Boris Doyle Writer, the wild thoughts of a man.

In an advanced civilisation in the distant past, a government council enacted laws to benefit everyone, promoting sharing and dividing labour. Two miles beneath the surface, miners toiled in a dangerous environment where only the most formidable individuals dared to venture. Long shifts and hard work toughened these men. They earned good wages and gained respect within the community. The entire civilisation relied on the black gold they extracted from the ground with shovels and picks. A labour gang of muscular men had just finished their 15-hour shift deep in the mines, caked in coal dust from the mine walls. They drank copious amounts of alcohol at a rough bar known for frequent fights. During one extraordinary drunken session, they jokingly created a list of how they would change society. A bear-sized man stood up, raised his arm, and belched. Laughter erupted; these men lacked social graces. The shaft hand, Trapend, announced while still on his feet, "I'm tired of seeing o...