THINK

11 A.M.; 45 minutes until lunch...

The alarm buzzed over the office speakers at Mega Corp.

Groupthink Meeting; Daily Groupthink Meeting; ALL Departments Report INSTANTLY to your groups...

At 38 years old, five years with the company, and two years into the current presidential administration, Ian Anders remembered well what the daily Groupthink Meetings entailed; be the way the meetings just before lunch or the final hour of the workday before the office was dismissed anyway. Ian swallowed back his pride, remembered his facial exercises to keep a real opinion off of his face, slipped a Mind Pill to guard his thoughts from a probe, swigged some water to wash the medicine down, and left his suit blazer at his office terminal. No one had mentioned the damaging and ostracizing Gold Pin attached to his suit blazer yet; maybe it was just small enough to be invisible to camera, let alone the human eye of his fellow office drones. If not for Groupthink sessions, the group would normally just stay to their terminals, save for lunch. Ian wondered how many of his colleagues would have agreed with him in being just fine with that, thank you...

Theirs was to be a new Utopia of peace and unversal understanding. No more wars of words and thoughts. No more wars period. A universal peace of only the most positive form of prejudice. No adults with hurt feelings anymore; adults were coddled as children and children were treated as seriously as adults.

The elevator dinged and Ian entered a cameraed and microphoned common area with five other individuals; two guys (Ian was the third) in the pant suits sans blazers, two girls in white blouses rather than shirts and black skirts to replace pants, and a nondescript individual (Ian was determined it was a guy) in the white blouse coverup; but with black pants. Ian wondered, as he often did, how many of Groupthink Posse Members had to practice their facial and vocal exercises for agreeable neutrality; or how many of them took the Mind Pill as an extra safeguard against their damning thoughts that could either be dissected by their colleagues or the monitor cameras. Ian took his seat with his group and passively extended the groups' secret welcome and acknowledgment. He then settled in to wait. The Groupthink Sessions were always split between departments and always had the same folks and nearly the same opinions espoused daily. There was no discrimination where there was no diversity either. Here was utopia and euphoria...

Ian settled in and the microphone was turned over to Lindsee Gayle, Groupthink (Financial's) leading advocate and spokesmember for each meeting. At age 40, Lindsee still carried a stuffed bear to her meetings. Lex Lomas, the individual who appeared to be the only unique cross between a male and female, still carried a baby blanket. Ian, who usually sat at his desk and played with a set of shoe laces unattached from his shoes, didn't have much to say. In fact, the only thing he was curious about was what the Groupthink meetings were like that opened with a communal prayer. He almost suggested one; then thought better of it. Why destroy perfect euphoria over prayer where it may or may not belong?

"The white person is a bad, bad individual!" Lindsee opened her meeting straight to the point.

Every vanilla, plain, English speaking, White-passing accountant between the ages of 31 and 45 parroted her sentiments. Even Ian said them out loud and in close to a matching fervor for the lead speaker.

"...Corporations are money-grubbing and overly-ambitions!" she added.

Mega Corp's financial executives dutifully repeated after her. By this point, Ian just couldn't vocalize this conundrum anymore and simply mouthed along with fervor written on his facial features. He hoped that his lack of vocals wouldn't single-handedly tank world euphoria and utopia...

Before Lindsee could continue with the same scripted 45 minute screed as usual, the monitors and alarms buzzed over her head with warning. Ian jumped in his seated position and awaited the Thought Police; or at least the wrath of the speaker. He'd been found out. A sniffle of his nose; a shuffle of his foot; a cough; even the mere thought of him rolling his eyes...

Suddenly, a techno mix of the presidential walk began to play over the speakers and an 80 year old, disheveled, bespectacled face beneath unruly white hair glared out over the meeting's proceedings. He wasn't wearing his ghastly mittens, so the thought was that it had to be Fall still. Either way, President Bernerd now "stared" over the meeting via an overhead monitor. The Groupthink meeting lost all composure and applauded a televised face with fervor. They bowed and worshipped to the Ethereal image obstructing their meeting. Lindsee had to wipe a tear of joy from her eye that President Bernerd's address should dirsupt her now. It prompted Ian to wonder one more time about recommending the addition of prayer...

"...My fellow world peoples, I broadcast with a favor to ask of you..." President Bernerd wheezed in an untraceable accent.

He might as well have announced an end to world hunger, or that all of Mega Corps' financial lemmings would receive million dollar bonuses, for the raucous response of a pre-announcement-announcement. Of course, in speaking of millions of dollars...

"...The millionaires and billionaires are your enemies!" President Bernerd (Trillionaire) declared sternly.

The group nodded to the screen like they could be seen.

"...Wage earners haven't actually earned a Governmentdamn THING; and their paychecks are unfair to a nonworking sector!" El Presidente Benerdo continued.

The corporate peons howled in appreciation; either of his words or for their paychecks that they could always keep. After all, Mega Corp had been President Bernerd's target corporate sponsor to his ascension. Sure enough...

"...Mom and pop shops need to be investigated thoroughly through their books!" the telescreen continued.

Mega Corp (not a mom-nor-pop shop) again reacted accordingly.

"...We are one working utopia all together!" President Bernerd concluded. "Peace and prosperity; your government luuuuvs you."

The telescreen faded to black just then and the Groupthink meeting was still in advanced idol-worship hysterics over the empty televised platitudes. Ian prayed that the Mind Pill worked; because he was personally creeped out by a government who appreciated him like family, let alone one that pursued him romantically for the greater good of a world wide utopia...