Template:Dkt outsourcing plan: Difference between revisions

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{{script|Complicatio}}: My division’s consigned, by unfunny fate
{{script|Complicatio}}: My division’s consigned, by unfunny fate
To live life unloved upon the ledger. We are but cost.
To live unloved upon the ledger. We are but cost.
’tis the rust and stain of clammy machinery to require  
’tis the rust and stain and curse of clammy machinery  
Ruinous peopling by myriad technicians.  
To require ruinous peopling. We’ve cut our cloth as best can do
Each is steep’d, til cup is cold, in arcane science.  
But these needed myriad technicians, though housed in meagre lairs
Or hers, or theirs, or its, or xes —
And kept safe and well away from clientry, are yet a weight.
I am thus and then obliged. I own the [[service line]]
Each speaks in fractured runes of jargoned tongues
It falls to me to work their stretchèd silos,
In dialects native to their scattered silos.
Yoked and tethered as a measurèd beast —
The patter is, til cup is cold, steep’d in leaves of arcane science.  
Upon whose saddled back our fiscal fate depends.
We understand them not. Nor they each other.
Yet, this is our strife: this is the bewild’ring scape
Of contraptions yoked and tethered as a measurèd beast —
Upon whose saddled back our fiscal fate depends.  
And, O! Dilemma! The very men who work these chainèd cranks —
And, O! Dilemma! The very men who work these chainèd cranks —
And women — and those unsure, or curious, or as yet unaligned—
{{Script|Queen}}: Men? Just men?
{{script|Complicatio}}: And women — and those unsure, or curious, or as yet unaligned—
{{Script|Queen}}: The heavens doth anoint!
{{Script|Queen}}: The heavens doth anoint!
{{script|Complicatio}}: Milady?  
{{script|Complicatio}}: Milady?  
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Their majesty doth get the point.
Their majesty doth get the point.
{{script|Queen}}: It is a pretty speech so far. But has it any meat?
{{script|Queen}}: It is a pretty speech so far. But has it any meat?
{{script|Complicatio}}: I — we — ''they'' — are and am obliged.
{{script|Complicatio}}: I — we — they — are and am obliged.
Those eager souls whose allied cadences power our jalopy
Those eager souls whose allied cadences power our jalopy
By their inevitable heft, they play as weighty anchors.
By their inevitable heft, they play as weighty anchors.
{{Script|Nuncle}}: “Weighty anchors”? None call the Reverend Spooner!
{{Script|Nuncle}}: “Weighty anchors”? None call the Reverend Spooner!
{{script|Complicatio}}: Yegads, but are they inconstant. Oafish! Fickle! Slow!  
{{script|Complicatio}}: Eager but, yegads, inconstant. Oafish! Fickle! Slow!  
I wouldst speed their outputs up, but worser comes with sooner.
I wouldst speed their outputs up, only worser comes with sooner.
And so, my liege, my battle plan: set silos free.
And so, my liege, my battle plan: set these [[Morlocks]] free.
{{Script|Queen}}: To do what?
Should we set crankshafts free from work-to-rule
Should we set crankshafts free from work-to-rule
To run through night and day without cease
To run through night and day without cease
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Know you who can work without food or rest?
Know you who can work without food or rest?
{{Script|Complicatio}}: Aye: In a call centre near by Bucharest.  
{{Script|Complicatio}}: Aye: In a call centre near by Bucharest.  
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
 
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists305
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
But when they seldom come, they wish'd for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So, when this loose behavior I throw off
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;
And like bright metal on a sullen ground,315
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill;
Redeeming time when men think least I will.
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Revision as of 15:48, 23 October 2022

Complicatio: My division’s consigned, by unfunny fate To live unloved upon the ledger. We are but cost. ’tis the rust and stain and curse of clammy machinery To require ruinous peopling. We’ve cut our cloth as best can do But these needed myriad technicians, though housed in meagre lairs And kept safe and well away from clientry, are yet a weight. Each speaks in fractured runes of jargoned tongues In dialects native to their scattered silos. The patter is, til cup is cold, steep’d in leaves of arcane science. We understand them not. Nor they each other. Yet, this is our strife: this is the bewild’ring scape Of contraptions yoked and tethered as a measurèd beast — Upon whose saddled back our fiscal fate depends. And, O! Dilemma! The very men who work these chainèd cranks — Queen: Men? Just men? Complicatio: And women — and those unsure, or curious, or as yet unaligned— Queen: The heavens doth anoint! Complicatio: Milady? Nuncle: Pray, spare the conjugations, sir: Their majesty doth get the point. Queen: It is a pretty speech so far. But has it any meat? Complicatio: I — we — they — are and am obliged. Those eager souls whose allied cadences power our jalopy By their inevitable heft, they play as weighty anchors. Nuncle: “Weighty anchors”? None call the Reverend Spooner! Complicatio: Eager but, yegads, inconstant. Oafish! Fickle! Slow! I wouldst speed their outputs up, only worser comes with sooner. And so, my liege, my battle plan: set these Morlocks free. Queen: To do what? Should we set crankshafts free from work-to-rule To run through night and day without cease And upon the sabbath. Queen: Crankshafts doth pedal not themselves, Complicatio. Know you who can work without food or rest? Complicatio: Aye: In a call centre near by Bucharest.