The crowd pushes and pulls me. Everyone else is wearing the normal black and white; even though today is supposed to be festive. We're only allowed to wear color on our birthday. I tug at my silk green collar. In the mail this morning I received a wide white box and a note. The note read, "Happy Birthday from the Society Head Quarters! Congratulations on turning eighteen!" Inside the box was the green shirt that I am now wearing. I know it’s better to follow the rules than to be 'recruited' by Them. The Society could be very cruel if you tested them. That's why I am here, in the manufacturing side of city. Also, today is not my birthday. Not even close to it.
I work in the electrical part of the building. We work all the way at the bottom floor, which is a couple hundred feet underground. This section is only for the most loyal members. I don’t understand why I am here. I have quite a record against the Society; including vandalism, public protesting, even a little bit of combat against a couple of officials, but hey money is money right?
Lately there have been a lot of shushed talks about a new machine. I for one could care less, but it doesn’t do any harm to participate in the excited gossip. Lately Derek, the oldest worker in this section of the building (he’s forty one), had been insisting on the theory that the Society Head Quarters had created new ways for mass destructions. Weaponry, he kept saying whenever the subject was brought up. Chemical Weaponry. Nobody believed the old man, and he always walked away murmuring to himself, “If only I could make them believe.” How would he make anyone believe his crazy theory? The Society itself had declared weapons and chemical weapons illegal and completely unauthorized. Nobody was allowed to have or create anything of that sort. Once in the invention hall a young man just a couple years older than me was trying to make something to help the process of cleaning clothing be easier. When he was presenting it to the Society Inventers Association it accidentally started letting out small puff of gas. Immediately the officials in the room took action and arrested the inventor, and after a series of investigations realized that the gas being released was soap. They took him out of seclusion a few weeks later.
I operate a simple piece of machinery that makes the molds for all types of basic objects and machines such as tubes or coffee mug molds. Today was a pretty regular day except for the fact that Derek seemed to be quieter today. He wouldn’t comment when the nearby workers gossiped about possible theories of the machine and didn’t look beyond his control panel’s glass screen. He usually sat with a group of inventors for lunch, but today I noticed he wasn’t even in the mess hall. I decided that the old man probably just wanted some space, for all I know he could have been eating at a local walk-in food court. He didn’t return to his work station after lunch either, and that made me wonder as an official took one of the electrician’s and put him in Derek’s position. I raised my eyebrows at this kid. He was probably fifteen and wearing a lab coat that was way too big on him. Why he was wearing a lab coat I wouldn’t know.
“Top of the morning,” the boy nodded in my direction.
“Isn’t that a bit… oh I don’t know, old fashioned?”
“Well, it’s my way nonetheless.” He replied. I shrugged my shoulders, “Top of the morning to ya as well.”
He gave me a mad looking grin. He had large green eyes that seemed to be laughing even in a glum workplace like this.
“What’s your name?” I asked, trying to maintain a conversation.
“My name is Jason, what about you?”
“Jason, huh? My name is Calvin. What are you doing in this section of the manufacturing? I thought you were with the inventors.”
“Ah, yes I was. But I was called back for some unknown reason. Did you know that the youngest in their department usually get sent back to other departments?”
