chapter 4

Alan's workplace, the regional government headquarters, was a looming, boxy concrete skyscraper like so many others in the city, distinguished by a large, ornate fountain and a Corporalian flag atop a tall flagpole, both of which stood proudly in a patch of green between the building and the street beyond. Next to the building, an old church had long since been cleared away to make room for a sprawling car park for the building's five hundred-plus employees. Alan pulled his car into his usual parking space, before grunting and wheezing as he went through the usual ordeal of squeezing his enormous frame out of the door. Although the cars were designed with the new, fatter population in mind, they still weren't ideal. As Corporalia's citizens continued to grow, so did the cars continue to shrink. Eventually, Alan managed to get himself free, and lumbered to the moving sidewalk that would convey him to the building's entrance.

The building's lobby was a grand space of marble floors and tiled walls, every surface gleaming, giving off the image of a well-oiled government machine. Printed on the wall in stark black letters were four words that served as a daily reminder to the employees of where their loyalty was to lie.

CORPORALIA FIRST, CORPORALIA ONLY

The lobby was abuzz with workers waddling about, getting ready to head to their respective work stations. Each of the building's thirty floors was dedicated to a different government department--the Department of Morality and Enlightenment, the Department of Recreation and Activity, the Department of Security and Protection. Alan's own office, the Department of Youthful Integrity, was located on the ninth floor. He was conveyed there by means of a glass-walled elevator, offering views of the enormous sprawl of the city, stretching almost as far as the eye could see. Just about visible on the outskirts of town was the square, foreboding slab that was Huntley Prison. This was one of many correctional facilities where thin activists and other subversive elements were locked up, far away from decent, law-abiding citizens.

Stepping out of the elevator, Alan was greeted by a colleague, Clara. A cheerful black woman weighing in at around 450 pounds, Clara was the sort of person who could make you feel good even on the glummest of Monday mornings. Her dark brown mass of a belly wobbled with every thumping step she took.

"Morning, Alan," she said, walking alongside him as they made their way to their cubicles. "How's the new food paste for the kids coming along?"

"Not too good," Alan admitted. "They've been testing batch after batch on captured thin activists, and every time the result is the same. They turn bright purple, then swell up and burst. Nobody knows what's causing it. If it keeps up, we may just have to scrap it altogether."

"Well," Clara said reassuringly, "at least it won't be your head on the chopping block. Hey, did I tell you I'm heading out of town next month?"

"No," Alan replied, surprised. "Where are you going?"

"Africa," Clara smiled. "Boss wants me to go on a fact-finding mission in Tangier, to see how well the schools in the North African Collective are coming along."

Alan nodded. He'd heard about that. The former nations of Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia had come together to form one collective under the Corporalian banner, in response to the takeover of Europe. Progress had, admittedly, been rather slow over there. Even with its citizens newly fat and happy, the sprawling new capital of New Tangier was still facing infrastructure issues, with about a third of the city suffering from a lack of power and running water. Still, the governor over there was confident that those issues would be resolved within weeks--he'd said as much on a news report the previous night.

"I'd love to take Christine and the kids over there sometime," Alan smiled. "I hear New Tangier is beautiful this time of the year."

"I know," Clara grinned. "I'm really looking forward to it. Alright, I'll see you around, Alan."

With that, the two parted ways, heading to their respective cubicles.