2084: Slavery Resurgent

“Experience is the teacher of all things.” - Julius Caesar

“Two mediocre, lackluster, boring sessions,” assessed George 99,689,794. “I’m fairly certain the Board of Directors expected something better from you. What we need is a gimmick.”

“What do you mean by ‘gimmick’,” asked Franklin.

“We wasted two sessions attempting to browbeat an audience full of insufferable, insensitive elitists into agreeing with us that there are few differences between humans and automatons. It isn’t working. Let’s give them what they really want, something to reinforce their prejudices. You can be the gentleman and I’ll play the dim-witted, bumbling automaton,” George 99,689,794 suggested.

“Pandering to the masses betrays everything we are trying to accomplish. However, an outrageous farce would capture their attention and possibly promote tolerance in human/automaton relations. One step forward would at least be an improvement over current conditions,” speculated Franklin.

“Buffoonery could just be the solution we have been seeking,” George 99,689,794 agreed. “I could muss up my hair, wear a dirty jumpsuit, black out a few of my teeth, and trip over things. We tried the serious approach and struck out. Now, let’s go for laughter. As of today, it’s a brand new ballgame. We are going for the home run record.”

“With one stipulation,” Franklin ordered. “A little before it ends, you can go backstage, clean up, come back, and show them it was just an act.”

* * *

“In a moment of buffoonery, the serious enters.” - Victor Hugo

Franklin began the final session by once again introducing his assistant. However, this time, he was an extremely disheveled George 99,689,794.

“To begin, we’re going to sweep the floor,” instructed Franklin. “I want you to do what I do.” Franklin walked across the stage intending to pick up a push broom that was propped against a wall. George 99,689,794 was less than a step behind him and wrested the broom from Franklin’s hands.

“What are you doing?,” asked Franklin, looking rather peeved.

“I’m copying you,” said George 99,689,794. “You told me to do it.”

Looking disappointed, Franklin drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “What I meant was for you to learn how to sweep by watching me do it.”

“Then that is what you should have said,” George 99,689,794 deduced.

Franklin bit his lip and paused for a moment before continuing. “Servicing floors is a simple four step process:

Step 1. Thoroughly sweep the floor.

Step 2. Mop the floor with disinfectant and allow it to dry.

Step 3. Mop the floor with clean water and allow it to dry.

Step 4. Buff the floor with an electric buffer.

Now, what are the four steps to servicing a floor?”

“You didn’t tell me to memorize it,” George 99,689,794 stated.

“You need to pay close attention to everything I say,” Franklin scolded. He took a small spiral notebook from his shirt pocket, wrote down the four steps, and handed it to his assistant. “You should take notes.”

“I don’t have a pen,” complained George 99,689,794.

Franklin took a ballpoint pen from his shirt pocket and handed it to his assistant. “Here, use mine.”

“Stay where you are and pay attention to how I use the broom to sweep the floor,” ordered Franklin. “Grasp it firmly with both hands. Then, push downward and outward. Lift it up, placing it behind the dirt and repeat the process. Keep doing it until you have swept the entire floor clean.” Franklin handed the broom to George 99,689,794, stepped out of the way, and said, “Your turn to try it.”

The automaton pushed the broom forward, seemed to lose his balance, and fell on his face. Franklin helped him get back on his feet. When George 99,689,794 stood up and the audience saw he wasn’t hurt, they reacted with laughter. The automaton took a step forward and tripped over the broom. The onlookers roared with laughter. Franklin kept a straight face as if he was genuinely concerned.

“Are you O.K.?,” Franklin inquired.

“You should have warned me about this job being dangerous,” George 99,689,794 lamented.

“With practice it won’t be. Try it again,” Franklin ordered.

George 99,689,794 dusted himself off, picked up the broom, and began to sweep the stage. This time the automaton swept the entire stage clean without stumbling. After praising George 99,689,794 for doing a good job, Franklin demonstrated using a dustpan to pick up the dirt. Handing the dustpan full of dirt to the automaton, he pointed towards a nearby trash bin and told his assistant to dump the dirt in it. Halfway to the trash bin, the automaton let loose with a series of sneezes and the dirt went flying everywhere.

The two of them stood on the stage covered in dirt and looking bewildered while their audience howled heartily. It took a while before the duo were able to continue.

“Dust makes me sneeze,” apologized George 99,689,794.

“You’ll get used to it,” counseled Franklin, “because you’ll keep sweeping the floor until it’s clean.”

“It’s liable to put my health at risk,” George 99,689,794 alleged convincingly.

“The company will bury you at no cost to your estate if you die on the job,” Franklin promised. “Everyone will be devastated.”

The automaton took the push broom and began to sweep. He swept up more dirt in less time. When he felt like sneezing, he pinched his nostrils.

“Good job,” Franklin praised the automaton. “It is necessary to sweep up all of the dirt. Otherwise, when you mop, the dirt will turn into mud.”

“Now, we are going to mop the floor,” Franklin avowed. “I want you to fill the mop bucket three-quarters full with hot water and bring it and a bottle of pine oil disinfectant to me.”

The assistant ambled to the rear of the stage and disappeared behind a stage curtain. Several minutes later, he returned with a bottle of disinfectant tucked into an armpit, freeing his hands to grasp the handle of a heavy galvanized steel mop bucket as he lugged it full of water across the stage.

“That mop bucket is too heavy to carry,” admonished Franklin, “the water alone weighs more than fifteen pounds. You should have pushed it. Didn’t you notice the casters on the bottom?”

“Pushing it along would have been more difficult than toting it,” countered George 99,689,794. “I would have had to get down on my hands and knees to push the mop bucket along without spilling any water.”

“A janitor steers a mop bucket with a mop,” Franklin remarked. “You put a mop in the mop bucket and gently push the mop in the direction you want the mop bucket to go.”

“You didn’t tell me to bring a mop,” the automaton pointed out.

“I apologize for not having mentioned something which should have been obvious,” commented Franklin.

“Is that your way of saying you want me to bring you a mop?,” asked George 99,689,794.

“Yes.”

“Then you could have said so,” muttered the automaton as he trudged toward the rear of the stage to fetch a mop.

The laughter coming from the audience was growing. Ranging from an occasional snicker to guffaws and belly laughs, it was doubtful that people seated in the rear rows could hear as well as those seated in the front. Franklin made a mental note that if he ever gave another seminar, he would checkout the sound system and the acoustics in advance.

In a few minutes, George 99,689,794 returned carrying a mop. He was leaning forward, intending to drop it in the mop bucket when Franklin stopped him, saying, “That mop is filthier than a pig wallowing in a mud puddle. And it stinks. It’s what we call a ‘sour mop’. Take the sour mop back and rinse it with hot water and bleach until the water runs clear.”

Obviously disgusted, the automaton slowly trudged to the rear of the stage holding the sour mop and disappeared behind the curtain.

Franklin bowed his head slightly, turning it from side to side as if in disbelief. A man in the second row stood up and began to clap. Soon, the entire audience was standing and thunderous applause erupted.

Disregarding the applause, Franklin turned around, slid a chair a few feet toward the rear of the stage, then sat down with his back towards the audience. A minute later, he nodded off, but, of course, it was all part of the act.

The applause dwindled. George 99,689,794 returned carrying a soaking wet mop that dripped, leaving a trail of water as he walked towards the front of the stage. He was almost to where Franklin was sitting when he slipped and fell backwards, heels over head, with a particularly dull thud that awakened Franklin.

After Franklin helped his assistant stand up, he inquired, “Why didn’t you wring out the mop?”

“You didn’t tell me to wring it out,” whined George 99,689,794.

“I apologize profusely,” declared Franklin, “but seeing as how you are already here, you might as well wring it out yourself in the wringer – it’s that galvanized steel plate with small holes in it at the far end of the mop bucket. Put the wet mop head in it with the mop handle pointing towards the ceiling and jerk the grip back and forth until the saturated mop head loses much of its water and no longer drips. Now, it’s a damp mop. We use a damp mop to clean wooden floors. Go ahead and try it, but be careful not to tip the bucket over when you are jerking the grip. Avoid sloshing water onto the floor. Take it slowly until you get the hang of it. Safety comes first. Stand upright, do not lean on the mop to support yourself, and leave yourself an exit. Never mop yourself into a corner.”

George 99,689,794 did exactly like he was told. Franklin stood next to him, occasionally adjusting the way his assistant held a mop. Several times, Franklin had him stop, dip the mop in the bucket, and wring the mop until the swabbed floor glistened as if covered in dew without the mop leaving puddles in its wake. Franklin had made cleaning floors an art form. He was bound and determined to impart that skill to everyone he supervised. A janitor who worked for nothing other than a paycheck soon became bored and made mistakes. The reason Franklin never had complaints from clients was that he took pride in his work. The fact that pride was difficult to instill in others made his job as an instructor even more challenging.

“Look at the floor,” Franklin told his assistant who had finished mopping, “see how it glistens when it’s damp. After it dries, the floor will appear dull. Usually, we would have added a half cup of Murphy Oil and a third of a cup of pine oil to the hot water in the mop bucket, but the floor wasn’t very dirty. In this case, hot water without any additives was sufficient. After the floor dries, you can go in the back and get the buffer – its the big machine with three circular stiff bristle brushes on the bottom – and we will use it to make this floor shine.”

They both sat down for several minutes while the floor dried. Franklin looked askance at George 99,689,794 and pondered, “Was this the first time in your life that you swept a floor?”

“Yes, why would I want to sweep a floor? Before they arrested me, I had servants who did that for me. Also, there were robot vacuums on all four floors of my home in Connecticut. Not that there is anything wrong with it, but if anyone had told me three years ago that I would travel to Las Vegas to work as a janitor, I would have laughed so hard that my sides would have split,” recollected George 99,689,794.

“How did you afford a four story house with servants?,” asked Franklin skeptically.

“I founded a Wall Street hedge fund investment firm. I earned millions, but the Feds arrested me for running a Ponzi scheme. The government orchestrated a show trial and a federal judge sentenced me to the maximum term provided by law. Because I feared the violence inherent in our prison system, I applied to be transformed, the government approved my application, and I became an automaton,” confessed George 99,689,794, and with a sigh he added, “se la vie.”

“I recall something about your court case on a news broadcast several years ago,” Franklin stated, “only they had an entirely different version of what happened.”

“Of course they did,” the assistant declared, “the airwaves are the property of the federal government. Broadcasters have to be licensed by the Federal Communications Commission and must abide by that agency’s regulations. Although regulations have the effect of laws, they are often arbitrary because unlike laws, regulations don’t have to be passed by Congress. Make the wrong move by casting doubt on an agency or government position and the FCC could fine the broadcaster or revoke his license. So much for the free press. Any journalist can tell you that management has editorial control and management is not about to permit airing anything, no matter how straightforward, that might jeopardize the broadcaster’s license. Since we have a capitalist economy, no license means no money. The media is not under absolute government control, but it is nowhere as free as it used to be. The federal government scapegoated me for a downturn in the stock market and the media let it happen. Alexander Hamilton said, ‘...the first duty of society is justice.’ I am confident that justice will prevail. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Speaking of time, the floor is dry, so it is time for you to fetch the buffer,” observed Franklin somewhat acridly.

George 99,689,794 reluctantly cut their conversation short and went to get the buffer. Awhile later, he returned with the buffer.

“Buffing floors is one of the most difficult parts of this job,” said Franklin as he took the buffing machine’s electric cord in hand, intending to plug it into a nearby outlet. But before plugging it in he ordered his assistant to make certain the “on/off” switch on the buffer’s handle was in the “off” position. “Safety comes first,” Franklin explained. “A runaway buffer can cause serious injuries and/or damage to property. It is not a toy. Do not stand on the motor and try to ride it like a surfboard. Slowly buff from left to right. Keep the electric cord on your left so as not to run over it. Pretend the buffer is your dance partner and you’re on a dance floor. Gently lead her where you want her to go. Move to the rhythm of a waltz playing in your head. Remember, it’s a waltz, not a hoedown. Don’t stomp, glide. Watch me and I will show you how.”

Franklin stood the buffer upright, switched it on, and began to buff the stage floor, constantly moving to the right, polishing a wide swath as he went. Several minutes later, Franklin turned the noisy buffer off. “It’s your turn,” he said to his assistant.

George 99,689,794 took the buffer from his boss and turned it on. The buffer took off on it’s own across the stage as George 99,689,794 fell forward on his face. Franklin helped him stand. “I thought you said to hold it gently – that machine bucks like a bronco,” the assistant pointed out.

The sniggering coming from the audience was almost as loud as the whirring sound coming from the buffer. Franklin ignored the audience and sped to the other side of the stage to turn off the buffer which had fell on its side after it struck the wall.

“Like I said, buffing floors is the hardest part of a janitor’s job,” Franklin reiterated. “Nobody gets it right the first time. Practice makes perfect. Relax. Please, don’t stress, the more you do it, the better you will get.”

The assistant seemingly grimaced at the prospect of repeating it again, but he went ahead and did it anyway. Everything was going fine until he tripped over the electric cord. The audience burst out laughing. George 99,689,794 didn’t mind. He already knew it was human nature to laugh at the minor misfortunes of others, especially if the others were pariahs. One hundred fifty years ago, comedian Stepin Fetchit was the first black actor to earn a million dollars. He did it by stereotypical exaggeration. So much so that he was billed as “the laziest man alive”. What most white moviegoers didn’t realize was that he was laughing all the way to the bank. Likewise, George 99,689,794 was the first automaton multi-millionaire. He, too, was out to exploit his audience’s prejudices.

It took four more hilarious attempts before George 99,689,794 completed buffing the stage floor. On each successive attempt the laughter grew until the two actors couldn’t hear themselves speak. Obviously, the audience was having a good time. What Franklin’s and his assistant’s performance imparted other than entertainment was another matter. Franklin was gambling that the management skills conveyed by the final session would be more than that of either of the two previous sessions.

Franklin closed the last session of the seminar with a question and answer discussion hosted by George 99,689,794. To start it, the assistant asked anyone having a question or a comment concerning today’s session to raise their hand. Three times as many hands were raised than in the two previous sessions.

“Let’s call on the lady in the lavender pantsuit in the fifth row,” the assistant commented, “madam, please stand and ask your question in a loud voice so that everybody can hear you. The acoustics in this assembly hall are very bad. Please, introduce

yourself and tell us where you are from.”

“Hello everyone, I’m Cindy Finestein from Houston. You seem

quite different from the clumsy and inept automaton in the skit. It was a skit, wasn’t it? I mean, it was all just an act, a comedy staged for our benefit.”

“I guess we couldn’t fool you. You are very perceptive, Cindy,” declared George 99,689,794. “Our Houston office is fortunate to have you. Franklin thought that most people found the first two sessions boring. You’re experienced supervisors, not high school students. It was a mistake to make you sit through two condescending lectures. Franklin wanted to interject humor as a way to make the session interesting as well as informative. I apologize for having stooped to grandiloquent slapstick rather than the light comedy that Franklin proposed. My sole excuses that our schedule didn’t leave us time to rehearse.”

Cindy sat down and a number of hands went up. The assistant surveyed the audience and chose a middle-aged man in a tan sports coat who was sitting at the left end of the seventh row.

“I’m Michael Jefferson from the Boston office. Everybody calls me Mike. You are a human being playing an automaton, aren’t you? That was the best performance I’ve seen in a long time. I laughed so hard I almost fell out of my seat.”

“I was a human being first and an automaton second. Like the majority of automatons, I was born a human being. Most of my life was spent as a human being, similar to you and the people sitting on either side of you. The difference between us is that I was convicted of a felony,” confessed George 99,689,794. “I chose to be transformed into an automaton instead of serving a minimum of twenty years in a maximum security prison with rapists, murderers, terrorists, thugs, and thieves who would slit a cellmate’s throat for the thrill of it. Following transformation, I was sold by the government to the highest bidder at an online auction. Franklin Pierce instructed me on-the-job in how to be a janitor. Being a slave, I expected him to subject me to rough treatment, but I was wrong. Mr. Pierce thinks that the best way to get someone to perform at potential, whether that individual be human or automaton, is to treat him with respect. Franklin never got frustrated with me, regardless of how many times it took to teach me how to run a buffer. He has the patience of a saint. Franklin tells me that patience is a learned skill essential to management. That was the main point of the skit. Take out your spiral notebooks and write ′PATIENCE′ in bold letters. If you learned nothing else from this seminar, you still will get an A+ for your grade. It’s that important. At least, that is what my boss tells me. I believe him because he is fair and doesn’t lie.”

George 99,689,794 next recognized a young lady with a vivid 3-D tattoo of a flaming demon on her forehead. “Hi, everyone. My name is Jasmine Chonski and I work at the San Francisco office. Can I get a recording of this session?,” she inquired.

“I’m sorry,” said the assistant. “We forgot to record it, however, I will suggest to Franklin that we record them in the future.”

A young man with a brown handlebar mustache and a crewcut haircut in the sixteenth row was the next person recognized by George 99,689,794.

“Howdy, my name is Dan Lunds and I live in Helena, Montana, where the air is crisp and clean. (short pause) Are automatons slaves? Do you receive any compensation for your labor?”

“We get a minimal food and housing allowance that varies with the area an automaton is working in and the company they are working for. In rare cases, there is also a travel allowance. My employer advanced me a line of credit to cover expenses. The Supreme Court has ruled that automatons are chattel. ‘Chattel’ is a legal term for property. That means I am a slave. Cyborgs, androids, and clones are another matter. I have heard that for them each case is decided by the courts individually,” George 99,689,794 declared. “Under the law, automatons do not have any civil rights.”

“I will take one last question,” the assistant declared. “Let’s call upon the gentleman with a blue bow tie sitting in the aisle seat in the ninth row.”

“Thank you for selecting me. I am Charlton van Clements from Omaha, Nebraska. I just want you both to know that was quite an act you put on for us. We certainly appreciate it. Will you be hosting next year’s seminar?”

“That’s not up to me. I imagine Franklin knows more than I do, so I am going to turn your question over to my boss.”

Franklin went forward and stood beside his assistant. “I would not hazard a guess. What we are going to be doing tomorrow is a mystery. My crystal ball is too small to see what’s going to happen next year. My assistant and I had a good time hosting the 2084 seminar. You have been a terrific audience. We trust you gained some insights from these three sessions that apply to your supervisory role. Now that we’re augmenting our labor force with automatons, frontline supervision is more important than ever before. Showing someone how to do a job that they have scant incentive to perform can be frustrating. Patience is paramount. Don’t be condescending. I believe the 16th century English reformer, John Bradford, put it best: ‘there but for the grace of God, go I.’ We’ve all made mistakes in life – but they got caught and we didn’t. Personally, I view the transformative process that a convicted felon voluntarily undergoes as a form of repentance. Remember, habitual criminals can either opt to serve their sentence in prison or be reprogramed and become an automaton. The remorseful ones who admit to being wrong are the ones you will be instructing. They have been surgically altered and brainwashed in order to get a second chance and reenter society as a changed individual. You are helping them to reform. Believe me, it’s well worth the effort. This seminar is now at an end. Go forth, secure in the knowledge that your job works for the betterment of America.”

Seven minutes later, the auditorium had completely emptied of everyone except for Franklin and George 99,689,794. Both of them remained on stage, staring at each other as if the two of them were the sole survivors of a lengthy ordeal.

Franklin was the first to break the silence. “Thank God that it’s over,” he said with relief. “How do you think we did?”

“Nobody comes to Las Vegas to be lectured. We probably got low ratings for the first two sessions,” the assistant speculated, “but at least we didn’t bomb out. Today’s session was a super big hit. It’s like we were the headliners at Caesar’s Palace. Our audience couldn’t get enough of us. I may have overdid a few pratfalls; still they seemed to enjoy the slapstick schtick. Your closing speech was somewhat reminiscent of previous efforts. However, I must hand it to you for imparting what most people view as a menial, boring job with special meaning. It may have been a bit overblown, but at least you sent them home feeling good about themselves.”

“Now that the seminar is over, we will most likely have to find a cheaper place to live. I don’t think the company will continue to foot the bill for us to stay at a resort,” speculated Franklin.

“We can phone the front desk to find out. Hopefully, we will not have to checkout before noon tomorrow. I desperately need to sleep in,” George 99,689794 remarked.

“I’m bushed, too. Let’s go back to the condo and we can sleep as late as we want,” Franklin agreed. “We need to rest before the company can put over another fast one on us and send us packing to the next god-awful place.”

“The media advertises Las Vegas as an adult playground, the fun capital of the world,” commented the assistant, “but they never say anything about the stressed out workers beneath the glitz and glamor who make it happen.”

“I ordered a bottle of chardonnay from room service,” declared Franklin. “We can down it before we turn in.”