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The faceless herds of workers imprisoned behind the walls. They are under the bondage of indentured servitude to the bluecoats. They prepare the slop, scrape the slop you didn't eat off the dishes, and clean the dishes.

I once tried to communicate with the cafeteria slaves by writing notes in mashed potatoes on my cafeteria trays and sending them on the conveyer belt so that they made sentences. I promised to help them break out of there, but I never got a sign. Perhaps my message was intercepted by a bluecoat.

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