“TIME TO CONSUME!” the loud speakers boomed out.

Everyone in the office stops typing immediately.

Everyone sits at the large troughs of fried meat covered with cheese. Gorging resumes, heads in trough.

One man sits, hands in lap. His protruding, distended belly feels tight and uncomfortable.

The woman to his right is gulping down the ground beef, cheese, onion mixture. A strange, gurgling noise is emanating from her expansive mid-section as grease drips down her chin . She hasn’t stopped. Momentarily, she hesitates, long belch. And then resumes eating.

He continues to sit. “I don’t want to consume,” he mutters.

“WHO SAID THAT?!”

“We’re triangulating the signal now, sir.”

They zoom in on a monitor in Section B.12. There’s a man, sitting, hands folded in his lap. Not eating.

“Have our men converge.”

Soon enough, as seen on the monitor, burly men, take him, carry him into the waiting van.

He is transported to the re-feeding, re-education complex.