SADMAN

Montaug: Rosenbaum

"WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING, ASSHOLE!" shouted a driver in a passing car, nearly hitting Al.

"Ay, fuck you too, buddy!" retorted Al. That's the fifth time Al was almost hit by a vehicle on his way to work this morning, which compared to yesterday, is pretty good. Al Sadman is a safety inspector at Montaug Enterprises, the biggest corporation on Earth since 2030. Actually, the only company on Earth since 2030. It would be a pretty easy job if it was for any company besides Montaug. As a matter of fact, the number one cause of death on Earth is being an employee at one of their factories. 

That's why Sadman's new supervisor, KT-0015, is a robot. They don't die as easily. So far, the robot replacement program has been going pretty well. A record low number of 75 supervisors died yesterday, and they were all robots. Even better, only 12 of them died from murder-suicide!

On his walk to the factory -- he doesn't have a driver's license -- Al noticed the sun is out this morning. Normally, the sky is shrouded in dark clouds, obscuring the tops of the skylines in fog. But today, the sun was gleaming, creating large shadows against the people and street poles. This is only about the fourth time Al's seen the sun in his life, so he decides to stop for a second to bask in the sunlight and obtain some very much needed Vitamin D. It felt nice, almost bringing a tear to his eye.

Al is suddenly pushed to the side by a gruff old man in overalls. He's probably a worker at the factory, Al thought. "You're in the way, pal. We all got places to be," the man said. "You realize I'm probably gonna catch you shooting up heroin at the assembly line today, right?" Al replied, "I'm a safety inspector." The man stopped and looked at him for a second. Then he turned back around and left, mumbling to himself. Al felt pretty good about this clever retort, normally he'd be called a piss-gargling loser by now. Al could tell this was gonna be a good day.

Al continues making his journey to the Rosenbaum Factory, his assigned factory in the city of the same name, Rosenbaum. Sadman was born and raised in this city, still living with his mother in the same housing tower he did when he was a baby. Sadly, his old man Gene Sadman fell 105 stories off a skyscraper he was building. When Mrs. Sadman asked for a funeral to be held, they told her the last time a funeral was held it led to the Brain Worm Crisis of 2055. 

The doctors thought the man died of a brain tumor, but it turns out it was actually a carniverous, constantly breeding and procreating brain worm that ate your brain from the inside. That whole ordeal caused about a billion deaths worldwide, but the real problem, Montaug said, was the economy collapsing. Fortunately the economy has gotten back on its feet and is flourishing even more than before, albeit now with much less healthcare. Now if you break your arm you'll just be put in cryostasis for a couple years.

After about an hour of walking through the streets of Rosenbaum, Al makes it to the factory right on time. It's nine in the morning, and Al Sadman is ready for work. He steps up to the front of the factory, a massive brutalist block with yellow-tinted, mostly cracked, windows and large ventilation shafts. Protruding from the factory are giant smoke-stacks, constantly pumping black smoke into the air, killing any organism that even comes near the disgusting smog. Outside the factory is a broken fountain, sculpted in the shape of what Al thinks is supposed to be a cow having sex with a refrigerator. It's so eroded that it's pretty much impossible to tell what it is. "Hey, at least the place is better maintained than the Olwater Factory downtown," Al thought out loud. That place doesn't even have doors. A 600-pound greasy old lady promptly told him to shut the hell up and stop disturbing the peace. Al then wished he worked at the Olwater Factory just so that interaction would have never happened.

Al straightened his silky purple tie as he began walking into the building. He's wearing his most fancy clothing today, hoping to impress some of the ladies at work; a black dress shirt with blue jeans and brown shoes with mismatched socks he found on the way there. He's also sporting his new black leather briefcase, which he was saving up for. Lately, Al's been reading one of Blumiere Hyde's most bestselling books, 'How To Make Women Like You'.

Blumiere Hyde is, of course, an author, one of the only ones left on Earth as a matter of fact. The man writes all sorts of works; novels, articles, memoirs, anything you can think of. He's one of the richest people on Earth, having a net worth of approximately $15,000. Of course, nobody could ever dream of being wealthier than the mysterious chairman of Montaug Enterprises, with a net worth of about 60 quintillion dollars. Very few people know who the man is, of course, but Al will gladly work for him anyway.

After making sure his threads are on point and swagger, Al struts into the building, ready to dazzle some dames. He immediately trips on his own shoes and slams his head into the hard marble floor. "Are you alright, Mr. Sadman?" asked a female voice. Al looks up to see Vanessa Shrapton, the factory secretary, sitting at her desk. She has a foul-looking mole on her left cheek and pointy tinted glasses, with her hair in a messy bun. "Good morning, Mrs. Shrapton," said Sadman. He gets up and dusts himself off. "Your nose is bleeding, Mr. Sadman," Vanessa exclaimed, "Do you need a tissue?" Sadman puts his hand over his nose to check if his nose is infact bleeding. It is. "That'd be nice, yeah," he replied. Vanessa hands him an old flimsy piece of white cloth, now slightly molding and yellow due to its aging. "..Actually, I think I'll pass," mumbled Al. He takes his verification card out of his pocket and inserts it into the scanner at Vanessa's desk. The two wait as the low-quality picture slowly loads.