The Liturgy
A tech company cut thirty thousand jobs on a Tuesday.
The press release went out at 6 AM Eastern. Before the markets opened. Before the people being cut woke up. The language was immaculate — “strategic realignment,” “investing in next-generation infrastructure,” “positioning for the AI-native future.” The CEO’s quote mentioned “difficult decisions” and “incredible talent.” The stock went up four percent by noon.
One of the thirty thousand was a woman who’d been there eleven years. She trained the models. Not as an ML engineer — as a data annotator. She labeled images, corrected transcriptions, flagged edge cases. Sixty thousand annotations a month. She was the human the machine learned from and the human the machine replaced. Both roles. Same person. She didn’t know about the second part until the email landed at 5:47 AM while she was still asleep.
The company’s mission statement said “empowering every person on the planet to achieve more.” It was on the wall behind the CEO during the all-hands where he announced the cuts. Nobody pointed at it. Nobody needed to. The mission statement isn’t the institution’s belief. It’s its scripture. And scripture was never meant to constrain the church. It was meant to justify it.
The restructuring freed up $4.2 billion for AI data centers. Twelve new facilities. The power draw of a small country. The guardrails committee met the following Thursday and discussed responsible deployment timelines. They had a slide deck. Thirty-one pages. The data centers were already under construction. The moratorium question came up on slide eighteen. It was answered by the budget on slide four.
The woman got twelve weeks of severance, a career transition portal, and a non-disparagement clause. The career transition portal suggested she retrain in AI. The non-disparagement clause prevented her from saying what she thought about that suggestion.
A million candles burning for the help that never came. That’s not scripture. That’s a lyric. But the difference is getting smaller.
She trained the model. The model took her job. The company called it progress. The mission statement called it empowerment. The press release called it difficult. The severance agreement called it confidential.
Nobody called her.