"When are you going to understand?" Arthur flicked the cheap lighter again, hoping it would light, "We're different from them, Alfred."

Alfred stirred the Styrofoam cup in his hand, sighing. "But…"

Arthur grumbled, flicking the lighter again. A spark turned into a flame. Arthur touched the end of the cigarette to the fire, inhaling the cheap smoke that it created. "We live in two different worlds. Those moguls will never let us have our fair share. We have to learn to accept what we born into."

Alfred looked over the horizon, taking a sip of the bland, cold coffee he had really never gotten used to. The bitter taste lingered in his mouth. It stung, as it normally did. Arthur took another puff of the cigarette, tapping the end off on the scrap metal that sat next to him. The quiet sounds of a radio droaned on, with static cutting in between the guitar riffs.

"Has anyone tried to fight back?" Alfred proclaimed after a few minutes of silence, "Like, has anyone tried being a hero?"

"If anyone has, they would have been shot and killed instantly. The Corps would have tracked them down. No one dare defies them, Alfred. They run this world and everyone in it. They have eyes everywhere at all times. If anyone even thought about rebellion, they would be dead faster than lightning strikes." Arthur looked at the same package of cigarettes he bitterly enjoyed once again. It never changed, must like their lives.

Alfred set his cup on the bench next to him, turning to Arthur. He held out his hand, grinning. Arthur sighed, reluctantly pulling a cigarette out of the box and handing it to him. "This is my ration for the week, you know."

"I'll sign up for some eventually. When I do, I'll pay you back double." Alfred grabbed the cheap lighter from his own pocket and flicked it, instantly getting a flame. He breathed in the nicotine, and then let out a groan. He never liked cigarettes. But, they were the only means of relaxation in his life. Alcohol had been cut back 4 years ago. It was only saved for special occasions, which were rare.

"Whatever you say, Alfred." Arthur blew out some smoke, before inhaling some of it back in.

Alfred grinned and laughed to himself, sticking the cigarette in his mouth and picking his coffee back up. He looked to Arthur, offering him the black tar.

"I'm alright, thank you." Arthur declined as he began tapping his finger on the metal. His skinny bones made a noise against the hard steel. It was a painful noise.

"Do you ever wonder what they do up there?" Alfred spoke as he turned his focus to the horizon. Large city buildings could be seen in the distance. They were hardly visible, due to the massive cloud of smoke that lingered over the outskirts. "I mean, do you think they think about us just as much as we think about them?"

Arthur chuckled to himself as the last bit of cigarette dropped out of his hand. "We're nothing but tools to them. We provide them the sheltered lives they love. Why would they have to worry about the poor and the needy? It makes no possible sense."

Alfred puffed some smoke out of his nose, and sucked some back in. The cheap nicotine burned the hairs. Alfred reminded himself to not do that again. "I bet you there's someone in there who thinks about us. Even if it isn't their main priority."

"Yes, and pigs fly." Arthur pushed up on his knees and stood. He tucked the tattered box of cigarettes in his suit pocket, buttoning it shut. He turned to walk back to the factory, sighing. "If anyone did think about us, then we would have a say in this messed up government."

"True." Alfred tossed the black tar down the hill, watching it slowly drip down. He stuck the cigarette back in his mouth, standing up himself. "Maybe we'll get to have pork for dinner tonight. Or maybe even sausage. Is sausage pork?"

"I don't know, Alfred." Arthur waited for him, pushing his overgrown bangs out of his face. "All I know is that our allotted break is almost over. And unless we don't want to see food for another week, we better hurry back."

"Yeah, I got you!" Alfred chimed, keeping a bounce in his strides. "But seriously, is it pork?"

Arthur grumbled as the break bell shook the earth. It wasn't a happy chime. It was deep, dark, and depressing. Its only purpose was to bring despair among the factory workers.