“Mr. Stephens?”
“Yes, ma’am!” Owen smiled, stood quickly, and rapidly stepped toward a harried-looking receptionist holding a worn clipboard. Her lips and jowls were twisted into a scowl of impatience.
“Mr. Robards will see you now. Please follow me.”
The woman spun and left Owen staring at her back until he rushed forward to keep up, following her through a gray metal fire door and into a maze of cubicles. Rounding a corner, the receptionist ushered him into a richly decorated office and nodded toward a padded leather armchair. Owen sat down before a balding man in a charcoal business suit, and watched the receptionist exit. The man sat silently appraising Owen until she had left the room and closed the door securely behind her.
“Owen Stephens, I’m Jackson Robards, team leader for Richter-Rean Human Resources. Welcome!”
“Thank you, sir,” Owen responded. “I appreciate the opportunity to meet with you concerning the assembly position you advertised.” He suddenly felt self-conscious in the khaki pants and black turtleneck he wore – Owen had never interviewed in anything other than a suit, but he didn’t want to appear over-qualified, and all the other applicants had been wearing jeans. God, he needed this job.
“Your resume is impressive, Mr. Stephens. I understand the transport and logistics industry has been hard hit. Do you understand that the positions we wish to fill are for floor workers? You do not seem to have any prior manufacturing experience.”
“No, sir, I don’t,” Owen stated, unfazed. He had mentally rehearsed his answer all morning, knowing the issue would inevitably arise. “However, I worked in building maintenance and on a painting crew throughout high school and college. I am familiar with and not afraid of hard work, and I know how to follow large-scale projects through to completion. I am a self-starter and I work well independently while also working well in any team situation. My previous work in building finishes required that I lift equipment and furnishings, load supplies, manage an inventory, and use a variety of tools, not unlike the requirements of the job I am applying for. I assure you, Mr. Robards, that I am an exemplary worker and the man you want for this job.”
The HR man smiled. “I have no doubt of that, Mr. Stephens. I quite believe you are the right man for the job. What I would like to know is this: is this the right job for you?”
“Yes,” Owen said confidently, “it is.”
“Well, then, let’s see what we’ve got.” With a decisive movement, Robards flipped a manila folder open bearing Owen’s name on the tab. It held a sheaf of paper, and his resume was stapled to the inside cover.
“Your mech capacity scores were impressive, as were your gross and fine motor skills and capacity for rote memorization. Your PET scan revealed particularly strong activity and connectivity in your hippocampal gyrus, which is a limbic structure responsible for spatial memory. You also have excellent neural development in your cingulate gyrus, which among other things, controls attentional processing. In all, Mr. Stephens, you appear to be an outstanding candidate for this job.”
Owen wanted to maintain his composure and professional decorum, but was unable to suppress a small smile. His heart was racing, and all he could think of was being able to provide for his family again. If he got the job, maybe he could negotiate enough of an advance to buy some groceries and penicillin for Ellen and Lacey. He was so nervous and excited he could barely breathe.
“Before we make you an offer, Mr. Stephens, I’d like to review our base compensation package with you.” Robards smiled and pulled out two glossy folders with the red, white, and blue Richter-Rean Industries logo on them. Below the logo the phrase ‘work will make us free’ was emblazoned in an uppercase, bold font. The motto was vaguely familiar to Owen, but he could not quite place it. Robards handed him a folder and opened his own.
“The first item on the right side of your packet is an overview of our company. You will see that we specialize in manufacture and assembly for federal defense contracts. As a member of our workforce, you will be granted security clearance based upon the nature of the work assigned to you. However, you will know only the schematics, design, and assembly process associated with your assignment – not the purpose or the intended use of the piece or component. This is simply a provision for national security and a safeguard against corporate espionage. We currently have four federal contracts.”
Owen nodded. Robards paused to sip from a ceramic mug on his desk; it bore the Richter-Rean logo and motto. The contents smelled like Starbuck’s coffee, and the aroma was heavenly. Owen did not think it was obvious, but Robards noticed him watching.
“Would you like some coffee?” he asked.
“Yes, please – black,” Owen replied, not believing his good fortune. Coffee was nearly $35 a pound now and even the discount brands cost more than most people could afford. Coffee was now a rare treat. Robards crossed his office and poured Owen a cup from a decanter in a tastefully decorated alcove with a tiny sink, miniature refrigerator, and coffee maker. A row of six Waterford crystal tumblers ringed a stainless steel ice bucket on a glass shelf above the sink. Robards’ leather shoes sunk into the deep plush carpeting as he returned to his desk, handing Owen the cup of coffee as he passed.
“Now then, where were we?” Robards settled back into his over-padded leather swivel chair. Owen caught a faint whiff of either aftershave or cologne. He drank deeply, burning the roof of his mouth but his body relished the warmth and the caffeine. It had to be Starbuck’s; the flavor and aroma was distinctive and unmistakeable to an ex-coffee addict.
“Because of the nature of our work,” Robards resumed, “it is imperative that we maximize the return on investment garnered from our workforce. We currently maintain a team of 45 line workers – the position for which you have applied – and have an administrative and executive staff totaling 20. On the floor, we have production managers, a small crew of supervisors, security, and maintenance specialists for all three shifts. In total, we have just under 100 full-time employees, but do anticipate major growth and expansion in the next 18 months. That is why we are currently hiring.”
Owen nodded, but was reluctant to interrupt. By all indications, this was not an interview, it felt more like recruitment. Afraid of betraying his inexperience with a dumb question or an inane remark, he remained silent and leaned forward slightly to indicate his continued interest, and let Robards keep talking. Owen desperately wanted the job; he would lose his home in 45 days if they couldn’t come up with at least 75% of the amount owed. He had not shown the letter from their lender to Ellen yet, and it seemed to consume nearly every one of his waking moments.
Robards yanked the overview page from his folder and casually tossed it on his desk. “Next,” he said, “you will find a brochure detailing our standard compensation and benefits plan. We like to think of ourselves as a family-friendly and progressive organization, Mr. Stephens.” Robards smiled, sipped again from his mug, perfectly manicured fingers partially obscuring the logo. Work will make us free, Owen thought involuntarily. Where had he heard that?
“Any questions so far?” Robards asked.
“No, sir, but I would like to review the benefits offered by Richter-Rean.”
Robards leaned forward and placed his folder on the dark mahogany desk in front of him and withdrew a trifold brochure. Owen did the same.
“We have a base compensation package which we believe you will find to be very competitive. In fact, you’d be hard-pressed, I suspect, to find a better offer at any other company of the same size in the Midwest, or the nation, for that matter.” Clearly comfortable and well-rehearsed, Robards continued, his posture relaxed and his voice firm and confident.
“As a new employee with Richter-Rean Industries, you would be required to attend a mandatory on-site eight week intensive training program. At that time, you would receive training in the work assigned to you and formal feedback and guided instruction to help you maximize speed and reduce error rate and waste. Our intent is
to solidify the neural path governing the repetitive assembly you will be required to perform and establish muscle memory. You would be required to train 12 hours each day, six days a week, but have the latitude to return home each evening for 12 hours prior to the beginning of the next training shift. During this period – think of it as a probationary period – you would be paid $10 an hour.”
Owen did some quick math – that would be nearly $6000 – enough to make the house payment and buy food and medicine.
“What happens once probation is finished?” he asked.
“Assuming satisfactory job performance, you would be granted fulltime permanent status with full benefits. You can see some of our benefits listed on the inside left page of our brochure. Uniforms and laundering services are free, families of employees are eligible for free basic medical coverage through our HMO – including vision and dental, of course – and we also have a scholarship program for children of employees demonstrating outstanding academic progress and seeking post-secondary education at an in-state, accredited, college or university.”
“That’s great,” Owen exclaimed. “I’ve got a daughter almost ready for college and she’d love a shot at a scholarship.”
“Excellent. We do pride ourselves on the support we offer the families of our employees. Now, about the salary package we can provide you. Please understand this is non-negotiable.”
Owen glanced at Robards, smiled slightly, and nodded his assent.
“You should first know that we pay, on top of your salary, all your individual income taxes.”
Owen’s jaw dropped, and he sat silent, stunned. That was in itself an incredible benefit.
“I can imagine what you are thinking, Mr. Stephens,” Robards said. “The revenues generated from our manufacturing process and employee production management system allows us to be more generous, and therefore more competitive, with other industries. Unfortunately, the trade-off is that we have several rather stringent employment stipulations. They are as follows.”
Robards paused, leaned back in his chair until it creaked, and closed his eyes, as if beginning a recitation.
“Upon completing the training and probationary period, employees must sign a binding contract that prescribes their length of service and rate of pay. At that time, employees begin service at Richter-Rean Industries and will not, under any circumstances, leave the premises. This requirement is strictly enforced, although compliance has not been an issue to date. Visitors are not allowed. Employees work 20 hour shifts, seven days a week. If your job performance drops at any time more than 10% below the required standard and is sustained at that lower level for seven days, your contract with us will be terminated and any additional compensation forfeited.”
Owen knew all this from his quick scan of the brochure, and although it came across as utterly draconian working conditions, it still felt like his best option. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I understand.”
“Good. Let’s talk about pay. Our system is something of, shall we say, a contractual arrangement. We do not offer an annual salary or hourly wage to our line workers. Rather, you would receive, upon signing the employment contract, an advance of $250,000 directly deposited into your bank account.”
“Jesus,” breathed Owen. The up-front amount was staggering.
“Of His involvement in federal defense contracts and our business operations, I am less certain,” responded Robards with a small, indecipherable grin. “However, I can tell you that the advance is for a five-year term of service. After that, if you are able to continue in our employ and maintain the standard rate of performance, you will receive an annual longevity bonus of $55,000. This money is held in something akin to an escrow account – you can imagine that we are highly scrutinized and regulated by the Feds – and this bonus is paid out each year on the anniversary date of hire. When you are no longer able to perform your assigned job function, employment is terminated. We found during beta testing that most of our line workers are with us seven years on average.”
Long enough for the economy to recover, thought Owen. Long enough to get Lexy, and most likely Lacey, through college. He had never envisioned assembly work as his career path, but at this point, it was the best option he had. Owen could live with the decision if it meant his wife and daughters would be safe, that they would have enough to eat, a home, and health insurance.
“Now, what questions do you have for me?” asked Robards.
“I’ll miss my family,” Owen responded with quiet honesty. “I wouldn’t get to see them again, would I?”
“No, we understand that is an unfortunate disincentive for employment, which is why we attempt to make up for it through the benefits provided to your family. You may, if you choose to do so during your training period, decorate your work space any way you wish.”
“So I can put up pictures of my family, something I can look at while at work?”
“We discourage time off task, Mr. Stephens,” Robards stated. Then, more gently, “Yes, you may look at your photographs and any other memorabilia in your workspace. I do believe our workers look – in some sense - at their personal items from time to time.”
Afraid that he might change his mind if he thought about it too long, with a nervous ache growing in the pit of his stomach – an ache that finally replaced the incessant pangs of hunger, Owen said simply, “where do I sign on?”
*****
JULY 24, 2015
The room was painted high-gloss white, coldly utilitarian and industrial. The Richter-Rean logo was on the wall above a bank of computer monitors. The company motto was posted above the doorway.
“Work will make us free,” Owen said absently, still wondering after eight weeks of training where he had heard that phrase before. It was old, something old, but still he could not place it.
The technician accompanying him looked at him and nodded, but remained silently efficient. Leading Owen over to an examination table, he strapped him down. Owen wore his white Richter-Rean uniform, which had replaced his gray training jumpsuit that morning after he had signed the employment contract. A quick call to Ellen – fifteen minutes had been the maximum allowed – let him verify that the money had been deposited in their joint banking account. He had encouraged her to pay off the $110,000 balance remaining on their home, so she would own it free and clear. He was pretty sure she would. The call had ended awkwardly. The sadness and tension that had filled their home during the last eight weeks had been nearly unbearable, and the long shifts during training had been grueling. At least they had the advance.
The tech dinned the overhead lights, leaving only the barest illumination. Owen was glad the fluorescent glare had lessened. It was almost soothing.
“Music?” asked the tech.
“Sure,” said Owen. “Classical. You have anything by Rachmaninoff? If not, Jimi Hendrix or CCR.”
“No rock,” responded the tech. “Potential for neural interference. We’ve got plenty of classical, jazz, and New Age, though.” After a moment, Rachmaninoff’s Third Piano Concerto filled the room. Turning his head, Owen could see tasteful insets in the ceiling where Bose Surround Sound speakers had been installed in each corner of the room. He momentarily closed his eyes and listened to the music. Tired, he was tired, Owen thought. Meanwhile, the tech applied conductive paste to his chest and head, and then taped a series of electrodes into place. A young woman dressed in white scrubs entered and started an IV. Feeling the sting of the needle, Owen opened his eyes and watched her work.
“Just like Soylent Green,” Owen joked.
“No, it isn’t,” the male technician responded, humorless. The woman allowed a small smile to touch her lips. It quickly evaporated, but there was kindness in her voice.
“Is there anything you need to be more comfortable, sir?”
“No, I guess not,” Owen answered, but inside he was experiencing a growing panic. He had never been this terrified in his life, but was resolved to maintain his composure. “What, uh, is t
he next step?” he asked.
“Didn’t you have a chance to view the video during your training?” she asked, but her voice betrayed a familiarity with the question. Owen figured this was not the first time she had fielded such questions, video or no video.
“I watched it,” Owen said, “but it didn’t say how it would feel, what you would do to make it happen. It was more about the technology, I guess.” His voice trailed off and he let it, looking up at her hopefully.
“Well, then, you can expect a series of four injections. We’ll finish hooking you up to the EKG, and then darken the room. I’ll be here with you the entire time. My name’s Jenny, by the way.”
“Call me Owen,” he said, smiling a little. “Mr. Stephens is just too formal, makes me think of my dad, not me.”
“Okay, Owen,” Jenny answered. “We’ll give you a minor sedative, something to help you relax, and darken the room. Then we’ll initiate a video display designed to hyper-activate your limbic system. Strong emotions, emotional memory. As you watch, an IV drip will deliver a saline solution that is super-saturated with nutrients and chemicals which will travel throughout your body, cross the blood-brain barrier, and facilitate neural activity, particularly in the amygdala and limbic regions. This might make you feel a little disoriented at first, but you may not notice due to the sedative. The third injection will introduce the nano-bots into your body, which will seek out the areas where there is an abundance of protein building blocks – in this case, the limbic system. They will settle there and begin to reproduce.”
“Will it hurt?” Owen asked.
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