Jack Reed’s last name was not Smith. He’d gotten used to the monicker of “Mr. Smith” however. For the last twelve years he had the surreal job of managing a workforce of humanoid donkey men.
He knew the majority of them were going to stay donkeys for as long as Paper Corp could continue to house and feed them. The occasional donkey had someone checking up on them to make sure they didn’t sign up for another contract of beasthood, but most of them weren’t so lucky. You didn’t volunteer to become an beast unless you were really down on your luck.
It was honestly surprising that they’d had so many people from their marketing department take them up on the offer. Early on in his career he’d try to steer some of the brighter candidates away from the program. By now however he was more than happy to just be a cog in the corporate machine.
Donkeys were cheap, and he was paid well.
He dragged the antique ball mouse across the screen of the original Chronivac. The scanning mode was able to identify Jack Reed, Aaron Hill, Steven Fleming, Bryan Jay, and Donkey Thirty Six. It always surprised Jack a bit to see the donkey’s number on the screen. They had these guys so thoroughly zonked that even the omniscient machine knew them by their corporate identifier.
He could dwell on that later. He selected Aaron, Steven, and Bryan’s entries on the scanning list. He clicked the “Backup” button and listened as the device’s hard drive struggled to write the entirety of their being to a series of magnetic ones and zeroes.
“Alright, say cheese,” Jack said. The joke was mostly for his amusement.
He selected Paper Corp Donkey 1.7a and moused over to the “Target” section. He could apply things one by one, but it was easier to just select, “Facing Emitter.” Donkey Thirty Six would get a fresh reformat, but he wasn’t likely to notice.
Jack clicked Apply, and the Chronivac let out a small beep. Four progress bars appeared on the screen to show everyone’s progress.
Immediately the three beasts started scratching at their bodies. It was the same every time. You felt something at your very core shifting. Soon enough the tail would be bursting out, and you’d be well on your way to being a useful corporate donkey.
Jack stood up from the small desk. “Alright, if you three would follow Thirty Six-“
“Haw, careful sir,” Thirty Six put a hoof-had out in front of Jack.
One of the recruits doubled over where Jack was about to stand. He let out a beastial bray as the seat of his pants tore.
“I don’t have time for this-“ Jack huffed.
Thirty Six gently pushed Jack up against the desk of the ancient Chronivac to get him out of the way of the changing recruits. Jack was standing squarely in front of the ancient Chronivac’s emitter now.
The more modern Chronivac on One Seventeen’s wrist beeped softly. The device had the ability to warp the reality of the world around it. In this case however, it only needed to make a much more subtile adjustment. The original Chronivac’s mouse nudged itself over a few pixels until it was resting on top of the software’s Apply button.
Thirty Six’s tail wagged back and forth as he protected Mr. Smith. He usually kept his tail down when he wagged, but today his tail had decided to perk up ever so slightly. It flopped up onto the table and down onto the computer’s mouse with a loud plastic click.
A soft beep emitted from the Beast Resource’s Chronivac. A fifth progress bar appeared on the screen.
Jack Reed. Applying Changes.
Jack spun around. He stared at the new message. His insides started to churn.
“Oh. Shit.”