…| Helene/******** <<<
<<< initiate secure encryption 512 isoware terra… >>>
<<< personal journal loading… >>>
<<< welcome Helene. The system is ready and secure. >>>
…| journal entry <<<
…| date? | 04/12/2035 <<<
…| date accepted. <<<
I like this little box I picked up. It’s simple, secure and no one would likely hack it looking for a journal. I transferred my other journals here. If some archaeologist in 2150 finds this, you won’t have to dig very far to learn everything about me. I have been keeping a journal every night since I was 8. No matter where I was or what was happening I figured out some way to make an entry. There is some seriously embarrassing shit in here, so please wait until I’m long gone before you read it.
That job I was so excited about yesterday? Turned out to be lame. Jessica Tares needed someone to infiltrate her husband’s office, spy on him, and figure out who he was sleeping with. I get to engineer a job position, get into a secure building, work my way up to the boss, seduce him, plant bugs, and spy my little heart out. It sounded so exciting!
First, I check the local job boards and behold! Mr. Tares (aka ShitBag) is looking for a new assistant. I guess the last one couldn’t cut the “other duties as assigned”. I totally get her. So I enter my resume. I get a response in three minutes from the man himself. He seems a tad disheveled, but handsome enough. He asks how soon I can come in for an interview. I tell him right now of course. Within the hour I’m standing in front of my mark IN his office interviewing for a personal assistant job. His eyes are ripping my clothes off and tossing me on the floor. Which is perfect. Except the parts where I get to do spy stuff. Ugh.
So, the interview goes well (duh) and he hires me on the spot and asks if I can start right away. I say yes. An hour or so of forms, a short video and I’m setting up my desk outside his office. Across from Sheila. Sheila is his “executive secretary”. She was just promoted. I was brought in to assist her with her heavy workload. Now that I think about it Sheila seemed a tad disheveled herself. What a cunt.
So, there’s not much left to the day. I read over some schedules, adjust an itinerary, order some meds, other boring shit when Sheila’s phone lights up with a “Sheila, I need you” in slightly digitized version of ShitBag’s voice. She hops right too, and disappears behind the shiny aluminum doors. 20 minutes into their “meeting” I pop a DLX44 on my label of my blouse, link it to my wearable, and count to 10. I have ten seconds to come up with an excuse to break into ShitBag’s office.
Just then, MY phone lights up with the same ShitBag voice. “New girl, get in here, I need you too…” he fades off with a heavy sigh. Really? Is this a fucking joke?
I walk confidently into the office, closing the door quietly behind me. The first thing I see is Sheila’s naked breasts. Her mostly naked body perched high atop ShitBag’s lap with his fat ass suffocating the poor desk beneath him. She has a bead of sweat running down her cheek. The back of his head is a wet mess of thinning hair, gooey product and misogyny.
“Look, when Sheila here get’s promoted to Vice President, I’m gonna need a new executive secretary. Get out of your Shop Mart rags and join us! Start working on your future.” The words dribble out his mouth like the bag sprung a leak. As he was talking, I was slowly moving around and closer, keeping the camera on him. The auto-focus, auto-stabilization will make a whopper of a nice vid for sure.
I smile at him, he hardly slows down for my arrival, and I say something pedantic like “I don’t usually share” and smile pretending to be shocked and embarrassed. He soaks it in. I ask “Mr. Henry Taras, do you often fuck your assistants here at the office?” He replies confidently “Absolutely! As often as I can!”. He smiles widely with a grin that would trigger any clown-phobic passerby with wanton disregard for decency.
“Thanks.” I say curtly. And I left.
Jessica Tares had the video an hour later and I was back in my little “hide out” in my comfy pants and $5000 in my account.
8 hours. I made $5000 in 8 hours. I didn’t have to suit up, I didn’t have to plant a bug, I didn’t have to seduce anyone (really), I didn’t have to kick anyone’s ass. I just replied to a job posting, took a job, filled out some forms, twiddled my thumbs and took a video.
What a fucking world we live in. huh? Well, that’s my sad entry for today. Maybe tomorrow’s entry will be more exciting. Or maybe I’ll just take the week off and catch up on NCIS Seattle. Tet Harmon is so hot and looks almost exactly like his grandpa!