Mental Health Day
Department of Information
Western North American Subdivision
Sunday April 23, 2224
______________________________________________________________________
Subject: Construction Ideas
From: Mohammed Nouri Masood
To: Harold Elijah Liese
Subject: Mental Health Day
______________________________________________________________________
Boss,
This is to let you know that I'm taking a mental health day. I apologise in advance for the informal, irreverent, tangential, rambling, and cynical nature of this communication. It's entirely due to the two or three or four glasses of Mental Health I've already had.
Since by policy I'm supposed to inform my supervisor the WHY behind a Sick Day, or in this case Mental Health Day, I shall give you some insight into my moderately dented mental state. First of all, I'm really not handling things well in the wake of the treatment our work got in that bullshit docudrama. It was fluff, it was spin, it was half-truths, it was filtered through some damn creative consultants and focus group testing. Fuck it, submit whatever changes you want, but I've got no intelligent input. Actually, considering the rough cut, why not pile more garbage on. Lots of decoded data about dogs, and I've turned up some information about some Poet/Musician/Warrior named Curtis Cobain. He apparently died of a simultaneous self-inflicted overdose and falsified shotgun suicide, however one manages that. But that fits the singer and animal formula they love. Let's say he predicted canines would one day rule the planet. Why not add stuff that has no basis whatsoever? Hey, we haven't decoded a single visual representation of Mohammed, I mean the prophet, not me obviously. So, that must mean everyone was too scared to make one. Sure, no evidence or anything, but that hasn't stopped us yet and my dad would love the implications on that one.
Secondly, and again Green related, the guys in that SatCom project sucking funds (among other things I'm sure) and acting better than everyone else have decided they need to screw with our transmitters. They've sent a few communications. The latest ones are really bad, they purportedly are relaying a message from KAT "HEL. I'm alive. I'm sorry about Antarctica. Please help me. KAT. infocorp.protocol:menorah." I know it's got to be them since I ran a triangulation and the signal is coming from frigging orbit. It's extremely churlish of them to bring up sensitive stuff like this, and I wouldn't have brought it up but it's getting too distracting.
Thirdly, if I'm going to write a mandatory optional essay on what my company means to me, I need to take a moment to compose my thoughts so I can do my glorious employer justice. Because I take this essay VERY SERIOUSLY. It is CRITICAL to my functionality as a worker that I take a moment to extol the kleptarchy of which I am at the base. Because, you know, if I didn't, all my positive happy thoughts about the company would build and build until they burst forth from my brow as some fully-formed Athenian corporate goddess.
Anyway, that's why I can't do anything productive today. Not that I could anyway, the systems are running routine auto-updates from the disks we got in the last care package.
I found a trapdoor that leads to the roof. I'm going to climb up there with an inflatable chesterfield that's probably older than both of us combined (and I suspect will hold air like a cheesecloth) and remain there for at least one shift. I believe I saw some two-headed pigeons up there, and my brother told me while we were growing up those are lucky. I intend to throw detritus at the pigeons and continue drinking.
You can join me if you like.
-Mohammed Nouri Masood
Field Researcher
Western North American Subdivision
Sunday April 23, 2224
______________________________________________________________________
Subject: Construction Ideas
From: Mohammed Nouri Masood
To: Harold Elijah Liese
Subject: Mental Health Day
______________________________________________________________________
Boss,
This is to let you know that I'm taking a mental health day. I apologise in advance for the informal, irreverent, tangential, rambling, and cynical nature of this communication. It's entirely due to the two or three or four glasses of Mental Health I've already had.
Since by policy I'm supposed to inform my supervisor the WHY behind a Sick Day, or in this case Mental Health Day, I shall give you some insight into my moderately dented mental state. First of all, I'm really not handling things well in the wake of the treatment our work got in that bullshit docudrama. It was fluff, it was spin, it was half-truths, it was filtered through some damn creative consultants and focus group testing. Fuck it, submit whatever changes you want, but I've got no intelligent input. Actually, considering the rough cut, why not pile more garbage on. Lots of decoded data about dogs, and I've turned up some information about some Poet/Musician/Warrior named Curtis Cobain. He apparently died of a simultaneous self-inflicted overdose and falsified shotgun suicide, however one manages that. But that fits the singer and animal formula they love. Let's say he predicted canines would one day rule the planet. Why not add stuff that has no basis whatsoever? Hey, we haven't decoded a single visual representation of Mohammed, I mean the prophet, not me obviously. So, that must mean everyone was too scared to make one. Sure, no evidence or anything, but that hasn't stopped us yet and my dad would love the implications on that one.
Secondly, and again Green related, the guys in that SatCom project sucking funds (among other things I'm sure) and acting better than everyone else have decided they need to screw with our transmitters. They've sent a few communications. The latest ones are really bad, they purportedly are relaying a message from KAT "HEL. I'm alive. I'm sorry about Antarctica. Please help me. KAT. infocorp.protocol:menorah." I know it's got to be them since I ran a triangulation and the signal is coming from frigging orbit. It's extremely churlish of them to bring up sensitive stuff like this, and I wouldn't have brought it up but it's getting too distracting.
Thirdly, if I'm going to write a mandatory optional essay on what my company means to me, I need to take a moment to compose my thoughts so I can do my glorious employer justice. Because I take this essay VERY SERIOUSLY. It is CRITICAL to my functionality as a worker that I take a moment to extol the kleptarchy of which I am at the base. Because, you know, if I didn't, all my positive happy thoughts about the company would build and build until they burst forth from my brow as some fully-formed Athenian corporate goddess.
Anyway, that's why I can't do anything productive today. Not that I could anyway, the systems are running routine auto-updates from the disks we got in the last care package.
I found a trapdoor that leads to the roof. I'm going to climb up there with an inflatable chesterfield that's probably older than both of us combined (and I suspect will hold air like a cheesecloth) and remain there for at least one shift. I believe I saw some two-headed pigeons up there, and my brother told me while we were growing up those are lucky. I intend to throw detritus at the pigeons and continue drinking.
You can join me if you like.
-Mohammed Nouri Masood
Field Researcher