Kabonje

"Attention all A shift labor units, work cycle five minutes from completion. For your own safety, please move away from the cubicle gates."

The soulless, digital voice’s synthetic words sent a shiver of distaste through Greer’s spine. Even though it was the best news he had heard all week, the voice's inanimate source swelled Greer's distaste for life.

He took one last look at the incomplete charts on his computer screen before powering his system down. The dreary and sterile environment in which he labored reflected itself in the mediocrity of Greer’s work.

Greer looked around the massive work area in disgust. Drab gray and blue walls surrounded each worker exposing only their head and shoulders while hundreds of bright, unmerciful lights discouraged even the bravest of shadows from visiting. Row after row of task accepting human automaton worked without emotion and ingenuity until they were instructed to leave. The sight of his fellow workers forced Greer to ponder his own identical predicament. He often wondered if others like him ever contemplated their inescapable, artificially forged destiny. If they did, Greer thought, they too must be caught in an invisible mill of frustration.

"Greer, hey Greer!" whispered a voice from behind.

Greer turned, "What is it Saeth?" He took special care not to be noticed by the others; recreational talk was against company policy.

"We’re still going down to Macabe Street tonight right?"

"I don’t know Saeth, we go through this every week."

"What do you mean?" Saeth asked.

"We go to a social collective, get chemically altered, attempt female interaction-are successful fifty percent of time-and then go home."

"So what’s wrong with that?"

"Nothing, but I’m tired of it. I’m tired of all this!" Greer’s escalating emotion forced him to lose control of his voice. The others around him could not help hearing the conversation, but they feared being noticed by company surveillance and did nothing.

"A work cycle now complete," echoed the automated voice.

"Greer look out!" Saeth yelled. He saw Greer’s hand resting on top of the cubicle gate. Greer quickly pulled his arm away so his sleeve would not be caught in the gate's mechanism.

Saeth struggled to leave his tiny work area. The width of the exit could not accommodate the masses of rolling flesh around his waist. The edges of the cubicle walls scraped against Saeth's fleshy bulges and hooked onto his uniform. Greer witnessed Saeth ruin many a garment as he squeezed in and out of his work area, and this time was no exception.

"Come on Greer, I know you’ll change your mind once we get out of here," Saeth said as he examined the damage to his shirt.

Greer left his stagnant cubicle and followed Saeth out of the main work area. Once again, the end of A shift brought swarms of workers to the vertical transport area. Greer loathed being forced to rub shoulders and swap scents with others.

"Here we are again, living the lives other people tell us to live. Aren’t you tired of this?" Greer asked Saeth.

"Wow, you really are living in the lower levels."

"I know."

"Listen. I’ve got a better idea," Saeth suggested.

"And what could that be?" Greer asked. Sarcasm saturated his words.

"Get into the transport. I’ll tell you outside."

The ride down to the base of their building was even more cramped than the walk to reach them. Greer’s digestive tract cried out in despair as the scent stew emanating from the tired and hot, men and women intensified in the poorly ventilated transport module.

Soon the transport doors opened and Greer followed Saeth out. He walked hurriedly and it took Greer some effort to keep up.