Superpower

Everyone is crazy

- Why? – asked Michael.

- They never come here. That's why. Besides, they know I own the biggest collection of plastic light sabers outside official merchandise centers. – Jason was much more likable without his best friend around than Michael could have thought so. – I would simply cut their heads off – he continued affably.

- With a plastic lightsaber – Michael wanted to make sure.

- Can't bring one in. Against company's policy. – Jason had a good excuse.

- Health and Safety – Michael noticed. - I understand - They stood for a moment in silence looking for some pleasant commonality. Michael was glad he couldn't find one.

- So what is your syndrome? – Jason asked.

- I haven't got one - Michael replied, surprised by the question.

- It's ok, you do not have to lie, we are friends here. - Jason reassured him calmly.

- I think I am all right – Michael reassured just as calmly.

- Everyone has got a syndrome – Jason reminded patiently.

- I am normal. – Michael defended himself with a slight sense of guilt.

- Nobody is normal – Jason disagreed. – Nobody!

- You mean ... nobody? Nobody here? Or nobody at all?

- Yes, nobody! – Jason clarified his official position.

- Well – Michael shrugged his shoulders – I am normal. There is nothing wrong with me.

- Well – Jason looked into Michael's eyes with a smirk of defiance. – You would not be here if you were normal. Would you?

Jason had a point and Michael knew that. Would a normal person strive to work for a business encouraging its own workforce not to be ashamed? It was an uncomfortable question and Michael preferred not to answer. There were other uncomfortable questions he preferred not to answer too, like, for example, why they always sack you? Why did you lose every single job in your life? Why can't you hold on to any job? Why can't you be like other people? Why you are such an intelligent idiot? Why did you take the marker? What if they ask everyone to give samples of their handwriting? What if the CIA monitors Twitter? Those were important questions Michael preferred to leave alone, especially the last one, which scared the living soul out of him.

- So what is your syndrome? – Jason repeated his question. Michael pressed right against the wall, had to concentrate for a moment.

- I suffer from a ... sense of humor. – He confessed seriously and looked down on the floor, almost ashamed. Jason was not impressed by such a humorless approach.

- You are funny – he admitted with a hint of sarcasm. – Really funny.

Michael sighed heavily. He had no ambitions of becoming the funniest guy in the factory. He expected the competition to be fierce and would rather concede the title to Tony than explain his own jokes. Explaining own jokes was a crime against humanity and Michael had no intentions of taking part in the genocide. In fact, he had no intentions of taking part in anything, which he suspected was related to the fact he also did not have ambitions. He smiled to himself and asked.

- So nobody here is normal?

- It's a madhouse – Jason exclaimed with joy, clapped his hands, and erupted with a spasm of horselaugh. – Did not you read the notice board? If you feel unwell or have problems with your emotions do not be ashamed. – He teased like a maniac.

- So what is his syndrome – Michael casually pointed at their supervisor, an older man whose face collapsed into a permanent state of untroubled disinterest.