Quoted By:
>You are nearing the ninth hour of a fifteen hour long mandatory shift in the WAGE CAGE.
>Weeks of near-constant confinement to the cage has taken a heavy toll on your health, both physical and mental. Your fingers have become gnarled and aching with carpal tunnel, your hair has fallen out in patches, and you have begun to involuntarily urinate into your Maximum Absorbency Garment whenever an employment officer patrols by, pistol in hand.
>Over the course of many long nights, you've memorized the officer patrol times and routes... despite the constantly blaring high-pitched siren that permeates the entire warehouse, preventing employees from concentrating on anything other than their work (and therefore committing time theft). You steal a glance at a clock on the wall, careful not to look too long and draw attention to yourself early. It's time.
>You begin neatly sorting boxes with the cage's mechanical arm seconds before an employment officer rounds the corner, right on schedule. He stops in his tracks, observes your work to be sure you aren't merely pantomining, and moves on. He's already gone before you realize you've voided yourself again.
>Paying no mind to your soiled wage-diaper, you spring into action, breaking your thumbs with a pained gasp and slipping your emaciated wrists out of your wage shackles. You violently swing the cage's arm, knocking several dozen boxes off a shelf and into the aisle behind you. The high-pitched siren immediately deepens, becoming a terrifying call-to-arms for security. Your wage cage powers down with an omnious "Have a productive day!".
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