I was already wide awake and staring blankly at the ceiling when my industrial size alarm clock went off. I waited for a few moments, leaving the annoying ring to resonate around the room until it seemed to be coming from inside my own head, and then gently placed it on snooze. I'm not sure how much actual sleep I got that night, I had been slipping in and out of consciousness for hours because every time I fall asleep I return to the same terrible nightmare...
I'm sitting at a cubicle in the middle of millions of other small cubicles in an absurdly huge warehouse-like room, typing away at the keyboard. For some reason me and everyone else working in their cubicles have a dog bowl full of water on the desk next to us and are wearing a big silver collar connected to a chain tying our necks to the desk. I barely recognized myself; my face was sunken and old and my hair had turned a diseased shade of white. Pain shoots through my hands every time my fingers bang at the keyboard because of what seemed like a bizarre case of arthritis and carpel tunnel syndrome. My eyes have gone almost completely blind and I am now wearing glasses so thick I have to keep pushing them up every few key strokes because they keep slipping off my thinning face. That's when the 'manager' walks in, a ghoulish being wearing a big fur coat like a pimp, and barks at me that he needs the report tomorrow morning or else I'm fired, walks away and the lights start turning out one by one in the huge warehouse...except for my cubicle. And it's in this scene of me sitting alone at a cubicle, aged and worn out, in the middle of complete blackness that kept waking me up gasping....
It had been about a month since I was first informed that I'm almost completely broke. The harrowing experience with the ant in my apartment snapped me into reality and I immediately started sending out CV's to absolutely anyone who was hiring, no matter how unfitting I was for the job or how unfitting it was for me. As expected, no one replied, except for one which I found most amusing. It said that my CV was excellent, that I was almost accepted, that I was highly considered amongst the competition and that any company would be lucky to have someone with my skills. One problem though; it was addressed to 'whoever this may concern' and was a god damn bulk email...
But then last night, right before I thought about hitting the sack, the familiar sound of cooing and fluttering beckoned me into the other room to find Frank sitting at the windowsill. He looked happy and kept ruffling his feathers and making little bird noises as I walked over, greeted him with a kiss on his tiny white head and read the message.
"Intelicom wants to meet you for an interview tomorrow morning. Good luck."
Initially I was very happy, for Intelicom is one of the famous multinationals here in Cairo that is known to pay well. Plus, the job they need filled is an editor for the company newsletter and announcements, so at least I'll be doing some writing. But as the news began settling I started getting the heavy feeling in my gut that maintained throughout the nightmares and still remained when I got up from bed to get dressed. I felt like a devout Muslim sheikh who suddenly decided to become Jewish and move to Israel . However, I knew that if I wanted to nail the interview and start getting a steady income I would have to drop these negative thoughts of 'corporate stooge'-hood, so I sang as I showered to lift my spirits, put on my best suit, made sure I was well groomed and went and got a taxi.
Throughout my life, any important day means that something unfortunate will happen to me, that's just one of the ways how the Gods have decided to mess with me and I now accept it as inevitable. So I wasn't much surprised when midway through the ride I got the familiar feeling of creeping diarrhoea. This was no ordinary case of diarrhoea; it was the kind that gets you wondering what you could have done in this or any past life to deserve it. The kind that if you don't clench your butt cheeks together until your face turns red you might not be able to contain the evil. The kind that...well, you get the point.
Anyway, I managed to get my mind off it until I finally landed at my destination, got out of the taxi and took my first look at the devil's corporate lair. I stared up in awe at the building, towering aggressively over the surrounding neighbourhoods. "Wow", I thought, "the owner must have a God complex or a very small penis...or both." As I continued studying my potential future place of work I received my first psychosomatic auditory hallucination of the day; 'Welcome to the Machine' by Pink Floyd blasting around me as if there were hidden speakers everywhere...
"Welcome my son, welcome to the machiiiiiiine
Where have you been, that's alright we know where you've beeeeen
You got a-"
WOOOSH!!
The song was abruptly halted as a passing car placed the entire contents of a dirty puddle onto my left leg. I first just stared at the wet dirt that was now sliding down onto my shoes for a few seconds, almost not believing what just happened. Then I frantically looked at my watch and realized I needed to do something about this, so I rushed into the building, passed the security clearance (which rivals that of major airports), and ran into the lobby bathroom. After I wiped God's sense of humour off my leg, I decided to use this opportunity to let out some of the demons contained in my stomach, so I jumped into an empty stall and made some serious music for about ten minutes.
I felt about 10 kilos lighter as I stood patiently during the elevator ride up to the 28 th floor, watching the counter increment. At first the elevator was crowded with young professionals who had likewise decided to serve Satan, but as the counter kept approaching the 28 th they kept getting off until I was completely alone. My heart became heavy as the doors opened at my floor and I stepped out into the large corridor, which at one end had the secretary sitting at an elevated desk. I began walking slowly towards her as my overactive imagination took everything in slow motion; my shoes making especially loud clunks on the floor with every step and the secretary's desk which seemed to keep getting bigger and higher as I approached. By the time I reached to barely peer over the desk I could feel my heartbeat in my nose. "Good morning, I'm here for the interview", I croaked. The pretty young secretary smiled and told me to wait in the sitting room for a minute and as I kept her gaze for a second I couldn't help remember those 'whores of satan' in Bram Stokers Dracula, sultry and hot yet have the ability to suck your blood dry in two minutes because after all...don't forget who they work for.
I walk into the little room to find another young applicant sitting there, looking fresh out of college and already filling out the application with intense determination. I take a seat next to him and we start making small talk as we fill out the standard questions. Then I do something completely on the spur of the moment, something I'm not very proud of but must admit was quite fun. I stop him midway through something he was telling me and give him a very serious look.
"Look, you seem like a nice guy and I feel like I should tell you about something because you are at the beginning of your career and I would hate for you to make a big mistake. I'm actually here undercover, I work for an organization linked to Interpol and I'm here to get hard evidence on how this company, from top to bottom, is tainted with fraud and money laundry. I am telling you this because I feel bad about you getting tied up in all this in the future, but if you repeat this to anyone I will not be responsible for your safety..."
He smiles nervously to test me and I continue with my serious glare. I kid you not; I should have won an Oscar for this performance because he was out of that waiting room in a split second without even looking back. I don't feel great about it, but in a way, I've saved his soul...at least until his next interview.
After what seemed like years I finally get called into the actual interview with one of the senior managers. He was a bulky man in an expensive suit with a voice that didn't match his size. He had hair plugs that I couldn't stop staring at, like a girl with obscenely large knockers, your eyes are just drawn to them subconsciously. I don't usually react like this to bald people but it was just so fake, like a tiny patch of bright green artificial grass growing in the middle of a desert. A few times he caught me looking and I immediately brought my gaze back down to his eyes and tried to say something impressive to get his mind off it.
Together we proceeded to surf the waves of interview protocol. I was trying to be impressive and he was trying to be unimpressed by me while showing how important he is. Towards the end he got a call while I was with him and talked in a horrible way to someone who must have been a subordinate. Much of it was business, but this is how the call went in my head:
"Hello? Yes, I am a very important person, much more important than you are so be quick and don't make me fire you because I do have that power. What? Yes, I do realize that I am the devils little corporate helper, but I've made peace with that since I have a big car and many summer homes. Naturally I've grown fat and bald and get a brand new ulcer everyday, but hey, these are the new status symbols of the 21 st century. What about life purpose, you say?? You're fired."
As the questions ran out he leaned back in his giant seat and announced nonchalantly that I am quite qualified. He leaned over and crushed my hand in an over zealous handshake then said "we'll be in touch". So I crushed his hand back and said "I look forward to it." And even though nothing was official yet, as we continued the bone crushing handshake for a few seconds and locked eyes, I felt my soul get transferred out of my body.
I am in the machine.
