Dear putative colleagues,
It’s been a whirlwind sevenday since the Emperor gave all of you into my hand. I appreciate all the warm welcomes (and the Force has unerringly let me know which of those were genuine grovelling submission and which were desperate last-minute save-your-own-skin sycophancy) and all those who have served as unpaid tour guides through the labyrinth of this great structure. (Those who led me down corridors where they hoped the poorly-embedded Resistance—such as it is—might have been waiting for me, have more or less inevitably brought their fates upon themselves, and HR has been instructed to bring in replacements. Also: the catering staff responsible for the morning-draft concession on level 36, radian 30, have been fed into the central converter. You're welcome.)
The DeathStar is a big place with many functional titles and protocol-reporting strictures that I’m learning. But more than the hierarchical niceties, I’m eager to get to know all of you. Perhaps far, far better than you desire.
I seriously hope that you are as excited as I am about the prospect of elevating the DeathStar to its rightful place as Number One: the inevitable and inescapable arbiter and executor of Truth in the Empire (subject only, of course, to the opinions and decrees of our beloved Emperor himself, whom all right-thinking beings must accept as the final arbiter of what Is and Is Not True in the Galaxy which we all, by his great kindness, inhabit). So I’m interested in any particular ideas you have to achieve this goal.
By day's end on Secondday, I’d like a memo from each person across our great facility. I’m not looking for a paean to my ideological purity or my (admittedly ridiculously popular, I can't help that...) podcast. I want to understand how you spend your working hours—and ideally what you’ve made—or are making—big or small, that you’re most proud of. A planetary disintegration conduit? A device for stealing and reworking ancient literary works into praise for the Empire, at no cost? Anything that serves our Great Purpose is of value. I’m also interested in hearing your views on what’s working: what’s broken or substandard; who's honestly on our side, who's not, and who's weak enough to be turned... or too strong, and needs to be deleted as quickly as possible from our great interstellar narrative. Please be blunt—it will help me greatly.
I’ll read all of your memos carefully. And they will be held in the strictest of confidence until and unless the Emperor commands me to destroy you. (Or to Force-choke you into silence, if he thinks maybe your poor small change will be worth something once you've been crushed into submission.) (...Which frankly may happen even if you do submit. Our dear Emperor's been known to change his mind about people's usefulness without warning. But if you didn't know that, you wouldn't still be working here... which, I assure you, will sooner or later be held against you.)
Then I’ll use your memo as a discussion guide for when I meet with most of you (ideally, all of you if time permits) in the coming few sevendays. One way or another, your input will be used for the encouragement—as one of the ancients in another galaxy once said—of the (surviving) others.
The goal is simple: I want to familiarize myself with all you poor hangers-on from another, more permissive and corrupt era, committed to reporting just any old thing that actually happened as if it mattered or was real—and I want you to do the same with me: to know that we are aligned on achieving a shared vision for the Empire.
And I want to know if you're not. Because it's only fair to give you a few days to get your affairs in order.
Yours (or actually, let's be real, you're MINE, because since you're working here, you are mine now to do with as I please, and no one will pay the slightest attention to your pitiful plaints once I declare you to be gone—assuming you're still breathing)—
(note to transcribing minion: For Force's sake, don't bother me with these idiot rumors about Walter-wan Cronkiti skulking around the place. Even if he was here, his devotion to his ancient religion would now be history.)
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