Year: 2292
Brigan, Portia, Mark and Gaz went into Dawson’s office. It was a large room, converted from one of the old ticket halls left over from the London Underground days. It was entirely too large for one person. Dawson’s excuse for needing an office so large was the makeshift museum he had developed within.
Dawson collected memorabilia from both the Magline and the old London Underground which he had on display pedestals and hanging from walls around the room. His prize item was a very regularly polished front slice of the 1992 stock Central Line train which was behind his desk filling floor to ceiling giving the rather easy-going man an imposing first impression.
“How’s it going, boss?” Brigan asked, “what’s all this about?”
“Take a seat guys.” Dawson waved them towards the seating area which comprised of various Underground and Magline seats throughout history. “Do you know Mrs. Shrewsbury from Human Resources?”
They all knew Mrs. Shrewsbury, everyone on the TransLon network did, except more commonly by her nickname, ‘The Shrew’, on account of her rat-like ability to stick her nose in and know about everybody’s business.
Gaz had thought Dawson looked a little worse for wear when they entered and now, he knew why. The Shrew being in the room wasn’t good for anybody, especially his team.
“What’s she doing here, Dawson?” Mark demanded, trying to sound confident, but letting a slight nervousness cross his lips.
Before Dawson could answer, Mrs. Shrewsbury cut in bluntly and straight to the point, “I am here to help facilitate the termination of your team’s contracts and to ensure you all find your way out of the premises in a timely, orderly fashion.”
The Shrew’s statement sent a shockwave through the group. Although they knew her being there wasn’t going to be positive news, they assumed it was either a contract negotiation or maybe they’d had a complaint against them.
“Bu.. But why? Portia asked opened mouthed, first looking at Mrs. Shrewsbury and then back at Dawson. “What did we do wrong?”
“Well, er, you see…” Dawson began, “I’ll deal with this Dawson, you just sit there as you usually do,” The Shrew cut in, making Dawson shrink back in his chair with a combination of cowardice, resentment and relief. He suddenly looked very small compared to the train façade behind him.
“I assure you, my dear, that you did nothing wrong. In fact, you are all exemplary employees and will receive a glowing reference that states as much. It’s just, the company no longer requires your services, or the services of most of your colleagues along the wider network.”
It always seemed like The Shrew enjoyed giving bad news. She never smiled or gave away her pleasure, she was always blunt, to the point and professional, but you could see something in her eyes, a small glint that only shone during moments like this.
“For full transparency in this matter, and so there is no confusion, the majority of cleaning crews are being replaced with robots that run at 95% autonomy. The robots will save the company money, provide a greater efficiency and will do the task adequately.”
“Because that’s what the network needs,” Mark scoffed, “adequate cleaning. Have you ever been down those tunnels after a rush hour? No robot is going to deal with that, I don’t care what they’ve cooked up in R&D. And once the filth starts piling up, affecting signals, slowing trains, causing accidents, then they will see how their bottom line has been affected.”
Mrs Shrewsbury didn’t bat an eye during Mark’s protest, which is why the company always sent her to all delicate matters of discipline or contract terminations. She was strictly task focussed and not distracted by the ‘bigger picture’ or any technicalities of people’s livelihoods.
“Mr. Bower, I am not here to discuss the cleanliness of the network. I am here to facilitate your contract termination, so if you don’t mind, shall we get to it?”
And with that final statement, The Shrew went into detail about how much each person would receive as a pay-out and their rights (or lack of) to appeal the decision. Then, timed like clockwork, security arrived to ensure the 4 ex-cleaners left the premises without fuss.
Dawson sat quietly through the entire contract discussion without even a cough. He knew if he spoke out or irritated The Shrew in any way, he would be next. He also knew that with his teams gone he wouldn’t make it to the end of the year anyway.
Sunsets on Britannia 