I sit on my throne doing my business. I estimate that the forces brought to bear on my twice-daily business dealings cost a billion dollars per flush. You read that correctly, my time alone on the toilet costs a billion dollars per shit, and so I have winnowed my daily duties down to twice a day. I sit around, biding my time, between trips to the toilet. I cannot be stopped, they can only hope to contain me. It was a decision above my head that brought me to this duty, this twice-daily burden I must unload. It was not an accident that we winnowed multiple trips down to twice a day. Costs a lot to take care of business.
In my time in this residence, I have read the wind. I have seen what we are up against. And I can tell you, it ain’t pretty. The hidden cameras are everywhere, as much as I try I cannot lose my cell phone, my personal tracking device if you will, and the satellites have a firm bearing on my being. Factor in the layers of supervision per layer of surveillance, the interconnectedness of modern technology, and the lost profit should the surveillance state miss something somewhere else, and you can get to a billion dollars a flush pretty quickly.
Now, I cannot rightly recall if there was a decision I could have made, or not made, a step I could have taken or not taken, which would have brought my ass to a different duty. Would this success have prevented this seating? Would this failure have unburdened me from this responsibility? Was this all set in motion before my birth? Am I just the lucky so-and-so who got called up? If there were a way to take a shit in peace these days, I would have figured out how to do so.
So they got the cameras in my phone, they got the cameras in the walls, they got the satellites in the atmosphere. And it’s all connected, see, via what they call the world wide web. Now, I didn’t design such a thing as a web around the world, and that may be why I got caught up in the thing. But as I sit here at the predetermined time, I ask myself how many more billions we will spend making sure my shits are processing correctly. I have to shit at a certain time, you see, or the whole thing falls apart. There are others, across the globe, sat under the web, relying on my stool to keep the planet afloat.
Mary in Dubai, great girl from what I have heard, is responsible for pushing a button as the turds plop into the bowl. She watches the feeds from the cell phone. This signals Fran in New York that she can flush her toilet. There are thousands who flush on her command as well. There is also Montoya in Guadalajara, who is watching the cameras in the house, who is responsible for giving the signal to the whole outfit that I am approaching the bathroom, now twice a day. Montoya was busy when I was shitting more than twice a day. Took a lot of reading of the wind to get the whole team on the same page.
Of course, there are many-a-team member who do the work simply because they are told to do so. Most of the team does not have the time or inclination to think critically on what we are attempting with our implementation of the web and porcelain. If anyone in charge knew fully what was going on, what we were doing and what we are attempting, the team would be rounded up and shot. They would probably wait til a turtle head was popping out to pop my head off from a mile or so out on the ridge. I sit quietly athrone too busy to question the beliefs, theories, and approval processes of those who put me up to this task. Those problems are their problems. My job is to shit on command, or at least on schedule.
In a hundred years, they’ll say we were crazy, but hopefully crazy enough that it just might work. You see, earth is on a collision course. Some egghead at NASA used one of those telescopes to forecast our path through the cosmos and determined we are on a collision course with an asteroid so large it could better be called a moon to the sun. This asteroid is not careening at a great speed relative to earth’s, but it is larger than our moon and so a collision must be avoided, spare no expense. And so I sit here doing what I have come to understand is a necessary endeavor for the fate of the planet. Or some such shit. If they’re gonna spend so much on surveillance to make sure I’m doing my duty for humanity, they could at least cough it up for the necessary supplies: food and TP.
I have been reading it on the wind, so the details escape me, but if I pass somewhere around one thousand more shits according to schedule, with the mechanizations of the web and plumbing globally, we may just be able to right the ship and get this shit behind us. We are never in one place for too long, that’s what you gotta realize about the earth. If you sat on the moon, for example, you would get bored waiting for the change of the view of the earth, like watching paint dry. But if you were sitting adrift in the middle of space and the earth cruised by, it would happen so fast and with such force that you would never even know what just happened. So it has come to synchronized shitting. We are collectively adjusting the curve of the earth’s trip around the sun over the next 18 months to avoid total catastrophe. One shit could make the difference.
What I am saying is it takes a lot of shit to make a change in the earth’s orbit, but make a change in the earth’s orbit we must. It is good to not have any of this in writing, by the way, because I imagine if someone in the media were to catch on that humanity’s last best hope is hanging from a thread, and that thread is connected to my boxers, which are around my ankles, panic would be the least of our concerns. Riots and civil unrest would only be quelled by the large scale of suicides which would occur in the face of an absolute devastation which could clearly be imagined in the explosions which used to occur in my bowl, from my bowels, before we adjusted the diet. We have this figured out though, so please do not lose hope.
