In order to find relief from the intense warmth of the furnace, Celia and the others were allowed outside to catch some of the nice afternoon breeze. While the building did have good ventilation, air conditioning was mostly for areas designated for supervisors and guards.

Also, if they were allowed to access a space with air conditioning, going from extreme heat to extreme cold proved detrimental to their health. The temperature differential from the furnace to outside was not as drastic, therefore this had long become standard procedure.

All of them made the most of the three major breaks permitted every twelve-hour work day. Many were unwilling to let the sun touch them during their free thirty to forty-five minutes. However, there were some that had no problem walking upon the grass and letting the light from above grace their oppressed existence.

Celia was never one to do this, preferring the comfort of shade even as butterflies and birds such as crows populated the grass. But today, their sounds and movements drew her in; her hands did what they could to have one of them, but each time, they were too sly and fast to be in their grasp. "Why can't they just stay put? All animals have to be controlled one way or another."

For these lifeforms, they came and went as they pleased. Celia was jealous of this sad truth. Her thoughts drifted to a world where wings sprouted on her back to take her away. They had no guns or other comparable weapons to shoot her down, so if this fiction did manifest, she would be amongst the birds and insects in the sky with her divine pair of wings. Celia wanted her people to live life on their own terms instead of being expendables for a corporation.

But who would save them from this depressing life? Certainly not the one they called God, nor a person of phenomenal character could overcome an institution made to destroy their mind, body, and soul. Therefore, her wings remained to that of imagination and her people behind a fence.

"Stupid furnace! Why can't it just disappear?!"

Her hand quickly hushed her. She didn't want to bring trouble to herself. For them to do to her what they did to Jo proved mortifying. She allowed time to pass to see if they would come for her.

Somehow they didn't. They instead talked and moved amongst themselves until her four-eyed supervisor had several guards do their job. Berating her the most was their eyes; each pair so daunting despite their varying colours, yet to her, they were crimson, almost as if each were possessed by entities beyond this realm.

"Small creature, I see you said something interesting." The lady guard who spoke with generous love handles, a sharp nose bridge, and facial blemishes, desired ignoring her height. Her comrades, with their differing faces, sizes, hair and much more, wanted to see what she would say next.

"Like what? I said nothing."

"What was said by you was loud and clear. You hate this place. We all hate this place. Do you think we want to be looking at people like you every friggin' day?!" She wanted to hit her, so her body prepared itself. "You all are too disgusting for even a glance!"

"Maybe you should let me do it. I can smack her harder than you ever can." A suggestion from a male guard, one who exceeded six and a half feet and had man boobs, had the lady guard, who was of median height and weight amongst them, to reconsider and eventually hand off the pleasure of the first strike to him.

He spat a childish laugh as he was given this chance. The man couldn't believe he was about to expend himself. From fibres and creases to motley nails, his hands were the ones to work out how to punish her.

There was no point in running or fighting; visions of electric chaos and dark slim brutality suffocated Celia, allowing torrid reactions from every corner.

The raging races of blood, cement-like muscles and bones, and a staggering rise in body heat independent of the sun neither felt real nor imaginary. To her, these and more were indicators of being unable to stop the incoming force of a man that made her inferiour. With this, Celia would take whatever would come and hoped they didn’t go at her too badly.

As he raised his arm, his armpit was exposed to be wet and warm like swamp water. He was about to offer heaving lashes from his bare hand. This was his final choice. “You know what…” At that moment, his entire arm went tight and trembled from the contained power. He adored this pleasurable sensation, making him appreciate it with some quiet.

Inside this eerie pause, time had Celia on a leash; yet it seemed to extend and extend, permitting more and more possible outcomes against her standing body that became ever more insane and infinite.

“I think I change my mind." His arm drooped to the side. He wasn't a fan of the funkiness he exposed from underneath. "The furnace stole basically all my strength and I would rather not use it on someone who speaks bad about it.”

Those around him agreed and decided to leave her alone. It wasn't as if her statements were defamatory, for they had similar views on the furnace. Since she didn't insult the guards themselves, they would walk off harping on less serious things.

Once they reassumed their positions after calming the supervisor, armies of relief marched all about Celia. She felt way too good to escape what they did to Jo. Seeing his beaten state in the clinic would have many like that. This was before she switched to the low probability of a malfunctioning furnace for reassignment to at times less stressful jobs.

They did have a second furnace, but with it being less than half the size of the much bigger one fed with a bottomless supply of coal, meant they still lost millions despite being an operating substitute. Because of this reality, they were always desperate for a quick fix.

The security was glad to not stay in such a hot place for an indefinite period of time. Being there for about five minutes felt intolerable just by standing and occasionally shouting at a worker to get them compliant. Out here made no difference to how they acted as they loudly notified their time was almost up.

"I think it's for the best I'm not an angel. An angel signals salvation. Me saving someone is beyond me." She plucked a few blades of grass for the wind to whisk it out her palm. "I don't have such power. Yet, if I did, we are not deserving of freedom."

Her interaction with nature and its unrestrained beauty convinced her to go inside early while emotional. Something about their condition had to change. This occupied her thoughts for the remainder of the day, like the days, weeks and months beforehand. Such impossible odds grabbed and slammed her back to her senses.

It was clear that as of now, her people couldn't be saved. They were too vile and disjointed to formulate a path to liberation. This was not the first time she thought about this, but were oftentimes flickers in her brain. A revolution of any kind would come with risks that frightened them even with prior protests, riots, and even legal challenges over their suffering. And even though there had been some progress, many saw it as too slow.

The well over two century long reign over their autonomy had broken them. She and others like her were caught up in a dream and only a dream. This brought gloom to her psyche, impacting her ability to shovel the same coal she had done for years. What snapped her out of this despair was meeting the round-faced girl she talked to on the bus while waiting for Jo at the factory's main entrance.

This section had a large, dirt-encrusted mat to wipe the muck off one's feet, a series of mostly humanoid wirebent sculptures that exalted the virtues of knowledge, power, and wealth, and lines of four-wheeled electric vehicles positioned parallel to even longer lines of seats within mining carts, that when attached to each other, would transport dozens at a time. Because of the size of the facility, these were needed to cover long distances in the shortest time possible.

Based on this and prior discussions, she noticed the round-faced girl was pleasant and spontaneous. And unlike the one with red lips whose adversary left Celia a faint scar because of uncut fingernails, she was quite sane in comparison. Jo might have been taking longer than expected, but Celia didn't mind when their talk was going so well.

Even the guards near the main entrance—which was a set of automatic sliding doors similar to those at the clinic—were keen to have a listen. Them doing so wasn't out of suspicion, but to alleviate boredom with their giggles interlaced with girl talk.

Joy shrouded the round-faced girl as she spoke this intriguing question: "You know what's shocking about all we have talked about so far?"

Celia made an attempt on what she meant but wasn't even close to being right.

"I'll tell you." She placed her arm on her shoulder. "We haven't told each other our names yet."

Celia became enamoured by this statement. For her to develop such a deep connection with someone that wasn't Jo was profound. Usually, people did what they could to be offensive by targeting her hair, face and height with their poisonous tongues. But now, it seemed too good to be true. She might have built a real connection with someone who wasn't Jo. Celia prevented her celebrations from being visible, preferring to remain stoic in front of everyone.

"It's been great to talk to you." The round-faced girl placed her hands over her heart as a welcoming gesture. "My name is Avorie. What's yours?"

"Celia. My name is Celia."

"That's such a cute name. Your parents must've put a lot of thought and care into choosing it."

She didn't hesitate to inform her of her poor family situation, to which Avorie quickly regretted her compliment. Stuff like that was why she seldom got happy about getting another so-called friend. It was better to not get too attached too soon or she would set herself up for disappointment.

This made Avorie conscious of her choice of words. Celia told her that she was okay, but she looked quite bothered. This led to a peculiar silence that passers-by could not rupture. When she scouted Jo from a distance, she realised she could use him to end the awkwardness between her and Avorie. For her, there was belief that his less than happy state wouldn't add to this predicament.

As Celia properly introduced both of them to each other, she saw that he wasn't too far gone. He had the ability to be friendly, even if it took effort to do so.

With the two of them talking, she sought to remind herself of the alternative to revolution. This was founded on the tenants of food, water and electricity to enhance their pitiful lives and to make their place a genuine place to call home. The burgeoning possibility of a world they could live in not of absolute disgust would have her make this their truth till the end of days.