No one knew Eric Stratton's name, neither in this hellhole factory or hellholle city. He was mostly just worker number whatever, he didn't really know what they called him. He was in a line of robots pounding out the same old thing, and it had better be good. All he saw was gray all day long, in the walls, the sky, the people. He was so much better than this. He had to be seen. He would be. He could handle it, the pressure, he was the most sarcastic and confident of them all. Yeah... now would be good. Screw this. Screw the assembly line. Screw authority! Make a scene...