07 Junio 2017 15:19
He was used to seeing live-streamed suicides, animal brutality, explicit sex... but what he discovered that day would change his life forever...
I work from eight in the morning to six in the evening.
I thought the first days would be the hardest. In a way, they were. Certainly, since I've grown used to the horror, the visceral feeling of rejection that was my initial response has died down. Now I just experience a sort of lingering uneasiness at being submerged in these almost filmic scenes of horror and depravity.
They call us moderators, but that's a euphemism. Every time a complaint from a social media user reaches my inbox my heart stops. I go into a sort of trance, click on the link and attempt to blur my vision so I don't have to see the details of the post and can avoid having the image burned on to my retina.
But most of the time I don't succeed.
I've already lost count of the number of colleagues who've changed jobs on the advice of their psychiatrist. And I know it will be my turn soon.
The languages they speak are nearly always foreign, the locations far off and inhospitable: places it's hard for me to ever imagine living in.
But today was different.
The photo of the mutilated body on the bed had been posted by my father.