The Industrialist

The next day.

Kranian Industries, AmdonCore Northern Sector

***

The Northern Sectors were different than the mains. The air carried coolness and freshness, better than the other city quadrants. He could even tasted a little greenery sweetness.

Two possibilities that came to Lance's mind, one of which greatly supported his theory, the Northern sectors were farther away from SteamHaven – the capital of Industries where smoke heaved.

Secondly, the Northen Sector held the largest Agricultural area in which, unproven yet, plants filtered the atmosphere.

The MAF served only a secondary filtration that enabled an individual to breathe external air without the mercy of gas masks. However, it still carried contaminants at a lower and insignificant level.

Kranian Industries manufactured electronic supplies which an industry doesn't exhaust smoke. Its establishment held a typical electronic component manufacturing company - clean floors, glass windows, smoothed-finished concrete walls, bright lights, stainless steel framings, and fully automatic.

Even one would not walk long meters just to go to places. Staff moved using a conveyorized transport on the portion of the floors. Even their cafeterias had conveyorized transport and of course, the unnatural number of vending machines - the forefront of Electronic Engineering products.

All Inland Sectors had vending machines on every corner and almost all one would want to procure, found in these machines. Even personal escorts.

He scoffed at the thought.

Lance sat in a cushioned waiting area. The rich leather-wrapped cushion gave him a comfort he had never experienced before, way better than his massage chair at home.

He felt like sitting in a cottony cloud, with robust support for his back and pelvic portions.

There were many cushioned chairs but no one had been sitting on them. Staffers passed by occasionally, and hurriedly like they were always on a deadline.

'Deskers. So stressful to be one,' Lance thought upon observing them.

The door swung open and he focused on the movement. Swiftly, she came in with her heels clanking against the marble floor.

"Welcome, Mister Berkley." A prim-looking woman, with tall, slender features, glasses, and tucked hair approached him in the waiting area. "I am Ashley, the Executive Assistant of Doctor Zee."

Lance hauled himself up and shook hands.

She ushered him outside the waiting room and into an alleyway connecting to the Control Office. On his left along the expanse of the alleyway held a transparent viewing glass that one could witness a floor below the stretch of manufacturing lines.

His first time entering an electronic production floor had surprised him. In the production lines, there was so much activity, robotic arms swinging here and there, in-processed products moving along conveyor belts, human operators on digital touchpads in white coveralls, bright lights, and systematic despite of an overwhelming view.

Twenty were people inside, operating a five thousand square meter production line. 'Impressive!'

The organization and the systematic arrangement of things were the absolute opposite to the scrapyards and other SteamHaven manufacturing lines.

Even the pathway smelled aromatic or could be from Ashley.

Another set of robotic arms, efficiently tending to the moving electronic components, sparks loomed on them as if the mechanism would continue its intricate fabrication while the components were moving.

Lance forced his attention towards the stretch of the brightly lit pathway with Ashley a few steps forward. Lingering much on the activity below gave him discomforting shivers in his bones.

'Calm yourself, Lance. No need to worry, the supervisors will tell you how to become a TOR.' He convinced himself.

"This is Kranian Line 14, producing Integrated circuits of various robotic applications. Rare-level components are produced here," Ashley said without looking at the boy behind her.

"Will Doctor Zee be joining us?" Lance asked.

He wanted Doctor Zee to be there during his first day. At least there will be no hostility from the Superior ranks to a Mech Tier 1 because of Doctor Zee's reputation. And probably he would explain to them why he chose Lance for his coTOR.

"I am afraid he is in an urgent meeting. But, worry not. I will be here to introduce you to the supervising team of the lines." Ashley responded.

Another door opened as they arrived at the end. The Control room held a series of touch-glass desks within walls made of transparent glass. The control room was so wide that all production lines could be seen, and each line had physical demarcation.

There were only fifteen people inside the Control room, each about analyzing holographic constructs, typing, and having work conversations, and seemingly everyone was racing for time.

'All Deskers are like this, especially in private sectors. But in Government units, not so much!' Lance compared Assessor Mari of SARS.

They weaved in between desks and swivel chairs and busy staff. Other Scientists would say Deskers were way busier than them because the latter felt they were expendable. As they were evaluated on a quarter performance, and mostly the private sectors set harsh objectives, driving them the need to produce results.

Modernized slaves.

Lance felt the pressure amongst them, inside the room, boiling every second waiting for it to implode.

"Mr. Berkley, I'd like you to meet Mr. Flanegan, an Electrical Tier 3." Ashley introduced Lance. "He supervised the new project assembly of your RoFlo, Mr. Berkley."

'Two more ranks up, he would become an Electronic Tier 1,' Lance thought.

Flanegan stood up from his desk, his eyes still glued to the screen. The kind of look that was rudely neglecting a human being, then after a few moments, he glanced at Lance without a word uttered. He was square-faced, in good physical form, with an almost perfectly pressed lab coat. He had dark eyes under well-formed eyebrows.

Good nutrition was the culprit for Mr. Flanegan's physique.

First impression would characterize Flanegan as a High-classer. He had little but expensive accessories on his body, a wireless earpiece on his right ear, an expensive ring that the High Echelons used for their private bank deposits, and wet-look hair. Nobody wanted to have wet hair in this age as air would accumulate on it like a feather duster.

But when one was a high-echelon class, he might not be exposed to external air at all. He had his own car with a filtration system as he traveled.

"Mr. Flanegan, Mr. Berkley, the new coTOR of Doctor Zee," Ashley said. "Mr. Berkley will oversee the RoFlo production of spec compliance and testing."

Flanegan had this condescending stare towards Lance and, rudely said to Ashley, "So this is Doctor Zee's pet?" Flanegan smiled sarcastically.

"Play nice, Mr. Flanegan. Doctor Zee wanted you to cascade the work description of a coTOR to Mr. Berkley as you are a former TOR yourself. Doctor Zee entrusted you with this."

"Yeah. Let me handle him," his smile toward Ashley was dismissing too. "Doctor Zee worries too much."

"One more thing, Mr. Berkley."Ashley shifted her gaze to Lance. "There is a checklist that I will give you, all the points you need to know as a coTOR. I believe Mr. Flanegan will comply with all on the list. And that list will be submitted to Doctor Zee after your orientation." Ashley said.

She smiled and had a curt bow toward Lance and sneered a professional smile towards Flanegan.

'This guy is a prick,' Lance assessed.

Lance wanted Ashley to do the orientation instead as she was courteous, well-mannered, and soft-spoken but with clarity.

"So, you're the guy, eh?" Flanegan said.

"I am the guy?" Lance asked.

"You are my replacement. Well, look at you, a Mech Tier 1," He emphasized on the 'Tier 1'.

"It's Doctor Zee's recommendation. If you have a problem with that, you can contact Doctor Zee directly." Lance retorted.

"Nah. No need. I am just curious. What course?" the prick asked.

"Course?"

"Yeah, course. You can't be qualified as a TOR if you haven't finished the courses yet. So, what is it?" His voice raised as if announcing it to everyone in the room.

Effectively, Flanegan's voice caught everyone's attention.

"I just finished the three introductory courses," Lance answered but not meekly that he would appear weak. He was proud to himself, reaching this level without proper education.

"Ha! Gotta be kiddin' me! C'mon, now. Intro courses? Ha! Ha!

Ha!" He laughed harder this time, his palms pressing against the edge of his swivel chair.

"Why? What's the problem?" Lance said.

"The problem is kid, you are an ass licker. I mean, c'mon. A mech tier 1 and only intro courses, how come you become a TOR?"

"Ass-licker," a faint mockery emerged way over the corner behind Lance.

There was a reason that Flanegan had spoken his background twice already. Laughter also emerged from the corners of the Control room. Seemed their busy tasks halted for a person that they would mock. Even small cheers appeared to fuel Flanegan's egoistic superiority complex of a maniac.

Lance found a CloudArchive tab on the neighboring desk and swung the tablet to Flanegan's face, smashing the latter's teeth – but only in his imagination.