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Published:
2024-08-24
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2024-11-30
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4/?
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Which Side Are You On?

Chapter 4: Dump the Bosses off Your Back

Notes:

Thank you for everyone's lovely comments. I read them all the time and cry! I have not forgotten about this work, it's just been a month. ahh. Also, let's go Animation peeps for the tentative deal with AI protections!!!!! Hopefully it goes through!

I will continue the story until it's over even if the deal is reached. I started this, and I will finish it. It's looking like it'll be at least six chapters, but there might be more.

Also, had to make fun of Elon in here somewhere. He just brings it on himself by being a little shit and the worst person alive. Even though the new administration of the US will probably make it illegal for me to say anything bad about him after Jan 20th, I will not be silenced. I yearn to hurt that man's fragile ego and car like body.

I will enjoy hanging out with all of you and passing contraband AO3 stories through the bars in the political prisons. Or the Zoloft prisons. I could be sent to either one. Hopefully, I get a cool roommate!

Chapter Text

Misterman woke up early. He usually has to have eighteen million alarms on his phone to wake up at a normal hour to then deal with his overactive ten-year-old from destroying their house, but today was different. The sun seemed to shine a little brighter through the crack in his curtains he’s been meaning to close; the birdsong chirping with a little more fairytalesque as he rubbed the sleep sand out of his eyes.

His bed was smaller than he remembered. A grounding feeling surged through his body, especially where an arm was wrapped around his middle.

He grabs his phone and checks the time. 6:00 am. Stupid body, waking me up half an hour before my seven alarms.

Throwing his phone on the bed next to him, he stretches his neck. A rustle from the man behind him causes Misterman to freeze.

“Hey, beautiful.” Umbert whispers, kissing Misterman’s bare shoulder. His voice is groggy, and somehow even hotter than it usually is.

“Good morning.” Misterman shuffles himself around so he’s face to face with Umbert. The other man’s hair is all askew. It’s weird in Misterman’s head that Umbert’s not wearing his glasses, squinting to see anything but well-lit shapes.

“What’re you doing up so early? Go back to sleep.”

“Okay, well, I have a real job that I have to be at in about an hour and a half.” Misterman protests, shoving his face farther into Umbert’s chest.

It is nice here under the covers with Umbert, he thinks. The man is basically a mini heater.

“Not if I have any say in that.” Umbert wraps his arms around Misterman, pulling him even closer.

“I’d like to pay for food and like house things, you know, like as an adult does.”

“At least let me have couple more minutes.”

“You’re needy.” Misterman growls. “Fine, but I need to hop in the shower in like 30.”

“Only if I get to join you.” Umbert laughs.

“Deal.” Misterman kisses the other man’s chest. “We should get breakfast afterwards though.”

“Whose trying to not go to work now?” Umbert wriggles his eyebrows.

“Whatever. Don’t you have to go do things too?”

“Other than you? No. Not today.” Umbert purses his lips. Even without the glasses, Misterman loves the little wrinkle in-between the other man’s eyebrows when he’s concentrated. “I might go grocery shopping. I want to make you a fancy dinner at my house.”

Misterman laughs. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“I guess I am. Hopefully, the best second date you’ve even been on.”

“Well, I’ve been on one, and it was with my wife, so my bar is nonexistant.”

“Perfect.” Umbert moves in close, his lips inches from Misterman’s. “I’ll blow your expectations out of the water.”

“Uh huh. I’ll believe it when I see it.” Misterman smiles as Umbert closes the short distance between them. No matter how many times they kiss, and they did a lot of kissing last night, it always gave Misterman butterflies.

“So, about that shower…” Umbert says, breaking their long kiss.

“God, how am I ever going to get any work done if you keep doing that, Umbert?”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Misterman and Umbert spent the next forty-five minutes in each other’s arms, both in the shower and dressing themselves for the day, touching and feeling every part of the other man’s body. It’s frankly insane how they got out the door and into Umbert’s car.

“I know a good coffee shop near the studio. It has a pretty good breakfast.” Misterman says in the passenger seat, his hair still damp.

“Sounds heavenly, babe.”

Misterman’s mind short circuits. Babe? Dear god, I’m never making it to the studio at this point if he keeps doing shit like this.

Umbert reaches out and places his hand on Misterman’s knee. “Are you okay? I’m sorry if I said something that upset you.”

“Say it again.” The monkey part of his brain won.

“I’m sorry. I will make sure to ask you before I call you anything...”

“No. Say the pet name again, please.”

“Babe?”

“I like it. I like the pet name.” Misterman hadn’t been called babe in a long time, and he really really likes it.

“I will keep that in mind, babe. You’re giving me directions?”

“Oh yeah. That. It’s near the Padanount lot.”

“Well, let’s get going then.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

As they drove to the small spot in Burbank, Misterman listened to Umbert’s Spotify playlist, which had a lot of 60’s and 70’s folk music on it for a man who didn’t look older than 35. Every so often, he would give a curt “turn here” or “it’s better to be in the middle lane. This one ends.”

They made it to the small hole in the wall coffee shop. Misterman already knew what he was getting. He was easy. A breakfast burrito and an iced cold brew. Umbert chose a vegetarian breakfast sandwich with impossible sausage and a strawberry banana smoothie. They chose a small table in the corner where there wasn’t that many other patrons.

“I can’t believe you listen to old people music.” Misterman says with his mouth full.

“I will not apologize for unapologetically liking Gordan Lightfoot.” Umbert laughs.

“How’s the fake sausage?”

“Not the same, but not bad.”

“I didn’t know you were a vegetarian.”

Umbert smiled. “Have been for years. It’s been a ride.”

“I bet.”

“Oh, I got a text from Laura yesterday. She’s dropping by Dibnew at lunch today with the posters for the cars and corridors. You really need to thank Mary for letting us use her designs.”

“You know, you could thank her yourself today. I have to pick up my son from her tonight. You could come with.”

“Meeting your dead wife’s mother as the new, whatever we are? Is that safe?”

“I mean, Mary is nice enough, and I know my son would love to see you again. He’s basically immortalized you the past few days.”

“Wow, I’ve never been made into an idolatry. He definitely could’ve picked someone cooler.”

“I’d worship you.” Misterman thought, or well, at least he thought he thought.

“You’d worship me?” Umbert laughs. “Well, I guess my charm extends to the whole family.”

“Oh god! I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.” Misterman says, hiding his completely red face in his hands.

Suddenly, he feels warmth. Umbert has pulled him into a tight hug, kissing the top of his head.

“What else have you been thinking about me that I’m not supposed to know?”

“If I said everything that was on my mind when I’m near you, we would absolutely get kicked out of this establishment.”

“Oh. Well, when were not in public…” Umbert leans in close, whispering into Misterman’s ear, “preferably in the bedroom, I’d love to know what you’re thinking about up there.”

Misterman chuckles, then chokes on his own spit.

Smooth.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. You just can’t talk like that. I’m never going to make it through several hours without you.” Misterman whined quietly.

“I mean, just think about tonight, and the lovely meal I’m going to make you, and I’m assuming your son.”

“Yes. He is allergic to shellfish, but that’s not a problem if you don’t eat any meat at all.”

Umbert stands, grabbing his and Misterman’s trash and throwing it away. He reaches out his hand. Misterman accepts being this man’s arm candy, even if he isn’t exactly trophy wife material.

“You’d be surprised on the amount of supposed vegetarians I’ve met that say they eat fish.” Umbert says, guiding him and Misterman to the door.

“But that wouldn’t make them a vegetarian, though.”

“That’s what I told them, but they think fish is somehow different. It’s like vegetarians that still eat jello.”

“What’s wrong with Jello?”

“It has animal collagen in it.”

“Huh?”

“You know, the weird squishy stuff in your nose and earlobes. That’s collagen. The more you have of it, the less wrinkles you have.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. Most people don’t. Now, let’s get you to work so I can plan the best second date ever.”

Misterman laughs lightly. “Now, it’s the best second date ever, huh?”

“Well, I know I’m giving myself a huge hurdle, but I want to impress you.” They’ve reached Umbert’s car. He grabs the door and holds it for Misterman, a gesture was foreign to him based on the sound that escaped his throat.

“You don’t need much to impress me.” He yelled as Umbert shut his door and half walked, half jogged to the other side.

“Yeah, but what if I want to?”

“I didn’t think of it like that.”

“You deserve nice things, Misterman.”

That phrase stuck in his head. He kept repeating it in his head over and over on the short drive to the studio. It was on the tip of his tongue when he kissed Umbert goodbye, and it was worn proudly on his shirt as he walked in from his long weekend off. That good mood, however, was about to change.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Misterman walked into the Dibnew office, and it was absolutely bustling with noise. People clumped into groups gossiping like it was high school all over again. He was spotted by Adam pretty much immediately and waved over the small crowd around him.

“See, I told you, robots are taking over!”

“Adam, what are you talking about?”

Adam grabbed Misterman by the shoulders and turned him to where Sadie’s desk used to be. Now, there was a giant cubicle, with multiple screens and processors in a large circle whirring at a low hum, almost like it was sleeping. Standing in the center was a humanoid machine with no face sitting at the desk in front of the attached drawing pad, pen in its white, smooth hand. Large industrial fans were hung from the ceiling to keep the giant tech machine hybrid cool.

“Adam, what the actual fuck is that?”

“It’s going to kill us all.”

“That’s not what I asked, but you’re right.”

The employees stood in horror at what looked like the worst sci-fi dreams coming true dropped in the middle of the Dibnew offices. As the hushed voices got louder, Robert strolled in, a man following close in tow.

“Dibnew family. It’s great you’re all here. Welcome to the future.”

Robert hits a remote and the entire machine came to life. Adam screamed and basically jumped onto Misterman’s back.

“Don’t be scared of innovation. Dibnew has partnered with Closed AI to get more work done, faster.”

Adam yells out, “So, you’re replacing us?”

“No. No. No. Don’t. Say. That. We’re making your life easier with the new Optimal X. He can do anything we tell him to do.” Robert seemed to see the tide turning with the crowd and looks towards the man behind him to help. Misterman stomps to the front.

“Why don’t you hire a human being? Or are we not worth it to this company? You called us a family, and yet you threw Sadie away like she was trash.” Misterman finally felt free. His words just spilled from his mouth like a bird finally flying in the sunlight after living life in the darkness.

The man standing behind Robert walks up to address the crowd. He was mostly human shaped. As in, he was the weirdest man Misterman had ever seen in his entire life, but he had to be a human because what else could he be. He spoke with an insane timbre, and somehow gave Misterman secondhand embarrassment with every move he made.

He wore a black shirt that was a little too small for him, black skinny jeans that didn’t flatter him, ankle boots, an ill-fitting suit jacket, and a black hat with gothic font. Misterman couldn’t make out what it said.

“We need to embrace the future. When I made my first company, PayFriends, I was a nobody, and I built myself from nothing to give humanity the best life possible. AI is the best way forward. Sure, we may need to sacrifice a few rainforests for innovation, but that’s what humans do. We take what we want. Let that sink in.” Then the man seemed to yell out a war cry, but to Misterman, it sounded like a cry for help.

What even is this day? Wait until I tell Umbert about this.

The crowd started to boo. Adam yelled out from the back, “You didn’t even create PayFriends, you fraud.”

“Guys, guys, remember, we have a deadline for Planes 5.” Robert interjected, yet it falls on deaf ears. Misterman and his fellow employees start closing in on the man and Robert, who looks towards a desk, grabs a mug, and shatters it on the ground.

“EVERYONE! We are going to get back to work and embrace AI or I am going to find replacements for all of you! Do I make myself clear?”

The crowd has gone deathly silent. The employees look around and everyone nods.

“Now, we might all have to stay a little late for this little altercation. Got it?”

Again, the crowd nods before they defeatedly walk towards their desks.

“Adam and Misterman, can I see you in my office?” Robert was the scariest Misterman had ever seen. The short man slicked back his hair and walked to the glass office. Adam and Misterman kept their distance, but made sure Robert saw they were following, lest he threw another mug or something worse.

As Adam and Misterman stood in the large glass office with Robert, the tension grew. Robert stared out the window at the Dibnew lot, buzzing with overworked actors, studio tours, and tired pa’s running with coffee orders. The other man seemed engrossed in his phone, sitting on a couch in the corner.

“Do you two know the story of Wilber Dibnew?” Robert says, too calm for it to be okay.

Misterman looks at Adam. They shrug at each other.

“Yes?” Misterman says.

“Wilber Dibnew had a vision. He wanted to make movies. When his animators wanted raises, they wouldn’t form unions, or fight, they would go talk to him. Why can’t it be the same for me?”

“There was a union when he was alive, Robert.” Adam says, more confused than anything.

“Because there were some uppity people who thought they could take advantage of Wilber. Unions are nothing but trouble, and I don’t like trouble. Do I make myself clear?” Robert smiles, baring his teeth.

Misterman nods. Adam does too.

“And the robot?” Adam asks.

“Staying, Adam. Get used to it or find a new job.” Robert leans forward on his desk, almost spitting out every word.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’m glad were on the same page, guys. Now, go out there and embrace the future.”

The man interjects. “I have sent a meme to every employee’s phone.”

Adam pulls his out of his pocket after getting a notification. It’s a picture of the orange bodyguards, from the Lighted pictures movie, Despair Myself. He’s holding an Orange and is saying Orange. The man laughs for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“Are we done?” Misterman asks.

“Yeah.” Robert smiles. He seems annoyed by the man laughing on his couch but won’t seem to get rid of him.

Misterman turns on it and walks out. Adam follows close behind.

“What the hell was that?” Adam whispers at Misterman.

“Union intimidation, and whatever that weirdo thinks is comedy.” Misterman replies in a hushed voice.

“So, what do we do?”

“We’re starting a union, Adam.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

By the time lunch had rolled around and Laura stopped by with the posters for people’s cars, Misterman had thought of a hundred different ways on how to kill the robot in the room and the man that brought it into the company. It probably wasn’t nice, but he didn’t care.

Adam had sent Misterman some insane articles about him in the cool employee group chat they had without Robert. The man, whose name Misterman found out was Elam, was a real piece of shit. Worker rights abuses, stolen inventions, and an apartheid ruby mine his family owned as a kid rounded out the basic terrible things he had done.

When Misterman texted him back with surprise after reading them, during his breaks, Adam just texted back, “Wait until you hear about how he abandoned his kids.” Misterman wasn’t surprised. If Elam was his dad, he’d want to distance himself too.

Adam and Misterman took turns papering desks, pretending to ask for help or passing dailies to their coworkers. Being discreet was hard, so they waited until Elam and Robert went on an extended lunch to do the bulk of it. Everyone was frazzled and broken from the morning incident, and ready to strike for better rights. It was surprisingly easy to get people on board. Misterman and Adam had basically turned the whole studio to turn up on Friday for protests.

Robert had gathered everyone around for one final talk before they were allowed to go that night. He showed the work of the Optimal X. The animators smiled through the pain of its inaccuracy of fingers and uncanny valley of backgrounds, then Misterman saw it.

The computer had created a picture of his for a storyboard. It was from Oswego Falls. It was a direct reference to a Hitchcock film. He grew up watching them and loved the cinematography, and so he made a whole episode that was based on South by SouthEast. As he looked at the shitty Ai recreation of the totem pole that stood in his hometown’s main square, or the background characters he made from real people he grew up with, he was filled with rage. This series was a piece of him, and they used it to train this stupid ass robot to make nothing but crap. Misterman walked away before he tore the entire office apart.

By the time Umbert came to pick Misterman up, he had watched his co workers work from fear to anger, including himself.

“How was your day, babe?” Umbert says as Misterman slumps into the car. “Did something happen?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Notes:

Thank you for reading this stupid fan fiction. I'm proud to stand with the animation workers on strike! I'm a screenwriter whose best friends and college roommates are animators: I saw them struggle to get work in this industry because of what the studios did. You animators stood with us writers last year on our strike, and I'm proud to stand with you guys. I hope you get everything you guys want and more!!!

If you want to support the striking animators, here's the link where you can donate to help striking animators here. Also make sure to follow TAG for updates.

 

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