Measure to preserve human labor: companies commit to employing and promoting human workers.

Leah was relieved when the HR woman burst into the unadorned room. Finally, a human being! She tried a confident, winning smile, but unfortunately it went completely unnoticed.
The woman merely stared at her tablet and muttered to herself, “28, female, degree in English – phu Humanities, work experience, next to none …”
Leah opened her mouth to echo her prepared arguments. But instead of giving her a chance to sell herself, the woman reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small box.
Leah stared at these in panic. “I was hoping for a job in the office,” she gushed before realizing what she was saying.
Finally, the HR woman looked directly at her. The eyes behind the thick glasses were deep-set. „There’s only me in administration – and that’s more for image reasons than ethics. My job is lonely and disillusioning because every person lucky enough to find themselves in this room begs me to come to the office.” She snorted. “As if the office is the promised paradise. Believe me, it isn’t. It’s the front yard of hell. But despite everything, I’m here to defend my turf.”
She waved the package, emblazoned with the company logo in red on white. “This is the only way you’re going to get the job.”
Leah slumped.
“It just seems … so extreme,” she whispered.
“The world has become extreme, sweetheart. Get over it, and life will be a lot more bearable.”
The HR woman held out the small box to Leah again.
“It’s easier if you take away the illusion that you have a choice.”
“I … could try other companies.”
“And you actually think it’s better there? What planet are you living on? Last time I checked, we were still on Earth. Despite all the gloomy prophecies, it still exists. We humans didn’t bomb ourselves to death, nor did we choke on our exhaust fumes. But the rudder has not been turned by us, but by our heirs, the robots. You’re better off accepting that you’re no longer at the top of the food chain.”
The woman herself seemed surprised by her passionate speech. She composed herself briefly, then said, “There’s always the alternative.”
Leah shuddered.
“I don’t want to be put on ice.”
“Why not? Maybe the future is worth it?”
“I can’t just turn my back on my life here! Not knowing if I’ll be resurrected in 10, 100 or 1000 years!”
“But then you might have better job opportunities! Maybe you’ll be on your way to a new solar system to colonize a new paradise. Maybe you’ll have a comfortable life of luxury to ensure the continuation of the human race, or maybe you’ll become a celebrated historian, thanks to your useless knowledge of dusty poets.”
Leah shook her head.
“No, I don’t want any of that.”
“All right, then, you have your answer. What’s a few less hairs if you can live in a present you obviously care so much about?”
“Why do you do it? Why didn’t you get yourself frozen? You don’t seem to like your job very much.”
“I don’t like giving up,” came the simple reply.
This seemed to ignite a spark of determination in Leah. “Neither do I. Give those things up to me.”
The HR woman smiled encouragingly at her.
“One pill in the morning, one in the evening, each before dinner. The shedding process will start 24 hours later and will last 2-3 days. It helps if you exfoliate. Once all the hair has fallen out, you can start in production.”
“Thank you very much. You’ve given me encouragement.”
Leah pressed the pill pack to her chest and left the room. A moment later, an elegant robot came rolling in.
Across its interface, which served as a face, flitted a brief animation meant to express delight and wonder: “I just can’t believe how easily you can wrap these applicants around your finger, Linda. No software we’ve written produces the same reliable results as you. You really are irreplaceable to us.”
Linda grinned maliciously, raised the edge of her hairpiece, and scratched herself with relish. And one less person to make fun of her unsightly bald head, indebted to premature hair loss.

Wordcount 736

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