[STM]

The mudokon woke up tired as always. The morning siren signalled that all workers were to be ready in fifteen minutes. He crawled out of his sleeping bag and took a much needed piss, the narrow grimy tube that carried the thick urine stank up his housing ball for the next few minutes and the mudokon clutched his nose in disgust.

The telecom link began to fizz and hiss, sure enough the symbol of opression, a stitched lips, happy mudokon face appeared on the screen and the tune of the Mudos national anthem of the Cartel began to play rhythmically. The mudokon ignored it and struck his vendo machine vengefully, a can of brew methodically fell from the hatch, missed his outstretched paw and rolled across the floor.
"Fuck sake!" He breathed.
"Workers section 1-01a pay attention, you included subject 41329, chin up, look your telecom in the eye, that's it," a calm mechanical voice blared out and the anthem died away.
"Workers accidents: 1929 this week, moolah turned over, $96,000,000 this week, rations on ecstasy, down 34 percent from last week-" The screen began reeling off facts while the tv showed accompanying fact sheets and graphs, the mudokon feigned attention but was more interested in the slig team dragging away a worker outside his ball, it was kicking and swearing, Brynn, a lippy middle aged mudokon with powerful arms, gun shots sounded and the mudokon averted his eyes towards the screen again.
"And now the lottery, this weeks winner is....00412, well done, you have won two weeks vacation and $36.25 moolah! Unlucky to everyone else, better luck time."
The mudokon groaned and flicked the switch on the screen, it was debatable whether the lottery was even real.