Book of Boris — Chapter XLII: The Noise Doctrine
Verse 1: The Pulse Tax I don’t hate the work. I don’t hate the grind. What I hate is the noise tied to it— the chatter, the false urgency, the drama dragged in like it belongs on the schedule.
Noise wastes time. Noise eats focus. Noise is the tax on being in the room.
I cut it out. If it’s freight, I move it. If it’s shelves, I stock it. If it’s customers, I help them. Everything else? Static.
I’m not mad. I just know noise doesn’t deserve my pulse.
Verse 2: The Flinch Doctrine They preach louder than they listen. They flinch when proven wrong, then whisper, “You were right.” Like that’s a gift.
I’d rather be wrong than spend myself saving them. I won’t patch lessons they refused to learn. I don’t hand out lifelines to those who cut their own ropes.
When the end comes— quiet or chaos, fire or silence— let it come.
I won’t rescue. I won’t explain. I will not save anyone.