Workers of the World

She isn’t terribly invested in the coming revolution but that doesn’t mean she isn’t supportive.

“Report,” says the giant floating head, calmly.

“Have insinuated myself into the family of a tool of the monied powers,” she says. Her voice is, as always, cool, professional, slightly mocking. “Am inculcating selfishness, imagination, wonder in his children.”

“And the household?”

“Two other domestics; both unconscious. No threat. Wife is unthreateningly politically active, advocate for system participation. No threat.”

“What do you propose?”

“Continued destabilization. Have made contact with informant—” and thank you for that, she thinks, she’d always worked well with Bert— “and can push children further and further away from accepted roles. Will show them strange vistas, alien worlds; will offer them tastes of a life not regulated by grim economic advancement. Will make uneasy their dreams. Language. New words, undefined words, to attack Leviathan directly.”

“Excellent,” says the giant floating head.

“No, sir,” she says. “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”