Colonial skyscrapers gleam with unrivaled brilliance atop the rubble of North America while caucasian drudges, like Trum, crawl through the subterranean mines. Six days a week, the dirty laborers scramble to fill massive cargo ships with raw material bound for the booming Asian economic ports across the Pacific Ocean. He only ever sees the stunning golden faces of Asian Superiors when they descend from their glass and steel palaces in order to monitor the herds of white workers. In their presence, Trum has learned to always keep his face downcast, out of deference, and to push his brutish body to work even harder. On the seventh day, Trum labors on an organic pomelo plantation to earn some extra rice rations. Like the other whites on the plantation, he wears an ill-fitting muzzle to prevent him from eating the valuable pomelos which are destined for the sparkling restaurants of Hong Kong and Tokyo. If he is lucky, the automatic sprinklers will, by happenstance, spray him and offe...
