Doctor Gears

Gears felt there was still a lot they didn’t understand about human behavior. Particularly the way their coworkers acted. At any given moment some scientist would go up to their assistant, Iceberg, and insult him to his face, just to then send an email complaining that they’d been physically assaulted. As if they believed Gears had the ability to revert time, somehow. Then, days later, the scientist would show up personally at the office to ask — or rather demand — Iceberg do their work for them. And he’d always accept. Whether they believed he accepted out of sincerity or his obsession with a promotion, it was all too clear what the consequences of it were. Gears attempted to shoulder most the work, but it could get hard to see their assistant behind his work. And with more being stored digitally it was hard to keep a count on how many things he worked on. Let alone what truly was his responsibility and what wasn’t. A line had to be drawn at some point. Watching their assistant slowly push himself towards working as much overtime as they did grew an aching worry in them. They didn’t want to see it any longer. “Doctor Iceberg?”