Monsters, Incentivised

Monsters, Incentivised
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We owe our lifestyle to the screams of children. Morbid, but true.

The technological aspect of it all goes over my head, but Science Division says that it's as much to do with the portals as it is the scream itself. That doesn't make any sense to me. Monsters who scream beyond a portal don't provide any energy at all, but somehow humans do?

Science also says that pre-recorded or simulated screams don't work, and neither do faked screams. I don't know how they figured that last one out.

Point is, we can generate incredible amounts of energy from the sound of humans screaming. In practice, that means we need to scare the living daylights out of children. Earth adults for some reason don't seem to care about their children being tormented by monsters at night, so they don't look into it.

It's a good thing they don't, because if they found out that monsters invade their homes through interdimensional portals then we might have more to worry about than our power supply.

Monsters, Inc. holds the largest number of patents relating to acquiring, storing, and distributing scream energy. This is another way of saying that they are the most successful corporation in the world. They practically monopolise an essential industry.

I work in the Scare Division alongside some of the greats. I grew up collecting Scare Cards, watching interviews, playing Scare the Human with my big sister (even though she always made me be the human). And now I'm here. It's a rush, even if all I actually do is prep the doors.

All told, Monsters, Inc. supplies 99% of all the power used on our world, with a collection of minor corporations squabbling over the remainder. Since they all rely on scream-tech, Monsters, Inc. takes a hefty cut from licensing patents.

Power sales accounts for roughly 50% of its revenue. Marketing makes another 30% with the sales of merchandise, and the remaining 20% is down to licensing patents, leasing the power grid, and something labelled "misc.".

I asked Accounting, and they said "misc." included government subsidies. I'm not quite sure why the government is subsidising the most profitable company in the world. When I said that, the guy I was talking to got really uncomfortable and told me to shut up. They're not very nice over in Accounting.

I said earlier that my job is to prep the doors. I suppose it might be boring for anyone who isn't a huge fan of Scaring. All I do is signal the door delivery system to switch out a door, then load up the portal harness with a nearly empty scream canister.

The canisters have to have a little power in them so that the door can actually be opened. I don't know how much exactly, but the canisters are labelled so I know when one has enough. One canister supplies enough power for a typical house for over a year, so even a little bit left is still a lot.

I remember going to the Scare Museum when I was a kid. I couldn't stop smiling the whole time, except when I spent about a minute staring at the very first scream canister slotted in next to the very first scare door. The historical weight of it was almost palpable.

It's only now that I'm a little more informed, a little less awestruck, that I've started to think about that. How did they power the first portal before they'd harvested any screams? I asked as much in the break room yesterday, but nobody wanted to talk about it.

I'm on break at the moment and everybody seems to be avoiding me.

"Mr. Creak?"

I start a little at the sound of my name. It's the first gap in the silent treatment all day.

I turn to face the monster who spoke. He almost looks human, except his skin glistens too much and his mouth is far too wide. He's wearing a white shirt and black suit, with dark glasses. "Yes?"

He gestures to the door. "Mrs. Scuttler would like a word."

Mrs. Scuttler! She's in charge of testing candidates for the scare teams. Maybe she finally got around to reviewing my application. "After you."

As I follow him out the door, I flash smiles and thumbs up to my colleagues. None of them meet any of my eyes. Figures they'd be jealous.

He leads me down the hall to Mrs. Scuttler's office. He doesn't even knock before entering. For some reason the lights aren't on, so after I enter I hunt around for the switch.

The door closes behind me, and I hear a familiar hiss. This is the first time I've heard it in this circumstance. Somebody's just disengaged a portal.

Sure enough, when I try to open the door again it opens onto a brick wall. I turn around in a panic and a blinding light shines directly into my eyes.

"Take a seat, Mr. Creak." The man is visible only as a silhouette, but I can tell he's seated on the other side of a table.

I sit in the chair he gestured to. "Wh-where's Mrs. Scuttler? Who are you?"

"Mrs. Scuttler is in her office. I am nobody in particular. Tell me, Mr. Creak, do you know why you're here?"

"I'm here because you told me Mrs. Scuttler wanted to see me."

Squinting, I can just barely make out him shaking his head. "No, you are here because you've been asking questions. Our employers do not like questions."

I ask, "Why doesn't Mr. Leech want me to ask questions?"

"Mr. Leech is not your employer, he is the figurehead of Monsters, Inc. Your true employers prefer to remain nameless, and appoint others to run their various companies."

The bright light is almost painful now. I manage to shield half my eyes with my hands, and have to settle for closing the others. "That's - that's crazy, that is."

"Quite the opposite, actually. It is a simple truth that makes sense of a crazy world."

All sorts of little inconsistencies resolve themselves in my mind. I can't have been the first person to ask how the first scream canister was filled. Yet far smarter monsters than I haven't said anything.

What if they had, only there were other men in black suits and dark glasses to talk to them? What if they went to the media, only the media was owned by the same group? What if the police, the government, the universities - or key monsters in each of those institutions - were working for them?

You could do great and terrible things with that kind of power. You could provide jobs for everyone, jobs like prepping scream portals - jobs that exist even though the process is already 90% automated. You could eliminate poverty and war. You could keep monsters healthy for longer.

All those great things maintain a workforce to create more products to sell to them in turn. As for terrible things, I wonder how many monsters died to keep the wheels turning?

"I see by your expression that you are not so stupid as your file implies, Mr. Creak. Now that you've figured it out, will you agree to keep up the charade?"

My mouths go dry. I can't go along with it. Monsters have a right to know. They have to know that there are other ways to generate power. Maybe those ways have drawbacks of their own, but surely it's better than what we've been doing - oh god, have we been tormenting those children for no reason? How many of them were scarred as a result of what we - I - have enabled?

I doubt I can convince this man to re-enable the portal home if I don't say what he wants. "Yes," I say, "I want to help however I can."

The man sighs. "Mr. Creak, it truly is a pity that you are not sincere. You're the first monster in years to have put the pieces together without any real education. I don't doubt that you could have been an asset. Goodbye."

With that, he stands up and walks away from the table. "Wait!" I yell. I hear a door close, then a hiss. The spot light turns off, replaced with a gentler ambient light. With it I can see the door he exited through and the rest of the sparsely furnished room.

I know what I will find, but I have to check. I open the door and see another brick wall.

For a little while, I scream for help. I'm wasting oxygen, so I stop. I'm already formulating a plan on how to get through the wall. There's no point, but I get to work anyway.

If you had the ability to turn any door into a portal, you could make rooms that were perfectly secure - accessible only through the matching entrance. And if you could make such a room, there would be no reason to have corridors or staircases leading to the entrance.

If I needed to secure a room with no thought as to physical accessibility, I would probably bury it.