THE MACHINE

He spent the weekend getting high and doing unsavory things.  It seemed like another world away as he sat at his desk job Monday morning.  No one had the slightest clue that he was not who he pretended to be and that this job was simply a cover.  He did hate coming to it though, and it was easily visible to everyone, but he liked it that way, it was never in his nature to need people to like him, in fact, he would rather they didn’t like him but respect him instead.  It is rare that one may have both.

He did find the inner workings of a corporate giant rather distasteful, but fascinating.  It was so much about making money, and he loved money, but felt there was something fake about the way the company disguised their lust for it.  It was hidden behind campaigns to help the poor through building houses, making donations, and talk talk talk.  So much talk.  He would much rather the company own their greed instead of hiding behind it.  Drug dealers were very bad people and did disgusting things, but at least their business model was pure to their intentions. 

He felt it the worst when he would attend company meetings.  It was a reminder that though he was not truly a member of the company, only posing as one, he was still a cog in their machine.  It made him slightly nauseous. Why should he propel this greed machine, when no one is willing to be honest about their true goals?

It was almost lunch time and since he was bored to nearly sobs, he thought he might run out and complete a few errands.  He needed a new tooth brush, so that was exciting.  He could go to the nearby duane reade and wait in line for 30 minutes.  That would kill some time.  He could daydream a little, perhaps, smoke a cigarette and look cool.

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