The following essay was taken from the notebooks of Dr. Oldfather - translated from ancient Ugaritic

  On The Care And Feeding Of Anxious, Depressed, Phobics

  Once I began treating my patient’s weaknesses as strengths, Phobics presented the first challenge to the concept. It was easy enough to find places for narcissists to self promote. Entertainment was an obvious (if incorrect) first choice. Unfortunately, the arts require skills, or at least charms, that my Narcs were unwilling to develop. Tech start-ups (our second choice) ended up being a perfect dumping ground. Venture capitalists tended to mistake their pig-headed egotism for zeal and competence.

  Likewise, machiavellians were natural business consultants, as the job consists primarily of screwing over anyone who dares trust you.

  Psychopaths excelled at any number of high stress endeavors (as you well know) tending to fail only in unstructured social environments (again, as you are no doubt aware).

  But there wasn’t an immediately obvious situation where crippling anxiety was an asset. Frustrating really, because I had rather a lot of Phobics cluttering up the place.

  Lacking direction, I consulted the ancient texts of the Fraternity of Like-Minded Anonymous Psychopaths. The texts had much to say about fear. Surely they would provide some insights into its uses.

  The earliest texts expound on how “the fearful ones” were most easily ruled, but warned that indulging in simple intimidation would damage the anonymity that was our strongest defence. They suggested transferring those fears to an “other”, some convenient patsy you could blame for their terrors, and positioning yourself as a bulwark against that “other”. Thus allowing you to reap the rewards of their obedience and sacrifice, while transferring their anger and resentment elsewhere.

  Solid fundamentals, if not especially useful to my circumstance. My Phobics weren’t lacking subservience, but utility. They already trusted and obeyed me, they just weren’t particularly good for anything. Because they weren’t just afraid of the “other”, they were afraid of everything. While fear can drive one to unthinkable extremes, general anxiety is a poor motivator. Hard to get a crusade going if your soldiers are too nervous to meet new people. Anxious in all situations, because they feared all possible outcomes, my Phobics tended to just shut down. Goblins, the lot of them.

  This drove me to consider that general anxiety could be an organizational issue. I’d already given up on curing these fears, but maybe there would be some use in ranking them. A hierarchy of terror. If the Phobics were obviously overwhelmed, perhaps a triage system would get those fuckers moving.

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  I imagined my Phobics as rabbits surrounded by foxes. With nowhere to run, they just hunkered down. If I could move a couple threats, they should bolt off in that direction. Motivation. I just had to lame a few foxes.

  Another consultation of the texts brought me to ancient Greece, the Stoic traditions, and their later incorporation into Christianity. For the basis of my hierarchy, I used the Serenity Prayer - God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

  Except, instead of God granting wisdom, I’d just fucking tell them what was in their control and what wasn’t. Those familiar with manufacturing consent will recognize this formula. Tactical hopelessness can be used to kill motivation, but in this instance perhaps it could free up some mental space. Give these fuckers some breathing room. Let the rabbits run.

  I knew from our therapy sessions that what they feared most was the outcome of their own decisions. Always paranoid that a wrong choice would leave them ridiculed, hated, or ostracized. So worried about being exiled from society, that they would simply self-deport.

  What if I took loneliness and solitude off the table? Made it so they were no longer even options?

  So I hired them. Added a luxury dormitory to the mental hospital, so the job came with a built-in home, provisions, and social circle. They were set for life. The ostracization and subsequent starvation they feared most were no longer options. All they had to worry about was doing a good job. Decisions became the “other”, their job was the bulwark against it, and I reaped all the rewards. Kinda like a cult, except because of the therapy aspect, my victims came to me.

  Of course, I didn’t really have anything for them to do. So, after I ran out of domestic chores, I put them to work finding placements for my Machs and Narcs (a task I had already grown bored with). And thus, Merk was born.

  The Phobics worked fanatically to find advantageous positions for my machiavellians and narcissists. With their better placements, the Machs and Narcs were able to send more money and influence back to the Phobics, who used it to grease the next round of crazies into even better positions. Synergy ex nihilo. A self perpetuating ponzi scheme that feasted on the Fortune 500 and left only the illusion of prosperity in its wake. It was pretty cool.

  The first bottleneck to this mindless expansion was ironically the surplus that kicked the whole thing off - I ran out of crazies. Mentor was the logical next step. A massive net cast through society at large, trawling for the hordes of crazies that loathed society but lacked the wherewithal to seek my services, and placing them in the grand ponzi scheme hollowing out the economy. I guess at this point we became a cult. Technically.

  Anywho, that’s how you turn crippling anxiety into an asset. The system seems stable and will most likely outlast society. Especially since our next steps will only make the outside world more terrifying.

  But take it with a grain of salt, my dear anonymous successor. If you’re reading this, it didn’t work to plan. But I’m guessing you don’t exist.

  Manufacturing Consent