Jake awoke, and felt like he always did, like boiled cr*p. He’d felt this way for weeks now, but didn’t dare tell anyone, especially his employer. He’d have to suck it up and go to work, same as he did every single day. Working in Food Production, he was an important man. More like an unimportant drone, just like a bee, he often thought to himself. No time off allowed because people would starve if he didn’t work. That was the Corporate mantra, anyway. How could you argue with that?

Besides, if he told anyone he felt ill then Security would come to his dwelling, forcibly take blood and sputum to test for the latest variant of the current virus, and force him to stay home, just like the rest of the population: nobody allowed outside, for any reason whatsoever, unless you worked in a Security-sanctioned role, such as Food Production. His Dad used to tell him stories about being outside, about being allowed to shop for yourself, about meeting actual people outside of the work environment. Frankly, he found the stories hard to believe, and often thought his Dad was simply suffering some kind of dementia. He’d been taken away, to a ‘home’ many years earlier and Jake wasn’t allowed to visit, ever. His Mother had taken her own life many years ago, unable to cope with the unrelenting Lockdown, no health care, no fresh air, not enough food, no human contact outside of the family unit. She was old anyway and he barely remembered her anymore. Her death was listed as ‘Covid-related’, but weren’t they all?

Work. The only place he had contact with other humans. They could talk, although at a distance, and definitely no touching though Jake’s aspirations for a physical romance had long ago been quashed. Only those individuals deemed ‘worthy’ by Security could breed, and under strict conditions, in the hopes they would churn out more worker drones. Just like bees, only there was no Queen, just Security.

Security oversaw food distribution: one crate a week to each household, of ‘essential’ food items. No more, no less. There was little incentive to procreate because there wasn’t enough food to go around. Too many mouths to feed, meant less food for the rest of the family unit. Delivery drivers were like Gods; they were allowed out, on the roads, and you disrespected them at your peril; no food crate, and you would literally starve to death very quickly. That was power with a capital P.

Jake got ready for work with an unfamiliar spring in his step. He’d been taken into the confidence of a new employee and they were plotting something. Something Big. Changes were afoot, he’d been told. Riots were being planned, and a large contingent of workers were getting ready to overthrow Security and take back control for the masses too afraid to leave their homes anymore. It would be a long hard road back to normal, but at least, for now, there was something to fight for, something to believe in, and the glimmer of hope on the horizon…