The Forms
/* source: */
#top-bar .open-menu a {
        position: fixed;
        top: 0.5em;
        left: 0.5em;
        z-index: 5;
        font-family: 'Nanum Gothic', san-serif;
        font-size: 30px;
        font-weight: 700;
        width: 30px;
        height: 30px;
        line-height: 0.9em;
        text-align: center;
        border: 0.2em solid #888;
        background-color: #fff;
        border-radius: 3em;
        color: #888;
@media (min-width: 768px) {
    #top-bar .mobile-top-bar {
        display: block;
    #top-bar .mobile-top-bar li {
        display: none;
    #main-content {
        max-width: 708px;
        margin: 0 auto;
        padding: 0;
        transition: max-width 0.2s ease-in-out;
    #side-bar {
        display: block;
        position: fixed;
        top: 0;
        left: -20em;
        width: 17.75em;
        height: 100%;
        margin: 0;
        overflow-y: auto;
        z-index: 10;
        padding: 1em 1em 0 1em;
        background-color: rgba(0,0,0,0.1);
        transition: left 0.4s ease-in-out;
        scrollbar-width: thin;
    #side-bar:target {
        left: 0;
    #side-bar:focus-within:not(:target) {
        left: 0;
    #side-bar:target .close-menu {
        display: block;
        position: fixed;
        width: 100%;
        height: 100%;
        top: 0;
        left: 0;
        margin-left: 19.75em;
        opacity: 0;
        z-index: -1;
        visibility: visible;
    #side-bar:not(:target) .close-menu { display: none; }
    #top-bar .open-menu a:hover {
        text-decoration: none;
    @supports (-moz-appearance:none) {
    #top-bar .open-menu a {
        pointer-events: none;
    #side-bar:not(:target) .close-menu {
        display: block;
        pointer-events: none;
        user-select: none;
    /* This pseudo-element is meant to overlay the regular sidebar button
    so the fixed positioning (top, left, right and/or bottom) has to match */
    #side-bar .close-menu::before {
        content: "";
        position: fixed;
        z-index: 5;
        display: block;
        top: 0.5em;
        left: 0.5em;
        border: 0.2em solid transparent;
        width: 30px;
        height: 30px;
        font-size: 30px;
        line-height: 0.9em;
        pointer-events: all;
        cursor: pointer;
    #side-bar:focus-within {
        left: 0;
    #side-bar:focus-within .close-menu::before {
        pointer-events: none;

rating: +60+x

The Forms

Deep beneath a stolen nation,
trapped in timid hesitation
(and within the confines of my
office in the southern dorms),
long dwelt I upon damnation,
then enjoyed a brief flirtation
with the thought of derelicting
certain business I perform.

Hopeless seemed the tasks at hand:
first to read, then understand
the endless ream of paperwork
consigned to me to authorize.
Here a form to requisition
toxin and anaesthetician,
there a mustering order for
five D-class slobs to analyze.

Orders from the research sector
for an expert vivisector;
and from (hmm, the name was smudged)
for purchase of a hornet swarm.
Nay! Upon closer inspection,
I descried a foul connection:
insects, personnel and poison
and a cry for chloroform…

Sagging deep into the cushion
of my chair, and roughly pushing
back the pile of papers which had
fallen on me as a storm;
rubbing 'til my eyes were red
and plunging down the deep'ning dread
I spoke these words into the night:
"Grow up, Karen, sign the forms."

"Clear your head, and be professional
at this desk — it's no confessional!
You're a cog, a spinning wheel;
it's not your role to make a fuss.
Do you really think they're plugging
open wounds with bees, or drugging
convicts just for kicks as though
the ethics were superfluous?"

Splashed the ink, then on to Bremmel
Who required a high-speed dremel
and a surgeon — why a surgeon?
Reasoning felt incomplete.
Now a purchase order from
the MTFs, for bubble gum
and scalpels (for their medkits? Or…?)
"Dammit, Karen, sign the sheet."

Some of same were missing data,
and as their adjudicator
ought I not to mark them as
unfit to thus be passed along?
Ah, but the Administrator
had signed off, and he's no traitor.
Surely I could trust these worthies!
Surely they could do no wrong.

Then again… that vivisection…
There was cause to raise objection!
From an expert engineer,
such a suit defied the norm.
Dared I essay non-compliance
and accuse him of mad science?
Which of us would pay the price?
"Fuck it, Karen, sign the form."

Forty fan blades; sure, why not?
A compound that induces rot…
Had I cause to judge each brief?
My doctorate's a D.B.A.
Safety razors by the gross,
excitants at a lethal dose,
rabies virus multi-packs…
I wasn't qualified to weigh.

Should indeed these parties various
be engaged in deeds nefarious,
could I stand to stand aside
and face my own face at the dawn?
Did I owe a deeper debt
to humankind? Would I regret
a squandered chance to set things right?
"Sign it, Karen, and move on."

Blind to all coincidence,
incapable of insolence,
I did my bit in parcelling off
our dire doings underground.
Any evil in this batch
could wait for someone else to catch;
scrawled my name upon the lines
and uttered no dissenting sound.

Was it my imagination?
That unseemly jubilation
on the face of Bremmel when
I met him on the following morn?
Were those moans upon the air
a novelty, or always there?
More the point: why did I care?
Duty done: I'd signed the forms.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License