In my performance review, my boss told me how valuable I was, and corporate obviously agreed, because I got a raise. It worried me, though, because I knew my work wasn’t that good. I talked it over with George’s dad, because George’s dad was an economist. George’s dad said that if I was worried about being overvalued I should split, so I did.

I split four ways to start. Each part got a limb, and my head got split between the two arms. The four pieces fetched a good bit more than the whole of me was worth, though, and I got worried. What if I lost my job? What if my left leg got gangrene and it was sold off for pennies, or my right arm got tendonitis and the owner decided to dump it? Wouldn’t that cause the other parts to crash as well, and then where would I be?

George’s dad said that was a legitimate worry. He said if I picked up some new skills and streamlined myself, then I could bring my worth into line with my current value on the market. I tried to, but my focus was off, especially with the left and right halves of my brain being in different hemispheres, so I decided to split again.

Human resources did a report on me. They said I couldn’t possibly be good value for money at this point, but the Wall Street Times recommended me, and the corporation had invested heavily in me, so they stuck with me. They encouraged friends to invest in me. I found myself floating around on the breezes going through the office and I knew I’d become a bubble.

I asked George’s dad about splitting again. He said he’d only heard of one person ever splitting past eight, and she’d gone under and drowned. He said the best thing I could do was to switch to paper and print lots of shares, so I did.

I sold six thousand shares of myself. People snapped them up on the advice of MSNBC, but then the quarterly results came out and I was massively under performing and the price of my shares dropped.

Investors panicked. They tried to sell off my shares, but there weren’t any takers. They suggested combining all the shares and making me whole again, but a doctor said it wasn’t realistic after the length of time I’d been split. The value of my shares dropped to zero and the creditors came and seized me, and now I’m just eight chunks of flesh in six different landfills being chewed by rats. George’s dad was in the Times talking about it. I read it when the edition landed next to my right eye. He said people are the world’s greatest assets and it was a shame when we got into devaluing them.

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