MozonCorp 3

I always knew I was destined for great things. My parents were both born on Level 2 but ascended to Level 5. Whilst it was still menial labour, their skillset was better suited to the more complex products. However, with elevation came complacency. Upon moving into their new, more spacious sleeper pods; with meat privileges and an increased wine allowance, their productivity flagged.

When I rose to level 90, my first act was to remove any alcohol from Levels 1-10. But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

At school, I exceled. I worked out that my Cohort was mentally strong but physically weak. The reallocation formula was a mystery back then, but I knew it would involve aggregating the physical and mental scores of each individual. By working assiduously on my physical score, I swiftly ascended the rankings, eventually graduating top of the Cohort. By far.

I was assigned to Level 11 and told, bluntly, that I’d be unlikely to ascend further. I was a Grade 1 Coordinating Associate managing a Unit of 50 people in Zone 8C, Level 3. I never met them, but I knew every single one of them. I knew the raw materials each person received; I knew the output each person produced. I knew exactly how much time per day each one of them spent resting their hands. 

My living standard improved but I didn’t notice. My sleeping pod was larger, with adjustable lighting, and the food was more colourful. Even my Productivity Pills were flavoured with something bright and foreign. Furthermore, I received ‘free time.’ 20 minutes at the end of the day in which I neither worked nor slept. 

I didn’t much enjoy it. Even now, I normally spend free time at my working pod. 

Some on Level 11 were smarter or stronger than me, but they settled for mediocrity. In the booths adjacent to mine, I noticed prolonged pauses and drinks breaks. Many also chose to submit themselves for coupling, thus ruining any productivity gains they’d made. Meanwhile, using advanced reinforcement techniques and identifying Unproductives, I increased my output by 47%. As they added more and more people to my Unit, the gains became more and more pronounced. 

After 37 months, I ascended to Level 23. The notification informed me it was the highest anybody from Level 5 had reached that year.

Initially, I struggled. I was a Grade 2 Assembly Associate, meaning that I oversaw 5 Units on Level 2, 1 Unit on Level 5, and 1 Unit on Level 6. I no longer attended to the minutiae and instead focussed on streamlining an assembly process. For the first time, I began to envision MozonCorp not as a series of Levels, Cohorts, Zones and Units but as a system. I liked it. I liked the idea that everybody in the world pulling in the same direction.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t making any productivity gains. Each year, the output of my assembly line experienced sluggish growth, far below the average rate of my Unit. When the warning came through, I panicked for the first time in my life. It wasn’t that I was attached to the spacious sleeper pod, comfortable bedding and colourful food. I just felt that, if I was reallocated downwards, I’d never ascend again.

Perhaps it was the pressure that forced me to reconsider the analysis. On reviewing the figures, I realised the rate limiting step was the Unit on Level 5. I swiftly sent a warning to the responsible associate and reallocated 45 minutes of sleep from everybody in the Unit for good measure. Once this bottleneck widened, I found my assembly chain began outperforming the average almost immediately. 

In one fell swoop, I doubled my productivity. It was the best experience of my life so far.

Over the next decade, I ascended rapidly. Level 27, Level 37, Level 53, Level 56 and, eventually, Level 74. At each stage, my focus was analysis. I took my time to identify key obstacles to efficiency and swiftly deployed targeted measures to improve standards and streamline processes. At Level 74, however, my progress stalled. 

Here, I was in control of an entire Cohort on Level 2. Not just the inputs and outputs but the food supplies, the education and the coupling process. Every aspect of the people’s lives. The Cohort’s efficiency was well above average and, after 3 years, the only changes I’d made were minimal in their impact. The prospects of ascension looked increasingly bleak.

One day, I was examining the impact of light intensity on productivity within the cohort when I heard a whisper.

“Good luck with that.” I nearly jumped out my seat. Turning to my right, I realised that I’d forgotten to fully close my partition. At the top, a pair of wizened brown eyes peered over at me.

“What?” I hissed.

“I said good luck with that,” he repeated, somewhat mockingly.

“What do you mean?”

“The last person in that booth already optimised the lighting for your Cohort.” He let that hang as I tried to conceal my disappointment. 

“Well perhaps I’ll improve it.”

“That’s unlikely.” My finger hovered over the partition button. As ever, I was conscious of the time being wasted. But my curiosity won out.

“Why is that unlikely?”

“Because the last person in your booth ascended to Level 99.”

Weeks passed and my analysis failed to bear fruit. Meanwhile, my thoughts rarely strayed from the man next to me. Surely, he was lying about my predecessor. Level 99 was where the Managers worked. Still, they had done an incredible job. The Cohort I’d inherited was the highest performing Cohort on Level 2. Everything was optimised: the diet, the drink, the targets, the standards, the sleep hours, the lighting, the training and the coupling. I had to think outside the box.

Then, after 3 years of inertia it hit me: coupling. As it stood, when people submitted themselves for coupling, they would remain on the same diet throughout the breeding process. I realised that if their diet was strategically modified, they would successfully breed almost immediately after coupling and return to their working pods far quicker. It took me weeks to implement the optimum breeding diet, but the results were instant.

1 month later, I ascended again. I later found out my coupling reforms had been implemented throughout MozonCorp 3.

From then on, my progress was meteoric. Levels 76, 80, 83, 84, 88 and 90 were all initially challenging but invariably I managed to find inefficiencies and improve productivity. On Level 90, I truly hit my stride. I spent 5 years there, controlling nutritional inputs such as food, drink and supplements. I removed alcohol for lower Levels, I reduced overall food inputs whilst maintaining high productivity. I even introduced additional water privileges to people on Level 1 to reward above average productivity. 

Today, I received an ascension notification. In all honesty, I’ve been expecting it. Any doubts had long since eroded. No ascension notice could surprise me now. Or so I thought. I opened the notification, expecting to find the usual instructions but instead there were two lines:

‘Stay at your pod. You will shortly be escorted to Level 99.’

The journey to the elevator passed by in a blur. I haven’t stopped shaking since I rose from my desk. Upon reaching Level 99, I was greeted by the largest man I’ve ever seen. He was almost 6 foot tall.

He now stands behind me, ushering me through a large set of double doors. I walk through to find a terrace and above….  nothing. Endless blue.

He’s talking to me now and it’s all I can do to hold onto consciousness. Focus on the words. 

He is from MozonCorp US. US?



The building we’re stood on, my world, is a factory. 

Mozoncorp owns 5 such factories. MozonCorp 3 is the third.

We make cars. They’re like elevators but sideways. 

The cars, once made, are sent to the world beyond. 

That’s the reason my world exists. That’s the reason I exist.

I see the world beyond just in front of me, over the railings. Above, the roof (is it a roof?) stretches indefinitely. Below, an expanse of green and brown ripples with life, reaching into the distance to touch to the great blue roof. Where they touch, a radiant red orb glows with light. Not the harsh, insistent light of my sleeping pod or my monitor. This light was warm and….  natural.

The man is still talking. He’s promoting me. I’m to help run the latest factory from the outside. MozonCorp 6. His words were wind. My eyes were wet.

“…anyway, you have some time now to let it sink in. I know it’s a lot, but you should be psyched man. You’re finally free!” I wrenched my gaze from the sunset and into his electric blue eyes. Summoning up the last of my strength, I replied with a whisper.

“I am.”

With that, I stagger forward, grip the railing and leap from Level 99. 

I’m falling now. My whole, meaningless life has been an attempt to ascend as quickly as possible. It’s fitting that my descent will last but a few seconds.

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Back at the top, the CEO of MozonCorp sighed and whipped out his phone.

“Hi Shirley…. yep…. we’ve had another jumper…. I know, it’s tragic. Now send a clean-up crew and get me out of here…. yep, the board was right, we’ll stop promoting from within the factories…. yep, that’s true. It’s far more humane to keep them in there.” 

He glanced over the edge, shuddered, and turned towards the approaching helicopter. About time to get back to San Francisco.