The docks had been closed for months now, its runners knee deep in one of the last and most powerful labor strikes in the city. No scab dared cross the picket line, the union bosses cold as ice and deeply respected by their allies. But as infrastructure in the city became ever more unwieldy, and liquid cash became easier than ever for the ever-larger shipping companies to dredge up, they simply didn’t need scab workers anymore. They had scab industries. Boatloads of shipping containers slowly moved from idle docks to scores of self-driving double-decker big rigs that clogged the arteries of highway travel. They moved to ever larger airshipping fleets, specializing in short-term contract deals that took up airport gates at random. They moved to new contracts demanding the receiving companies come pick it up themselves. And in special interest story after special interest story, the cable news shows mourned the losses of the average American at the hands of this noble yet thuggish strike. They didn’t need the dock workers anymore. But cutting ties wasn’t enough. They had to make it hurt.

After all,

It’s Only Business.

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It was the same as it had always been. “Open enough boxes of Cracker Jack” became “use your decoder goggles,” which became “get a full set of hidden stickers,” which became “scan the right QR code.” And always for a prize that could be, but was statistically unlikely to be, a higher cost than the variable number of items purchased to earn it. A model that manipulated dopamine, cultivated a sense of wonder, and perhaps most importantly, held statistically lower volatility and risk for larger-scale operations. Yet another model that slowly, insidiously, by law of averages, moved wealth up the chain to the toy megacorporations and conglomerates that set the market’s path. But it wasn’t a bad deal for the buyer. It let parents use the money they got from working at those corporations to provide moments of happiness for their children, while paying back into the system that put food on their table. And when it comes down to it, what market need could be more important than putting a smile on a child’s face?

After all,

It’s only business.

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The casino business had changed. Not as much as anyone thought it was going to, but it had changed. With the advent of the chip that changed the world, sleep no longer existed in a meaningful way for most. The night stretched on and on, with anxiety and fatigue weighing you down. The sun takes away the light, and reminds you that you are cold and alone without it. A perfect opportunity for a company to bring in optimism, hope, kind faces, good food, and a gorgeous environment free from the petty differences of day and night. You could come in and play until you lost interest or your money ran dry, and coincidentally those were the top two reasons the House would prefer you not stick around.

But that was how the people changed, not the casino. The casino, on its own motivations, updated to meet the times. No more expensive upkeep of the room, or interior decorating to match what you could only hope the richest of your potential customers found appealing. Instead, an Alternate Reality display, letting all the decoration take place in your special casino glasses, guaranteed to make you look and feel and gamble like a cool person worth a lot of money. And those glasses made small changes here and there, to test you, to see what you liked, to see how your betting habits and spending increased through the connected casino interfaces. And those data could be sold to other casinos, to researchers, to advertisers, to build up the efficiency of the economic system that made society run. Everyone wins, in their own way. But mostly the House.

After all.

It’s Only Business.

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There are few who would disagree that the meaning of life is more than the collection of good experiences to a degree that they maximally outweigh bad experiences. But how MUCH more? In their centuries of debating hedonism, utilitarianism, stoicism, and a hundred other worldviews, philosophers have considered the thought experiment of shaving down one’s brain to the minimum required to maintain consciousness and experience sensation, and placing it in a jar that continuously stimulates its pleasure centers until it dies a happy death. Under philosophies that maximize pleasure, they say, doing that to someone would not only be a good thing, but it might actually be a moral obligation. If pleasure is the only measure of a life well-lived, then such an absurd, destructive setup would perfect one’s life by definition. The very idea seems ridiculous.

On the other hand. Pleasure sells.

After all.

It’s Only Business.Continue Reading