|
3 June 2006 I’m in the middle of re-writing and greatly expanding Mason’s secret journal, with more of all those characters that came to life in the writing of the journal. The original is posted below; I will note when and where I put up new material.
The Secret Journal of Mason Grey Eckhart 2006-2007
Mason Eckhart humor? Of course!
Do you think it’s easy being nearly inhuman, dealing with the inept guys who staff the ranks of the GSA, coping with sweet Dr Laura Varady, slimy sneaky Dr Ken Harrison, the eternally smiling Thomasina Hobson AKA the Marmalade Cat Woman, the never-ending stream of human social events, and overhearing jokes about how you probably sleep in black pinstripes, all while saving humanity from unethical excesses of scientifically misguided, evil and rotten Adam Kane???
Well, it isn’t! Follow Mason Eckhart’s struggles to cope with turkeys encased in plastic, elven carolers, Christmas lights flashing in synch with autosampler carousels, carnivorous plants, Valentines Day, flies perched atop his monitor watching him type, misrepresenting Genomex to the community around it, mysterious chocolate rabbits, and of course, the lovely Dr Rebecca Steyn.
[Cadence began this project, and wrote some of the earliest entries, but most of the entries are mine.]
02:16pm 18 October 2006
Damn that Dr Varady
Mood: Amused
Dr. Varady seems to believe that it would be best if I kept a journal to keep track of my emotions. While I believe my emotions should be kept to myself, I became interested in the idea of writing out my life's events so that someday, after I my inevitable death, some person may find this journal and learn the shocking truth of the world we live in.
The truth is painful to hear, but as the days go by, you will learn it in the only way I can guarantee it won't be tainted -- from my own words.
01:40pm 19 October 2006
The Average Saturday
Mood: Accomplished
Got up early.
Decided closet needed straightening badly. Spent the morning re-arranging shirts, jackets, slacks, gloves. Replaced all white hangers (pitched 'em) with black hangers.
Moved black shirts from the right to the far left. Moved slacks to the middle. Placed jackets on the right depending upon the width of the stripes, fine stripes to the left, wider stripes to the right.
Made tidy stacks of black gloves in pairs.
Combed out my three dozen sets of white wigs. Briefly pondered how a kind of 'zebra effect' might look, whether or not it would work with the pinstripes.
Was exhausted when all of this was done but with a feeling of considerable accomplishment. Took a nice nap. Feeling organized and prepared to deal with my jackass lackeys on Monday.
02:17pm 21 October 2006
Blue Monday
Mood: Annoyed
Woke up late, which was bad enough, only to find the wretched slugs who are supposed to be keeping up with my supply of skin hadn't replenished my stock. Will have to remember to breeze through Bio-Polymers section unexpectedly, and flash my "shark-eye" at all of them.
When I walked in late on the weekly Monday morning meeting, the laughter died down suddenly. I wonder why they won't share the jokes with me? I could have used a good laugh after the way the day started.
At least my closet was organized, and even though I had to walk around in old polymers until nearly noon, I was able to get dressed in a flash.
02:06pm 23 October 2006
Damn Adam
If you're wondering why I didn't write anything yesterday (or if you're insane enough to wonder about it), I'll tell you. It all started when I sent some of my best GSAgents after one Emma deLauro, a Psionic Telempath. I was only informed later by my right-hand man, Frank Thorne, that Adam and his people had shown up and "saved" deLauro.
Well, that's just fantastic, isn't it? Such absolute power wasted on a foolish cause that has no basis in morals. I'm sending Thorne out again to retrieve a certain Brennan Mulwray, who may be of some use to me on the field. I just hope Adam doesn't get to this one as well.
04:57pm 25 October 2006
Bastards
Mood: Depressed
I apologize again for not updating this journal. I've had a busy week. There've been people to kill, people to intimidate, and people to trap in a giant cage. Sounds like a good time, doesn't it?
It wasn't. I had trapped deLauro with a nice group of others such as her. I had procured Dr. Breedlove's database of all New Mutants, and I had punished a potentially dangerous traitor, the aforementioned Brennan Mulwray. Just as everything was going so well, Adam and his people decided then to attack my facility. While his two wretched little anomalies freed the New Mutants I had locked up in a cage, Adam stole my database and set a virus loose in my systems, destroying the database and any files it reached. (Luckily I have all employees back up their files just in case of such a thing.)
My day wouldn't be so bad if that dreaded Sonya Gusinsky would stop calling my office.
04:08pm 26 October 2006
Saturday Is Such a Lovely Day
Mood: Thoughtful
Since I have no lackeys to deal with on weekend, I tend to intimidate my scientists.
Today when I paid the unexpected visit to Bio-Polymers section I could have sworn I heard giggling and male giggling, at that, coming from the autoclave room right after I went by.
I'm going to have to institute a program in the R& D group to instill proper dignity and decorum. How much can they be getting done if they have time to giggle? And what can be so funny about autoclaves? I'm going to make them take down all the cartoons and humor items posted on the walls. Maybe they could get something done if a reverential-to-science atmosphere was maintained.
Dr Varady would probably think I'm being paranoid. I don't think I'll mention this to her.
The other day's experience of wearing old polymers long past the time when they should have been replaced makes me wonder about a lot of things. What if everything Breedlove told me about my immune system wasn't true, the way he used to joke with Adam, telling him he was the smartest man in the world? Breedlove had a peculiar sense of fun. What if I don't need these silly outer skins?
04:26pm 27 October 2006
Thorne in My Side
Mood: Pensive
At least that's what Dr Varady says.
She insists that the subdermal thorazine patches used on Thorne have limited usefulness because Thorne metabolizes the antipsychotic faster than a typical human.
That's a pity. Having Thorne available was like having a starving, unmannered pit bull to threaten enemies with. Sometimes, nothing else would do; Thorne is so obviously on the edge of rationality.
However, Thorne is high maintenance. He requires flattery to be managed well, and as Dr Varady advised after the test for metabolites of thorazine made obvious that the drug wasn't really controlling him, I rarely speak or deal with Thorne without keeping one hand, just out of sight, on his governor controller. There is no telling when he may feign a submissive attitude only to turn upon me.
10:37am 28 October 2006
I’m Just NOT Appreciated
Mood: Predatory
If only my employees knew the sacrifices I make to keep Genomex the kind of place that it is. I would never burden them with such tales, besides it's none of their business, it's mine.
Note to self: get Human Resources to commence a search for the replacement of the gigglers down in Bio-Polymers. Giggling really annoys me. It is legal to not hire gigglers? Or to ask in an interview whether one giggles? Get Security to put up cameras/microphones in Bio-Polymers Autoclave Room, tap into all appropriate email and phones, and find and document reasons for firing these clowns, who give science a frivolous name.
How can I save humanity with such people working for me?
Come to think of it, if memory serves me correctly, Adam giggles.
And that damn Russian woman keeps getting calls through to my private line.
04:44pm 29 October 2006
Legions of Fools
Mood: Indescribable
Most every day I am thankful to more-devious-than-he-looks Adam for inventing and perfecting subdermal governors. What I would do with some mutants without such controls I do not know. My top desk drawer is full of governor-remotes [tidily, carefully labeled, naturally, blue for the boys and pink for the girls], and Thorne's, of course, is always in my pocket because you never know when Thorne will require a good jolt of pain to make him behave.
The remotes have batteries in them, and with use, batteries die. Today I decided to replace all the batteries in all the remotes, and to recycle the governor remotes of former agents now in stasis back to Implanting.
Just try to get batteries from the Supplies Room at Genomex.
Oh, instead of a paper request form you can fill out a paperless online form, but they lose those just as easily, and shouldn't they KNOW where my office is? Why do I have to tell them floor, corridor and room number before they will relinquish batteries? Why do I have to indicate which project numbers will be supported by the requested supplies?
Late this afternoon I gave up and walked down to Supplies and got the batteries myself. Weren't they surprised when I used my pass-key and just removed a box of batteries from a shelf? I believe I woke some of them from their naps.
I came back to the office, and switched out all the old batteries for new. But I am surrounded by legions of fools.
05:55pm 30 October 2006
Why Am I Not Surprised?
Mood: Bitchy
After finally allowing that Russian woman a chance to prove herself, I'm not surprised to find that she had been beaten by Adam and his people. Nor am I surprised to find that she was in the country illegally.
Now if only these idiots that I grudgingly call my employees would start to actually work, this company might get somewhere, but I find I am surrounded by fools who do not realize my obligations.
07:29pm 31 October 2006
Ring the Bell, Close the Book, Quench the Candle
Mood: Nostalgic
Spent a quiet evening getting into a Samhain state of mind watching my DVD of "Bell, Book, and Candle", an old favorite of mine.
Just to be a good corporate neighbor, I signed off on Dr Varady's purchase of a case of candy for the night shift guard to hand out to the neighborhood kiddies. "How evil can they be if they're handing out good chocolate to the neighborhood children?" At least that's what Dr Varady thought they would think.
02:21pm 2 November 2006
Bad Fridays and Good Saturdays
Mood: Calm
Yesterday wasn't such a bad day, compared to all the other days I've been working here. The only problem I had was keeping a few of the scientists in order, which was rather easily done. However, there were a few problems with the gigglers down in the Bio-Polymers section. I finally found out their names and have dealt the proper punishments (I think Section 9 suits them best, don't you?).
Today is going rather well. I sat back, relaxed, and put on my Purcell records. I think I'll be prepared for tomorrow's appointment with Dr. Varady. She hopes to see that my state of mind has improved. I can't say that it has.
04:26am 5 November 2006
Holidays
Mood: Irritated
It's that time of year again. Accounting and Purchasing sections, the units most distant from my office, have already begun the Madness by putting up just-too-cute cut-out decorations of bloated, smiling turkeys, little girl Pilgrims, little boy Pilgrims, and little boy Indians.
Thank God someone threw out the rotting pumpkins.
This cloying plague of nostalgia will slowly seep through most of the facility, only to abate in the first week in January when once again, things will look normal.
Last year I had to chase Telemetry Search section out of my office when I caught them about to stencil snowflakes on the glass overlooking podding. Weren't they surprised to see me?
Analytical group --bunch of geeky rascals-- usually strings Christmas lights all over their instrumentation and over all the doorways. By the time they are done, you can read by the Christmas lights.
Dr Varady keeps telling me to try and relax, and have a cup of punch with the employees once in a while, and everything will be just fine, but how can I relax with all this holiday merry making mirth mesmerizing my minions?
04:26am 6 November 2006
Foolish Women
Mood: Grumpy
I dropped by Captures section unannounced this morning, and walked in on a group of five formerly well-thought of female agents.
Before this morning, I believed they had common sense and dedication to the GSA --hard enough to come by that-- but my illusions are shattered.
They were standing around a desk with a half-dozen photos of that loser Brennan Mulwray, the criminal Adam is shielding from arrest, and making all sorts of squeally girl noises about how cute he was.
Then in I walked.
I have to do more of these impromptu visits. You never know what truths will be revealed.
06:54pm 7 November 2006
Death to the Bloated Turkeys!
Mood: Giddy
I could not sleep last night, so I went for a long stroll through most of the complex. The overnight security guards were making rounds at the opposite end of the building, so, nobody saw me tear down one of the too-cute 'bloated' turkeys on the outside of a cubicle in Accounting!
A small victory for me!
If Dr Varady gets me to talk about this, I don't know how I'll explain myself. The woman can make me talk about things I've never discussed with anyone else for decades...how to explain the joy and delight of ripping the smiling (It's about to be somebody's meal, and it's SMILING! That is simply sick, yes?)paper bird off the cubicle wall and tearing it into small, tiny, minute pieces?
Even the memory feels good.
07:48pm 8 November 2006
Complications
Mood: Distressed
She got it out of me. Dr Varady got it out of me that I shredded one of the smiling turkeys, and then she made me talk about how that made me "feel" for another twenty minutes. She wasn't satisfied when I told her that it made me feel good. She thought that was horrible.
NOW she has me talked into buying turkeys for everybody in the complex, not smiling ones, but the kind that are cold and wrapped in plastic...something familiar about that...she says it will be a real morale builder after Breedlove's death.
I haven't come clean about Breedlove yet. I wonder what she would say about that.
08:17pm 10 November 2006
Holiday Cheer
Mood: Cranky
Those jolly geeks in Analytical have already put up a few strands of Christmas lights. They even leave them on after they go home. Don't they know this will be reflected in their profit-sharing program?
I must have spent 20 minutes last night unplugging all the strings of lights left on since Friday afternoon.
09:49am 12 November 2006
Profit-Sharing Warning
Mood: Vexed
I sent everybody email notices about spending the company dollar wisely to improve prospects for the profit-sharing plan. I'm not sure they understand. Every night when I wander through the labs and offices I find more and more strings of Christmas lights blazing.
The final blow came when I went to see Dr Varady and she had icicle lights around the edge of her desk. She thought I should put up angel lights or bubble lights around the edge of MINE, but I protested. She thought I displayed way too much emotion, but I told her bubble lights would just bring in the kind of people who want to stencil snowflakes on my glass wall. She was speechless for a moment. Then I noticed the stenciled snowflakes on her window.
The tractor-trailer load of frozen turkeys will be here around two on Friday, 22 Nov. I hope no one drags salmonella-laden turkey corpses into the buildings. She was glad to hear about the turkey distribution, and said something about it being an important step in personal growth for me. I have NO idea what she was talking about, but it's one less puzzlement to think about.
Does this mean I should be ordering hams for Christmas?
11:23am 20 November 2006
Deep and Dark November
Mood: Disappointed
My favorite Mad Dog Mutant, Frank Thorne, has slipped his leash and run off...somewhere. No one has much of an explanation of how he managed to do it, or put forth a motivation for the why of Thorne's departure.
I guess I'll have to send some wolfhounds after him. Keeping Thorne in mental balance so he was fit for duty was always a delicate business, and without the meds and constant monitoring of my staff, there is no telling what Thorne might do out in the general population.
I'm in trouble if he sins, gets caught, and is traced back here. There is no explaining Thorne without explaining too much.
Too bad. He did have his uses. Having him around was not unlike having a starving pit bull of foul temperament straining at the leash at the scent of blood.
I suppose the promised turkey on Friday wasn't enough of a lure to keep him around.
The wretched staff is commencing its annual battles with viruses and bacteria, employees coming through the doors hacking, wheezing, sniffling, coughing, spewing virulent disease everywhere, and other than close the place down (the stockholders would storm the facility with torches and pitchforks like angry peasants attacking Frankenstein's castle if I did that. They are attached to routine dividends.)I'm thinking of having a misting system set up in my office...a slow, constant delivery of antivirals and antibiotics. Maybe I could conduct all business by closed circuit tv.
Just using door handles that I know have been touched by these pestilent people makes me feverish. Never mind that I change gloves every hour in this season. I still feel...under siege.
I suppose I should toss Thorne's governor remote into an Interplant envelope and send it back to Implanting for re-keying to another individual.
Maybe I should even review Dr Varady's recommendations on who and who not to invest much time in developing...I hate to admit she might be correct, because then she'll say I need to try harder to understand how other people feel...and O Dear God, she'll come and drag me out of my office for the annual Genomex Caroler's Concert like she did last year, saying it was GOOD to be seen participating in activities of interest to the employees. And when it's over, and I have about a gram of fresh, highly infectious viral material deposited all over myself, she'll coo, "Wasn't that pretty?"
And, just like last year, in my absence the back glass wall will have been stenciled with snowflakes.
Dr Varady does this to me every year.
03:46am 21 November 2006
Tomorrow the Turkeys
Mood: Awake
Last night I had the cleaning crews wash down every corridor floor, wall, and ceiling with a 25 % solution of bleach. I feel much safer now. I think this may become a nightly ritual until warmer weather returns.
I ordered 24 dozen pairs of my favorite neat little black gloves. The company that makes them also makes gloves for police to wear while searching through pockets--protection with some tactile sensation preserved. Mine are custom cut, but made to the same specifications.
The zebra-effect wig I had custom-made should be shipping sometime soon.
While sleepless and wandering around the maintenance area where the deionized water units are kept, I discovered some jolly elf had set up an 8 foot inflated snowman. These people certainly have a lot of free time to entertain themselves.
I'm going to have to push for the drawings for the new stasis pod storage building. Right now, pods are scattered wily-nilly in any free space. I'm not sure there is any master list of names and locations.
Tomorrow the turkeys.
03:00pm 22 November 2006
There and Gone
Mood: Indescribable
The turkeys came and the turkeys vanished.
I watched it all from my office, using one of the parking lot cameras.
The truck parked at 13.54, and as if they were members of a psychically-linked hive, the employees emptied out of the building and mobbed the truck. All the birds were gone by 14.23.
One would think they were hurting for meals. Intriguingly, the best-paid were near the front of the queue.
I think only Dr Teuong was left inside working (besides me). He never leaves his lab even during fire drills. Last year, when we had a real fire in the Solvent Recovery Unit, his lab techs had to go back in after him, and drag him from the bench. They aren't really sure if he speaks English. Or what the hell he's really working on.
Maybe he's a vegetarian.
02:10pm 10 December 2006
Holiday Helltime
Mood: Anxious
O dear God.
Dr Varady just sent email reminding me that tomorrow is the annual Christmas concert, and that she'll drop by about 10 to drag me from my desk to put in my required appearance.
I can't even call in sick. I'm already here.
The wretched bloated turkey and pilgrim decor is gone, and instead the facility is blighted by trees, lights, candles, fake snowflakes, angels, dreidels, snowmen and Santas. The analytical geeks have gone completely wild with icicle lights--somehow they've wired them to flash in time with the autosampler carousels. Micro has 10 gallon carbuoys filled with red or green water.
06:24am 11 December 2006
Going to the Sing
Mood: Indescribable
Laura Varady, as promised, swooped by my office as promised about 9.53. I tried to look as serious and busy as I can ever look, which fools nearly everyone, but Varady knows me too well. She threatened to roll chair and all out into the corridor and off to the carolers. That did not sound dignified, so I followed her meekly.
About then I noticed that she had holly—real holly leaves—worked into the perennial grey bun of her hair. Her grandchildren must love it. To me, it does not sound dignified.
Nothing like a plant full of techies and nerds (but they are MY techies and nerds) in festive spirits to waste a lot of time. The whole group from Physical Testing was wearing reindeer antlers, which to me does not sound dignified, but there they were. I glared at them, but they must have made the conscious decision not to look my way.
Punch was flowing. I wonder what I paid for it. One of the women from Accounting, dressed as one of Santa’s elves in red and white, brought me a cup of punch. I had never noticed before that she is shorter than 4 feet and has astonishingly pointy ears. I think the punch delivery was part of a dare—she hurried back to a cluster of other ‘elven’ types and they all giggled, which did not seem dignified to me for a human or elf.
Dr Mayakovsky, who is some kind of molecular biology wizard –he told me once what he did, but I had no idea what he was talking about, although he clearly liked talking about it—was working his way though the crowd with a fishing pole that had some phony plastic mistletoe attached to the end, and was having just too much fun with that. This certainly did not sound dignified to me, and I was able to catch his eye and glare at him. He pretended he did not see me! Nobody does that.
The carolers finally started when I noticed that even the receptionists from the front entrance had abandoned their posts. A handful of crazed, wayward mutants could walk right in and overrun the place. I couldn’t even pick out my goon-lackeys in the crowd, because for the sake of the spirit of the event, they were all wearing labcoats to cover their goon-gear, which did not seem dignified for a goon, but Varady started me doing this several years ago after comments were made that heavy weaponry just did not mix well with punch, cookies, and carols.
When it was finally over—right before lunch, what suspicious timing!—Varady strolled back to my office with me. Sure enough, just like every year, some holiday sprites had stenciled 8” snowflakes all over the glass wall—some so high they much have used a step ladder. And they weren’t in neat, orderly rows, just randomly stenciled here, there…I guess that’s how real snowflakes operate, but it just did not sound dignified…and just to crank up the festive spirit to yet another higher level of mirth, comfort, and joy, they had taped Christmas cards in between the flakes…which was really chaotic. Varady sensed my tolerance for chaos wearing thin. “It’s only for a few weeks, Mason!” After she left, I looked at the cards, wondering who the heck would be sending me cards. Adam hasn’t sent me one for years, and Breedlove isn’t here to send anyone cards anymore. They were all sent to the company from suppliers.
10:08am 16 December 2006
Is It January Yet?
Mood: Cranky
Unfortunately, January is still half a month away.
Holiday Helltime is in full cry. Every time I decided someone needs a good glaring at, I find they're on vacation and won't be back until the new year. Aren't they lucky? I'll have to save up the glares.
Food is everywhere. The mice must be thrilled. Should I tell them about the mice?
07:34pm 21/12/2006
The Slugs who work for me
Mood: Anxious
I don't think 15 man-hours of honest work were done by anyone in the past week. These slugs have been so busy eating cookies and buckeye candy that none of them have been focusing on what they're supposed to be doing--saving the world and humanity from that loser Adam (I don't even think he's human--I should have asked Paul about that before I had Thorne kill him.)
Even LESS will get done next week.
Dr Varady keeps telling me I take this much too seriously. Maybe she's right. Maybe if I just SENT all of these people to Adam to work for him, things would work out against him...especially that obnoxious Dr Mayakovsky who keeps passing notes to Dr Shah in meetings...maybe just shipping Adam Dr Mayakovsky would suffice...I think Dr Shah would like that.
06:59pm 27 December 2006
Holiday Reflections
Mood: Anxious
Well, at least I got a lot done today.
Only God knows what Dr Teuong was doing with himself. I don't even know when I should be glaring at the man.
There were 3 other people in today working. How can I save the world from squirrelly mutants with this level of dedication?
03:29pm 29/12/2006
Won’t They Be Surprised?
Mood: Cheerful
I spent nearly the entire weekend writing a memo for site-wide distribution about all the work I will be expecting from everyone in the new year.
What these people need is a good pep talk! Maybe once a week! Certainly each month!
We need team spirit! T-shirts that say, "Down with Squirrelly Mutants!"
03:21pm 31 December 2006
Thrilling
Mood: Cheerful
The "Down With Squirrelly Mutants" (done up in blue and black, of course) t-shirts were delivered today. I was the only one working today, but my time was well-spent distributing a t-shirt on every desk!
Between this, and the exquisitely well-written email pep talk everyone will have waiting on the 2 January, I anticipate wonderful things for the coming year.
02:28pm 1 January 2007
The New Year
Mood: Bouncy
I am so thrilled with the way the "Down With Squirrelly Mutants" t-shirts look that I can hardly wait until people return to work tomorrow!
They will be so impressed with these shirts. Maybe Dr Varady will give me some points for trying to better communicate with my employees!
Maybe I'll start every workday with employee calisthenics and maybe...we need a company song, too.
01:39pm 2 January 2007
Thankless Wretches
Mood: Melancholy
Nobody liked the t-shirts.
Dr Varady tried to explain to me why they weren't a good idea, but I thought it would be so perfect.
Everywhere I went today, I overheard jokes about squirrels, mutants, and me.
I'll never do anything for them again.
Think I'm gonna eat worms.
06:59pm 5 Janaury 2007
Gloom and Doom
Mood: Crushed
I have spent the entire weekend wallowing in the pain of the "Down with Squirrelly Mutants" t-shirt debacle.
I thought it would be such a great thing. We could have had t-shirt days, and everyone could have worn their shirts to show their corporate team spirit. Except ME, of course. I could not do such an undignified thing. Who would take me seriously if I threatened to pod them wearing a "Down With Squirrelly Mutants" t-shirt? How could I take myself seriously with such a style and fashion handicap?
Friday I saw Mayakovsky wiping down the front of an incubator using his shirt. He saw me see him, but did nothing to give the impression he was really doing something else.
I spent the whole weekend playing Purcell's funeral music in a continuous loop.
07:12am 6 January 2007
Looking Ahead
Mood: Mischievous
While wandering around last night in Accounting, I noted the first appearance of the wretched gaudy Valentine's Day decorations. Tacky sentimentality.
However, this served to remind me that I need to find an alternate source for the lovely "Hell Bouquet" I send Adam each Valentine's Day, 13 dried, crisp, brown-to-black shriveled formerly red roses. My past supplier has gone out of business.
08:03am 7 January 2007
Hell-Bouquet Reflections
Mood: Jubilant
A late-night web search revealed an alternative supplier of Hell-Bouquets. What a shame it would be for Adam to go without this annual reminder of my undying affection and admiration.
The new supplier even ties them up with 3" wide moldered black lace. Perfect for the celebration of the season.
Come to think of it, there are a number of individuals who certainly deserve a single shriveled rose, just to know they are still in my thoughts (if not nightmares):
Dr Kenneth Harrison--sly, slithery sleaze. He thinks I don't know what he does behind my back. But I do.
Danielle Hartman--that fickle, fickle, fickle witch
I'm sure there are deserving others, and I will think of them.
03:37pm 8 January 2007
And So It Begins
Mood: Sleepy
I could hardly sleep last night, so I took to wandering around the facility--you never know what surprises will be discovered that way.
The 8 foot inflated snowman was (finally) deflated by the analytical geeks (what IS it with analytical geeks, anyway???) but in Quality Assurance I found a candy dish full of those pastel hearts with lame phrases on them.
04:47am 10 January 2007
Meandering Musings
Mood: Indescribable
Yesterday at the monthly Projects meeting I spotted Mayakovsky passing notes to Dr Shah. I didn't say anything--why say anything when you can glare the way I do?--but I gave him my coldest shark-eye glare. He passed another note before the meeting was over.
Perhaps I should encourage Dr Shah to save these missives. She tosses them all in the trash unread at the end of meetings. They could be useful in getting rid of Mayakovsky.
Dr Harrison is talking nonsense about yet another plant that looks more like a molded gelatin dessert than a plant as our solution to everything. He's encroaching on lab space officially set aside for Physical Testing (these guys make the Analytical geeks look lively and well-adjusted) and the inevitable turf war should start soon. Sometimes I wonder if Dr Harrison goes home at night and sleeps or just puts some roots down into the ground and goes through the dark phase of plant metabolism.
Come to think of it, I wonder what a lot of these people do when they leave this place. If some return to the Mother Ship at night, I would not be shocked.
11:51am 13 January 2007
The Plague of Sentimentality
Mood: Indescribable
The Plague of Sentimentality has descended upon Genomex.
Gaudy (and gawd-awful) red and pink hearts are in evidence everywhere. Dr Varady has crayoned Valentines on her office wall from her grandchildren.
Is there no safe ground?
afternoon
Dr Steyn was looking unusually lovely today.
04:18am 15 January 2007
Dr Harrison
Mood: Contemplative
Note to self: Find justification to sell off Dr Harrison's division. Not only is it a cash drain which will ultimately have the Genomex shareholders in an uproar, but Dr Harrison's parasitic plants that look like brightly colored gelatin desserts...creep me out. Dr Harrison creeps me out (where did he find those odd-looking glasses???). I want him creeping around behind someone else's back, not mine. How difficult can a botany/agronomy guy be to replace? The country is full of ag schools.
07:29am 16 January 2007
Good Will and Free Food
Mood: Amused
Already today I've had to sit through an interminable meeting with the PR people. They have some silly notion that we should be putting effort behind a campaign to convince the local community that the facility isn't going to blow up in the middle of the night and leave a mile-wide crater and that we won't be releasing some flavor of designer plague from our autoclave effluent.
I reminded them that I'd paid for kiddie candy handouts last Halloween, and wondered how much more we should have to do.
They want to bring people from the neighborhood INTO the facility and show them how safe and wonderful it is and feed them dinners once a month! Their bellies filled, the locals will go forth and purr about how great Genomex is, and how safe they feel...
07:44am 17 January 2007
Pestilence
Mood: Anxious
I'm thinking of making everyone in the facility wear surgical masks
85 % of them appear to be wretchedly ill, coughing and hacking and spewing disease and pestilence...my way. I've been hiding in my office and not letting any of them come within 15 feet of me.
Alas, that includes the lovely Dr Steyn as well, who also has contracted the coughing plague.
11:56am 19 January 2007
Two Days
Mood: Chipper
Two days free of virus-shedding, bacteria spewing people. Tomorrow I have to look at them all over again.
Friday night I had the facility almost pickled in sodium hypochlorite and other disinfectants. I wonder how much good that will do me.
01:07am 20 January 2007
When Stasis Pods Just Aren’t Good Enough
Mood: Satisfied
I had a flash of insight while strolling around looking at all the disgusting pink and red hearts littered everywhere throughout the office and lab areas. Shudder. Such tackiness. Such sentimentality.
But I digress. I was told Nicole Carter is still looking for work. If I offered her a hefty consultant's fee, I'm sure she would share with me the name and contact number of her 'hazardous waste' shipper, the special one who hauled away the Martez remains in 55 gallon metal drums with official yellow hazardous waste stickers. The guys I used to use for this kind of work are all doing time now.
If anyone knows who still provides this very necessary service, it's Nicole Carter. That woman knew all kinds of useful things. While it's useful to know where the bodies are buried, sometimes you have to drop back a step and figure out how to bury the bodies.
The more I think about Ken Harrison, his gelatin dessert plants, his late arrivals to work, his creepy glasses, his office garden of carnivorous plants (he feeds them insects himself! sick puppy!) --and the NERVE of him to touch MY chair-- well, a stasis pod is just too good for some people.
What a wonderful idea.
07:33am 21 January 2007
“Feeling Perkier?”
Mood: Flirty
Last night I overrode the security codes on Dr Harrison's office to prowl around for a bit. What a sterile looking room.
Except, of course for his terrarium, with its pitcher plants and venus flytraps. Other people have African violets but Harrison has carnivores.
He buys cartons of flies to feed these plants. I've reviewed the invoices. Someone in accounting thought it was an odd purchase (it is) so of course, it was referred to me. They probably thought I was buying snacks, not knowing that Dr Harrison was buying snacks...for his plants.
He talks to these plants. I think they have names. He makes a great (and unhealthy) fuss over them when he dumps the flies to their separate and hideous dooms. Then the next day, he asks them, "Feeling perkier?"
No luck yet in tracking down Nicole Carter, but I did have a 55 gallon drum set aside and labeled for hazardous waste just in case I can put it to good use shortly. Those creepy plants are leaving Genomex with him.
I cannot talk to Dr Varady about the specifics of my plans for Dr Harrison, naturally, but I do want to talk to her about the way he talks to his carnivorous plants.
The public relations people want to talk about their Neighborhood Communications and Relations plans. I think they want me to approve their cheap meal choices. I drafted Dr Steyn to be part of this committee so there would be something worthwhile about attending these (otherwise) soporific sessions.
11:37am 22 January 2007
Gidney & Cloyd, Matilda & Clotilde
Mood: Productive
Late yesterday I talked to Dr Varady about Dr Harrison’s plants.
They DO have names. She knows some of them: Gidney & Cloyd, Matilda & Clotilde. I’m embarrassed to admit to knowing the source of the first pair. The things we retain…
Dr Varady didn’t know Harrison fed them living flies. She somehow had the idea that he went around the plant and collected fly corpses for feeding purposes. He hadn’t admitted to chatting to them, either. When I first started talking to her about Harrison’s carnivorous plants, she seemed mildly amused, but the other details seemed to distress and disturb her. They disturb me.
And people think I am peculiar. They thought I was buying the flies. For me.
I think I need to keep a closer watch on what goes on around this place.
Adam’s Hell-Bouquet is on order, and set for timely delivery. All this thinking about flies gave me the idea to pay a little more, and have some mega-horsefly corpses glued to the shriveled blooms. I wonder if Adam will guess the bouquet is from me? He may just get several of these every year. I can’t be the only one who recognizes his Flaws and Failings, can I?
A couple of impressionable young new hires started yesterday, a Dr Peter Newman and a Dr Bryan diStefano, in Synthesis and Applications, respectively. Just to start them off right, I cornered them in my office for nearly three hours right after lunch, and told them more than they ever wanted to know about the operation of the facility and my modest (hah!) expectations.
I had stasis operations shut down while they were here so they would have anything to look at but me. [I like the looks on faces when people finally notice the wrinkly biopolymer under the gloves.] These two had to struggle to stay conscious, which was the point of the post-lunch timing. I’d drone for a while, then toss in something important, or seemingly important. Mostly I wanted to glare at them with my best shark-eye look, to make sure they walked out with something to worry about. Always the best way to start fresh blood, engender the seeds of fear in their hearts.
I wonder if Dr Varady would think I’m being mean?
I wonder what Dr Steyn would think. I’m never mean to her. She asked me yesterday for some piece of equipment to do something called Capillary Electrophoresis, and I told her of course she could have it. I wonder what it does and why she wants it?
06:37am 24 January 2007
Ground Hog Day Breakfast & more
Mood: Mischievous
Nicole Carter was extremely suspicious when I offered her five figures for contact information for very special hazardous waste removal, but like everyone else, she has bills to pay. Maybe after I ship out Dr Harrison and his Garden from Hell I’ll offer Carter Harrison’s old job—at 70 % of his pay, of course.
Dr Varady has reminded me that the Annual Genomex Ground Hog Day breakfast has to take place next Friday on the 31st since the Wretched Rodent’s official day falls on a Sunday. I never heard of such a thing outside of this company—I suspect it is some thinly disguised pagan fest Breedlove carried over from his Third Reich days. With Paul Breedlove, anything was possible.
Mercifully, Dr Harrison is out of the country for a few days at some botanist’s convention. That must be scintillating. Tomorrow when everybody’s gone I’m going to go and take a good look at Harrison’s Hell-Garden and take inventory—when I get rid of him, I want to be sure of getting rid of all the carnivorous plants, too, Gidney and Cloyd and Etienne and all of them.
11:00am 26 January 2007
The Garden from Hell
Mood: Shocked
I went back to Dr Harrison's office early this morning at first light to get a really good look at those awful plants [I've learned two more of their names--Gagarin and Glenn) of his.
The plants were just as hellish as ever. At least one of the last batch of flies is still alive inside the terrarium.
What I found on Dr Harrison's desk chair shouldn't have surprised me--Dr Harrison's Very Odd--but it did: a 'dog' collar with 1 1/2" spikes and a riding crop.
I have to work with this character. I had to listen to
Purcell for hours to attain emotional equilibrium once more.
And Harrison touched MY chair! I'm not letting him near me.
05:00am 27 January 2007
Carnivores among us
Mood: Awake
I have to get my mind off of Dr Harrison...I've learned more names of his ...plants...Mikey, Edwina, Toddly.
Maybe I can rent a trailer and move Harrison's office out there until he can be dealt with more permanently.
I've been reading about carnivorous plants and now know more than I ever wished.
04:50am 28 January 2007
The Dinner
Mood: Drained
Last night was the first Fool-the-Community Dinner. I was going to hide out and say I had to change my skin, but when I found out that Dr Harrison was going to be there I felt compelled to put some safe distance between Dr Harrison and Dr Steyn.
I got there early and was cornered by Thomasina Hobson, (what kind of people name their child after a marmalade cat in a Disney movie?) the perpetually smiling PR person. Nothing stops this woman from smiling. Conversation can turn to mass murder, plague, all manner of human tragedy, and Thomasina smiles and smiles.
I have always wondered if she is an alien (and people think I'm peculiar).
Thomasina the Alien PR Person grabbed MY arm and dragged ME over to the buffet table to see all the wonderful cheap, overcooked food that had been brought in for the peasants. I tried to wriggle free, but she had such a snug grasp I could feel the biopolymer beginning to stretch dangerously thin, so I surrendered to the will of the awful Thomasina.
I was actually relieved when Dr Harrison fluttered in since Thomasina opened her jaws and let me fly away.
I think they like each other. They deserve each other. Perhaps they are the same species.
Perhaps not. I wonder if Thomasina has a doggie collar somewhere, perhaps tucked away with scented sheets? I wish I hadn't seen Dr Harrison's little secrets there on his desk chair.
The 'community' began to wander in through the door, and clearing the buffet table out. They acted like they had not had a meal in days, but so did Thomasina and Harrison. The 'community' was a motley looking group, all ages and descriptions. I cannot imagine what they expected. I've heard stories told about Genomex that are entertaining. Life here has never been that interesting. We’ve never done reverse engineering of alien technology here.
Dr Steyn arrived at the last possible moment, and ALMOST had to sit next to Dr Carnivorous Plant himself, but I spared her a FATE WORSE than the flies suffer in Harrison's terrariums, and sat next to him myself.
Which meant that I got to hear all of his stories with great clarity.
He is well traveled. He seems to have been in every mold-covered, fungus-filled tropical nightmare landscape on the planet. Some of the places he traveled to were quite remote, and just in case he was cut off from transportation or even rescue, he had taken survival courses. That's nice, but he then next described in great detail which insects are considered the safest and most nutritious for humans to eat. Dr Steyn was glaring at him by that time? She is GOOD at that! An unsuspected talent of hers!
The three civilians at the table stopped eating at this point.
Some people are very sensitive. I was glad I hadn't eaten anything.
Then Harrison began prattling on about his Garden from Hell! About how well Gagarin the Sundew was doing, what promise Etienne the Red Dragon Venus Flytrap was showing, and how Ysabeau the pitcher plant was settling in to her new sphagnum moss with alacrity!
This is not the way you convince a bunch of civilians that a research center is harmless. They seemed decent enough peasants. Ed Gaheris owns Ed’s Buy and Fly convenience store. Amy Patel was youngish, not long out of college. Sally LeRoy was an aging hippie—and not aging gracefully. By this time they had all set aside their plastic forks.
I hoped Dr Harrison would stop, since Thomasina was turning down the lights and starting her stupor-inducing presentation about Genomex (mostly lies), but then he told everyone about how he orders fresh, LIVE flies for his beauties, and feeds them all himself! And how he talks to Gidney and Cloyd the Butterworts, and has been singing to his new arrival, Edwina the Heliamphora.
Even Dr Steyn had stopped eating. She looked ready to launch herself across the table when he offered the civilians a TOUR of his garden!
"That's impossible, Dr Harrison. Your office is in a restricted security area." I was adamant.
"No, it isn't!"
"It is NOW." I gave him my most severe shark-eye glare, but all that did was pause his poisonous patter for a few moments.
“I want you to know that what you see in my office is just a fraction of my collection. I’m quite well known in these circles! My plants were featured in an issue of Crazy for Carnivores.”
“Crazy for Carnivores?” Ms Patel seemed wildly amused.
“A widely known publication in carnivore fancy.” Harrison looked defensive. Amy Patel was still giggling.
Fortunately, we were now in total darkness and Thomasina was droning on about Genomex, and the dedication of the founders, Eleanor Singer and Paul Breedlove, to the betterment of human welfare. Lies.
Too bad Paul hadn’t turned his energies towards ethical research. Then I wouldn’t have had to sit and listen to Thomasina’s lies.
I kept thinking of my first viewing of Dr Harrison’s Garden from Hell. I had my face about five inches from a venus flytrap—I think learned later its name was Temujin—when a hapless fly landed in the wrong place, and was snapped up. Harrison laughed when I flinched.
The horrors of the evening did not end with the community finally clearing out of the building cafeteria. Ten minutes after they were gone, security called and told me each of the civilian’s cars had a flyer on the windshield proclaiming the evening a fraud and deception and that the evil of Genomex knew no limits. It was signed, “Adam”.
What a miserable evening, salvaged only by the presence of the lovely Dr Steyn, who can cast a pretty mean glare herself. I wonder where she learned to do that?
06:19am 29 January 2007
Post-Traumatic Dinner Shock
Mood: Exhausted
I'm still suffering the after effects of the Fool-the-Community dinner.
Thomasina forced her way in here yesterday--right past an armed guard, and STILL smiling--and insisted on telling me in great detail why the evening was a success and why we need to do this every month to "build lines of communication to the community".
Thomasina doesn't even respond to my nastiest, most malevolent glare. Maybe her eyesight is bad.
Next month, over more overcooked, cheap food, the community will be invited to submit questions. I think I will be changing my skin that evening.
06:38am 31 Janaury 2003
The Breakfast
Mood: Disappointed
Breedlove started this custom in the 1970s with donuts and coffee in the cafeteria. The festivities grew from there, into a lavish (I'm paying for it) breakfast for all the dayshift employees (the nightshift podding crews are out of luck) buffet style feed with eggs many ways, sausage, bacon, pancakes (at least 7 kinds)rolls, donuts, bagels, cream cheese, fruit and of course, oatmeal and grits.
Mayakovsky could barely carry his plate back to the table. What a slob.
Thomasina was there, wearing a groundhog mask as the Grand mistress of Groundhog Day. Very odd. Nobody else celebrates this day. Just Genomex. Why?
Fortunately, I did not have to look at Dr Harrison, who is out of the country searching for some Rafflesia. His fondness for these gelatin-dessert looking plants is exceeded only by his fondness for his carnivores.
I just realized I don't know who takes care of those creepy plants when he's gone.
Dr Steyn was nowhere in evidence. A disappointment.
07:08am 3 February 2007
Seasonal Ichor
Red and pink are littered everywhere. Walking through accounting is a stomach-churning experience. I may have to get a darker tint on these glasses. A much darker tint.
One of the analytical geeks found a string of heart-shaped lights, presently draped over the doorway into the ICP group. Late at night, with all the other lights off, they cast a spectral glow...suggesting the horror of the Old Ones...and their foul ichor, whatever ichor might be.
I probably shouldn't read myself to sleep reading H P Lovecraft
12:54pm 4 February 2007
Digging Deep
Mood: Accomplished
I must have spent 90 minutes in Accounting this morning--very early this morning--searching through all the dishes full of the hearts with lame phrases on them looking for just the right lame phrases...
09:58am 5 February 2007
Driftwood on a Foreign Shore
Mood: Indescribable
Another day, more pink and more red.
I really have to find out who is taking care of Harrison's little garden from Hell. Most of them are bog-loving plants, and don't take kindly to drying out.
I wonder if he's having them feed some flies while he's gone, too? Who here would have the stomach for that?
08:22am 6 February 2007
Surprise Package
Mood: Irritated
I cannot leave this office for 7 minutes without something happening!
While I was gone, someone delivered a package to my office. It had Harrison's name on it, but he's not here, so I was the lucky recipient.
The package said "Live animals" on the side. Only God knows what kind of live animals Harrison might order and what he might do with them, but I thought I should know as well, so I opened the box, intending to deposit the delivery in his own office afterward.
Inside were 4 cartons of...flies. I cannot believe anyone is making money SELLING flies and that I am paying for them.
One of the cartons was damaged...the flies got loose...and now I have flies buzzing all over the office. Just what I wanted, FLIES everywhere, nasty, dirty, disease-bearing lower life forms!
I sent one of my lackeys out for industrial strength fly traps, the kind farmers use to capture a lot of flies in a flash.
Three of them are sitting on top of my monitor watching me type.
10:52am 10 February 2007
Unblessed Expenditures
Mood: Amused
The flies are (finally) all dead. It's safe to come in here and not wonder if they will watch me type.
Dr Harrison is still gone. Won't he be surprised when he returns and finds that since I did not bless the trip, he gets to pay his own way and take the time out of his allotted vacation days?
Thomasina cornered me this morning and gushed about the positive response to the wretched dinner. She's planning another one this month, this time with a TOUR of the plant. Perhaps a detour into Podding Operations for Thomasina?
06:49am 11 February 2007
Dr Varady Strikes Again
Mood: Frustrated
Dr Varady's already been in here with a quote from a bakery for zillions of VALENTINE COOKIES for the Genomex Valentine's Day fest. What corporation does this?
She badgered me to sign for the cookies until I finally caved.
She LOOKS so harmless and grandmotherly, but she can get anything out of me.
It's better than spending money on live flies for Harrison's carnivores, I suppose...
10:25am 12 February 2007
Return of Dr Harrison
Mood: Giddy
Well, I do hope Dr Harrison enjoyed first class seating for the first and last parts of his Rafflesia-collecting expedition, because that alone blew his travel budget for the year, even had I blessed the trip ahead of time. Since I didn't, I had the good fun of glaring at Snakelike Carnivore-Keeping Ken and chastising him for such presumption. He blew up at me, but I just kept glaring, and sure enough, by the time he left my office, he was completely cowed, and owed a lot of money on his company card.
I should do this more often.
05:24am 14 February 2003
Late Night Wanderings
Mood: Flirty
MY keycard opens every door in the facility, which comes in handy while wandering about in the middle of the night.
I dropped off my candy hearts on Dr Steyn's desk at 3.25 this morning, "Be Mine" and "Be My Love".
later
After dozing for a bit --sometimes I do sleep-- I woke up and realized that maybe I didn't do such a wise thing. My keycard DOES open every door...she might figure out who left the hearts since no one else has access...but by then, people were showing up for work and I couldn't go back and retrieve the hearts...
02:24pm 18 February 2007
Death to Ugly Rafflesia Flowers
Mood: Cheerful
Dr Harrison discovered somebody killed three of his gelatin-dessert looking rafflesia flowers while he was acquiring more of their kin overseas.
He was in here raving about it for 45 minutes. I listened patiently, and gravely promised to discover the villain responsible for this wanton destruction and setback to science.
And I will find the rascal. And give them a bonus for doing something I wish I had thought of doing.
07:17am 19 February 2007
Mystery Solved
Mood: Indescribable
The demise of the Rafflesia specimens is no longer a mystery.
Ms Chavez confessed to the crime, looking miserable and repentant. I let her look miserable and repentant, and asked why she (improved the overall state of the universe) slayed the three Rafflesias by giving them a concentrated salt solution...that slimy toad Harrison won't leave her alone...Ms Chavez does not seem the whips and leather type but Harrison doesn't seem to be processing the word "no".
I gave Ms Chavez a nice impromptu bonus, the rest of the day off to spend it, and a "nicely done". Initiative like this needs encouragement.
Harrison must go, either with Tricorp sold to some other company, or in a drum.
09:05am 20 February 2007
More Free Food and Lying
Mood: Hyper
Thomasina was in here this morning for me to sign off on more cheap, overcooked bland food to feed to the community people due in here next week to be fed and listen to more lies.
Wouldn't it be fun to tell them what really goes on here?
Not only does Thomasina want to feed them and lie to them, she wants to give a tour of the facility.
That means all the labs will have to be cleaned up that day and left as they never look under working conditions, and all the projects we're NOT supposed to be doing have to be hidden from view. This is going to cause the loss of a couple days worth of work.
I've already sent Dr Steyn her invitation.
06:32am 21 February 2007
Superficial Impressions
Mood: Accomplished
I sent a memo to the heads of all the technical sections to make certain that not only were all the lab facilities tidy and presentable (what passes for a sense of humor among geeks can be odd) but that any 'black' project or anything just not fit for public viewing be placed out of sight.
Now I have to make sure that they comply.
|
