Fate and Duty

Corporate Drone

It was a drenched cold day of late spring, and the loudspeakers hollered at full volume.

"Two minutes to total lockdown. All SmileyCorp employees who fail to enter the premises as the clocks strike thirteen may face contract termination. Remember, compliance is safety, and SmileyCorp loves each and every one of you."

The screeching devices could be heard all over the mammoth office complex, four skyscrapers surrounding an inner plaza, and a mass of young men and women, all wearing gray SmileyCorp uniforms, rushed to return from their short lunch break. Heads were kept down, while the HR motivation officers, armed with laser pistols, shouted at stragglers to hurry up before their future might be at risk due to "indolence."

"Return to your cubicles! Enjoy your air hockey tables! Smile to the publicity cameras! Your happiness is assured under SmileyCorp's benevolent guidance," they yelled, while the company's mascot, a cartoonish yellow bunny with an oversized grin and sly eyes, holding up a gold coin, was projected upon every wall, reassuring the corporate drones that their seven years in college were well spent.

A short blonde in tight black uniform, hair tied in a bun, screamed at the passerby via a handheld bullhorn: "If you require sick leave, or a quarter day off, report to your superior. If we deem your reason acceptable, you might be eligible for time away from the bliss that is serving SmileyCorp."

Bobby pushed through the lobby of building no. 3, his fast food meal dripping on his shirt, threatening to escape his grip and fall on the mirror shined black marble floor. He passed the biometric scan, the facial scan, and the IDNA verification successfully, without dropping a single fry. An underappreciated personal skill. From the security zone he needed to reach turbo elevator no. four, which would take him to underground level D8, and he had to do it in exactly 2.08 minutes, without bumping into any living soul, or else-

Too late. A couple of young, hot women, who were busy talking to each other, crossed his path, not acknowledging his existence in the slightest, and he failed to dodge in time. As a result meat, buns, sauce, and fizzy drink all spilled on their carefully ironed office clothes, leaving the two standing before him in shock, mouths open, eyes shooting sparks.

"I-I-I–" he stuttered, until one of them slapped him across the facee, twice.

"Filthy nonbreeder!" she spat, "Give me your IDNA. You better have enough Omniwallet balance to cover the cleanup."

"Y-yes ma'am, but, you see, you–"

"Don't talk back to me!" she barked. Her blonde hair smelled so nice, and her eyes reflected the light like a mural in a temple, but her teeth looked like they wanted to tear the artery out of his neck... without actually touching him, of course.

The blonde yelled at him some more, while other workers passed by, smiling or giggling at him. She finished with another slap, and kicked him in the rump, making sure to call out his full name:

"If I ever see your ugly face again, Robert Adamson, HR will hear of it, and you will spend the rest of your life unemployable."

Unemployable. A certain doom for a young man like himself. The equivalent of being forced to commit lifexit. He made sure to apologize repeatedly, and hurried to the elevator. Ignore the scornful faces around, he thought. The most important thing was to get back on time, before Mrs. Angels notices...

She noticed. She noticed quite a bit.

Mrs. Angels was a large bodied woman, who stood half a head above Bobby's average height. Even though he himself was obese by medical standards, her massive proportions dwarfed him, and struck fear deep into his heart, which already began beating fast with anxiety when her thick lips moved.