Chapter Sixteen - Chilling Is Treason — The Death March of Data Collection

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Chilling Is Treason — The Death March of Data Collection

IF I WERE evil, I’d build an app.
A beautiful app.
Sleek. Efficient. Controlled.

And I’d call it something aspirational.
Like “Pulse” or “Stride” or “Atlas.”
Some name that makes you feel like your suffering is productive.

Because I need your footsteps to mean something.
Not for you.
For me.

See, if I were evil, I wouldn’t just make you knock doors.
I’d make you track them.
Every. Single. One.

I’d say it’s “for your growth.”
I’d say it’s “to help you remember who was home.”

But really, I just want maps.
I want data.

I want to know which houses got a knock.
Which ones didn’t.
What time.
What zip code.
What you said.
How they responded.

“Mark your pins as you go.”
“Be honest with the app.”
“Don’t log from down the street—we can see your GPS.”

And if I were really evil, I’d never prove I was watching.
But I’d threaten you like I could.

“We’ll know.”

And if I were evil, I’d make rest a sin.

I’d call it curb-chilling.
I’d say:

“Don’t get caught sitting.”
“If you have time to lean, you have time to knock.”

And if you got tired?

You’re weak.

If you needed water?

You should’ve packed better.

If you passed out?

You weren’t built for greatness.

See, if I were evil, I wouldn’t tell you to compete against the company.
I’d make you compete against each other.

I’d talk about culture.
But I’d build hierarchy.
I’d build shame.
And I’d build loyalty traps disguised as camaraderie.

And here’s the part I’d never say out loud:

I’d let the strong burn out first.
Because they’re the ones who believed in it the most.
They’re the ones who knocked the hardest.
Tracked the cleanest.
Curb-chilled the least.

And by the time they realized they were dying on the battlefield?
They’d already built the empire for me.