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So. Yesterday.
Oh god yesterday.
Let's...if you...okay...
Man, I don't even know where to start. Let's start like this. I now know why they give you a 3-day weekend after orientation.
They're not TOTAL cold-hearted bastards.
Take some steel wool. Stretch it, roll it out, get it into a nice, long, comparatively thin strip. Okay so you probably can't do that with steel wool but imagine something like that. With me so far?
Now, floss between your ears vigorously while admitting to every negative or anti-governemt thought you've ever had, ever.
Keep doing so until the goo leaking out your ears is the consistency of applesauce.
Serve warm. Feeds 2. 300 calories/serving.
Yesterday was the part of government work they don't advertise. I guess maybe my work will be a little more sensitive than I previously imagined. But to finalize my orientation I had to take part in a background check/personal interview while strapped to a lie detector.
We started at about 9:15. Dude walked in, lean guy with that half-scruffy look of someone who knows he looks better with a day's growth. Friendly enough but with an ex-military air of situational command about him. Asked me if there was anything I needed, maybe some water, strapped me in and sat down in front of me. Room was lit but subdued, little more than a library reading room. Wall color hard to determine from the lighting. Stainless steel desks for the machinery and paperwork. A couple of simple wooden chairs, comfortable enough. Could have used a little more ventilation.
The interviewer apologized, said it was routine, not to feel like I was accused of anything. Then, with arched eyebrow, half-smile, asked if maybe I SHOULD feel accused of anything?
No no, of course not, I assured him. He smiled understandingly.
"Well let's find out then." A nod, a flip of a switch, a pen scratching on paper, and we were off.
Started innocuously enough. Name, address, previous addresses, any foreign travel experience, any personal references.
"Are you or have you ever been a member of any online organizations?"
I paused for a second, looking up. "No, not that I recall."
He glanced at me, eyes suddenly sharp, digging. "Funny, we have you listed as registered at the following sites." He showed me a page listing several of the message boards I frequented at one time or another.
Oh hey I've been spied on. That's grand.
The machine flickered; the interviewer's eyes flick up. He leaned forward.
"I hardly posted here, I was mostly just an observer. Even then they were just hobbies, I'd hardly call them organizations."
"We do. Especially this one." He pointed to the address of the site I visited back during the temporary Internet uppage. "Quite a few on this site express opinions that would be...detrimental...to a successful career here."
"Heh, I won't argue that, but if you know I'm a member there then you can easily look up my posts."
"Just because you don't post doesn't mean you don't read. Several days ago, did you visit this site?"
"You mean, when Internet access came back to life for a bit?" I nodded. "Sure, but just to catch up with the latest news."
"You call what you find here news?"
"Well, okay, I guess I should say opi--"
"What topics did you read about?"
"Just a few theories about what hap--"
"Conspiracies. Your thoughts on them?"
"Well, I've never been much of a tin-foil-hatter, 9/11 truther type. I was just looking to see if anyone had anything solid to report."
"Did you join any groups forming on that site." It wasn't exactly a question. I thought back.
I had typed my e-mail address in, but I got the error message after. "No, I didn't."
"Try again." Veiled threat?
I freaked a little bit here. "I didn't, I swear. I typed my e-mail address in to keep track with some friends, but before I could send the connection went back dead. Nothing happened."
The interviewer leaned back. "Be aware, sir, your future employment here is dependent on keeping vital government information secret and personal. Should we have any reason to believe that there is any sort of leak, you will be terminated."
Maybe it was just me, but there seemed to be a bit of a heavier touch on his last word.
He smiled. "Let's move on."
He asked me a few questions related to the robbery at my apartment complex. Seemed concerned about the situation. Asked how the security system was holding up, if I had had any issues. Then we moved on to friends, associates, and even forgotten classmates. That was about as pleasant as the online-association conversation.
"Do you remember" insert name here.
"Uh..."
"Seventh grade. Same homeroom."
"Vaguely? Maybe?"
"When was the last time you talked with" whoever.
"Seventh grade homeroom."
A quiet voice. "Try not to get smart. Leave the intelligence to me."
Dude was GOOD with the implied threat. His voice was quietness and promised pain.
"Do you remember" someone else. "Tenth grade French class. Now under suspicion of working overseas. Any contact with them recently?"
"What about --"
"Have you heard from --"
"-- is registered in our files as a terrorist sympathizer"
"...gotten in touch with --"
"NO, OKAY? NO I HAVE NOT HEARD FROM ANY OF THESE PEOPLE. HELL I HAVEN'T EVEN THOUGHT OF THEM IN YEARS AND WOULD PREFER TO FORGET MOST OF THEM."
A pause. A silence. An eternity of staredown.
"...for your job safety," again, funny emphasis, "keep it that way." He stood. "And one last thing. We know about the blog. We don't mind the blog. Just make sure you respect the level of security appropriated to each individual project. We're not monsters here." The lower half of his face smiled. Then he exited, leaving me sitting there for about half an hour.
Finally the door opened again, and Mr. Welsh entered, all smiles and relaxation. "My apologies, Mr. Wall. Hate to welcome you to the family that way, but we can't be too careful. ESPECIALLY nowadays. I'm sure you understand?"
I wiped a bit of sweat from my forehead. "Yeah, I mean yes sir, sure. Still, wow."
He arched an eyebrow, but still smiling, still friendly. "Wow?"
"Yeah. You guys are thorough."
"It's part of the job, I'm afraid. Welcome to the New World. At least you're a part of it, right?"
Seemed to be a bit of significance to that statement that I was too tired to try to sort through. I just nodded.
He handed me one of his business cards. "Here, show this at the pub across the street. They'll make sure you get patched up properly. I can't have you walking out of here too torn up. Save that for over there!" He laughed. Confidence and friendliness.
I nodded my thanks, and was allowed to leave. I saw my +mates at the pub, but they looked as zapped as I was and barely recognized me.
We were all happier trying to patch our psyches back together on our own, I think.
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