LJ Idol Three Strikes Edition - Kuchisabishii - Week 5
Janie sighed and took her hair down from the ponytail she typically wore. She closed the lid of her laptop, taking a moment of joy in the collection of stickers she had spangled across it, before considering again the videoconference she just finished and searching the room with her eyes for a hairbrush.
Ugh. She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt nervous. She was, in fact, definitely afraid of Mx. K, which was not auspicious. As it turned out, Mx. K was not anything like the work-study scholarship sponsor that Janie had expected based on the application she responded to. Outside her dormitory window, Janie could see the breeze shifting the branches of the oaks that bordered the edges of the central common area. Storms were expected for the afternoon. She wished she could open the window and let fresh air into the room, but of course, the dorms weren’t designed like that. Students opening windows would throw off the efficiency of the central air and heat. It was almost autumn of 2029, and despite Janie’s recent transition from high school to college, everything was still just a bit dystopian.
And this work-study program she’d signed onto, it might be a whole lot dystopian. But then again it might also be the start of something that felt like a solution to some problems. It was a little bit mind boggling. But it was certainly well funded. Janie’s parents had encouraged her to look for undergraduate research opportunities, and she’d been very excited to find herself rising through the interview process for this opportunity, which looked for all the world like a conservative company throwing some research dollars around on campus, maybe aiming at creating goodwill with the young people that would soon be entering the field. A work study program that paid twenty-five dollars an hour created a lot of goodwill.
It had been couched as an opportunity to help gather and analyze data in ongoing psychological and sociological research. The vetting process for candidates had been rigorous, and before the last round of interviews, the candidates had been asked to sign very robust nondisclosure agreements, which had been a bit of a red flag for Janie. On the other hand, Koch Smith Kuchi Kline checked out as a big name biotech firm that did all kinds of research and one that was particularly active on her campus, even endowing a chair in the biochemistry department. The chair they endowed even deigned to teach an undergrad course each semester. And it was a popular course. Maybe the company really was all sunshine and rainbows. Maybe they were going to solve some significant part of the clinical depression epidemic that was plaguing the nation. Maybe they were just extra careful. Maybe they needed to be.
***
Ben Donegal was frustrated and exhausted and had too much to do. He reached for the styrofoam package on the far corner of his second desk and then stopped himself. Why, oh why had he gone to lunch with his team? Yes, he liked his current team a lot. Yes, things seemed to be running pretty smoothly these days, if at a fairly breakneck pace. It was the late 2020s, though. What else could you expect at a state environmental agency.
Unfortunately, Ben felt that he couldn’t trust himself around food. He knew that he loved it too much. And then he felt miserable worrying that his colleagues were noticing him loving it too much and just generally obsessing about it. The very faint good smell of the leftovers was enough to pull his mind away from the complex problem in front of him.
Why had they gone to Main Street Meats? Why had Cari ordered the pork rind appetizer, acted like she loved it and then insisted on packaging over half of it up? She claimed to have enjoyed the fresh fried airy crunch, but then she only ate one of the oversized rinds- claiming that she was saving room for her big salad with the pile of brisket on top. She’d insisted on sharing the rinds around the table, but it turned out that only Cari and Ben liked them. Pork rinds were one of those texturally polarizing foods. Also a food that people probably didn’t enjoy listening to other people eat. Cari had remained oblivious to these concerns through lunch, though. She lacked guilt just like a skinny person would. Ben shifted in his big old office chair and grimaced as he felt the mechanism on the left side of the chair grinding again. There were so many things to feel guilty about that skinny people and normal sized people just didn’t understand.
He forced himself to stop thinking about how good it would feel to crunch into the remaining pork rinds in the package, one after another. There were two hours left in the workday. His belly should have felt full after the lunch he’d enjoyed just a couple of hours ago. He did not need to snack. And even if he did need to snack, he could wait until almost everyone else had gone home for the day, so not to burden them with his crunching. He could do this.
He needed to figure out how to allocate about thirty emails worth of work that were sitting open on the screen in front of him. It was frustrating because his team was already all feeling overworked. And each one of them had their own good reasons to be stressed. Ben prided himself on being the glue that held a strong team together. His job title did not list him as a writer for the press office, but rather as the administrative assistant for the small department. He’d never finished his degree, so his chances for rising higher were squashed. But Ben had stuck with the agency for almost 20 years now, and knew better than the younger writers how the agency worked and what was expected by the various higher-ups. He could put the right people on the right projects. At least he could when his team had enough people to cover everything that needed to be covered. He might have to talk to his team-lead about how to allocate some of what was sitting in his inbox today. And he needed to think carefully about how to do that. Mr. Brunner sometimes had different ideas about how to distribute things that didn’t work as efficiently as Ben thought they should.
He wished he could stop thinking about the pork rinds.
***
Janie pulled the brush through her long hair, wishing she could chat with her mom or her roommate about the “research” assignment Mx. K had put in front of her. The nondisclosure agreement she had signed prevented that, though. Mx. K had suggested that in time, Janie might work with other researchers who had related subjects, and that when that happened they would be able to discuss their cases, but that everything would, of course, remain confidential within the company.
Janie had been given her first test subject, one who was a real person with a history of mental health issues. Her task was to delve deeply into this person’s data file and try to figure out some ways that her subject’s life could be changed that would help them to feel more fulfilled and in turn perhaps more motivated. The data file on the subject was the creepy part. Some very sophisticated surveillance algorithms had been used on her test subject. She had thorough data. Very thorough data. Photos. Videos. Average time spent browsing different parts of the internet. Types of media consumed and when. Detailed work habits and eating habits and sleeping habits. And she could request even more data if something interested her in particular.
“Sort of like some kind of stealth-mode life coach?” Janie had thought. “But people aren’t going to respond to life coaching that they haven’t asked for are they?” It all seemed very invasive. She found it hard to believe that the subjects really had given permission to participate in this kind of research. But then that made her think about the nondisclosure agreement she had signed in her quest to get this job. She realized that she couldn’t remember now. Just how much of her ability to talk had she signed away? Maybe her subject had signed something equally sweeping, because maybe he wanted a fix and was willing to trust that one could be found and that his permission would be used wisely.
She thought of Mx. K in the videoconference. They hadn’t left time for many questions about the assignment. Mx. K’s energy was all “This was an exciting opportunity! This was a chance to help the company make a real difference.” K had a very high wattage smile, with perfect bright white teeth. Maybe their incisors were a little too prominent for perfect teeth. Those teeth were set in a medium tanned face with pleasant looking youthful skin, shiny brown eyes and a stylishly androgenous short haircut. K’s shirt was white and their jacket was tan, both with standing band collars. Janie wondered how tall they were.
She had asked, “Will the subject be asked to implement our recommended changes?” and K had responded that those weren’t the kinds of changes the study was looking for. “We need our young researchers on this project to think outside the boxes these people have worked themselves into,” they replied. “So while we’re open to fixes that our subjects could initiate, we have a certain latitude within the environments of these subjects and an ability to implement a range of solutions from the outside. So what we are looking for are suggestions of changes that would make the subject feel more integrated into the parts of their lives that they value the most. Things that would make them feel fulfilled. Maybe at work, or within their community, or family. Whatever they appear to value. Part of what we are studying here is people’s inability to see what could be changed that would improve their lives and the system. We think that getting fresh eyes of young researchers on some key subjects might result in important improvements without expending as many resources as traditional methods might use. You will find a list of some sample changes that other researchers have suggested that have been of some value in your materials, but we hope that you don’t find it limiting.”
It seemed crazy. It seemed less like research than spying. Spying and busybodying. Maybe so that a big corporation could do even more busybodying to make a difference for some subjects. But it also sounded like it was genuinely intended to benefit the subjects. Janie took a deep breath. Her roommate wouldn’t be back for several more hours. She opened the file on her first subject, a man named Ben Donegal.
Ugh. She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt nervous. She was, in fact, definitely afraid of Mx. K, which was not auspicious. As it turned out, Mx. K was not anything like the work-study scholarship sponsor that Janie had expected based on the application she responded to. Outside her dormitory window, Janie could see the breeze shifting the branches of the oaks that bordered the edges of the central common area. Storms were expected for the afternoon. She wished she could open the window and let fresh air into the room, but of course, the dorms weren’t designed like that. Students opening windows would throw off the efficiency of the central air and heat. It was almost autumn of 2029, and despite Janie’s recent transition from high school to college, everything was still just a bit dystopian.
And this work-study program she’d signed onto, it might be a whole lot dystopian. But then again it might also be the start of something that felt like a solution to some problems. It was a little bit mind boggling. But it was certainly well funded. Janie’s parents had encouraged her to look for undergraduate research opportunities, and she’d been very excited to find herself rising through the interview process for this opportunity, which looked for all the world like a conservative company throwing some research dollars around on campus, maybe aiming at creating goodwill with the young people that would soon be entering the field. A work study program that paid twenty-five dollars an hour created a lot of goodwill.
It had been couched as an opportunity to help gather and analyze data in ongoing psychological and sociological research. The vetting process for candidates had been rigorous, and before the last round of interviews, the candidates had been asked to sign very robust nondisclosure agreements, which had been a bit of a red flag for Janie. On the other hand, Koch Smith Kuchi Kline checked out as a big name biotech firm that did all kinds of research and one that was particularly active on her campus, even endowing a chair in the biochemistry department. The chair they endowed even deigned to teach an undergrad course each semester. And it was a popular course. Maybe the company really was all sunshine and rainbows. Maybe they were going to solve some significant part of the clinical depression epidemic that was plaguing the nation. Maybe they were just extra careful. Maybe they needed to be.
***
Ben Donegal was frustrated and exhausted and had too much to do. He reached for the styrofoam package on the far corner of his second desk and then stopped himself. Why, oh why had he gone to lunch with his team? Yes, he liked his current team a lot. Yes, things seemed to be running pretty smoothly these days, if at a fairly breakneck pace. It was the late 2020s, though. What else could you expect at a state environmental agency.
Unfortunately, Ben felt that he couldn’t trust himself around food. He knew that he loved it too much. And then he felt miserable worrying that his colleagues were noticing him loving it too much and just generally obsessing about it. The very faint good smell of the leftovers was enough to pull his mind away from the complex problem in front of him.
Why had they gone to Main Street Meats? Why had Cari ordered the pork rind appetizer, acted like she loved it and then insisted on packaging over half of it up? She claimed to have enjoyed the fresh fried airy crunch, but then she only ate one of the oversized rinds- claiming that she was saving room for her big salad with the pile of brisket on top. She’d insisted on sharing the rinds around the table, but it turned out that only Cari and Ben liked them. Pork rinds were one of those texturally polarizing foods. Also a food that people probably didn’t enjoy listening to other people eat. Cari had remained oblivious to these concerns through lunch, though. She lacked guilt just like a skinny person would. Ben shifted in his big old office chair and grimaced as he felt the mechanism on the left side of the chair grinding again. There were so many things to feel guilty about that skinny people and normal sized people just didn’t understand.
He forced himself to stop thinking about how good it would feel to crunch into the remaining pork rinds in the package, one after another. There were two hours left in the workday. His belly should have felt full after the lunch he’d enjoyed just a couple of hours ago. He did not need to snack. And even if he did need to snack, he could wait until almost everyone else had gone home for the day, so not to burden them with his crunching. He could do this.
He needed to figure out how to allocate about thirty emails worth of work that were sitting open on the screen in front of him. It was frustrating because his team was already all feeling overworked. And each one of them had their own good reasons to be stressed. Ben prided himself on being the glue that held a strong team together. His job title did not list him as a writer for the press office, but rather as the administrative assistant for the small department. He’d never finished his degree, so his chances for rising higher were squashed. But Ben had stuck with the agency for almost 20 years now, and knew better than the younger writers how the agency worked and what was expected by the various higher-ups. He could put the right people on the right projects. At least he could when his team had enough people to cover everything that needed to be covered. He might have to talk to his team-lead about how to allocate some of what was sitting in his inbox today. And he needed to think carefully about how to do that. Mr. Brunner sometimes had different ideas about how to distribute things that didn’t work as efficiently as Ben thought they should.
He wished he could stop thinking about the pork rinds.
***
Janie pulled the brush through her long hair, wishing she could chat with her mom or her roommate about the “research” assignment Mx. K had put in front of her. The nondisclosure agreement she had signed prevented that, though. Mx. K had suggested that in time, Janie might work with other researchers who had related subjects, and that when that happened they would be able to discuss their cases, but that everything would, of course, remain confidential within the company.
Janie had been given her first test subject, one who was a real person with a history of mental health issues. Her task was to delve deeply into this person’s data file and try to figure out some ways that her subject’s life could be changed that would help them to feel more fulfilled and in turn perhaps more motivated. The data file on the subject was the creepy part. Some very sophisticated surveillance algorithms had been used on her test subject. She had thorough data. Very thorough data. Photos. Videos. Average time spent browsing different parts of the internet. Types of media consumed and when. Detailed work habits and eating habits and sleeping habits. And she could request even more data if something interested her in particular.
“Sort of like some kind of stealth-mode life coach?” Janie had thought. “But people aren’t going to respond to life coaching that they haven’t asked for are they?” It all seemed very invasive. She found it hard to believe that the subjects really had given permission to participate in this kind of research. But then that made her think about the nondisclosure agreement she had signed in her quest to get this job. She realized that she couldn’t remember now. Just how much of her ability to talk had she signed away? Maybe her subject had signed something equally sweeping, because maybe he wanted a fix and was willing to trust that one could be found and that his permission would be used wisely.
She thought of Mx. K in the videoconference. They hadn’t left time for many questions about the assignment. Mx. K’s energy was all “This was an exciting opportunity! This was a chance to help the company make a real difference.” K had a very high wattage smile, with perfect bright white teeth. Maybe their incisors were a little too prominent for perfect teeth. Those teeth were set in a medium tanned face with pleasant looking youthful skin, shiny brown eyes and a stylishly androgenous short haircut. K’s shirt was white and their jacket was tan, both with standing band collars. Janie wondered how tall they were.
She had asked, “Will the subject be asked to implement our recommended changes?” and K had responded that those weren’t the kinds of changes the study was looking for. “We need our young researchers on this project to think outside the boxes these people have worked themselves into,” they replied. “So while we’re open to fixes that our subjects could initiate, we have a certain latitude within the environments of these subjects and an ability to implement a range of solutions from the outside. So what we are looking for are suggestions of changes that would make the subject feel more integrated into the parts of their lives that they value the most. Things that would make them feel fulfilled. Maybe at work, or within their community, or family. Whatever they appear to value. Part of what we are studying here is people’s inability to see what could be changed that would improve their lives and the system. We think that getting fresh eyes of young researchers on some key subjects might result in important improvements without expending as many resources as traditional methods might use. You will find a list of some sample changes that other researchers have suggested that have been of some value in your materials, but we hope that you don’t find it limiting.”
It seemed crazy. It seemed less like research than spying. Spying and busybodying. Maybe so that a big corporation could do even more busybodying to make a difference for some subjects. But it also sounded like it was genuinely intended to benefit the subjects. Janie took a deep breath. Her roommate wouldn’t be back for several more hours. She opened the file on her first subject, a man named Ben Donegal.