I’d started getting inconveniently teary—frequently stepping out for a cry in the Most Beautiful Freezer in the World. Christmas at the Pole required a grand feast, no small part of which consisted of the desserts, candies, and breads that I was responsible for. Maybe it was the holiday pressure, or maybe it was the weeks of solitary nights in the kitchen. But when I sat down before my shift one night with a mechanic friend, her pink beanie smeared with grease, her innocent question broke me. “How are you?” can be dangerous. My throat tightened. I wiped at my face, trying to make the tears disappear. As I caught my breath, I gulped that I’d exhausted myself and missed my family. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve cried in front of everyone on station.” We were all stuck there, holding out as best we could; like family members, we eventually figured out how to be lonely together.
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As is standard practice in the field, the project was referred to by a codename and the client only ever as “the client.” The entire system is designed so that workers have minimal insight into the supply chain they are part of. If they find out who the customer is, they are contractually forbidden from telling anyone, even their own colleagues. Nor are they allowed to describe the details of their work beyond broad generalities like “providing expertise in XYZ domain to improve models for a top AI lab,” according to one Mercor agreement. So afraid are workers of inadvertently violating their confidentiality agreements and getting fired that when they discuss their work in public forums, they mask their already codenamed projects with additional codenames, for example by referring to a project called “Raven” as “Poe.”
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