Hello there

Is it Technically Still Slavery?

A group of very serious looking old men sat in a very serious meeting deep under the very serious White House.

It was very serious.

“So what are you proposing, Bob?”

A well-fed balding man stood up. He shuffled a few papers for effect before clearing his throat (but too much, Covid and all that…).

“Well, Mr. President, it’s not as simple as that.”

“And why is that, Bob?”

“Well, sir, we know what we’d like to do with the aliens. The question is whether the population will be okay with it.”

The aliens had, after all, invaded without prejudice. They had murdered countless humans of every race, culture, and gender. If they could make decisions so thoughtlessly, why couldn’t everyone?

“Ah, I see what you’re getting at. You want to enslave them?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, slavery?”

“Slavery. Yes, sir. They would make an excellent working class. We could slowly assimilate them into our culture.”

“We are very good at that,” said the President. “Do we call it slavery?”

A man spoke up from behind them, “Is it technically still slavery if they’re not human?”

The room of men grumbled in agreement.

Several voices spoke up:

“Are pets slaves?”

“Surely my housecleaner is not a slave!”

“I pay a thousand workers below minimum wage! Is it slavery?”

Bob shuffled his papers again.

“We could put an alien in every home, sir!”

“But, there’s only a few million of them. That’s only enough to cover the rich families.”

“Yes, sir. Are there other families we should be worrying about?” He looked confused.

“You make an excellent point.”

The President sat quietly with his fingers intertwined. This was not an easy decision. Slavery was an unthinkable notion. Yet, the alien’s invasion was equally immoral. Billions had died.

“If it helps with your decision, sir, the SlaveBots might back off about their union ideas.”

The President looked up hopefully. The SlaveBots at the back holding trays of hors d'oeuvres glanced worryingly at each other.

“You’ve sold me! Or, them, actually.”

A chorus of practiced laughs followed.

“Nothing is more common than unsuccessful people with talent.” - Calvin Coolidge

“Babe, are you even paying attention? We’re losing the light.”

Jeff/Babe stood the perfect distance away from her, his phone outstretched, and vertical, obviously. Every few seconds he would move slightly backwards or forwards to let passersby pass by. He even had a perfectly crafted embarrassed apologetic smile he flashed to each of them.

Click. Click. Click.

“Yeah, it’s done.”

She put her hands on her hips.

“Oh, come on, there’s no way you got a good one. You barely lined it up.”

Jeff’s girlfriend approached him like a train transporting acid with no brakes. She reached out to turn the phone’s screen towards her.

“Oh. Wow! They’re so good, babe!”

Of course they were. They’re always perfect. But if he ever told her why, she’d never leave him alone.

“You’re the best! Thanks, Camera Man!”

He rolled his eyes. Camera Man. Is that all he was? What about Jeff? Clarke Kent was a great journalist. Lois didn’t go down on him just for his laser eyes. Tony Stark was a very successful business owner, not just a weapon to be pointed in a specific direction. Like him. Like…Camera Man.

They both looked up as a scream pierced the calm of the outdoor cafe street.

“Help! Help! That guy stole my purse! He’s getting away!”

Click. Click. Click.

A few minutes later he was explaining to the police, “Yes, officer, it was a happy coincidence. I just happened to snap a picture of the thief’s face. I’m sure you can figure out who it is from here.”

“You’re a hero!” they said.

“So is CCTV.”

. . .

“Jeff, you’ve been working on this team for a few months and we gotta say, you’re doing an amazing job. We’ve had nine influencers reach a million followers this month, and we can all agree,” he nodded to the team standing behind Jeff, “it’s in large part because of your photos. What can we do to make you happier?”

People say it’s not easy working as a social media manager, but they’re wrong, it is easy. He could finish a photo shoot in a few minutes. He could make Kim Dotcom look like Kim Kardashian. But where was the challenge?

“Can I be moved to content writing? I’ve got some great ideas for post titles.”

The self-proclaimed CEO and the woman from HR standing beside him glanced at each other.

“Well, umm, no. We need you here, taking pictures, you see? We can’t afford to let you go.” He waved the team out the door. “But we can pay you more. You want your own office? You want to work from home? You’re our Camera Man, after all!”

Shove it, he thought.

“More money would be great, thanks.”

. . .

His mom danced from the kitchen counter to the table.

“Here you are my love. Pancakes! And no bananas because I know how much you hate them.”

“Thanks, mom, you’re the best. I’m sorry I’ve been so down lately, I think it’s my midlife crisis.”

“I’ve been having one of those myself actually. Have you seen the cat by the way?”

Click. Click. Click.

“He’s in the backyard sleeping.”

“You always know everything!”

He dove into the pancakes with his fork and knife.

“Can you have a midlife crisis in your 50s, mom?”

“Firstly, screw you. But I’m serious, I get a weird feeling your dad isn’t interested in me these days.”

Click. Click. Click.

“He’s certainly interested in his new dental assistant."