The hummelman has walked into the office. No one's there anymore. He s left behind, the god of the work floor and bureacrazyness. His friend Mammon died, so there are no jobs and no offices required any longer. ..The hummelman sits there surrounded by empty coffeecups and dehydrated water coolers. The plants to spice up the office have died, dried up just like the ink to stamp the disapproval of the humans on any document they had received in past time. The hummelman was their conscious, it was the force that led their existence, their mantra to wake up and go into the big squared object they called office.
In the hierarchy of the office, hummelman was god no.1, followed by the board, consisting of shareholders and director and then there was the staff on the work floor. They were so scared for the papers to be shredded, these papers meant contracts, meant security, to them it meant life. Shredding a contract meant game over.
The hummelman receives gifts from the humans, in the form of papers filled with pencil marks. He would send them back after he ate bits and pieces from it, as he loves pencil marks. The humans then read the future in them and called them chartpies and development graphics. He would sometimes wonder around the office when people were working, and notice how they didnt notice him as they were so caught up in their huzzy buzzy the wiffy biffy of their so called busy-ness, no time to waste. What were their concerns?
In him there was no logic, nothing to please him. Hummelman is like a wild beast with no prey. One day he will fade out, as his rubber isn't eternal. He's not allowed to go outside, his skin will break, but he yearns for the sun. That's why you always see some lights in the office block turned on. That is for the hummelman. He's afraid of the sun and the dark.