No one's ever had a Fourth Offence. We arrive at the Work Station, which I believe is the largest room in the Center and takes up most of the compound. I've only ever seen Center 097 once from the outside, and I was five when that happened. That being said, the Work Station is the largest room I remember ever being in.
We stepped inside, and my wardens escorted me to Seat 55B, where I was once again sat down and constrained by leg and body clasps. Usually we make cylinders. Just hundreds and hundreds of thin, metal cylinders that are then packaged and then taken elsewhere. I've never seen the finished product of the parts that are made in all of the Centers. However, recently we've stopped making cylinders and started making small ovular hoops. I've managed to glance down the line a few times and have seen that the kids in Seats 100B to 150B spray them with something before sending them on. I don't know why we changed, but it's a welcome break in the monotony of coppery cylinder after coppery cylinder.
The conveyor belt starts to move, and I start twisting the wires into ovals. It's difficult at first, and eventually I start using pliers to keep up my quota. Just like everything else in the Center, slacking = sedation. We twist those wires for hours. Fact News is playing on the monitors on the walls of the Work Station, but no one watches it. I think its a waste of energy to even bother broadcasting it. Suddenly, there's a loud BLIP, piercing enough to penetrate the fog surrounding my brain, and the conveyor belt stops its incessant motion. Lunch time.
So the escorts disentangle me from my Seat, and the kids and I march down the hallway in unison.
We stepped inside, and my wardens escorted me to Seat 55B, where I was once again sat down and constrained by leg and body clasps. Usually we make cylinders. Just hundreds and hundreds of thin, metal cylinders that are then packaged and then taken elsewhere. I've never seen the finished product of the parts that are made in all of the Centers. However, recently we've stopped making cylinders and started making small ovular hoops. I've managed to glance down the line a few times and have seen that the kids in Seats 100B to 150B spray them with something before sending them on. I don't know why we changed, but it's a welcome break in the monotony of coppery cylinder after coppery cylinder.
The conveyor belt starts to move, and I start twisting the wires into ovals. It's difficult at first, and eventually I start using pliers to keep up my quota. Just like everything else in the Center, slacking = sedation. We twist those wires for hours. Fact News is playing on the monitors on the walls of the Work Station, but no one watches it. I think its a waste of energy to even bother broadcasting it. Suddenly, there's a loud BLIP, piercing enough to penetrate the fog surrounding my brain, and the conveyor belt stops its incessant motion. Lunch time.
So the escorts disentangle me from my Seat, and the kids and I march down the hallway in unison.
