Mourning Routine: The Cult of Performative Work

As if compelled by unseen forces—one imagines that scene in The Exorcist—my fellow traveller adjusts his AirPods, straightens his spine, and ‘locks in.’ Before him lies the cluttered still life of Productivity™: a crumpled FT, a bottle of protein-infused kefir, and two boiled eggs sweating inside their polypropylene coffin. For several moments, he sits with priestly solemnity. Then, as the train inches forward, so does he.