keep you on the payroll for years after the higher-ups terminate you on Monday, even take a mini-vacation without any even knowing I’ve gone!  I’ve never felt more alive!”
Friend was trying to go back to sleep to delay thinking about his pending unemployment.  “Are you sure you’re not really undead?”
There was a brief pause on the line.  “You know, I did get into a tussle with some very pale dude a few months back and he got a bite in – you think he may have turned me into some kind of vampire?”
“More like a zombie; I wouldn’t worry about it.”
As Friend began to hang up, he heard Boss chime in with: “I suppose it’s for the best and the effects have been amazing, but before being drastically transformed I would’ve appreciated being asked first, you know?”