She was working the conveyor belt again ensuring no misfits were manufactured. Upon hearing her name, Doris immediately hustled toward her summoner.
"Is everything okay?" She hastily inquired.
"NO," Ronald belted.
He was so infuriated that his beautifully symmetrical face acquired a faint wrinkle. "No Doris, everything is not okay. What did I tell you about the defects?" She sheepishly drooped her head. "Well!?" he squealed.
Doris shamefully recited, "immediately discard them into the 'removal' pile."
"Again!" he furiously demanded, like a coach scolding a player and relishing the intoxicating high emitted from the victim's suffering. Apprehensively, she echoed her line again. All of the workers began to stare at the intensifying interaction. Noting his audience, Ronald continued making an example out of Doris.
"That's right. Do you know what that fucking means? Well, let me tell you again: make sure all are the same color, same height, same weight, no physical blemishes, that they only speak phrases pre-programmed, each labeled with an occupation, females separated from males, and, most importantly, subservient!"
Ronald's face turned lightly pink due to the deprivation of oxygen. Oval crystals began to drop from Doris's face. His monologue carried on. "Because of you, we had a female human demanding an ancient fucking practice called 'independence!' We had to exterminate her before the others heard!"
The whole factory gasped and leered at Doris disgustedly.
C.C. is a graduate of Montclair State University with a bachelors in English and a masters in the art of teaching. Writing from raw emotion has been a secret passion of hers up until this past year. The style of writing strays away from conventional poetry and encompasses a vignette component if a label needs to occur. She continues to write weekly and resides outside of NYC. To see more of her work, follow her raw_writings page on Instagram.