I’m a cat. A curious cat, as most cats are.
I had questions. Questions I wanted to ask of Elon Musk, owner and head of what’s left of Twitter, the once reputable social media site.
Upon arrival at the company I was met by two burly guards who, judging by their bulky builds and lack of English skills, I assumed were off-duty SFPD officers. Or perhaps ex-WWE ‘wrestlers’.
After a thorough patting down - something I mistook for an attempt to play - by a no-neck bodyguard, I was shown to Musk’s office where I found him yelling into a phone.
After Musk had slammed down the phone the guard introduced me, “Here he is Mr. Musk. We patted him down. He did not like that. We have to step out out and go to the emergency ward,” the bleeding guard told Musk as he turned and rushed out, leaving a trail of blood drops.
I don’t like to be patted down.
Anyway, I began our chat by asking him about his dwindling staff numbers and why the offices were empty.
“Yeah, I’ve been on a bit of a firing binge. I don’t like engineers. I don’t want any engineers in the building. Unless they need to talk to me about why I shouldn’t fire them.
“But I’m not naive, I realize I still need a few of them. Dorsey liked them, having a bloated payroll didn’t bother him. He spent a lot of time away from the office chasing life’s mysteries. He liked to spend his time with gurus and shamans. Shamans? Shamen? Which is correct? Oh screw it, it doesn’t matter.
“The point is - Jack Dorsey spent a lot of his time traveling the world looking for answers to questions that nobody but him gave a damn about.
“Me, I want to strip Twitter down to its bare bones and run it as a lights-out operation. I can’t be wasting time babysitting this monstrosity. I’ve got to find a way to make Mars habitable so some of my progeny will have a place where they can live.
“This planet, it will not be fit to live here soon, I have to build a new world. I alone can do it.”
That statement triggered a sickening memory.
It was at this point that I decided to flee.
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