I Picked the Hat

It takes a lot of effort to enter the exalted ranks of The Hatters, you know. You can’t just buy a hat and learn the 38 secret uses of mercury, oh, no. The Hat must speak to you. You must be chosen. More importantly, the specific color is important (although I don’t know the details). It determines your function in the organization.

I was never happy in my little corporate drone office synecure. Being the boss’s daughter is only fun when people treat you like you mean something. My job meant nothing— but the Hat, now, the Hat is freedom. Independence. It means my life can mean something.

My fingers trembled as I examined my new acquisition. The Hat gleamed under my hands, the ever-changing green speaking directly to my hindbrain. It wasn’t long before I found the hidden pocket inside, with the packet of instructions for the next step. Eagerly, anxiously, but above all, carefully, I drew out the slim envelope and read. The first instruction: to put on the Hat to show compliance to the Hatters.

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