Template:Dkt outsourcing plan: Difference between revisions

{{script|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

And 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.  

{{Script|Nuncle}}: We understand them not. Nor do they one other.

{{Script|Inclusivia}}: ''His''?

{{script|Complicatio}}: Pray forgiveness, Lady Inclusivia. Hers as well.

{{Script|Inclusivia}}: And theirs.

{{script|Complicatio}}: Yea, this is our strife: this bewild’ring ’scape  

Of contraptions yoked and tethered as a measur’d beast —

Upon whose discombobulating backs our common fate depends.  

And, O! Dilemma! The very men who work these chainèd cranks —

{{Script|Inclusivia}}: Men? Just men?

{{script|Complicatio}}: Oh! and women — and those unsure, or curious, or as yet unaligned—

{{Script|Queen}}: The heavens doth anoint!

{{script|Complicatio}}: Milady?  

{{Script|Nuncle}}: Pray, spare the conjugations, sir:

Their majesty doth get the point.

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

{{script|Complicatio}}: I — we — they — am and are and are obliged.

They whose allied cadence powers our truck —

{{Script|Queen}}: The dismal ones?

{{Script|Complicatio}}:  Aye them, with all their rancour —

By their inevitable heft, they play as weighty anchors.

{{Script|Nuncle}}: “Weighty anchors”? None call the Reverend Spooner!

{{Script|Queen}}:  There are ''eighty'' of these dismal scientists?

{{Script|Nuncle}}: More like eight hundred —

{{script|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: we set these [[Morlocks]] free.

{{Script|Queen}}: To do what?

{{Script|Nuncle}}: To live a carefree life set free of all this drudgery.

{{Script|Complicatio}}: Should we set the crankshafts free from work-to-rule

To run through night and day without cease

Even upon the Sabbath.

{{Script|Queen}}: Crankshafts doth pedal not themselves, Complicatio.

Who can turn the wheel without fault or food or rest?

{{Script|Complicatio}}: You can hire them by the score in Bucharest.  

 

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