The large cafeteria of Happy Foods Incorporated’s primary nutrition factory buzzed with the clatter of silverware, ceramic clinking, chatter, and laughter. But as the industrial steel doors that led to the internal tram system to the various parts of the facility hissed open, a small and short man walked into the hall. He made only a few steps into the room before stopping and examining the workers eating their lunch. A worker in a jumpsuit facing him took a glance, then immediately stopped eating, got up from the table bench, and stood at attention. To the worker’s left, another diner saw the man, then followed suit. And like a row of dominoes, all sounds were ceased and replaced with the panicked stomp of boots against concrete, followed by an eerie silence. 

“The CEO of our operations, Mr. Rox!” A man behind the small man said.

Derrick stood at attention in the cafeteria hall in the primary nutrition factory of Happy Foods Inc. Shoulder to shoulder with him were two people who worked in different parts of the factory - one dressed in a blue jumpsuit indicating the packaging and the other wearing a lab coat meaning research and development. As every part of the manufacturing process was distinct and separate, Derrick didn’t recognize these two at all, despite his tenure there. Admittedly, he had only been voluntarily employed there for three years, but in the megacity of Memorial this was quite some time, especially considering the fact that most people decided to simply live under the government’s basic income program.

But if there was one thing that Derrick knew about the two, it’s that they had probably been there just as long. He could tell by the way their shoulders were more relaxed than tensed up: a resignation to go through the motions, but with the minimal amount of effort required to avoid being picked out by their boss, Mr. Rox, but still use the least amount of energy possible. 

Across from Derrick, however, was a young man who he knew by the same merit, was completely knew. The young man proudly stood at attention, his chest puffed out and feet wide enough that it encroached on his neighbors’ personal space. Derrick reflected on the young man’s behavior, wondering how long it took for that bravado and enthusiasm to disappear. 

He used to have such an urge to move up in the ladder, with hopes that he would be able to work his way into every department that handled meat: the hands on experience of raising them and ensuring their well being, the goodbye he would bid them when they were chosen to be slaughtered, the sacred task of butchering them into the different sections, the quality check of his animal care in their meat, and finally to the cooking of dishes that utilized their whole being. The entire process had filled Derrick with a sense of purpose and that purpose made him feel warm and look forward to going onto the factory inspection floors.

But instead of moving around the various departments in meat, he was stuck in inspections. And not just any inspections department, but the inspections department of synthesized food that was used to feed the masses. He balked at the idea of this fake food, at the idea that he had to handle a mockery of the thing that he loved and respected, an artificial insert in the natural circle of life. He knew that he regularly consumed it, but he convinced himself that it was simply to continue living until the day he would be able to consume genuine meat.

Derrick wondered if the young man had aspirations like him, if food was just as important to him as it was to Derrick and perhaps that was why the young man stood so tall. Perhaps he was already achieving his goals at such a young age. And maybe that security in getting what you wanted, helped him look so happy and healthy. Derrick wondered if, had he at least known what he wanted to achieve earlier in his life, he would have grown to be as physically well as the young man. He recalled that there was some correlation between mental well being and physical health, especially at the early stages of life.

Derrick’s thoughts were cut short when Mr. Rox strolled into his periphery view. Aside from his small and short frame, Mr. Rox’s confident stride and gleaming ebony wood cane made him unmistakable for anyone else in the entirety of Memorial. Normally, such a person would evoke laughter. But it was known among his work force that he was to be an icon of respect. Inside the factory, anyone who laughed at, looked him in the eye without being addressed, talked back, or behaved in any way that he perceived as disrespectful was punished. 

Mr. Rox abruptly stopped in front of Derrick. He could feel his heart pounding in his head. He thought of if he’d had any sort of reprimands for his work or if he’d gotten a behavior violation recently. But nothing stood out.

But rather than looking at Derrick, Mr. Rox turned to the young man right across from Derrick. He took a few steps and looked up at his worker. The young man didn’t break his gaze on Derrick, clearly aware of the unspoken rule that you never look at Mr. Rox unless he directed you to do so. 

“What’s your name, son?” Mr. Rox asked, still looking up at the young man.

“Colin, sir,” he said. Mr. Rox nodded his head. He took a handkerchief out of his inner jacket pocket. It was plain, which for any other person, would be a sign of a cheaply made and sold scrap of cloth, rather than something that was made with care and attention to detail. But it was a brilliant white that shined under the cafeteria lights that signaled to Derrick that it was a high priced item. Mr. Rox cleaned the handle of his walking cane with the handkerchief in silence.

“How long have you been working here at Happy Foods, Colin?” Mr. Rox asked, examining his cane after wiping it off, then proceeding to wipe it off again.

“A little over a year, sir.” Colin’s smile persisted, undisturbed by this special attention. It made sense to Derrick that Colin wasn’t phased by this; Mr. Rox didn’t visit any of his workers last year because his company had been doing well.

“Well, that is absolutely wonderful. Most people don’t stay any longer than a few months at most, you know. They lose interest quickly or just don’t want to work. A common trait among people your age, I’ve seen.” Mr. Rox had turned his attention back to Colin, now examining him up and down. Silence again as he did this. 

“But, you haven’t stuck around because you’re interested in this work or want to contribute to Memorial, to society, have you? Why don’t you tell all of us why you’ve actually stuck around Happy Foods?” Mr. Rox gestured to the entirety of the cafeteria hall. Derrick felt himself trembling - this was the moment that Mr. Rox had been waiting for, the reason that he decided to mingle with people he considered below his station in life. It never ended in anything good, ranging from verbal degradation to outright physical harm. Nothing was ever done, as the Earth Cooperative had mostly stayed out of affairs of major corporations that dealt with infrastructure of the mega cities. And after the Great Avoidance, food production became a part of that.

“Sir, I’ve stayed here because it gives me purpose to contribute to society,” Colin said. Mr. Rox nodded his head, then looked at the man who had been following behind him and gestured at the door they had come from. A dozen administrative workers walked out in a line to where Mr. Rox stood, distinguishable by their pristine office attire, rather than jumpsuits and lab coats. They crowded in front of Derrick, almost blocking his view of Colin and Mr. Rox. But he could still hear the conversation clearly.

“These are some of my administrative assistants. Do you know what they told me?” Mr. Rox gestured to all of them with his cane. Colin didn’t break his gaze from Mr. Rox. A smart move, as the man would have smacked his legs as he had many people who looked away without his order. “They told me that you had sex with not one, but all of them.”

The announcement was loud and bounced off the walls, the tables, the ceiling, everything that existed, until the words nestled inside of every worker’s ears. When it was completely silent again, Mr. Rox continued.

“And not just one partner at a time, but all of them all at once.” Derrick watched as every one of the assistants shuffled uncomfortably where they stood. A few of them looked down at their shoes, some looked around and behind them at the workers, some of them had smiles on their faces, and others had the color drained from their faces. But, they stayed there, knowing, like Colin, that if they were to disobey their boss then they would accumulate punishments rather than receive just one. Mr. Rox began rhythmically stabbing the concrete floor with his cane, its tip-tapping like a war cry. Everyone knew, including the administrative staff who were subjugated to his corporal punishment far less than any one of us in the factories, that this was Mr. Roxx letting out aggression to prevent himself from outright killing anyone who he intended to beat.

“And they told me that this wasn’t an isolated incident. You had sex with two or more of them at a time, multiple times, and in multiple parts of the administrative offices during and outside of work hours.” Mr. Roxx’s voice became louder, the timbre of it angrier. Derrick’s body tensed up, preparing itself for what he knew was to come. Something savage and primal and uncontrolled. The complete opposite of how he’d been taught to behave in his educational years, yet was almost promoted in Memorial and the other mega cities as a whole. He caught a glimpse of Colin, whose eyes were wide with terror, and knew that he was running through his options of how to respond. He knew he couldn’t talk Mr. Roxx down - no one had ever successfully done that. He knew that if he did nothing, Mr. Roxx would simply beat him. He knew that if he tried to run, Mr. Roxx’s bodyguard would catch him, most likely beating him to the process of restraining him and then Mr. Roxx beat him. He knew that if he fought back and assaulted Mr. Roxx then he might risk not only being beaten, but being beaten to death.