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The tapping of his keyboard ceases as the shrill voice of the intercom comes to life, summoning him to the cavern that houses his cruel taskmaster. He isn't used to being singled out, and he nervously crawls out of his crevice. He sees the nervous but ever-curious eyes of his fellow underlings poking out of their own crevices. The look they give him is one of mixed feelings. There is the possibility that he will get a promotion of some minuscule sort, but that is very unlikely. As of late his taskmaster has been letting go a fair number of workers, and he has a feeling that he is slated for that same fate.
He walks down the long, dark hallway with a noticeable hesitation. His thoughts are of his childhood, the insides of his skull morph into a beautiful autumn afternoon. Autumn had always been his favourite time of the year. Since moving to the city, he has not noticed the transitions from season to season. The climate seems so monotonous to him now: h