Crack

The whip sang as it lay across Martin’s back.

“This will teach you to take more than one toilet break a day, lazy code-monkey!”

Life had been hard for Martin since being lured to Dubai with promises of gold-paved streets and endless parties in the sun. He’d learned his lesson quickly, 16 hour workdays in boiling heat, his passport taken from him on arrival, and informed that his on-the-job training would put him into debt with the company.

It would take him years of work to have enough money to pay off his debt, even longer if they continued to increase the amount docked from his wage each week, taken for ‘food and board’ and the tiny cot in the grey concrete company dormitory.

He’d have his revenge though, he couldn’t leave, not yet, but someday, and till then he would fight to send out his messages. Cunningly posting them onto social sites completely unrelated to web design. Warning others, in encoded snippets of badly punctuated weasel words and manager speak, not to make the same mistake.