"What's the craziest shit I've ever seen huh? Well I'll tell you.
My official title is officer of the longevity allocation program.
What does that mean? Well put nicely my job description is Ensure no one who isn't supposed to die dies and that everything goes painlessly for everyone involved.
Put, umm, less nicely, i kill millions of people daily to ensure that you rabbits don't end up drowning in your own shit because there's nowhere left for it to go. Population control for the masses. Every day I sit down at my desk in this fluorescent lit basement my white uniform and stupid pieces of rope tied onto my shoulder watching the numbers on my screen to see if one of your people's tags set off my systems as somebody in the wrong place, who is about to be vaporised. This has of course never happened, and if it were too happen I wouldn't need to be looking at my screen to know because the entire building would sound like one giant bell and there be enough flashing lights to wipe out the world's entire epileptic population, that's if there was one anymore. So back to the creepy shit. The Life Control Unit (LCU), is the most badass piece of humane destruction that will ever exist, one moment you are alive and comfortable the next you are the constituent parts of an atom, the heat energy released from your bonds being used to power up the big light that says Longevity Allocation on the top of this nice shiny building. How does it do this? Plasma and vacuum heat shielding and a final core of gasses at kelvin plus many many meters of lead and concrete to stop me being fried when I press the shiny red button that make you go poof. My job seems pointless to most people and could easily be done by a machine. Most people are idiots.
It's hard enough to stop people starting another fucking war over population control when they know that only the bad guys are going to get frazzled, imagine if they Thought there was a chance they would get zip zapped. Huh? No not easy. That's why I'm here with my stupid shoulder tassels to reassure people it'll all be okay
Anyway. To reduce people to plasma you need at least 150 million degrees Celsius and we can make that happen via government secrets that would put you in my incinerator, Ahhm, Life Control Unit, if you knew about them.
So creepy shit where were we?
I was sitting at my desk, the steady rush of the dust of the millions of people I had toasted rushing down into the big collecting bucket I would soon have to empty into the recycling bin, fading into the background noise of the hundreds of computer servers that made sure the stuff that made people dust did the stuff that made people dust. No false tags had appeared today or any other day for the fifty years since the LAP began. When there was band from in the bucket behind me and a puff of dust shot from under the lid. I followed protocol and shut down the entire plant, some unlucky bastards got to live another day. So what?
Then I turned my attention to the bucket. The dust was settling down onto the floor
Forming a ring around the box that convinced me I hadn't made it all up. I undid the latches which held the lid down, why we had latches to stop dust escaping I have no fucking idea, I didn't design this shit.
So latches off lid up and what do I see? This creepy ass bastard smiling up at me naked as the day he came into this shit stained bitch of a world. Then guess what he did he smiled at me, he had tattooed his teeth with these strange ass dotty thing. Who the fuck tattoos their teeth anyway. He held up his hand to me as if to shake but then turned it over and blew a big handful of dust in my face, the little shit, while I was blind I don't know what the fuck he did but the next thing I know I'm sitting in a little 6 by 2 box. Patiently waiting in queue to get myself dusted.
If there's an after life no one's going to be happy to see me I can tell ye that now.
So Adios you bastard
Officer Rodriguez Marco Paulo
Signing off for duty.
