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{{dia|Complicatio|My division’s damned, by unfunny fate<br>
{{script|Complicatio}}: Ma’am, consigned by unfunny fate
To live unloved upon the ledger. We are but cost.<br>
To live a life of cost, unloved upon in the ledger.
’Tis the rust and stain and curse of clammy gears<br>
’tis the human stain of clammy operations
That require a ruinous peopling.<br>
Ruinously peopled by myriad technicians, each one
We’ve cut our cloth as best can do<br>
Steeped, til the cup is cold, in his own dismal science.  
But these myriad needed grunts, though housed in meagre lairs<br>
Or hers, or theirs, or its, or xes —
Kept safe and well away from clientry, are yet a weight.<br>
I am thus and then obliged. I own the [[service line]]
Each speaks the fractious tones of jargoned tongue<br>
It falls to me to work upon our stretchèd silos,
Such patter steep’d, til cup is cold, in leaves of dismal science.<br>
Yoked and tethered as a measurèd beast.
Each a different dismal one, his language apt to smother. }}
Upon whose saddled back our fiscal fate depends.
{{dia|Nuncle|We understand them not. Nor do they one other.}}
And here, our dilemma: the very men who work the chainèd cranks —
{{dia|Inclusivia|“His”?}}
Or women — or unsure, or curious, or as yet unaligned—
{{dia|Complicatio|Pray forgiveness, Lady Inclusivia. Hers as well.}}
{{Script|Queen}}: The heavens doth anoint!
{{dia|Inclusivia|And theirs.}}
{{script|Complicatio}}: Milady?
{{dia|Complicatio|Aye, them too. Yea, this is our strife: this bewild’ring ’scape<br>
{{Script|Nuncle}}: Pray, spare the conjugations, sir:
Of contraptions yoked and tethered as a many gender’d beast —<br>
Their majesty doth get the point.
Upon whose discombobulating backs our common fate depends.<br>
{{script|Queen}}: It is a pretty speech so far. But has it any meat?
And, O! Dilemma! The very men who work these chainèd cranks —}}
{{script|Complicatio}}: I am — we are obliged.
{{dia|Inclusivia|Men? Just men?}}
Those eager souls whose cadences power our jalopy
{{dia|Complicatio|Oh! and women — and those unsure, or curious, or as yet unaligned—}}
By inevitable heft they play as weighty anchors.
{{dia|Queen|The heavens doth anoint!}}
{{Script|Nuncle}}: Call the Reverend Spooner!
{{dia|Complicatio|Milady? }}
{{script|Complicatio}}: Yegads, but are they inconstant. Oafish! Fickle! Slow!  
{{dia|Nuncle|Pray, spare your testy conjugation:<br>
Best by inattendery. Oh!
Their majesty doth get the point.}}
 
{{dia|Queen|It is a pretty speech so far. But has it any meat?}}
 
{{dia|Inclusivia|Or leguminous alternatives.  }}
Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
{{dia|Complicatio|I — we — they — am and are and are obliged.<br>
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
They whose allied cadence powers our truck —}}
To smother up his beauty from the world,
{{dia|Queen|The dismal ones?}}
That, when he please again to be himself,
{{dia|Complicatio| Aye them, with all their rancour —<br>
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at,
By their inevitable heft, they play as weighty anchors.}}
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists305
{{dia|Nuncle|“Weighty anchors”? None call the Reverend Spooner!}}
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
{{dia|Queen| There are ''eighty'' of these dismal scientists? }}
If all the year were playing holidays,
{{dia|Nuncle|More like eight hundred —}}
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
{{dia|Complicatio|Eager but, yegads, inconstant. Oafish! Fickle! Slow!<br>
But when they seldom come, they wish'd for come,
I wouldst speed my rate of stroke, only worser comes with sooner.<br>
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
And so, my liege, my battle plan: we set these [[Morlocks]] free.}}
So, when this loose behavior I throw off
{{dia|Queen|To do what?}}
And pay the debt I never promised,
{{dia|Inclusivia|To see out their best and carefree lives, unchained of drudgery.<br>
By how much better than my word I am,
Uninjured by liv’d experience: happy, unstress’d — full, fair and abundant. }}
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;
{{dia|Nuncle|In other words, less gently put, they’ll make the lot [[redundant]].}}
And like bright metal on a sullen ground,315
{{dia|Complicatio|Thus, unbound by work-to-rule, we’ll drive the train<br>
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
Around the clock, without relent<br>
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
Night; day; rain; hail or shine — e’en upon the Sabbath.}}
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
{{dia|Queen|Our crankshafts pedal not themselves, [[Complicatio]].<br>
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill;
You’ve said you’d let your [[subject matter expert|experts]] go, so<br>
Redeeming time when men think least I will.
Who shall turn thy grimy wheels, without fault or favour, food or rest?}}
</div>
{{dia|Complicatio|You can hire them by the score in [[Proverbial school-leaver from Bucharest|Bucharest]].<br>
They are legion: all thifty, keen and swift. }}
{{dia|Queen|But unpossessed of needed knowhow that, by [[Redundancy|rank and yank]], you sent away?}}
{{dia|Complicatio|There are certain merchants, Ma’am whose special skill<br>
Lies in collating squads of fruity youths, fresh harvested from school<br>
And putting them at our bespoke disposal.<br>
They bone them up upon our musty [[Playbook|almanacks]] —<br>
[[Service catalogue]]s, hymn-sheets, psalters, [[Risk taxonomies|taxonomies]] and the like<br>
And see them train’d, at pace, to keep to and stay upon our message. }}
{{dia|Queen|What is this “special skill” whereof you speak?<br>
To coach a bunch of wet-eared boys —}}
{{dia|Inclusivia| — and girls, and grades between —}}
{{dia|Queen|— to outperform our veterans? It sounds to us like sorcery. }}
{{dia|Nuncle|“Outsourcery”, they call it. An amiable conjury,<br>
Well-known to bewitch a gawping treasurer.}}
{{dia|Complicatio|’Tis more than cheeky sleight of hand, my liege.}}
{{dia|Nuncle|’Tis not. You’ll see. The logic’s flimsy.}}
{{dia|Complicatio|’Tis tried, tested and pronounced a win<br>
By no lesser than McKinsey.}}

Latest revision as of 15:16, 10 September 2024

Complicatio: My division’s damned, by unfunny fate
To live unloved upon the ledger. We are but cost.
’Tis the rust and stain and curse of clammy gears
That require a ruinous peopling.
We’ve cut our cloth as best can do
But these myriad needed grunts, though housed in meagre lairs
Kept safe and well away from clientry, are yet a weight.
Each speaks the fractious tones of jargoned tongue
Such patter steep’d, til cup is cold, in leaves of dismal science.
Each a different dismal one, his language apt to smother.

Nuncle: We understand them not. Nor do they one other.

Inclusivia: “His”?

Complicatio: Pray forgiveness, Lady Inclusivia. Hers as well.

Inclusivia: And theirs.

Complicatio: Aye, them too. Yea, this is our strife: this bewild’ring ’scape
Of contraptions yoked and tethered as a many gender’d beast —
Upon whose discombobulating backs our common fate depends.
And, O! Dilemma! The very men who work these chainèd cranks —

Inclusivia: Men? Just men?

Complicatio: Oh! and women — and those unsure, or curious, or as yet unaligned—

Queen: The heavens doth anoint!

Complicatio: Milady?

Nuncle: Pray, spare your testy conjugation:
Their majesty doth get the point.

Queen: It is a pretty speech so far. But has it any meat?

Inclusivia: Or leguminous alternatives.

Complicatio: I — we — they — am and are and are obliged.
They whose allied cadence powers our truck —

Queen: The dismal ones?

Complicatio: Aye them, with all their rancour —
By their inevitable heft, they play as weighty anchors.

Nuncle: “Weighty anchors”? None call the Reverend Spooner!

Queen: There are eighty of these dismal scientists?

Nuncle: More like eight hundred —

Complicatio: Eager but, yegads, inconstant. Oafish! Fickle! Slow!
I wouldst speed my rate of stroke, only worser comes with sooner.
And so, my liege, my battle plan: we set these Morlocks free.

Queen: To do what?

Inclusivia: To see out their best and carefree lives, unchained of drudgery.
Uninjured by liv’d experience: happy, unstress’d — full, fair and abundant.

Nuncle: In other words, less gently put, they’ll make the lot redundant.

Complicatio: Thus, unbound by work-to-rule, we’ll drive the train
Around the clock, without relent
Night; day; rain; hail or shine — e’en upon the Sabbath.

Queen: Our crankshafts pedal not themselves, Complicatio.
You’ve said you’d let your experts go, so
Who shall turn thy grimy wheels, without fault or favour, food or rest?

Complicatio: You can hire them by the score in Bucharest.
They are legion: all thifty, keen and swift.

Queen: But unpossessed of needed knowhow that, by rank and yank, you sent away?

Complicatio: There are certain merchants, Ma’am whose special skill
Lies in collating squads of fruity youths, fresh harvested from school
And putting them at our bespoke disposal.
They bone them up upon our musty almanacks
Service catalogues, hymn-sheets, psalters, taxonomies and the like
And see them train’d, at pace, to keep to and stay upon our message.

Queen: What is this “special skill” whereof you speak?
To coach a bunch of wet-eared boys —

Inclusivia: — and girls, and grades between —

Queen: — to outperform our veterans? It sounds to us like sorcery.

Nuncle: “Outsourcery”, they call it. An amiable conjury,
Well-known to bewitch a gawping treasurer.

Complicatio: ’Tis more than cheeky sleight of hand, my liege.

Nuncle: ’Tis not. You’ll see. The logic’s flimsy.

Complicatio: ’Tis tried, tested and pronounced a win
By no lesser than McKinsey.