The Swap

“What about this one?” an invisible voice asked as it floated next to an equally invisible companion, watching and watched a snurk player throw the trapezoid down the pitch with a flex of its nuffle.

“Done those” answered a second, sounding as disinterested as possible.

“What about these two?” the first voice asked again after the scene shifted and blurred, the two voices now watching a shade of blue paint try to consummate it's illicit love for the wrong shade of grey.

“Na” the second voice repeated, sounding just as bored.

“Try to show an interest will you?” the first voice scolded as the scene shifted around them again to show a young man sleeping in his room “we need to get this right!”

“Why?” answered the second voice, now a little tetchy “We do dozens of these every shift! No-one cares or follows up on what we change! Just pick one and lets go get lunch.”

“We can't just..” the first voice protested

“Remember it's Wazeeki day in the canteen! That stuff goes fast!” the second said in a meaningful tone, knowing what would settle the discussion quickly.

“Oooh Wazeeki!” the first said longingly. Like all conscious beings with a stomach, food over-rid duty and a decision was made. It waved what it passed for hand and the world shimmered around them again before they stepped out of their chamber. Their work done, their made like all good employees who had an essential job but were never checked up on, and disappeared for a nice long lunch.