The walls were plain white, painted twenty years ago but still looked new. The main building was rectangular and the size of a zeppelin hangar, while four smaller cylindrical structures branched out in the directions of north, south, east and west.
At precisely seven-thirty in the morning, about eight thousand alarm clocks went off in dormitories the size of stables. At seven-thirty five, all the doors swung outwards, and by seven-thirty eight, everyone was lined up in two single-file lines in preparation for the work shift. First they were dozed with cold water as they walked through a tiled room with nozzles protruding from the walls and ceiling. Then, they entered through a black concrete room filled with vents that blew warm air over their dripping bodies. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant feeling, but it was daily life at the factory.
Finally, the doors of the main building were magnetically unlocked to reveal rows upon rows of treadmills. Each had been used for over twenty years, yet each glistened in the harsh factory light. As everybody proceeded to their individual treadmills, a group of men in business suits appeared at the railing in front of a small room high up on the wall of the factory. These men were the management. There was the Head Manager, who was never seen by the workers, and then there were the inspectors that walked around making sure that everyone was doing his job. Sometimes they brought messages from the Head Manager. His word was law.
One such message was delivered when a curious young fellow asked the inspector why they were doing this job. The inspector smiled and asked him to see the manager for an answer. The next day, that very same inspector told everyone that their work on the treadmills provided electricity for a far-away city. A new person was introduced and put on the curious young fellow’s treadmill.
At exactly twelve – thirty, eight thousand plastic yellow tubes dropped out of the ceiling. Without stopping their work, each person inserted a small steel needle into their wrists. The tubes were then filled with a yellow pus-like substance that dripped into the body systems, providing the minimal nutrient requirements for the day.
At the end of the work shift, everyone lined up once again to file back to their dormitories. The inspectors went around and picked a few men to come with them. While everyone else marched towards the south building, these few, hand-picked men were taken to the north building. Nobody ever knew what happened in the north building, but every day, a few men were taken inside and never returned. As soon as the men entered the building, a large shock was administered to their bodies. Withering in pain, they all crumpled to the ground. Each person was so heavy that it took three inspectors to lift their bodies up onto a churning conveyer belt. The conveyer belt carried them into the adjoining room, where a sudden harsh glaring light forced the men’s eyes to squint.
The conveyer belt stopped and there was a whirl of machinery. In an automated computer voice, the loudspeakers boomed 3…2…1, and the knives fell.
Somewhere far away in a fancy restaurant, a group of wealthy bank owners and business entrepreneurs sat down to enjoy their meal of meat served in the form of medium rare. “To capitalism,” one said, raising his glass of red wine. They drank. Another one remarked, “It is truly a dog eat dog world.” Laughing, they picked up their silverware and carved into their steaks.