The day was just like any other day in the rapidly developing city of London. Winter’s icy, crisp, air shoots around ricocheting off the stone walls of the town. It was mid winter and the sulky, grey, sky floated above with a depressing shade. However life in the city ran just like any other day. The clicking sound of machines at work was the only sound present.

“I’m glad we finally get to see what all this factory rubbish is all about.” Locke said with a tone of curiosity.

“I agree, I hear they’re making goods as fast as a sailor can kill a beer.” Rousseau chuckled.

“Well what are we waiting for? Lets go.” Locke said.

Both men are meeting with the owner of the factory for information about the process and work needed to run a successful factory. The idea of making goods at an exponentially faster rate appealed to both men. The concept of machines was very new to them. It was only a couple of months ago when they heard of such a thing, and they just had to see them in action.

Locke opened the creaky, wood door and they made their way into the factory.

“Glad you fellows made it all this way.” The factory owner said happily.

“I am just glad we get to see these wonderful inventions in person. It was only a couple months ago when we read about them in the paper.” Rousseau said.

Eager to find out all about the machines, Locke and Rousseau were lead into the main corridor. It was a great, long hall filled to the brim with people and machines hard at work. The room was poorly lit with a nasty smell of dirty people.

“I never got your name.” Rousseau questioned the factory owner.

“The names Bobby, but the boys call me Shmurda,” he said with a chuckle.

“Oh, so tell me Shmurda, how do things work around here?” Locke asked with a tone of urgency.

“Well, we get a good deal on the people we hire.” Shmurda said with a smirk.

Locke peered around at the people the hire. He hadn’t noticed what he meant until he looked over at one of the machines. All he saw was a little boy, dirty and shweeb .

“Don’t you think he’s a little young to be working with a machine in here?” Locke said worriedly.

“Oh no, he’s fine. He is 6, which is plenty old for us, besides he is only on that machine.” Shmurda pointed at the machine. “That one doesn’t have any of the wheels, that one can cut off fingers, he’ll be fine.”

Rousseau was curious about the boy, and why he looked so shlumped. He made his way over to him to ask him a few questions about his work.

“So, what are you working on right now.” Rousseau asked.

The boy looked up for the first time with his dirty face and tattered clothes.

“Are you talking to me, sir?” He asked confused .

“Yes, what are you doing?” He asked again. Rousseau was puzzled with the kids job and with closer inspection he noticed the boy was younger than he thought.

“I’m just working with the spinning jenny.” He answered cautiously, not knowing why the man was here and what he was going to do.

Rousseau peered down at his hands, the boy was missing three fingers, and was clearly not treated for them. His stubbs were dirty and infected but still at work. His clothes were ripped and cut all over, his pants were littered with holes, and his cap was missing entire pieces.

“Do you —”

“DAMMIT RON, I TOLD YOU I NEEDED TWICE THE SPEED!” Shmurda yelled at the boy. He quickly snapped back to work.

“Sorry sir.” He apologized, and he picked up where he left off and ran the machine again.

“Sorry about that guys, last week I caught him taking a break, I think it is safe to say he won’t be doing that again.” Rousseau took another glance over at the boy, and was startled at what he missed. Peeping out from the back of the boys trashed shirt were whip scars, and some fresh. From the back you could see the faint bumps and discoloration from the blood. Rousseau was shocked that he didn’t notice this before.

“Are you really beating these kids with whips?!” He said in disgust.

“Yes, he deserved what he got, we give them 5 minute breaks in their day, so taking extra time is unexceptable and won’t be tolerated.” Shmurda said angrily. “Let us continue with the tour.”

“Is that supposed to happen.” Locke who had been silent for the time being, points over at the corner one of the machine stations.

“No…” Rushing over to the scene, Shmurda was appalled to see the puffs of smoke arising from the machine. And in just a few seconds, the entire machine was ablaze.

“Shouldn’t we get everyone out!” Locke said

“Nope, I’ll have the people over there take a break, but work for the others won’t stop.” Shmurda said. The smoke slowly rose up, but it was already too late. The fire began to spread across multiple machines, causing a roar of screams. People began running out of the building not caring what Shmurda said.

“GET BACK TO WORK, I’LL DEAL WITH THIS!” Shmurda said impatiently. The same boy from earlier was running right passed us, but right as he was next to us, Shmurda stuck his leg out and tripped him. He proceeded to yell at the boy “WHAT DID I SAY!”

“Take it easy Bobby, he is just a boy, he is scared.” Locke said.

“I don’t care, boy or not he works for me, along with everybody else here.”

“So your saying that his life is under your control?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying, I run this place, it is my call.” Shmurda was not having it.

“I can’t believe you!” Locke retorted, “No man should have his life controlled by another person under any circumstances. This is unexceptable.”

“I agree, the kid has rights.”

“Not in here buddy, this is my place. And if your so caught up in their rights and age for them to work, the you can get the hell out of my factory.” The fire was slowly going down but the smoke cast a wave of grey over across the room.

“I’m not leaving without the boy.” Rousseau said firmly.

“You best believe you are, get out now!” Shmurda replied furiously.

“Make me.” He pointed to the boy, “Let’s go”. The boy presided to stand up and walk towards him.

“BACK TO WORK CHILD!” He demanded. “You’re in for a nice time later buddy.”

The boy ran outside, completely disregarding what Shmurda said.

“We need to go.” Locke said following the child outside. Chasing after the running boy was Locke, closely followed by Rousseau. He was already tens of yards away and didn’t appear to be stopping. However the boy proved not to be fast as the men made quick progress catching up to him.

“We’re not going to hurt you.” Rousseau said calmly. The boy slowed down to a stop and turned around.

“What are you going to do?Beat me like he does.”

“Absolutely not, we are strong believers in rights and that nobody should ever be forced in such situations and under the control of another man. We just want to know what happens in there.”

“Fine, what do you want to know?”

“Why are you so scared?” Locke asked softly.

“Because if you do anything wrong, he will beat you.” Tears began to drip down his face. “The kid whos station caught on fire, he is my only friend. He is 6, just like me, and I can’t imagine what Sir Bobby is going to do to him.”

Locke and Rousseau were shocked at the people hired and forced to work in such dirty and horrible places, that one little slip us could cost you a harsh beating. The unskilled workers forced and punished for working, the women and children slaving away at machines for 12 hours a day, 6 days a week. This was absolutely the opposite of what they expected from their visit. It was appalling.