Post by magnatronia on Jul 31, 2017 12:29:37 GMT -5
Mega-City Four, Magnatronia
December 20, 2017
"The Protomen line of action figures was a hit! Sales for our new toy line are through the roof!" exclaimed Dr. Light as a he sifted through a folder bursting with paperwork. "The Sniper Joe and Gutsman models are sold out in Kumania, Sulania, Kalaron, Vista Major..."
"Hold it, hold it, you said we sold out? You mean, we didn't produce enough units to meet demand?" asked Dr. Wily, annoyed that Light would overlook such an important detail. "Well, sure, but that also means that we've got room to expand. See, our biggest factories in Mega-City Two and Three are already working at full capacity. They're churning out as much product as they can. And no, Sir, we can't make our employees work overtime when they're already working 20 hours a day."
"Then what about expanding our facilities?" Wily asked. "I was just getting to that! I say we move employees from under performing sectors like healthcare and entertainment to more profitable areas...like manufacturing. It's as simple as that." Light said as he handed Wily a fresh cigar. "No thanks, I'm trying to quit. Anyways, I'd like to say that's a good plan, except, where exactly are we gonna transfer them to? We can't seriously consider moving more employees to Mega-City Two. They can barely feed the workers they already have there! And don't even get me started on Mega-City Three."
"Alright, how about Mega-City Four? They've had plenty of space ever since the arms manufacturing plant closed down and we terminated it's employees."
"Yep, damn shame we had to do that too. We wasted billions trying to beat out the competition, and all we ended up with was 5,000 new D-Class employees and a shit ton of defective machine guns. I fired that idiot B-6010 for convincing me that Kalaron didn't have a monopoly on the market. At any rate, I want all eligible employees to be transferred to Mega-City Four immediately - that's including B-Class. If we're serious about riding this wave all the way to Christmas Eve, we're gonna need all the help we can get."
"What the fuck do you mean 'get out'? This is my laboratory! You can't kick me out of my own lab!" screamed an infuriated Dr. Steel. "Sorry B-9099, we're just following orders from the higher-ups. President Wily says we need more manpower at Mega-City Four, gotta get ready for the Christmas rush in a few days. So they're having every sector's human resources manager send over as many spare bodies as they got." C-1012 said coldly as several Blackwater agents walked past him, handcuffed employees in tow. "Unbelievable, un-fucking-believable. I'm a researcher for Christ's sake! What, do you expect me to do hard labor there? In those conditions? You're outta your mind if you think I'll stand for this."
"Oh, you think I'm outta my mind? Tell that to your new manager at MC4. I'm sure he'd love to hear all about it while he's scooping out your brains and turning you from B-9099 to D-9099."
"I-I, uh, okay...fine. I'll go. But at least lemme go pack my stuff."
"Ahhhhh, don'tcha just love the smell of blood, sweat, and tears!" exclaimed B-8007, former manager of Mega-City Four's defunct arms plant, and current manager of it's new toy factory. Standing at the edge of his office's balcony overlooking the factory, he was joined by an anxious Dr. Steel, who was now donning a grey jumpsuit and matching Class-Tag™. As B-8007 inhaled the pungent stench of unfettered capitalism, Steel approached the railing and looked on upon a scene of misery and despair. Factory workers toiled in filth, as hot ash stuck to their skin and burned their eyes, making it difficult to tell whether they were crying or simply reacting to the pollution in the air. Many employees had visible scars and wounds from accidents on the job. Eyes lost, limbs missing, skin burnt to a crisp. Even the floor managers, who were supposedly well-off compared to their subordinates, looked worse for wear. It was a terrible sight to behold, suffice to say.
"Jesus Christ, 8007, look at them! They're dying down there! Even your managers look like they haven't slept in a week! How do you run a factory like this?!"
"It's simple, 9099: efficiency. Once the workers pass out from exhaustion, and they do, we switch them out with the paper pushers, and vice versa. It gives them something to look forward to at the end of their shifts, and production stays steady throughout the day. Plus, it keeps them from getting too cushy in their positions. You can't have employees thinking they're irreplaceable just 'cause they know how to do a job that no one else can."
"Oh, speaking of jobs, did Wily mention anything about jobs for scientists? You know, us nerds aren't really suited for hard labor. We're much better off doing paper work or anything else in an office...?" Steel said meekly. "You know what? I actually did have a job that I was saving just for you." 8007 said. "Really? You mean it?"
"Yep! Here you go," said 8007 as he handed Steel a rusty bucket and mop. "You're the new 'sanitation engineer'. Now get mopping! Management just called in a clogged toilet in the men's restroom downstairs, and they want you there pronto. I'll have you fired if it's not spotless by the end of your shif-"
Before 8007 could finish his sentence, Dr. Steel plunged the pointed end of his mop through 8007's eye socket, killing him instantly as it pierced his cranial cavity.
"Motherfucker! How dare you make me the goddamn garbage man! How about I clean up this mess, you sadistic fuck!?" Steel shrieked as he mercilessly beat 8007's lifeless body, covering himself in gore in the process. Horrified by what they were witnessing, the factory workers below watched as Steel brutally murdered their despotic overseer in cold blood. Once he was finished, Steel proceeded to the edge of the balcony to address his fellow workers.
"This man, this...pathetic excuse for a man, is not responsible for the pain and misery you see all around you. And despite what you think, neither is President Wily. In fact, none of us are. It's the system that's at fault. These men, they only seek to perpetuate this endless cycle of suffering for their own benefit. They make money from your torment! If we want to end this system, we'll need to end the men who sustain the system! B-8007 was just the first of many to come. If we join together, not as a class, but as a people, we can bring about the end to this nightmare, and once and for all destroy the abomination that is OmniCorp. Who's with me?"
"Hold it, hold it, you said we sold out? You mean, we didn't produce enough units to meet demand?" asked Dr. Wily, annoyed that Light would overlook such an important detail. "Well, sure, but that also means that we've got room to expand. See, our biggest factories in Mega-City Two and Three are already working at full capacity. They're churning out as much product as they can. And no, Sir, we can't make our employees work overtime when they're already working 20 hours a day."
"Then what about expanding our facilities?" Wily asked. "I was just getting to that! I say we move employees from under performing sectors like healthcare and entertainment to more profitable areas...like manufacturing. It's as simple as that." Light said as he handed Wily a fresh cigar. "No thanks, I'm trying to quit. Anyways, I'd like to say that's a good plan, except, where exactly are we gonna transfer them to? We can't seriously consider moving more employees to Mega-City Two. They can barely feed the workers they already have there! And don't even get me started on Mega-City Three."
"Alright, how about Mega-City Four? They've had plenty of space ever since the arms manufacturing plant closed down and we terminated it's employees."
"Yep, damn shame we had to do that too. We wasted billions trying to beat out the competition, and all we ended up with was 5,000 new D-Class employees and a shit ton of defective machine guns. I fired that idiot B-6010 for convincing me that Kalaron didn't have a monopoly on the market. At any rate, I want all eligible employees to be transferred to Mega-City Four immediately - that's including B-Class. If we're serious about riding this wave all the way to Christmas Eve, we're gonna need all the help we can get."
"What the fuck do you mean 'get out'? This is my laboratory! You can't kick me out of my own lab!" screamed an infuriated Dr. Steel. "Sorry B-9099, we're just following orders from the higher-ups. President Wily says we need more manpower at Mega-City Four, gotta get ready for the Christmas rush in a few days. So they're having every sector's human resources manager send over as many spare bodies as they got." C-1012 said coldly as several Blackwater agents walked past him, handcuffed employees in tow. "Unbelievable, un-fucking-believable. I'm a researcher for Christ's sake! What, do you expect me to do hard labor there? In those conditions? You're outta your mind if you think I'll stand for this."
"Oh, you think I'm outta my mind? Tell that to your new manager at MC4. I'm sure he'd love to hear all about it while he's scooping out your brains and turning you from B-9099 to D-9099."
"I-I, uh, okay...fine. I'll go. But at least lemme go pack my stuff."
"Ahhhhh, don'tcha just love the smell of blood, sweat, and tears!" exclaimed B-8007, former manager of Mega-City Four's defunct arms plant, and current manager of it's new toy factory. Standing at the edge of his office's balcony overlooking the factory, he was joined by an anxious Dr. Steel, who was now donning a grey jumpsuit and matching Class-Tag™. As B-8007 inhaled the pungent stench of unfettered capitalism, Steel approached the railing and looked on upon a scene of misery and despair. Factory workers toiled in filth, as hot ash stuck to their skin and burned their eyes, making it difficult to tell whether they were crying or simply reacting to the pollution in the air. Many employees had visible scars and wounds from accidents on the job. Eyes lost, limbs missing, skin burnt to a crisp. Even the floor managers, who were supposedly well-off compared to their subordinates, looked worse for wear. It was a terrible sight to behold, suffice to say.
"Jesus Christ, 8007, look at them! They're dying down there! Even your managers look like they haven't slept in a week! How do you run a factory like this?!"
"It's simple, 9099: efficiency. Once the workers pass out from exhaustion, and they do, we switch them out with the paper pushers, and vice versa. It gives them something to look forward to at the end of their shifts, and production stays steady throughout the day. Plus, it keeps them from getting too cushy in their positions. You can't have employees thinking they're irreplaceable just 'cause they know how to do a job that no one else can."
"Oh, speaking of jobs, did Wily mention anything about jobs for scientists? You know, us nerds aren't really suited for hard labor. We're much better off doing paper work or anything else in an office...?" Steel said meekly. "You know what? I actually did have a job that I was saving just for you." 8007 said. "Really? You mean it?"
"Yep! Here you go," said 8007 as he handed Steel a rusty bucket and mop. "You're the new 'sanitation engineer'. Now get mopping! Management just called in a clogged toilet in the men's restroom downstairs, and they want you there pronto. I'll have you fired if it's not spotless by the end of your shif-"
Before 8007 could finish his sentence, Dr. Steel plunged the pointed end of his mop through 8007's eye socket, killing him instantly as it pierced his cranial cavity.
"Motherfucker! How dare you make me the goddamn garbage man! How about I clean up this mess, you sadistic fuck!?" Steel shrieked as he mercilessly beat 8007's lifeless body, covering himself in gore in the process. Horrified by what they were witnessing, the factory workers below watched as Steel brutally murdered their despotic overseer in cold blood. Once he was finished, Steel proceeded to the edge of the balcony to address his fellow workers.
"This man, this...pathetic excuse for a man, is not responsible for the pain and misery you see all around you. And despite what you think, neither is President Wily. In fact, none of us are. It's the system that's at fault. These men, they only seek to perpetuate this endless cycle of suffering for their own benefit. They make money from your torment! If we want to end this system, we'll need to end the men who sustain the system! B-8007 was just the first of many to come. If we join together, not as a class, but as a people, we can bring about the end to this nightmare, and once and for all destroy the abomination that is OmniCorp. Who's with me?"