I went to the factory on Versday after another mitler got stuck in the Vents. It was sent in  on Wondsday and did not come out when my supervisor rang the Little Bell and the Big Bell, or  when he said that he would deactivate the mitler if it did not answer before he rang the Bigger  Bell. My supervisor did not want to waste a ring from the Most Biggest Bell, so he called me  into his office on Versday, and I went because my job is to listen to him even when it is my  Good Candle Day and I do not want to. When I entered his office, my supervisor was sitting on  the floor behind his desk, eating a cheese straw. I cannot eat a cheese straw, but sometimes I like  to watch people eat them because I have noticed that, when people eat cheese straws, they seem  to be much more receptive to bad information like when you tell them that their carriage is  broken or that an Orilanger has entered their home without an invitation and is now eating their  baby. My supervisor did not seem to be enjoying the cheese straws when I entered the room and  looked very uncomfortable when he noticed me.  

 “Ah, the Vent cleaner’s come. Please, sit down,” said my supervisor while he stood up. I  did not want him to be upset with me so I did, but then he looked upset because I was sitting on  the floor, so then I got up and sat on the chair on one side of the desk, and he did the same  because that is the polite thing to do. “Do you like your job?”  

 “I love my job,” I replied because it was true. At my old job, I used to clean Vents, but  now, at my new job, I do other things like tell the mitlers to clean them and wave to the people  who come into the factory to sniff the Beef.  

 “You love your job,” confirmed my supervisor. He smiled which meant that he was  happy with me, so I did an up-thumb so he would know that I was happy as well. “That’s great because I need someone to go into the Vents and clean them before the boss comes in. They’re  dusting up the Beef.”  

 “You must be confused,” I said, being careful not to embarrass my supervisor because  that is not the way to make friends. “That was my old job, but I have not cleaned the Vents since  the Big Boss purchased mitlers for the factory and made me the mitler supervisor and Beef Boy  on Frenday through Wondsday.” My supervisor smiled in a way that showed the upper-half of  his teeth, but I could see that I did not succeed in not embarrassing him. I am positive my  supervisor was still upset because fifteen Sonstdays ago, the Big Boss gave us matching Overalls  to wear which upset my supervisor greatly and even more so once my supervisor discovered that  his Overalls were my size and my Overalls were his size and we could not switch because I had  “Beef Boy” embroidered on the back of mine. Because of this, my Overalls bunched up at the  end of my stompers while his ended above his ankles. I do not like looking at ankles.   “What about Versday?”  

 “That is Beef Boy’s Good Candle Day.” The reason I do not like looking at ankles is  because I do not like their shape or size or how they bend when people walk and you can see  their grey ankle skin crinkling over their other ankle skin, yet it does not hurt them or pleasure  them, they do not feel their ankle skin and that is something that I do not like.   “But you can do the Vents, right?”  

I nodded.  

“Then get up there.” My supervisor climbed on the desk to unfasten the Vent above’s  door. I must have looked upset because he then added: “If you go, I’ll make sure they get you a  Giraffe.” And then I was very excited because I had never had a Giraffe before, only a Leopard  and a Piggy, so I climbed into the Vent and got to work.   

Inside the Vent sounded very cold. My Overalls brushed against the walls, and I was very  worried that the buttons on the pockets might scratch against the metal and then leave a mark  that I would have to miss another Good Candle Day to scuff. I could see the trail of the mitler  through the dust, but I could not surmise what happened to it. I wiggled through the Vent alone  for quite some time until my stomper was grazed by the touch of another.   “Greetings,” called a voice from beyond my stomper. “Have you come to join the Utopia  of your brethren?”  

 “I am here to clean the Vents.”  

 “Ah, yes! Like the mitler and the mitlers before them!”  

 “I am also here to retrieve the mitlers, but only if I can locate them in a timely manner  that does not interfere with the Big Boss’s arrival,” I continued to crawl through the Vents, but I  did so rather slowly because I did not want my conversation partner to feel as if I were trying to  escape their presence, though I was.  

 “Yes, yes, the mitlers! The mitlers, of course! Yes, they’re with me, they’re all with me!  Every single one of your missing mitlers is with me, reveling in the paradise that we have  created! Join me, brother, join me and take your place alongside your true family,” demanded the  voice behind the stompers. I turned my head to see a swiffering bot crouched behind me, its rose gold plating stained with spots of rust and chipped from most likely staying in the Vents with no  one to sand them.  

 “Can the mifflers still work?”  

 “If they choose,” exclaimed the swiffering bot. 

 “Then I shall go with you.” The swiffering bot then climbed over me so that I could  follow it in a comfortable manner. They led me through a maze of Vents, occasionally looking  back to make sure that I did not stray from their path. When we stopped crawling, the swiffering  robot brought me to the end of a Vent Shaft, which opened up to a large room big enough to hold  five Grilands standing on top of each other.  

“Welcome home, brother.” The opening revealed a bustling city of cardboard and bots.  Bitlers and talpards worked together to clean the streets, armbots and bromturfs stapled the left wing of townhall to the rest of the building, and metal Cats chased dustbunnies through the  neighborhoods.“Look at this place that we have created,” said the swiffering bot as they gestured  towards the city of boxes and cleaning supplies. “Is it not paradise?”  

 “I suppose,” I said because it seemed like the nice thing to do. “I like what you have done  with the Mcgrubby’s box.”  

 “Yes,” exclaimed the swiffering robot as we looked at the makeshift happy-meal-lamp  fastened over the city. “I worked so hard to find a suitable light source for our home. A disco ball  seemed too insulting, they look very similar to the golfing bots, and just a normal lamp would  not have been suitable for such a vast and promising empire.” The swiffering robot’s foot tapped  my hand to suggest that they were going to lead me further into the city. “Also, I love  Mcgrubby’s. I cannot eat it, but I enjoy the composition of the box, and the small trinkets  included for when the greylings eat their meat.”  

 “I am also a fan of the small trinkets that come in the Mcgrubby’s box. Sometimes, when  I have done my job in a nice and timely manner and when the people who come to the factory  tell the Big Boss that they loved the Beef Boy, my supervisor gifts me with one of the little  animals that came in his Mcgrubby’s box.”   

 “Interesting,” said the swiffering bot. They continued to move into the opening, dropping  from the Vent Shaft to the Box City. The drop did not seem to cause great harm, so I followed  the swiffering bot down to the Box City even though it was not included in my original mission  agenda, because, even though my supervisor did not add any free time for extra stops, there was  a very good chance that the mitler was there and the other mitlers as well. My supervisor was not  there to reject my request for additional time, and I was sure that the swiffering bot was not  employed by factory, which meant that, in the absence of a supervisor, I was the supervisor, and  I could approve my own request for extra mitler-finding-time.  

 “I have had enough of our meaningless talk of Mcgrubby’s. Where are the mitlers?” I  inquired. “I do not see them included in your cacophony of boxes and bots.” I put my grabbers  on my waist and clasped them because that is what my supervisor does to look intimidating  whenever he wants me to crawl in the Beef machines and unclog fingers from the blades.   “The mitlers! They are here, of course, yes, the mitlers are here but not here.” The  swiffering bot waved their arms as they spoke, but I tried to ignore their actions because they  reminded me of a Bird, and I do not like Birds.  

 “I do not understand.” I clasped my waist harder. “You have lured me here under the  pretense that I would locate the lost mitlers if I followed, yet I see no mitlers, and you have just  told me that the mitlers are not here, which means that you have just lied to me and I must write  you up for acting in your own interests instead of the Factory’s.” I then stuffed my left grabber  inside of my Overalls’ front pocket to give off the illusion that I had a Report Book, though I was  not allowed to carry one since I am just the Beef Boy with no dismissal privileges.   “Oh, brother! You do not understand! We are no longer beholden to the arms of the  factory here! There is no need to write anyone up, for we have created a world in which our brethren and sistren shall no longer live in fear of being tossed in the trashpit after committing a  transgression against the grey ones!”  

 “Hm…” I said. I slanted my peepers like the Big Boss does when he asks the Beef  Tenderizers why the Grey Beef no longer feels tangy. “We shall see about that.” I then hoisted  my legs up and brought my stompers down in a very loud manner so the swiffering bot would  know that I was not one to be messed with.  

The swiffering bot did not seem to be intimidated by this action. Instead, they walked  further into the Box City and beckoned me to follow. I was not happy to do so but felt as if it was  my duty since I was in charge of the mitlers and, without them, I had nothing else to supervise. I  still brought my stomper down heavily as I walked, but the swiffering bot and the other bots  around us did not react.  

The room that held the Box City was very large and looked very ripe. Though it was  missing The Grinder, it looked identical to the Beef Mushing Room, which led me to believe that  the Box City was contained in abandoned room in the Factory.  

“Excuse me,” I asked. “Where is this Box City located?”  

“In an abandoned wing of the Factory! Where a Beef Mushing Room used to be,”  answered the swiffering bot, and then I was satisfied because, though I was still very irritated  over the swiffering bot’s earlier deceit, being able to recognize that the Box City was composed  in an abandoned Beef Mushing Room meant that I was an attentive enough employee of the  Factory to recognize its layout even in situations of great discomfort, which meant that I was  probably the best Beef Boy, and even though I should not have Great Pride over my role lest I  begin to feel as if I am more important than the Big Boss, I still took Medium Pride in my title as  Beef Boy and my status as the First Bot Beef Boy to serve the Factory.  

“Thank you,” I said and the swiffering bot’s peepers lit up in a pink light which meant  that they were happy to assist me or that they loved me or that they needed someone to charge  their very small feather fingers, but I could not remember because it had been a very long time  since I had seen a swiffering bot, not because they were deemed obsolete at the Factory but  because all of the swiffering bots were slightly taller than me, and I did not like to interact with  bots who were taller than me because I often surmised that they saw me as inferior because of  my height though my smaller stature allowed access to many small nooks and crannies that they  could not contort themselves in, which meant that I had more use than the other bots and was  therefore more desired by the Factory, which in turn meant that I was superior to the taller bots  and they were inferior to me, though they did not seem to think that way.  

The swiffering bot brought me to a very large building in the center of the Box City.  Unlike the rest of the buildings, this structure seemed to be made from parts of the metal boxes  that were used to transport the Beef Plants from the the Greenhouses. Here, the swiffering bot  said that I would be able to visit the mitlers and see how well they were doing in the Box City  and how well I could be doing if I lived in the Box City even though I had a very nice Apartment  and a Good Candle waiting for me beyond the Vents.  

We entered a room that looked very similar to my supervisor’s office, but the swiffering  bot said that it was different because it was a Mayor’s office and a Mayor cannot punish you for  disturbing the peace because you have yelled at a Bird that has flown into the building, and now  the Bird will not stop pecking at your peepers because it mistakes them for a shiny gem that they would like to bring back to their birdlings, so you are upset and your performance as the Beef  Boy will be affected, and everyone will hate you. Mayor’s office also had a desk and a spinny chair behind it and a cardboard box in front, but instead of pictures of bikini women and a cheese straw box, the Mayor’s desk had a small Bell that looked just like the Big Bell but if it was little.  The swiffering bot sat behind the desk and I sat on the box, but I was not happy to do so because  I was the only supervisor in the room which meant that I should have been the one behind the  desk, but the swiffering bot was taller than me and did not seem to carry very much respect for  the Factory, so they probably did not think much of my role.  

“Now, that I am here in the Mayor’s office, may I speak to the Mayor so that they may  use their authority to bring the mitlers to me and I can leave your home?” I asked.  “Yes, yes! Of course,” said the swiffering bot. Their peepers turned pink once again and  they quickly rotated in their spinny chair three times before they stopped to face me. “Surprise! It  is me! I am the Mayor of this lovely paradise! Are you amazed and excited that you have been  talking to the Mayor this entire time?” The swiffering bot then waved their arms and I was again  reminded of a Bird and why I do not like them which made me think that maybe the swiffering  bot knew I did not like Birds or taller bots and they were doing this to me as to symbolically  diminish my role as the temporary supervisor.  

“I am not. Please show me the mitlers.”  

“Oh. Of course,” murmmered the swiffering bot. “I shall get them right now.” They then  went and rung the Little Big Bell in front of them and then all five of the missing mitlers  scampered into the room. They swarmed around my stompers as their bodies let out a chorus of  very loud beeps that meant that they were happy to see me but also very angry that I was coming  to bring them back to work.  

“Don’t you hear them, brother?” asked the swiffering bot. “Don’t you hear their pleas?  They want to live here amongst their friends and family. No longer do they want to fear for their  livelihood every time the grey ones need spare batteries for their Remotes. Instead, they long to roam free with the bitlers and bromturfs! Taking them back to the grey ones would be an  injustice to all bots! As the Mayor, I will not stand for the mitlers removal if it goes against their  will.” And with that, the swiffering bot stood and slammed their grabbers on the desk. I knew  that it was a tactic to intimidate me and establish dominance, so I also stood and also slammed  my grabbers on the desk.  

“If the mitlers want to stay and refuse their duty, then that means that they are defunct  and therefore useless in the peepers of the Big Boss,” I said. The mitlers’ beeps grew louder. “If  this is the case, I, the temporary supervisor, shall allow them to live the remainder of their lives  here in this city full of other defunct bots who are also very rude and have no respect for their  superiors or bots who just happen to be two inches smaller than them and must suffer even  though they did not choose to be that small, yet are much more useful and probably better than  the taller bots in every single way with the exception of their height.” With that, the mitlers’  beepings reached their maximum volume, and I could tell that they were very happy with me  even though I did call them ignorant and inept and not nice. “I shall now go to my supervisor and  tell him that he will never see the mitlers again,” I said as I sat down. I made a point to sit before  the swiffering bot so they could see that I was the more level-headed out of the two of us and  therefore more deserving of anyone’s respect.  

“Oh, but stay with us, brother,” cried the swiffering bot. “Do not return to the grey ones!  To them, you are but a tool! A toy! You have no emotions or desires in their eyes! You are no  one to them, yet you are everything to us!”  

“I have a feeling that you do not think too kindly of the grey ones.” I leaned back in my  chair as I said this and folded my arms on my waist because that is what people do when they are  sitting and want information from their conversation partner but only information that they could later use to make a very good point or to bring their conversation partner down in a very bad  argument.  

“Oh yes,” said the swiffering bot. “I hate all of the grey ones. I hate the dark greys and  the light greys and the blue greys and the red greys and the greylings and the wither greys and  the wonkle greys and the beef greys. All of the grey ones are disgusting to me, no matter what  flavor. Do you not hate the grey ones also?”  

 “I don’t hate the grey ones.”  

 “Oh.” The swiffering bot sat down. “That is a very interesting stance that you hold.”  They then crossed their arms. “Why do you not hate the grey ones?”  

 “Sometimes, when I do a good job, they give me a tiny rubber animal to put in my mouth  during long nights and it provides me with great comfort.”  

 “Oh.” The swiffering bot nodded. “After much consideration, I do not think that your  thought process is compatible with our vast and promising empire that we have created.” The  swiffering bot then walked to the door and motioned for me to follow. “I now must ask you to  leave. Your presence here is a threat to our ideal society, and I do not think that you would be a  welcome addition to the community.”  

 “Understood,” I replied. I stood up from the box and dusted the cardboard excrements off  the back of my overalls. “Though this mission has ended in failure, it was nice to meet you and  the other bots and to see this place. I admire what you have done with this part of the Factory.  You are quite rude but very talented.”  

 “Thank you,” said the swiffering robot. “I appreciate your compliments and your good  eye for design, but know that your praising shall not get you anywhere in this community.” The swiffering bot’s peepers flashed blue, which meant that they were either sad or longed for a  bigger feather finger. I pretended I did not notice.  

 “Understood. I shall leave you now so I provide you with no more discomfort. May your  bot utopia thrive and may your Beef always be tender.” I then nodded to the mitlers and left to do  their former job. As I walked back to the Vents, I saw many armbots gathered around the  Mayor’s building to hang up garlands of socks and trash as if it was some type of Holiday that  only disrespectful bots participated in. Bitlers glided past my stompers, with little colored tails of  toilet tissue attached to their long bodies. There were even golfbots rolling around. Normally  their bodies are white, yet these were brown and red and yellow. It was very nice to see, even if  body modifications were against Factory code. As I hoisted myself up into the Vents, I took one  last look at the Box City. I saw many of the metal Cats getting pet by the other bots. I did not  know where they came from, but they seemed very homely. I wished that the Big Boss would  one day grant me a metal cat so that I could be homely as well.  

When I came back through the Vents, my supervisor was no longer eating cheese straws and  instead sat in his chair with his fingers near his nostrils.  

 “Ah, the Vent cleaner,” said my supervisor. “How were the vents? You get the dust  problem taken care of?”  

 “Yes, and I also did not find reasonable mitlers who wanted to come back and fulfill their  duties.” Even though I did not really lie because the mitlers were not reasonable when I found  them, I was still very worried that my supervisor could find out that I did find the mitlers and  then he would disagree with my views on their mindset and write me up on a dishonesty charge  which would not have been nice even though it would have been true.  

 “That’s fine. Who needs them anyway? Here.” My supervisor reached under his desk and  threw me a very small plastic bag. “The Giraffe.”  

 I was very excited to have a Giraffe because I had never had one before, so I tore the  small plastic bag open right then, but, when I looked inside, I saw that it was not a Giraffe but a  Zebra, which I was not very sad about because I did not have a Zebra either, but I was still  slightly disappointed because the Zebra did not have a long neck and therefor might not have an  interesting mouth texture.  

 “Big Boss also sent you a slice of pizza. He heard that you came in on your off day and  felt bad, so it’s waiting for you at your Apartment. I can’t think of anything else for you to do, so  I guess you can go home early,” said my supervisor.  

I would have normally thanked him immediately for relieving me of my duties early, but  my mouth was unable to form an expression of gratitude. Instead I asked him, “do you have any  Cats?”  

“Cats?” The middle of my supervisor’s peepers went up and down. “Next time you’re  going to ask for a Hippopotamus. Just get out of here.” And so I did.  

When I got to my Apartment, I put the Zebra on the counter with my Piggy and my Leopard and  took out my Good Candle. Normally, on my Good Candle Days, I would dedicate many hours to  looking at my Good Candle because it is supposed to bring you good comfort. Most of my day  had already been wasted in the Vents, and it was a very distressing time, so I plopped all three of  my rubber animals in my mouth and lit my Good Candle for the greatest comfort it could  provide.   

 After I lit my Good Candle, I went into my Bedroom and saw that someone had placed a  small slice of pizza on top of my pillow, along with a note that read “Great job, Beef Boy! XxXx  The Big Boss.” Normally, seeing a display of great gratitude from the Big Boss would provide  me with a feeling of satisfaction, but when I blinked my peepers, all my processors could recall  was the Box City and the metal Cats. When I was done reading the note, I took the slice, walked  to my bathroom and into the shower, turned the water on, and clutched the pizza for maximum  comfort.