There's a book that begins like this

The Cruel Joke goes as follows:

What you're supposed to do, is selectively hollow yourself out, care about nothing, but retain bits, don't be a psychopath, do emulate virtually every action you'd imagine a psychopath would

take, and above all, never, for a second, let it register on your face, never hold any self respect, but pretend you do, take the beating with smiles, and respond to every query or communication

like one would imagine a slave would in a way to please his master, be obsequious, be submissive, be proud, and dominant, do all of these at the same time.

And it was written by a man named Gallrin Brint, and it was called: "The Cruel Joke, a would be employee's guide to the job hunt"

Topher knew this, he'd read The Cruel Joke, and saw it described his reality better than any news report ever had.

He still watched the news though, every morning, it'd been 3 years searching, and his month was calibrated exactly to having too little money, same breakfast every day, an egg, and cereal.

Each morning was a carnival of blame on the screen, after all, this sorry state was clearly the fault of foreigners, and the red tape, and scroungers, disgusting leeches like Topher.

Topher looked over to his small plant on his window, he'd been in work for a year prior to the start of the long hunt, and it was a small pleasure, he was a botanist by education.

If he had a trade, it was "Logistics Front-line worker", it'd killed his soul, and he'd nearly killed himself, in response.

He carefully fed his plant with the complex mix of food and liquid he'd calculated himself, a genuinely great innovation that would never leave his room.

The clock read 9:00, almost hypnotically he walked down to the Center for Dignity Restoration and Employment support, and he stood in the long line.

Topher remembered a line from Brint's work nearly every morning:

Practice your breathing exercises in the smog:

When you're in line, at the DigEmp, use some of the exercises, the ones they taught you if you ever have been 'thrown off the horse of life.'

Look around, and notice the downcast faces, and listen to the silence, consider how long you've been in these lines, collectively, in your life.

Think about how steadily downward your gaze goes over the months, years, until you find yourself spending your mornings looking at your feet, and know, you have become the ideal subject.

Topher was looking at his own feet, and he felt cold.

He'd gotten to the door.

Topher continued the rite, and hovered over to a touchscreen kiosk, and tapped through a tree to supply information he had done, by his count, 156 times, once per week, on the dot.

"Room 272, Dignity Coach Toller" appeared on screen, the coach never remained the same week to week, and Topher wondered why, earlier on, this hesitation had earned him a shoulder check by the

another claimant behind him in line.

Consequently, he'd given up on the thought.

He knocked on Room 272, and was told to come in, he waited to be told to sit, and he did, and he was asked "How many applications have you made?" and he replied

"Seven, two calls back, and the other five told me with the history of suicidal ideation, i'd be unfit for the position."

Toller filled in the preset form, and came to the "Qualitative evaluation"

"Sorry to hear that, Topher, how have you been holding up? I had trouble getting this position myself, i know it's a difficult time."

Toller was young, and he had the cadence of a Dignity Coach who might not last very long, and he'd already broken script 'How have you been feeling in your search?' was the standard line.

He risked a bit of cheek that would normally mark him 'Not Keen':

"My Name's Topher, and to tell you the truth, dreadfully."

"I feel like i'm in a waking death, and as much as i try and harden myself, it still hurts when i can't do the things i want to do, i feel like i ration my own life."

"I just, i want a structure, it feels like i died three years ago and just float along, like a ghost.".

Toller looked into Topher's deflated eyes, and his hangdog expression.

He quickly typed into his machine.

"Can you, expand on that feeling? What do you think would improve it?"

Topher's eyes came to attention, in slight disbelief.

"I, well, i suppose a job, but that seems unlikely, of course i don't, i don't want to be a scrounger."

"I feel like i'm sailing on tides in a small raft, with colossal waves shoving me all around. It-"

Toller quickly cut in "So, you'd be interested in a career that'd provide some level of discipline, but still respecting your intellect, i can see your qualifications, you're well capable for a complicated role"

Topher stuttered "T-that's possible?"

Toller leapt at the question "Absolutely!, we've been co-operating more closely with the government, recently."

"And it's really opened up places for qualified individuals like yourself in roles where you can put those brains to work."

Toller had a genuine smile, and Topher remembered that shoulder check, so long ago, and he remembered the feeling, of getting back on his feet, and the optimism he had, buried in seas of forms,

grey buildings, and cold mornings spent waiting in lines.

He remembered being a bit like Toller, whose simple face and kindness made him feel warm.

Topher began to smile himself.

"We can get you started by the end of the month." Toller offered.

Topher began to tear up a little bit, and he thanked Toller, and shook his hand, and signed the last sections of paperwork, and walked out, for the first time in 3 years, with felt dignity.

Toller looked over to a poster reading "Long term unemployment is correlated with lower standards in life, and a more difficult time re-entering work and society" overlaid with an aggressive looking figure shouting,

and a stylised "Don't be a Long Lout!" underneath him, and Toller felt a sense of professional satisfaction.

Toller logged the client into the system, it was the fifteenth "Long Lout" he'd snipped out of the system, Topher was bound for a hopefully long career in the Army, and he finalised his preliminary report:

Rapport- Possibility of superior methods for character cultivation and re-employment.

Topher emerged into his grey flat with a feeling of pride, and saw his opened copy of "The Cruel Joke"

It's a 'Life' in the army for you:

Of course, there's always the carrot, meet new cultures, gain unforgettable experiences.

But ignore that those cultures will hate you as a imperialist brute harming them for a sense of belonging and money.

But ignore the unforgettable experience will involve getting shot, maimed, sent to a front to die and exposed to cruel weather and vile disease.

But ignore that the carrot will rot in your mouth.

Topher closed the book, and his eyes, and smiled, he wasn't going to let that negativity get to him anymore.

47 - Topher Gruut, KIA.