He's in all of us. He knows our minds. He can see through our eyes. He's an outcast living in the inside - the ghost of society.
Enter the dark and tragic life of the lowly James Johnson as he trudges forward as an office drone in a boring textile...
Word of the day: Hot lead. Means a clue. Something that could relate to an investigation, but needs more 'hot leads,' to know for sure.
My fingers typed rapidly across the keyboard, spitting out a ridiculous amount of coding. My eyes darted back and forth, following the lines as they filled up my page. Digits after digits sped across the screen, scrolling the page upwards at a record recording speed!
Ah! I'm almost done and then I can go home. Two more minutes and I've already finished a week's worth of work. I can't really pace myself, once I have an idea or anything bubbling in my mind, I have to complete it in less than an hour.
My boss doesn't like it when I finish early because then his other employees have to also speed up and keep up with me, which he then says the other half of the machines in the building would now run slower and the other half will run more efficiently. I negotiated with him and told him work labor would be cut with me leaving earlier and that the fifty percent of the machines that fall behind are machines that do not terribly effect the efficiency of the factory.
But he hates me and demands that I stay until everyone else is finish. It's very stupid. And I hate sitting still. Therefore, I decide to later investigate the crazy man who thinks I'm pretty and then go home, take a cold shower, and sleep.
"Johnson, slow down!" My boss barked, throwing a balled up piece of trash at my head. "I can hear your fingers from across the globe."
"But, sir, I can't stop," I said, not looking away from the screen, "if I don't complete this tonight, then that Trojan horse will break through, the gears on Machine #5 will shut down, the coding to the safe downstairs will reset on its own because no one realised they had set it to automatically lock itself out every thirty days. And, not to mention that your computer, as well as all computers on Level 5 will shut down due to a worm. I'm not a virus protector, I've told you before you need to consider protecting the company computers--,"
"No one cares what you think, Johnson," my boss said. "Mr. Wallace told me a virus protection can actually cause a virus."
"Yes, sir, indeed he is correct. But there are plenty of protections that can do the job without harming the systems. But one day, all computers will crash. Also, sir, were you aware that at 8:00 at night sharp, the basement light is programmed to turn on? Do you know why, sir?"
"None of my concern, Johnson! Stop talking and get back to work!"
Goodness. What a strange man. First he tells me to slow down, then he informs me to stop chattering and get back to work. He likes to talk a lot and he doesn't do any real work himself. He also a micro-manger and stands, quite often, over my shoulder and tells me how to do my job. That is a silly thing because it's not fair for him to tell me how to do it 'right' if he still is doing everything wrong.
I haven't been down in the basement, but I think I shall investigate it tonight. Maybe.
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