Training the New Hires

We are the Company.
You will be assimilated.
Resistance is futile.

This is the graveyard
Of our individuality--
We die in our uniforms
That imply teamwork
And policies of collective thought.

And yet we move and live still.
Sort of.

We are the Collective
And this is our agreement.
It protects us from the Corporation--
Or it protects them from us.
We do not really know.


It is a book of legal jargon
That tells us their rights.


You will dress how you are told.
You will speak as you are trained to.
You exist to serve the humans
Because they are dollar signs
That bring hours to the Collective.


Do not think about the fact that you were one once.
You have been assimilated into the Corporate retail machine.


Only those that dedicate 
Their natural lives
To the Company's view of perfection
Get their individuality back...
Or those that resist.


To resist is to die in the eyes of the Company--
Though we are dead already.


We are zombie machines
Striving for perfection
With super-human physical strength
And ignorance of pain.
Shuffling along with warm smiles on our lips.


But the humans cannot see
The emptiness in our eyes.


So much we did not know
When they offered us the apple.
We bit its sweet flesh
And lost our sense of self,
Though at the time we were unaware.


As you are unaware,
Though we must lie and say nothing can be better.


We will train you to help the humans.
We will show you how to serve the Collective.
It is our job to serve the Company.
Insufficiency will not do.
We must be perfect.


To be perfect
You must be brain-dead living.