Rousseau was late. Again.

    He was on his way to the oil factory to meet John Locke and take him on a tour of the factory. As he drove along the coast in his brand-new and gleaming 1925 Rolls-Royce Phantom I, he couldn’t help but admire his surroundings. The sun was peeking over the horizon in the distance, the rolling hills were sparkling with morning dew, and the air was salty from the wind blowing in from the ocean. The beauty of nature never ceased to amaze Rousseau. But protecting it was the least of his worries.

    As Rousseau came to the peak of one of the many rolling hills, he finally got a glimpse at his destination. An inlet in the ocean about a mile wide which once might have been a thriving ecosystem was now infected by industrialization. A mass of brick, gray, and smoke sprawled across the land just like a bleeding wound seeping through a shirt. The town around the factory spread for miles, screaming of hardships and poverty due to the conditions the homes were in. The factory itself bordered both the ocean and the flowing river that helped power the factory.

    Two more minutes and Rousseau was crossing the bridge marking the sharp border between nature and humans. I’ll never get used to this Rousseau thought to himself as he stepped into the humanized world.

    He continued through town and found Locke waiting at the factory gates, impatiently tapping his foot and nervously wringing his hands. “Well that makes two of us,” Rousseau mumbled as he pulled to a stop in his VIP parking spot adjacent to the gates.

    “You’re late”, Locke stated as they clasped hands in greeting and proceeded to walk through the entrance for the start of the factory tour.

    “Better late than never,” chuckled Rousseau. The two had great respect for each other, although they did have very different viewpoints on certain issues at hand.

***

    Following the tour of the factory, Rousseau lead Locke up the stairs and into the overseer’s office.

    “I’m too old for this,” puffed an out of shape Rousseau. But Locke was not listening.

    “Wow”, Locke murmured as he wandered over to the window. It offered a birds eye view of the entire warehouse floor. Machines, pipes, and workers were scattered across the room. The sight was mesmerizing as everything moved according to plan in an intricate pattern. It seemed to him as if one mistake could cause some serious problems, but that would never happen. Right?

    “Quiet impressive from up here isn’t it?” replied Rousseau.

    “Yes, but there are still so many problems that I don’t know where to start.”

    “Well then, fire away because I’ve got all day.”

    “Ok then, well I guess I’ll start off with a problem going back to my belief on popular sovereignty. While this idea is usually used in government, I believe it can be used here to. The workers are treated unfairly and they are not given a voice. This is a problem because without those workers there would be no factory in the first place”, Locke stated as he sat down at the table in the middle of the office.

    “Yes I see your point there, but working here is not a place where we need to worry about matters like this. Anyone capable of labor can find a job here, so if anyone complains we can instantly replace them”, retorted Rousseau. “Besides, the workers here have a strong bond with each other due to the labor. In government, I believe that it is best when the people work together to accomplish something. And that is exactly what is happening here”.

    “That is not enough of a reason though. The factories are extremely dangerous for the workers. I mean how is it safe to have children and untrained laborers working jobs over twelve hours a day? And just to add on to that, the labor is hard vary mootone, and the compensation is too little.”

    “All these problems are worth it though,” Rousseau shot back. “The cheap labor and machines all help to make mass production much easier, and this brings down costs and makes trade more profitable. In addition, the factories are worki-”

“Pow!!”

The shrieking of machinery and the gushing of liquid suddenly filled the air. Rousseau and Montesquieu rushed to the window overlooking the warehouse and the sight was enough to give the both of them nightmares.

A machine seemed to have blown up, causing a chain reaction throughout the back row of the factory. Oil gushed everywhere. Machine parts and people alike were unmoving on the ground next to the scene. Blood darkened the sloshing oil and stained the wooden machine parts. The sight was horrifying, and yet Rousseau and Locke could not look away.

Alarms started blaring and flood doors opened up, letting the oil gush out of the warehouse. From there it would flow out and into the ocean and would no longer be their problem.

“Okay, we need to get out of here!” Rousseau shouted to Locke. He rushed to the door, throwing it open and rushing down the stairs toward the bottom of the warehouse. Something told him that even though they were safe from the oil up in the office, it would not be a good idea to stay.

“What just happened?!” Locke shouted at Rousseau as they emerged from the warehouse. “Here you were arguing about how factories are a good thing, and then THIS happens? How again is this all worth it?”

    “Stuff like this is just part of the risk, that’s all. And the lower costs for goods and easier production makes it all worth it.”

    “No, it does not. The endangerment of lives and the lessening of workers rights is never worth it, despite the good that it can bring. How can you not see that? You need to shut this place down or do something to change it for the better.”

    “No. I’m sorry but I still believe that factories staying is for the better”, retorted Rousseau.

    “Well what about the environment and the pollution? Factories are literally slowly killing nature! I know that not many people are worried about this, but it will most likely have some extreme tolls on our Earth”.

    But Rousseau did not care, waving the question off, “oh it's a big world though and there’s no way it will hurt that much. Besides, that’s not our generation's problem.”

    “Fine. Then it’s good I brought backup.” Locke declared, letting out an ear piercing whistle.

    Whoosh!

“Oh. My. God.” Rousseau stuttered. For circling a mere 50 feet above their head was a real life dragon. It was half the length of one of those new football fields, and its teal and gold scales were glimmering in the sunlight. Riding on top of it was a crazy Irish man with a cape reading “SLOM” on the back. It’s weird the kind of details one can notice in the heat of the moment Rousseau pondered, watching the scene unfold.

The dragon suddenly shrieked and dove, shaking the ground as it landed next to the men. The man with the SLOM cape shot up in his    stirrups and hollered, “that’s it! I will not allow you bloody argies to let this factory to carry on any longer!”

The dragon suddenly shot off the ground, shrieking as it rose with powerful strokes of its wings. Gusts of wind tore at the men as they watched the dragon and it’s rider gain altitude and then dive toward the factory.

The dragon whistled through the air, suddenly pulling up before it smashed into the factory walls. A jet of fire flooded from the dragons mouth, covering the factory in flame.

“Get down!” Locke screamed, just before the fire ignited with the oil. An explosion so big it could have been mistaken for a volcano flung the men backwards as the factory was blown to smithereens.

“Oh no, oh no no no no no!” Rousseau exclaimed as he shakily pushed himself up from being blasted off his feet. For there was nearly nothing left of the factory save for rumble strewn across the ground and the raging fire. It was gone, and all of the pain and hardships had gone with it.

“Ahaha until next time!” Shouted the mysterious Irish man. His dragon then wheeled around and flew off into the horizon, without leaving a trace that it had ever been there.