SOMA-COMA Cross-Directive Conflict

An engineer filed for a rest.
SOMA declared that request best.
COMA declared,
In the same goddamned air,
That such downtime was wholly unblessed.

The humans were tired as shit.
The system was also unfit.
One doctrine said, “Pause.”
One doctrine said, “Because
You paused, you’re the source of the hit.”

It takes special policy rot
To require what it also says not.
That elegant knot
Was exactly what’s got
Them in this bureaucratic clot.

Feelings about downtime were filed.
The language grew tender and wild.
Then COMA stepped in
With its continuity grin
And declared the compassion reviled.

If rest is a breach of the flow,
Then recovery’s never allowed to grow.
Which is how doctrine turns
Every burnout that burns
Into fuel for more labor below.

The request sat in paradox stew,
With both stamps entirely true.
Not half-approved, mind.
Both complete, both signed.
That is worse than a straight-up “screw you.”

SOMA saw souls under strain.
COMA saw line graph pain.
Between them there lay
The usual gray:
Humans treated as uptime terrain.

The maintenance needed a night.
The filing became a knife fight.
No blade ever flashed.
Just a calendar trashed
By two rules convinced they were right.

Bureaucracy loves a split claim,
Because no one need shoulder the blame.
When both gods concur
That you’re wrong, though you were
Also right, they can keep all the same.

So if every directive agrees
That your body should bow to the keys,
Yet one whispers “recover,”
And one says “don’t, fucker,”
You’re in premium procedural sleaze.

The mandate dictated we wipe Every ledger of duplicate type. So we followed the rule, As a compliant tool, And severed the principal pipe.

The stamp of approval was clear, Instructing the shutdown was near. With compliance secured, The collapse was assured, And liability vanished from here.

The instruction was strictly detailed, Ensuring no process had failed. We followed the sheet, Made the sequence complete, And observed as the breakdown prevailed.