In the grim darkness of the future there is only war … at least for the armies of the imperium. For the Departmento Munitorium the grim, dark, future contains only paperwork. So much paperwork. But in both cases the struggle of countless billions of humans (be it against alien hordes, or mountains of invoices) has ground down the individuality of the soul. Freedom, expression, love: all smothered in the fight for survival. But Keith, Keith holds that prize now denied to the innumerable swarms of mankind: Keith has job satisfaction. In all other areas of the imperium, save that of military tactics (a pursuit for only the loftiest of battle commanders), creativity is stamped out. But not here, not at Keith’s desk. Every type of ammo pouch, every mark of las-battery, every variation of shell case has to be designed by someone. The relics of STC cannot cover all eventualities, do not always encompass all of the details. When this happens, there is Keith. A limited sort of freedom, but freedom none the less. The strict utilitarianism in many areas of the Imperium exists in contrast to the flourish and excess of others. The toy armies and personal regiments of planetary governors, the devotional detailing on the weaponry of the space marine chapters. It all has to be designed and that means a modicum of choice, of expression. A priority bleep interrupted Keith’s quaternary afternoon prayers. A message on his screen, the response to his latest re-detailing of Mk1114a Las-packs: ‘director’s office, now’. This was not unexpected, it had been a good job, one of Keith’s finest, tasteful minimalism paired with a Spartan aesthetic, he had known the response would be positive. Now it seemed he was to be congratulated in person. Leaving his desk his absence from the chair was logged in the endless systems of department and cross-checked against the request for his presence elsewhere: an authorised absence. He traced his way through the labyrinthine corridors, across cavernous offices full of banks of typing servitors, arriving, at last, at his destination.
The director glared sullenly across the desk, blueprints in front of him. But he was always curt and formal, this was to be expected. ‘My records show you received styling notification 4321/aaa6. Is this correct, there cannot have been an error?’ ‘Correct sir’ replied Keith ‘Notification was received and implemented.’ The director arched an eyebrow, a look at Keith, a look at the blueprints: ‘Your words do not seem to match your actions, these blueprints suggest you have blatantly ignored the notification.’ Keith gaped, floundering for a response when he knew direct contradiction of his director’s words would not be the correct response. ‘SKULLS! Skulls! You were ordered to add skulls to all designs!’ bellowed the director ‘Where are the skulls?’ ‘Here sir, right here.’ Keith pointed to the blueprints, fingers trembling as he indicated four rivets on the plans, now styled as tiny skulls. The director squinted, examining the details ‘This is deliberate subordination. Hiding behind a technicality, this is unacceptable.’ The director rose ‘Those four skull-rivets account for barley one per-cent of the surface of this design. One per-cent skulls? Across the galaxy the armies of the Emperor march to war against the alien menace. Your artistic principals have no place here, we need skulls! Skulls within skulls, skulls on the front, more skulls on the back! How can our Imperium hope to endure without the power of skulls!’ Keith cowered back from the director’s onslaught, forgetting himself he blurted ‘But sir, so many skulls? Surely that would be excessive? Vulgar even? From a military perspective I can’t see that more skulls makes things any more effective?’ Keith was wrong, of course. The scientists of the Imperium had observed that just as red made ork vehicles go faster, skulls made the armies of mankind more deadly. It was science. It was also too late for Keith, who was re-assigned to a penal legion. He died fighting the blood-crazed servants of Khorne. The last words he heard made him wonder who was good and who was evil in this universe, if the imperium really was salvation? But he only had a very brief time for such contemplation. ‘Skulls for the skull throne!’
_________________ AFK with real life, still checking PMs
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