canfield notes

work-death balance

The towers glisten proudly in the hazy mid-day sun.

Howling, the barbar cuts one down with her vorpal sword. Three more grow in its place.

Right on target, so erect, they're coming straight at you. You have already been assimilated.

Inside one of the hottest and fastest growing, I, I mean we, amass the plunder. Not through actual theft (Heavens no!) but through one simple trick, couched in the esoteric, violence obscured. Even if it is theft, it's too big to be a crime. We're stealing it at scale.

Just doing your job is too much, and also never enough. Take another draft from our bountious teat to fill that void. Ah, fresh Citra. Or is that Mosaic? Take some time to recharge those batteries. We value work-death balance, afterall.

Congratulations! All that self-flagulation and numbing yourself to the quiet prompting has earned you... more of the same. You're killing it!

No time to talk to your neighbors. They probably just want something, anyway.

One day, if you remain faithful, all of your "I can'ts" will come true. At least until the promised return on your investment.