You don’t know where you came from. As you push the block, as you are a slave to the rich, another battery passes you. You look around you, at the people that look exactly like you. You are in a big metal building, and children with silver skin mock you before running off when they see the gold-skinned children pulling a cyan-skinned into a rank-up machine. You only know mockery and the system. The yellow-skinned people bike past, the next rank from cyan.