Muse? What Muse?

Are you my muse? asked the tentative writer newly emerged from the Cryogenic Suspension imposed by the "Get A Real Job, Academic Achievement Party"

Party representatives, cleverly disguised as primary school teachers had been identifying potential creatives for decades. The children who had not succumbed to their mind control techniques by the time they reached highschool were whisked off to the Creativity Extraction Unit to have their inner writer or artist or actor "dealt with". Sadly for the Unit's Budgetry Department the troublesome parts could not be completely eradicated without seriously damaging the host and, whilst parents were all too willing to send their children to have the cryogenic procedure, they would not comply if any serious harm were to come to their beloved progeny. Hence pubescent creative energies had been in cold storage for decades, the worlds creativity fed only by the offspring of those subversive parents who had managed to evade the system and set up marginal groups of pathetic arts panderers.

Now as the wheel of fortune would have it, emergent in the GARJAAP, was the notion that perhaps their economic agendas might be better served by thinkers that were able to apply creative solutions to the problems faced by industry and business and the sciences. Small control samples of Creatives were being released with a view to harnessing their errant tendencies in the service of the GARJAAP. But now, the question on the lips of every waking creative was the same. Are you my Muse? GARJAAP officials had no idea how to respond to the wide eyed entreaty of their captives and scurried post haste to Google, Wikkipedia, and other sources of reputable knowledge to try to fathom the answer.