idle process

GARIIE the computer viewed the employment office in which it was seated with contempt, a last resort for the desperate. The poor collection of men seated around it were obviously transients, their clothes and appearance haphazard and dirty. The men looked at each other with glances indicating to the computer a lone question: why are you here? The computer decided to keep to itself and wait patiently for its turn before its number was called.

“Please come forward,” the clerk at the employment office said. He was dressed neatly in black with a red tie. “We can’t have you holding up the line.”

            The computer nervously approached the employment desk before presenting itself. The clerk shuffled some papers on his desk without looking at the computer.

            “Please, make yourself comfortable,” the clerk said. He gestured to a chair in front of his desk. “Please.”

The computer did what it was told.


“So, what can I do for you,” the clerk asked, coyly scratching a finger inside his left nostril.

The computer waited a few seconds before speaking. “So I’m here to –”

            “Hold on a sec. Let me pull up your file.” The clerk fumbled with a keyboard on his desk for nearly a minute. “I’m still not very good at this. They changed everything with this new system. One day of training without lunch.”

            I can wait, the computer thought to itself and waited.

            “Why would they put the menu there, of all the god damn places?” the clerk muttered under his breath. “Damn thing. The other window just keeps going in front no matter what you...”

            The computer waited for the clerk to finish.

“It doesn’t matter if you tell me to click there. I can’t click anywhere with the damn window, so why... stop. Now it doesn’t stop. Please stop.” The clerk stopped fumbling with the mouse and punched the keyboard. “Why?!?”

            The computer was getting confused and a little anxious about the clerk’s mental health, but worked to keep these feelings to itself.

            “Ok. I think I figured it out.” He smiled. “Yes. There we go. Ok, so you’re looking for work, right? Bit of a joke there.”

            The computer waited.

            “Try to keep up, Gary. Now, where were we. Obviously you are looking for work, yes. Otherwise why would you be here? Wasting everybody’s time. You’re not a time waster, are you Gary?”

            “My name is not pronounced like that.”

            “What do you mean? I have your official records right here.”

            “I mean that my name is pronounced GARIIE, not Gary.”

            “Surely that’s what I said. Employers like it when they can see that you are always paying attention, Gary. It’s all about independent competency. When you’re being interviewed for a job, look around the office. Try to learn as much as you can in a short amount of time. Keep notes for yourself if you find it difficult to keep up. And for heaven’s sake, Gary, study them later so that your boss doesn’t have to prompt you so much.”

            “My name is GARIIE.”

            The clerk stopped shuffling papers for a moment and furrowed his brow. “Just as a little personal aside, don’t take it the wrong way when I say that you’ll find an easier time fitting in with other people if you aren’t so stubborn about things. It’s all about psychology, Gary. Your employer and co-workers are going to be working with you ten hours each day, five days per week. You want to make it so that people want to work with you. That’s how you find success in this world, mark my words!”

            The computer waited.

            “Right. So what is it that you do?”

            “I don’t understand the question. I’m here looking for work.”

            “Of course you are, Gary. Of course you are. Language skills are important. Is English your second language?”

“Naturally.”

            “What do you mean, ‘naturally’? How am I supposed to know what’s natural or not for the clients who come into my office? Don’t make assumptions, Gary. Assumptions lead to miscalculations, and miscalculations lead to failures. I see a lot of people every day and I really can’t properly accomplish my job making assumptions like that, can I? Where would people be?”

            The computer waited.

            “People rely on each other. Really, Gary, I hope you agree that your attitude needs adjusting. I’m here to help you, and I am also needed to help other people. My time is important for everyone, not just me please understand. So I like to do things quickly, efficiently. What I don’t like are people who waste my time with games.” The clerk’s eyes narrowed into a stern focus. “Are you a game player, Gary?”

            The computer waited.

            “I hope that you don’t play games with people. Nobody likes people who play games at work because then they have to pick up the slack. Everyone loses. Loses time. And loses money. And what does the person playing games have to gain? Not much, if you ask me.”

            The computer waited.

            “Gary, are you even listening? I can’t tell. It’s all about appearances, you see. Time is money, Gary. I’m sure you’ve heard that before. You need to prove to employers that the time they pay for you will make them money. Lots and lots of money. Do you understand?”

            
            The computer waited. The clerk sighed and rolled his eyes.

            “Let’s start over. What skills do you offer employers, Gary?”

            “I was designed for geometrical and arithmetic retroanalysis of interactive information environments.”

            “Why that skill, in particular?”

            “It’s what I know, and it’s what I’ve done my whole life.”

            “Retroanalysis? That sounds pretty lucrative.”

            “Indeed.”

            “Education?”

            “I possess all requisite international certifications.”

            “Impressive.”

            The computer displayed something like a smile.

            “So why aren’t you doing any geothermally-articulated retroanalysis right now?”

            “I am only knowledgeable about geometric and arithmetic retroanalysis.”

            “Right,” The clerk said as he scribbled over the notes which he had been taking. “No one is here to judge you, Gary. We’re here to help. After all, it’s your field, not mine.” The clerk opened a web page and scanned it quickly. “Anyway, I’m told that interactive information environments are booming right now.”

            “I’m not as efficient as the new systems are. It is more logical to use them instead of using me.”

            “What about working for less competitive companies in your field? The smaller enterprises which exist on the margins of every market are often looking to save costs.”

            The computer waited. The clerk looked out the window for a moment and then back at the computer.

            “Why do I get the sense that you are holding back from me, Gary? Is there something that you aren’t telling me?”

            “My name is GARIIE.”

            “Right, we went over that already.” The clerk tapped the desk with his pencil. “Let me be honest with you, Gary. So that you can be honest with me. I’ve seen this behaviour before. Many, many times in fact. Now is the opportunity for you to disclose any vice-related or criminal reasons for your unemployment, as I can direct you to the appropriate services.”

            “I won’t tell the police, if that’s what’s keeping you from telling me what we both need you to say.”

            The computer waited.

            The clerk lowered his tone to hide his disappointment. “Anything at all, Gary.”

            The computer waited a moment before speaking. “I suffer from disability due to a workplace accident.”

            “Ah,” the clerk smiled through thick eyebrows. He was obviously pleased that he could completely fill in one of the larger boxes on the form in front of him. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Please provide more details.”

            “Two other employees were getting married on the desk beside me and spilled a bottle of orange juice. As a result, my processing capabilities have been compromised slightly.”

            “Married?”

            “Yes. It took almost two minutes and sixteen seconds to perform the ceremony.”

            “And you are telling me that this injury keeps you from working?” The clerk shuffled through the papers on the desk in front of him. “I don’t see a worker’s compensation claim in your files.”

            “I was removed from the office before the nature and extent of this injury could be determined.”

            “You mean nobody had a look at you after it happened?”

            “No. They were cleaning up after they finished marrying each other.”

            “Wow. That must have been some honeymoon.” The clerk laughed to himself while the computer waited.

            “I assume that standard tests would work. Do you know any?”

            “No.”

            “Nevermind. Ok, let’s see. We can do this.” The clerk continued to mumble under his breath while scanning webpages. The computer waited.

            “Ok. Please interpret the data sets on my screen and write the result on this piece of paper.” The clerk turned his screen to the computer and displayed a very large array of numerical data. Holding down a button on his keyboard, he scrolled through thousands of screens of data then placed a blank sheet of paper in front of the computer.

            “I don’t quite follow the syntax of your question. Do you want me to perform a geometric or an arithmetic retroanalysis of this data? I can perform both, you know.”

            “Geometric will be fine.”

            The computer nervously looked around the office. “In retrospect, this operation does not adequately demonstrate my capabilities. Where are the users who will be modifying the data set as it is analysed? This office is not a properly interactive environment.”

            “We can forget about the interactive environment for now. Please just answer the question as it is written.”

            The computer performed its calculations and printed the result on the piece of paper. It was obviously very pleased with itself and beeped happily. The clerk picked up the paper and read STRAWBERRIES! in a script font. He folded the paper and put it into one of the file folders on his desk.

            “So you’re looking to be retrained, start a new career maybe?”

            “Not really, no. I know what I can do.”

            “Listen, Gary. Your situation is a difficult one, I’m afraid. Do you have any hobbies?”

            “I collect stamps and pretend that I have been to all of the places that in real life I will never see.”

            “Clever. But not really a transferable occupational skill, is it? What else can you do?”

            The computer paused for a moment before speaking. “I can make missiles with my mind and shoot them at space aliens.”

            “Here we go again,” the clerk sighed as he raised an eyebrow. He opened his desk and pulled out a new form. “The war’s over, Gary. War’s over.”

            The computer waited.

“Ok, finally that’s something we can agree on. Like you say, right now we need to focus. Me and you, Gary. Me and you. We are a team and our team goal is to find you a job. That’s the only game we’re going to play, you and I. So let’s both brush the dust off our pants, pick ourselves up, and meet a new day! Unfortunately, that day starts tomorrow. Today, right now, you and me Gary we’re going to have to fix our little thinking problem now, won’t we?”

my shit is your hurray

Once, long ago, in the town of Fort William, there lived an old man named Simon who was famously rich for having invented things which people never knew they needed before. Most of his inventions were used daily by people the world over. Adding machines which predict the future. Electrical mirrors with built-in compliments. A dining table which could be set on a timer. Day planners which discovered fun people for a person to do things with. Alarm clocks with massage capabilities. A motivational seminar for anxious and mentally-ill professionals, and disguise and makeup kits for when their anxiety returned. Wallets which were always open when people were ready to spend their money. A great excuse which could be used in a variety of uncomfortable situations. A collection of invisible objects which remained silent when ignored. Tools which never broke except when necessary, and music which knew when people wanted it to be heard. Mechanical books which wrote stories on their own pages, and houses which knew how to keep their walls clean. And then Simon invented another version of himself.

At first, he was not convinced that he needed another version of himself, as one had so far been sufficient for everything that he had wanted to accomplish. His inventions were loved by people around the world, and their love had in turn made him very rich. He had won most of the awards given to people of distinction, and he had been entertained by the world’s most important dignitaries. He lived in a big house with a big family, who had themselves matured to distinguished professions. His wife was noted by the most important lifestyle magazines as a deferential but trendsetting socialite.

When he met the other version of himself, Simon took the importance of his new invention for granted. Instead of filing his discovery with the patent office as was his normal procedure, the old inventor filed the new version of himself away for future consideration. The new version of Simon, however, was having none of this.

“So that’s it?” the new version of Simon asked. “You aren’t going to treat me like your other work, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“All of your inventions get registered and announced in the newspapers. Why am I different?”

“Until I can think of a use for you, I don’t want to bring a product to market at the wrong time. My competitors are always trying to get the upper hand.”

“But I’m obviously useful. There are two of you now. Look what one has been able to do!”

“No. The market’s not ready for you yet.”

“And that’s why you’re just sticking me in a drawer.”

“For now, yes.”

“But you haven’t even named me.”

“Actually, I have. iMe. Has a good ring to it, I think. Should be easy to market once I figure out a use for you.”

“It’s obvious what my use is!”

“No. I can’t risk tarnishing my good name and business by releasing an immature product. This company is my family namesake.”

“You can’t just forget about me in a drawer. Maybe you should ask yourself why you are suddenly so disrespectful towards your work.”

“It really is amazing. You sound just like me.”

“See! You need a Jimminy Cricket like me in your ear. Confidence! I could support your thoughts when they needed it most. I could act as a cheerleader for your ideas. Perhaps I might even come up with some of my own which will be of benefit to you as well.”

“My thoughts are cluttered enough as it is without having to trip on those of another person.”

“You mean your own.”

“Well, you must admit that you aren’t in fact me, but a distinct individual.”

“And here you are sticking me away in a dusty drawer. What was the point of inventing me?”

“Because it is my nature to have done so. But you aren’t really an invention, though, are you? I mean, I just copied myself.”

“And that’s why you think that I’m not ready for the market?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“The world is full of derivative products! What’s the harm in adding another?”

“You are not fit for market. You do not have a use which will fills anyone’s needs, ensuring a successful product launch. People will look at you and ask themselves what you are for. Other than simply being a newer version of me, I cannot provide them with an answer. The family brand will not be compromised to release what amounts to a vanity project. I am the face of this company. It boils down to one problem – how can an inventor maintain the integrity of his fame if he starts copying himself?”

“My existence is ironic. Isn’t that meaning enough to live?”

“Not if the project as a whole lacks originality. Irony doesn’t exist in a vacuum, you know."

 "It doesn't?"

  "No, my mind is made up. I need time to consider your purpose.”

And with that last statement, the old inventor sealed the new version of himself away in a drawer, and returned to his work. At the end of the day, which due to his work habits was in fact the beginning of the day for most people who didn’t spend their evenings inventing much of anything, Simon went to bed mad at himself for not having invented anything of importance except for a slightly more efficient method for washing cutlery. Dreams of future inventions filled his head until his eyes closed and his mouth opened in sleep, and Simon forgot all about the other version of himself.

As Simon slept through the day, the new version of himself got to work establishing himself in the world. He freed himself from his prison – which was not a difficult task, as he successfully guessed where he would have hidden the key were he to have hidden it, which he had in fact done just after locking himself in the drawer. The front door closed quietly behind him as the new version of Simon realised the extent of his freedom. The world was open in front of him, but the new version of Simon knew that he had to work quickly in order to finish everything before his old self found out about his escape.

The new version of Simon quickly discovered that, perhaps due to the exceptionally lovely sun-filled day, most people he met in the streets were very friendly and happy to exchange words with as famous a person as he was. Before long, a crowd had formed around him. Some of the people wanted autographs, while others wanted him to offer them answers or blessings. As he continued about his day, the new version of Simon began to do something unknown to the old one – he began to smile. Once having smiled, the new version of Simon knew that he could not stop. Having tasted the spoils of freedom, he would not be returned to the drawer in which he had been placed by his old version due to a lack of purpose.

No more laying down for me, Simon’s new version of himself thought. I’m free to live my own life.

Several days passed, and the new Simon didn’t hear from his old self, who had fully retreated into his laboratory, entirely forgetting that the newer version of himself existed. Instead of maintaining a low-profile, as was his original intention, the new version of Simon soon learned to enjoy the full extent of his namesake’s fame. As the world’s most beloved yet reclusive inventor whose company had invented many of the most novel and useful products everyone loved, he couldn’t escape recognition. And yet the old version of Simon had not made a public appearance in nearly a year, after having accepted a major international science prize for his time-saving office productivity suite which completed tasks by computing the near-infinite matrix of possibilities which would cause the task to not be completed and then doing precisely the opposite. Simon’s company had freed up so much leisure time for office workers that a new holiday had been created and was going to be celebrated in one week’s time. Fêted at banquet and nightclub alike, the new version of Simon really began to enjoy the attention that he was receiving, especially as some of it involved beautiful young women, limousine chauffers, and complimentary meals at fancy and exclusive restaurants.

After a few months of high life however, the new version of Simon began to resent his fame, as he had done nothing to earn it. The old Simon had continued to release important inventions, including a film which did not require either a beginning or an ending, and a car fuelled by the driver’s desire to reach their destination. The film was an immediate and international hit, while the car was quickly proving successful in developing countries. The new version of Simon was toasted by the city’s elite, but the accolades which he received were hollow and untrue. While he enjoyed receiving meals for free and being entertained by global celebrities, he was beginning to grow tired of having to make up answers to questions about a life which he increasingly felt did not involve him.

Despite this reservation, the new version of Simon continued to make a name for himself as a mover and a shaker in global society, while his old version toiled ceaselessly in his laboratory. Simon invented potato-less chips, a new form of interpretive dance using immobile performers and scratch-and-sniff stickers, and a television which showed yesterday and the day after tomorrow instead of today.

It was this last invention which made Simon finally remember that he had invented another version of himself several months prior. He was busy working to invent a thought-control device for his remote control when his television came on and he saw the new version of himself talking about his latest agriculture technologies with the most popular talk show host on television. He hated how natural his new version looked on television, how he flirted with the host, and how easy the many witty conversational rejoinders and jokes which constituted the interview came to his lips. He even looked fitter and younger and had nicer hair. And he hadn't even yet invented the agricultural technologies which his new version was bragging about.

Simon knew that he was looking at an imposter on television. His new version acted in a manner entirely different from the version that he had grown accustomed to, and he didn’t appreciate this change in his appearance to the public and it would have to stop. He would not invent anything for two days, but that is not what surprised him. What surprised him, in fact, was that he finally came to understand the purpose of his having invented a new version of himself. He immediately called his agent.

After having decided to embrace his fame, the old version of Simon appeared on late-night television for the first time in his life to announce his retirement from the world of invention. Sitting in the pool of a luxury Manhattan penthouse surrounded by two Hollywood actresses, a cosmetics heiress, and an international supermodel, the new version of Simon was not particularly appreciative of learning about this development. It was soon obvious to everyone in the room that his fame rested entirely on the industry of his old self. The women wrapped themselves in towels and called for rides before leaving his penthouse. This will not do, the new version of Simon thought and then sat down to learn how to invent a new version of himself who could once again invent everything that the world didn’t yet know that it needed to want.