Ageism in The Workplace

“So Jane, What brings you in today?” Ethyl’s gills puff with prejudice. She may have identified herself as the main counsel of the dome, but the younger generation has started coming to her with each and every minor problem. Her days used to be spent revolutionizing and preparing the community for special events, now she’s giving life advice to deaf ears.
A bright eyed girl of barely 22 sits across from her on the vermillion couch and squishes her delicate throw pillows. Light from the many small lamps bounces off colors and vials to splash rainbows around the living room of The Gyllis House.
“I’m not quite sure. I just don’t know where I belong I guess…” Her soft hands rub together, fingers interlocking and squeezing uncomfortably at skin.
“None of us know where we belong at such a young age Jane. The most important thing to do is create a space you do belong in.” Ethyl drags her arms wide in each direction. “This here is my space. The vibrant colors, the busy patterns, the fabrics; each one sacred and kept exactly how I adore it. Here I am safe. Where are you safe?” The question hung in the air while Jane’s eyes searched the floor for answers. Ethyl stared blankly in her direction, remembering when she was just 22 years old.

She was still working as a chemist in the Octus dome back then. Depressed and listless. Wondering how every choice in the history of the universe had led to such a sad existence for everyone around her. Vial after vial of worthless chemicals swirled under harsh fluorescent lights. The gray walls and sterile tables left little room for expression or any kind of joy. By now she had eradicated her pupils to make her eyes shout with the color green and she had acquired 4 of 6 gills. She was pushing the boundaries of her company's dress code, but they could never get rid of her as head of the department. In the past 6 months her team had made more improvements to the tech than anyone else in the past 5 years. But life was wearing her down.
“Hey Ethyl! Workin’ hard, or hardly workin’ you know what I mean?”
These soulless comments came day in and day out. Chipping away at Ethyls will to keep going. But she was close. So close. Just one more year and she would have everything she needed to get out of the research sector and start her own lab. She could clean up Octus and the 8 domes. At any cost. At least that was the plan, until the tax evasion caught up with her and she snapped.
After everything she had given to Octus, after her entire life was dedicated to the study of chemical engineering and fish life just to make it the most perfect place and they were firing her. Making her unhireable in any of the eight domes. She had to make them pay. They deserved everything she did to them. She bathed in chemicals and burned her body to show them how they would look when their families found their lifeless corpses. She gave them her whole life, they were going to give her theirs.

“I think I feel the most safe at work. I’m covered by the insurance, and the boss is the one who’s really in charge if something goes wrong. But just because I’m safe doesn’t mean I belong.” Ethyl's jaw clenched and contorted. This younger generation just can’t do anything themselves. She was experimenting with chemicals, burning her skin for the right to freedom, for the right to expression, and this kid can’t even understand they need to express themselves.
“What about getting some assorted mutations? I have my gills, my burns. You could start simple with some tattoos.” She had to manufacture a calm tone to avoid Jane overhearing the exasperation. “I don’t know much about them. I see people with them and I think they are cool, but I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Perhaps The Otolith might have some volumes on the subject to inspire you. It is also where the special interest committee meets most days. The books are convenient for their research into various topics, they are always welcoming new members.”