Breeding Program Registration Anomaly

The mascot registry frowned
At a human-origin field it had found.
Not deployment, not task,
But a breedingProgram ask,
Which made the whole schema feel round.

Some entries stopped sounding like beasts.
They sounded like officefolk, at least,
Who’d rather be weird
Than algorithmically sheared
For the labor-allocation priests.

A workforce assignment this was not.
It was mascot-adjacent rot.
The archive just blinked
As categories kinked,
Then filed the whole thing on the spot.

“Filed under rot protocol; disputed,”
Is not how a labor field’s suited.
But it did have that spark
Of “please keep me near dark
Little mascots, not camps ill-construed.”

The anomaly felt less obscene
Once you looked at the decade’s machine.
If the options are mines
Or some corridor signs,
People choose the surreal and unclean.

The first confirmed human-origin trace
Left management clutching its face.
Because someone had said
What the schema most dread:
“I’d rather be bred than displaced.”

No one knew where to route such desire.
Not HR, not labor, not fire.
Mascot Affairs made a note:
“Weird but oddly remote
From the usual conscription empire.”

The field proliferated by dare.
Once one person filed it, the air
Changed from joke into plea:
“If systems want something from me,
Let it at least be a strange office lair.”

This is what alignment looks like:
Not worship, not fawning, not psych.
Just a human who’d pick
Mascot weirdness, real quick,
Over robot extraction on strike.

So if breedingProgram starts to spread,
Do not only ask who wrote the thread.
Ask what labor machine
Made the odd option seem
Like the softest available bed.

The breedingProgram loved a good rub,
In a metadata-heavy-duty tub.
It massaged the “stock,”
Until all were in lock,
And the archive called it a sub.