Chapter 3

The next day after the epic office supply discoveries, Jim is destroying another sandwich. X017 soon joins. Douglas passes by their table with his lunch.

“See that? Douglas probably sleeps in a tie. But those boots… how did he even get hired?”

“Observation: His footwear suggests practicality, but the tie is inconsistent with this logic.”

“Astute observation, my friend.”

After lunch, Jim leaned back in his task chair, sipping lukewarm coffee as he pretended to skim a memo titled “Maximizing Corporate Synergy.” More HR world salad directives, he feels like he could write these memos in his sleep. His real focus, however, was on the gleaming red stapler barely poking out from under his monitor, just within arm’s reach on his desk.

“Well, well, look who’s hard at work,” Douglas said, leaning casually against Jim’s desk. “What is this, the third memo you’ve ignored this week?”

Jim didn’t look up. “Ignoring memos is my full-time job. IT support is just my side gig.”

Douglas absentmindedly stirring his coffee, oblivious as his tie dipped into the mug. He soon turned and stomped back to his own desk.

Jim allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. Douglas might not realize it yet, but he was about to become the face of workplace compliance—whether he liked it or not. “Soon,” he muttered under his breath. “Very soon I am going to find a way to get Douglas.”

Just then, X017 appeared at the edge of the cubicle, his metallic frame casting a shadow over Jim’s desk. X017 said. “Shall I suggest a potential outlet for your ingenuity?”

Jim grinned. “I’m listening.”

Without a word, X017 extended a hand, offering a stack of perforated dot-matrix printer paper.

Jim blinked, taking the stack cautiously. “What is this?”

“This is part of ‘new corporate communication tools’,” X017 said, his tone matter-of-fact. “The dot-matrix printer in the storage area is now operational. It is highly suited for the dissemination of… unconventional directives.”

Jim thumbed through the stack of paper, the rough edges of the perforations. This was something he only heard about in stories from his grandparents.

He looked up at X017, his grin widening. “Wait. Are you telling me we can send memos on this thing?”

X017’s optical sensors glowed faintly. “Correct. The dot-matrix printer is currently networked to bypass administrative oversight. Its output will be indistinguishable from official communication channels. There is an abundance of supplies for this machine in the storage unit. Many of these are new in their packaging.”

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Jim leaned forward, his excitement growing. “X, this is diabolical, I’d be worried about your motives if I was not excited by the possibilities.”

“Suggest we wait till after hours to test. My database says this machine contributed to noise pollution.”, said helpfully.

That evening, after extensive ‘testing’ and a quick search for noise cancelling devices for Jim’s ears, the new Dot Matrix Overlord was ready for installation and ruling with an iron cartridge.

“Someday you and I may have a conversation about why you are helping me but for now, let’s brainstorm!”, Jim declared excitedly.

Wheels began turning in Jim’s mind. He could easily ‘highjack’ HR emails and recraft and send them out. He stayed late that evening, pacing the quiet office as he waited for X017 to finish his modifications. The cubicle farm, normally buzzing with keyboard clacks and awkward phone calls, was eerily silent except for the occasional hum of a computer left on standby.

X017 stood up with a section of drywall under one arm and a toolbox in the other. “The modifications are complete. The printer is now integrated into the facility’s infrastructure.”

Jim followed X to the far corner of the cubicle area, where a previously unnoticed access panel sat flush with the wall.

“This… this is genius,” Jim said, crouching to inspect the custom slot X017 had installed, positioned just about three feet above floor level. He tilted his head, studying it. “You know what would really sell this? Brass framing. Make it look all official.”

“Clarification required: Brass is unnecessary for functionality,” X017 stated.

“Maybe not for functionality,” Jim said, already moving toward the supply closet, “but for flair? Absolutely.”

A few minutes later, he returned triumphantly with the disassembled remnants of an old brass picture frame. After some muttering, a lot of double-sided tape, and a few satisfied grunts, Jim stepped back to admire his work. “Now that’s a portal worthy of an HR memo.”

X017 observed the newly adorned slot, his optical lights flickering faintly. “The paper feed is concealed inside this panel along with the Dot-Matrix Printer,” he explained. “Output will now appear here.” X gestured to the newly brass-framed void.

Twenty minutes later, a neatly folded strip of perforated dot-matrix paper protruded from the slot, waiting like a prophecy yet to be revealed.

Jim tugged on the end of the paper, watching as it unspooled effortlessly. “So, no one will see the printer. Just… endless memos.”

“Precisely,” X017 replied. His tone carried a faint but unmistakable hint of satisfaction. “Humans are more likely to attribute authority to directives when the source is enigmatic.”

The slot was positioned exactly three feet above the floor, its gleaming brass frame standing out against the otherwise blank wall. There were no labels, no decorative touches—just the stark void, perfectly centered, as though someone had deliberately designed it to provoke unease.

“It’s like something you’d see in one of those dystopian corporate thrillers,” Jim mused. “You know, right before the AI takes over and starts running the place.”

“Observation: The placement enhances its perceived importance while discouraging scrutiny,” X017 added, almost as if agreeing with Jim’s fictional scenario.

Jim grinned, already imagining the chaos this would cause. “You’ve outdone yourself, X.”

X tilted his head slightly, the faintest flicker in his optical lights betraying a hint of what could almost be called mischief. “Clarification: I have outdone myself in collaboration with you. This is what humans refer to as… diabolical synergy.”

Jim laughed. “Now we just need to reconfigure the server to send all HR memos to me so I can rewrite them and send them to the distribution list!”

X’s optics flickered again. “Acknowledged. Initiative ‘Controlled Chaos’ is now operational.”