From AED-#210-31570’s internal clock he understood the work day was still far from over, and so he plotted. Pursuing potential paths of action, running through the steps he might take, his gaze wandered, for the first time, in a while, he truly attempted to look. His eyes, already starting to be covered by the dirty brown hair which had begun to exceed regulation, and was now encroaching on the pale white visage of a face which had never known the kiss of the sun. Solely the touch of the unbelievably large lights, which shone a garish brightness over the breadth of the land he trotted upon. Wandered across the factory floor, his work was so engraved into his bones he no longer needed to pay attention to what his hands were doing, it was routine.

The first thing to notice, of course, was the sheer mass of bodies present in this sole section alone, the air was choked with people, all identical in dress and wear, as well as the emptiness in the eyes. It was a factory run by machines to simply build more. The only sparks of emotion appearing and vanishing just as quickly as the massive contraptions broke bones, neither knowing the difference between metal and flesh, nor having the capability or emotion to care.

As the crowd shuffled on, oblivious to the world around them, numerous yet isolated. It was a frightening thing, AED-#210-31570 realized, to lack a sense of purpose, a sense of urgency, of want, of need beyond existing. For how was one supposed to justify their existence if it had no meaning. This horrible life was a kindness, he realized in a flash of horror, a mercy to devise their time and simulate productivity.

He didn’t need to press the button and make the machine click. The machine was able to do it on its own, but in a way, this horrible, awful occupation that stole life as it did soul was the sole thing keeping them going. The driving force keeping his society running, the semblance of importance they assigned to their meaningless, fruitless lives became their reason for living. For the society they had created had not allowed one.

Past the smoke and fog, AED-#210-31570 finally saw truth. There was no meaning beyond what he attributed to it, and all he knew of life, was that one mural. And he wished to recreate it, even with the sparsity of materials he was sure to find a way.

So he worked and worked until the bells rang and the people parted. He remembered when he watched that tape, there was a spot where the camera was

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unable to see him. So he slowly crept over there and surveyed his surroundings, his eyes checking for any possible tool he could use to create.

He was running out of time, and he knew it, however, any second now the odds that the night shift would enter increased exponentially. On the wall outside the camera’s view were a rack of various types of liquid coolants and other oils to help when the machines got… fussy.

He snatched a couple bins and hid them under his shirt before hurrying out, passing through the bottle necked crowd of people struggling to enter the opposite direction. In times like these he was glad for the loneliness and the lack of connection which drove everyone.

No one paid attention to the strangely box like lump under his chest, no one cared for the near wild look in his eyes as they darted around. He ran out past the stairs and down the halls, and through the lobbies until finally reaching the station. He was late unfortunately, and the next train would only arrive in 20 minutes, so he sat down to wait; still panting from the anxiety and anticipation of what he had and was planning to do.

Time seemed to stretch on as he sat there, slowly waiting for the train to arrive. He glanced left and right, back and forth waiting for something to happen, for someone to notice, for the authorities to arrive. But nothing happened.

He was alone in the midst of the crowd, countless people waited for the same reason as him. He purveyed them, eyes glancing over their forms, suspecting each one to suddenly turn around. Maybe, he thought, it would be the man to his right, lithe and well built with a face burnt from some long ago chemical accident his broken eye replaced with a glowing light, his face supplemented by metal. Perhaps the eye could see through what he was wearing and find the sin stashed within. He was spiralling, getting more paranoid and fearful until finally, blessedly the train arrived.

He proceeded into his hab before locking the door behind him, removing the container from his shirt and onto the counter. Furthermore, he reached inside the cooler for the metallic cylinder filled with the nutrient paste he needed right now, not for consumption however, but for something else. He opened the cap of the

container, his fingers briefly struggling with the tightness before gaining a proper grip.

AED-#210-31570 started pouring it into his thermos. It was fine if he was unable to eat for a day or two, he had been through worse. He put the cover of the nutrient-paste container back on before vigorously shaking it, then leaving it to rest. As it settled there, mixing in, he made his way towards the screen to acquire more cylinders with his merit.

Flavour was unimportant now. Only his true desire remained. He swiped through the options until he requested the necessary cylinders. His merit was deducted as expected, and he received the confirmation notice as well as when he would receive them. Satisfied, he returned to his bed to start the next day anew.