Black Skull 9
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66.08.16 04:20
From: The Board
To: You
Dear valued BLOOM employee,
Hey friends,
Today is a sad day. A day we knew was coming but a tragic shock all the same. Founder #3, our sage elder who wrangled us together over 30 years ago, who was always there with a delicious dinner to complement her killer code, who was like a cool aunt to us all, has died.
She passed away peacefully in her sleep. It was just like her not to tell anyone she was sick. Always looking out for others. Her passing has left a deep wound in us all that we’ll have to learn to live with, while cherishing her memory and honouring her spirit.
Maybe more than any of us original 6, Founder #3 really truly embodied the spirit of BLOOM. Unlike the younger members, she’d already lived a rich life before launching the company that set out to save the planet.
After dropping out of med school, she worked for a relief agency in some of the worst-hit areas of the world. We all remember her insane stories – airlifting people off their roofs in floods, parachuting in to evacuate mountain towns, digging whole villages out of the mud after half a mountain slid into the valley.
Selfless.
That’s what she was.
Optimistic.
Always looking out for people who needed help.
And now, dear friends, she’s gone, past like a full moon dipping below the horizon, leaving sadness and hope for her return. To be remembered in every little act of kindness. Every time you give someone a helping hand, feel the strength of Founder #3 in your fingers.
With love and gratitude,
The Board.
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66.08.16 22:55
From: You
To: The Board
Hello masters,
Wanna know what your valued employees think of you? I just had the pleasure of scanning 740.698 on the side of the highway with my truck pulled up behind his truck, one of those huge 6-car rigs hauling something to somewhere far away.
His eyes looked like two teabags under a heavy brow. His hands jittered as he toked his vape about 50 times a minute and looked at me like I was a hangman lowering a noose over his head.
After I scanned him, he sat on the bed, jittering his way through an insane kaleidoscope of delusional fantasies and cynical theories, all concerning you, the Company, The Original Six. From what I could gather, the truckers have a pirate radio going where they share their dumb ideas and get each other all riled up.
I think he was saying you guys use microplastics in our water to control our behaviour or something like that. Imbuing us with neurotransmitters that bind to our chemoreceptors, turning some on, others off. Why’d you think there’s been so many suicides lately, he asked, head bobbing like a dinosaur. Why indeed? Though “suicide” is a banned word now, making me cringe every time I hear it, feeling my phone practically burning a hole in my leg as it listened into our conversation.
I saw his phone as he climbed back into the cab – stuck to the dash, wrapped in tinfoil. Poor guy. The stress and the strain made him look about 75. But he said we wasn’t yet 40. Couple kids, wife back East. Not so different from me.
But I couldn’t help distancing myself from what he said, treating him coldly, professionally, emphasizing the fact I don’t share these batshit crazy ideas. I’m a good little worker.
Please don’t fire me.
Employee 531.448
