In the ghetto the F/O/R/K people shuffle along, grey heads bowed, orange jumpsuits stained with the muck and mire of persisting.  I wonder how they persist?  I wonder why?  Once your assessment comes back and it places you in the Feasible-Online-Risk-Klass, national security takes over and it’s cut and dried – you get tagged and all bets are off.  Finito.  The ghetto’s the only option.  It’s a fascinating spectacle to come by and watch if you want to get a break from the office.  I have lunch here sometimes, watch them salivate and go round and round.  Superiority makes me happy.

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This piece of flash fiction was written for Friday Fictioneers: a story in 100 words prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Here’s the link to the stories and this week’s picture is below, copyright Marie Gail Stratford.