I may be a raving psychopath, but the slow ponderous death by inches these creatures inflict upon themselves is true madness. Offices mill souls. What stalks the halls is the gristle remains of dreams and hope after the mindless machine is done with them. A few, a precious few, have convinced themselves that they have the good life, that their coworkers are invested in their lives and that the work they do is important and meaningful. They believe that the metrics and acronyms that rule their waking hours truly matter, that the echo of their life will be more than dust and a slight boost in profits on a spreadsheet no one reads. ^In a way, I can admire the evil inflicted here.