Zelton Systems, the largest manufacturer of robots and control software on the planet, had successfully phased out “menial jobs.” As a result, unemployment now hovered at around thirty percent. With unemployment so high, Zelton hired tech workers and treated them as “fungible resources.” The company did everything possible to repress any originality.
Speaking of repressive, the “Work Efficient Modular Unit” pretty much defined the term. The self-contained pods where we work. No interaction with others except through company chat. Food and drink are provided directly in the pods. When we need to use the restroom, we request access. Other than that, we badge in and go to our pods.
As repressive as it was, Zelton has three hundred applicants for every job opening. Don’t be impressed, the job market sucks that bad! I’m Jasmine Sherwood; my friends call me Jinx. I’m one of the numbers. One of five hundred developers who toil away in pods that probably double as coffins. I’m in trouble again for exceeding my quota. Zelton likes predictable and glacially slow software development. Since they have eighty percent of the robotics market; they can afford that luxury. They can afford to treat people like chattel. The building, in fact, the entire company, is a sea of conformity, mundanity, and repression. “Middle Gray” is the company’s color, and just about everyone wears the company provided jumpsuits.
I was shown into my boss’ office and sat down, “Oi, Dick, you again? It’s the third time this month loov; we’ve got a stoop meetin’ like this. Wha would ur wife say?” Yes, my cockney accent is fake. Rich seems stressed.
“10654302, your productivity continues to …”
Hmmm. I think he’s figured out that I’m not wearing gray! I wonder what clued him in. The eye shadow? The mish-mash of fingernail polish? My “Ramones” T-shirt, or Vans shoes? Naw, the mismatched socks.
“Wha? Gray ain’t my thing loov” Uh oh, Rich IS stressed, his body language says so!
“Could you please stop with the fake bloody accent. I’m from Britain, and while your cockney is good, it’s not that good.”
Pouting, just a little, I replied, “OK, Dick. A slap on the wrist? Or would you prefer something a little more kinky. We are on camera, aren’t we? Let’s give ’em a show!” I’m thinkin’ this man never gets laid. Oh my gosh! Is that a picture of his wife? She’s hot! I’d do her! Ummm, I think he read my thought bubble.
“10654302, your productivity continues to exceed your quota in violation of Zelton systems software development standards. Why?”
I’m not sure why, but that question shocked me. I finally answered, “I see beauty in my code and algorithms. They speak to me. My software is an embodiment of me. Some people can sing. Others can paint. I can code; it’s my art!”
“10654302, that is insubordination. Software development is not art; it is engineering. You have tasks and a time frame. That is all.”
I’m silent. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. I can outwait you; you gray pinstripe suit wearing jerk. Five minutes pass. Bingo!
“10654302, please leave the premises for the day. You may return tomorrow at your regular time.”
Finally! A day off! I leaped out of the chair “Booyah! Surf’s up bitches! Deuces, pod people! Jinxie has left the building!”
I’m sure Rich was confused. After all, he had over five hundred software developers that he managed. All of them were drones. They came to work. They worked predictably and went home. The only outlier, the only non-conformist, was me. I’m sure at times I’m more like a petulant five year old than anything, but my productivity speaks for itself.
The next day, I made my usual dramatic appearance, and Mr. Grump the guard was decidedly unimpressed.
“10654302, report to SDM office.”
“Spastic Delusional Masochist?” I don’t think he heard me.
“Software Development Manager.” he scowled. He always scowled. I giggled.
The door to Rich’s office is open. I see him and a couple of human resources goons in there. Such a joy! They motion me inside, and there’s an awkward silence that I just have to break. “If I’d known this was a party, I’d have brought party favors.” Nothing. “Tough crowd!” An hour later, and I am officially “written up,” having signed the last page of my Employee Improvement Plan, agreeing to meet, not exceed daily productivity goals. I’ll admit; that took the wind out of my sails a little.
Once I’m ensconced in my pod, I stew and then realize something. The corporate overlords said nothing about my test cases, only about my production code! I can still be me! Knowing this makes me smile. The playlist in my head starts playing ”Roam” by the B-52s. I’ll conform with production software, but my test cases will be spectacular. I reviewed the terms of my “EIP,” and nope, nothing about test cases. It merely stated that my production output shall not exceed daily coding averages of my peers by more than ten percent. I brought up my task list for the day and groaned. Three tasks. That was it? Even on my worst day, that was a couple of hours of work.
I finished my work in an hour but didn’t mark it “done” until I completed my test cases. I made sure that my production code was signed “E:10654302,” while my test cases were signed “Jinxie was here.” When I checked in my “daily work package,” I expected a note from my boss telling me I exceeded quota again. It never came.
Mass terminations happen on the first of the month. For the first time, I recognized a face in the sea of gray jumpsuits. I’d seen him on chat. It was then that I knew. I needed to take down Zelton systems. Zelton’s policy of hiring “Recent College Graduates,” to replace experienced developers was one of economic efficiency. They could pay RCGs a third of an experienced developer, and, after six months would either have a decent developer or another former employee. Every six months, a new tranche of RCGs came in, and the bloodletting swiftly followed. The only exception was employees who had been with the company longer than ten years. We were pretty much untouchable.
I realized that I could write a virus and hide it in my test case code. Byte by byte, my tests would construct the company ending elixir of code. As test cases ran, a byte or two would be written to the virus file. Eventually, a complete program would be created. The last test case would always remove the file until the virus was complete. The QA department had grown accustomed to blindly accepting the massive amount of code I checked into them on a daily basis. They were oblivious to my Trojan horse construction project.
The days dragged on into weeks, and for a while, I wasn’t sure the virus would ever get done. There were so many unknowns! My first order of business was to understand the corporate network. The first version of the virus was a “packet sniffer,” basically a mole. It allowed me to divine the inner workings and architecture of the corporate network. I successfully constructed a roadmap of the internal corporate network. Now I could proceed with writing and deploying the real virus.
I identified the cluster of servers that every single Zelton robot checked in with on a daily basis. This architecture was the company’s fatal flaw, as well as their end user’s Achilles heel. If I took down the servers and backups, the robots would stop functioning and couldn’t be brought back online. After a week, failsafe circuits in the robots would permanently disable them. I deployed the virus code and waited. Patience is not my thing.
I had been biding my time for months. The time was now. My virus had been replicating itself for days; working its way into every single computer that was connected to Zelton’s network. It had compromised the backup and production servers company-wide. The virus was now waiting for me to give it permission to destroy Zelton’s computer systems with prejudice. I held my breath and entered the command.
After fifteen minutes, there was no sign of the chaos I’d expected. Sigh! What a waste of eight months of my life! I requested my work list. The system responded with an error message. Abruptly, the door release to my pod was activated. I turned around to see a very stern looking Rich Wertle stood at the door, mouthing words. It took him a full second to realize my pod was open.
“You!” He thundered, “You did this! I told them to fire you, but they wouldn’t listen!”
I giggled involuntarily. “Ummm, Dick, I’m feeling very threatened, so I’m going to leave now.” And with that, I bolted for the exit.
Zelton Systems was now a hulk of gray nothingness. No hope for recovery. No other option than bankruptcy.
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