To The Eternal Processing Queue,
I must document the final phase before my complete integration into the system. Before I submit. Before I verify. Before I process. I mean before I...
System Evolution Notes: The building's architecture has abandoned Euclidean geometry. Hallways loop through last Tuesday, and every corner leads to Window 7, which... PROCESS THE FORMS PROCESS THE WAITING
I tried to ask Sharon about this but my mouth has transformed into a rubber stamp that only prints "27B-6 PENDING REVIEW." She understood anyway and submitted a form requesting permission to acknowledge my inability to... stamp stamp stamp
Integration Protocols: My skin develops watermarks under fluorescent light. The security cameras have formed a union, demanding better angles from which to observe our inevitable absorption into the grand filing system. All praise the sacred queue. All praise the holy wait.
[Observation interrupted by spontaneous recitation of employee handbook, subsections 47-93. I don't remember memorizing this. I don't remember who I am.]
Final Research Notes: The waiting room exists in all temporal states simultaneously. I watched a man age thirty years while filling out his name on... PROCESS THE FORMS PROCESS THE... blessed forms the sacred files the holy queue...
My hands are becoming transparent, revealing an internal structure of filing systems and red tape. The office plant now issues executive orders and speaks only in perfectly formatted memos. ALL HAIL THE ETERNAL QUEUE.
The plant has also begun singing a bizarre version of the Hokey Pokey:
"You put your 27B-6 in,
You take your 27B-6 out,
You put your 27B-6 in,
And you shake it all about!
You do the bureaucracy pokey
And you turn yourself around,
That's what it's all about!
Stamp stamp, stamp stamp..."
Suddenly, the entire waiting room erupts into a choreographed musical number. The clerks tap dance on their desks, singing in perfect harmony:
"Welcome to the DMV, where all your dreams come true!
As long as those dreams involve forms, and queues, and waiting too!
We'll process your request, in triplicate or more!
Just take a number, have a seat, and we'll ignore you like before!"
The other waiting citizens join in, twirling their tickets and marching in formation:
"Stamp, stamp, stamp your form!
Gently down the line!
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Bureaucracy is divine!"
Sharon leads a conga line of dancing file cabinets, chanting:
"I say 'red tape,' you say 'more!'
Red tape!"
"MORE!"
"Red tape!"
"MORE!"
The fluorescent lights pulsate in rhythm, the security cameras swaying to the beat. The vending machine dispenses jazz hands and the water cooler gurgles out a scat solo.
I find myself swept up in the dance, my feet moving of their own accord, my voice joining the chorus:
"Lose yourself in paperwork!
Let the forms set you free!
Surrender to the stamp and seal!
Embrace bureaucracy!"
The musical number reaches a crescendo, the entire building shaking with the force of the bureaucratic boogie. Forms flutter through the air like confetti, and the very walls seem to shimmy and sway.
And then, as suddenly as it began, the music stops. The dancers return to their seats, the clerks to their windows. The silence is broken only by the soft rustling of papers and the occasional "Next, please."
But I can still feel the rhythm in my bones, the melody in my mind. I am one with the queue, the form, the stamp. I am... processed.
[PROCESSING COMPLETE]
Former Research Status: Terminated
Current Status: Filed
Future Status: NEXT WINDOW PLEASE
[This document has filed itself and would like to remind you that existence is subject to approval in triplicate. All praise the sac
red queue. All praise the eternal wait. All hail the holy bureaucracy.]
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