We are treated, for the most part, like robots, expected to do work as if we had no thoughts or expertise of our own. This is the world Star Trek warned of, or showed us, with dust particles pretty much making up our soul. Life is too short to be treated poorly so much of the time. To have to deal with haters, at all, when the world is so jacked up -- we should all be contributing to the peace instead of -- whatever this is.
My nerves have been frazzled to the point of almost disrepair. On empty does not even compare. This is what it feels to be a robot. This is the science fiction piece I've been living ever since I was dead, or something died, not sure what, where or how, but just that a little piece of ease or joy had been extracted, never to re-sprout, like a lizard, regenerating lost parts, only faster, stronger, better. $6+inflation.
This would be the end, at least of a chapter, if the story had any plausible outcome. But when your long-time-ago friends who now just admonish you for any thing that isn't right, as in you chose it all, as they sit on their lofty heirlooms and have not had to work at a job for anyone, never having had to be a robot, to survive.
That is your 'choice' -- that is what you deserve. The number of people hungry is astounding, 46 million I want to say, and the poverty level, well that is so relative depending on urban or rural, friend or foe. Being on your own, freelance, in a haphazard (as in according any merit for quality of work done and certainly no quantifiable measure for integrity, a non-issue if you are a robot).
The pleasure of working for a living, and no expectation, ever, of the gold watch, which would make this the first generation to know that there was no papa bear to catch the 'family,' mob, union, brotherhood, secret society or otherwise bonded franchise where your life's work lead somewhere, not just to a limbo that swirls into a never-ending whirlpool into gravity, the inevitability of futility.
This is the life of having to work, being expected to behave like a robot, to do what I say not what I do, to just 'take it' all the malevolence and needless emotional upheaval that is this weird realm of degraded entertainment, not even a shred of purpose or meaning when they're through with you. This is the land of the Lost, the world we need in recovery, where robots make it all right.
My nerves have been frazzled to the point of almost disrepair. On empty does not even compare. This is what it feels to be a robot. This is the science fiction piece I've been living ever since I was dead, or something died, not sure what, where or how, but just that a little piece of ease or joy had been extracted, never to re-sprout, like a lizard, regenerating lost parts, only faster, stronger, better. $6+inflation.
This would be the end, at least of a chapter, if the story had any plausible outcome. But when your long-time-ago friends who now just admonish you for any thing that isn't right, as in you chose it all, as they sit on their lofty heirlooms and have not had to work at a job for anyone, never having had to be a robot, to survive.
That is your 'choice' -- that is what you deserve. The number of people hungry is astounding, 46 million I want to say, and the poverty level, well that is so relative depending on urban or rural, friend or foe. Being on your own, freelance, in a haphazard (as in according any merit for quality of work done and certainly no quantifiable measure for integrity, a non-issue if you are a robot).
The pleasure of working for a living, and no expectation, ever, of the gold watch, which would make this the first generation to know that there was no papa bear to catch the 'family,' mob, union, brotherhood, secret society or otherwise bonded franchise where your life's work lead somewhere, not just to a limbo that swirls into a never-ending whirlpool into gravity, the inevitability of futility.
This is the life of having to work, being expected to behave like a robot, to do what I say not what I do, to just 'take it' all the malevolence and needless emotional upheaval that is this weird realm of degraded entertainment, not even a shred of purpose or meaning when they're through with you. This is the land of the Lost, the world we need in recovery, where robots make it all right.
(Sadly) this summarizes Zeitgeist of the world we live in. I am on the brink of an emotional breakdown. Dedication, integrity, honesty and standing up for the right ideal are treated as the most unwanted attributes in an employee. Sycophancy and Robotism are the valued traits.
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