“Mr Smith,” says the voice on the other end of the line. It was the man from HR. “You should be proud, you’ve been offered the job.”
“Which job?” I ask. I’d interviewed for two.
“Cog,” he says, “Cog Grade II. with luck and hard work, I’d expect you could be promoted – maybe to spoke, gear, or possibly even wheel.”
I could barely contain my excitement. I’m not the kind of guy who is a crazy risky sort – so this was big time stuff.
I mean, I’d been a wheel before. But I was never a part of the The Machine. It’s entirely different when you’re part of the machine. You go from spinning uselessly to actually being a part of something bigger. Something more. Something magnificent.
‘What is the machine?’ you ask.
It is nothing less than the culmination of human ingenuity and design. It is a massive organization filled with cogs like myself. And it churns and grumbles and grinds and produces, well – anything. The most remarkable part is how it fashions itself. You see, me being a cog is no guarantee I’ll always be a part of the machine. The whole system is literally geared to making itself cheaper, more effective and more elegant. If I can stay a cog, I’ll be proud. It would mean that I’m better, smarter and more useful than ever before.
But – just for a second – imagine that I can somehow graduate – perhaps, in my wildest dreams – to something like a regulator – I should be doubly proud! In a machine that is always shedding parts, substituting cheaper ones or adding and then improving pre-made modules, such personal growth would be incredible.
I can already picture my first day on the job. I’ll show up and they’ll show me my actual physical place in the machine. They’ll show me how I fit on the gear and how I’ll interface with other cogs. It will take me a while to get used to it. But after a few months I’ll have it down – and after a year I’ll be the smoothest, best-calibrated cog ever.
I’m really looking forward to it.
Of course, being a cog in The Machine isn’t everything. The best part will be telling other people about it.
‘What do you do? ‘
‘I’m a cog.’
‘Oh, really, where at?’
‘The Machine.’
I can’t even imagine their answers to that! Women will fall for me, men will be jealous and children will idolize me.
It’ll be sweet.
—
“Are you there?” asks the man from HR – on the line I’d forgotten I’d been holding.
“Yes, yes,” I answer, enthusiastically.
“Do you have any questions?” he asks.
“Just one,” I reply, “When do I start?”