I’ve worked in a corporate office for the past four years. It’s cliché at this point to mention the monotony of office work. Dilbert and The Office have already picked that bone clean. The intentional corporate atmosphere that is created by the soft drone of copy machines and the empty visual stimulation of cubicles with fabric walls is well known by a large portion of the American workforce. You arrive in the morning, survey the endless pile of paper work, accomplish a few tasks, and then go home to watch television before crawling into bed, and repeating the cycle only a few hours later. After a while, your thoughts begin to wander. Despite the fact that you are (unfortunately) sober, your mind starts to take on the disposition of a philosopher sprinkled with marijuana : this is what I do? I copy numbers from this place, plug them into this spot and then send that to someone else, for them to do something with it? This is what I create? This is the mark I leave on the world? Manipulating meaningless symbols to leave a trail of breadcrumbs for auditors to follow?