You are walking along your streets and spot two chairs in the opening between a tailor and smoking club building. You look them over and see quickly they are they are for shoe shining.

 On a whim you decide to sit in one of the black padded elevated chair, and set you shoes onto the wooded stilts below. The slave managing this chair gets to work immediately, never once raising its eyes to you, and keeping them down to your shoes. There is a real black and white newspaper, likely a novelty, resting on the armrest of your chair and you decide to give it a read. It doesn’t contain much, your Arcology doesn’t really have a real newspaper with nearly all information coming digitally. This paper however has a few fashion tips, tidbits business advice, and comics; so, you use it to pass the time.

A short while later you hear the sound of rustling and you lower the paper to see a man sits in the second chair, with his young daughter coming to sit on his lap. He shakes your hand and you offer mutual respect and few short words. You meet his daughter as well, she shakes your hand in adorable shyness, she doesn’t look past her sixth year. It’s all merely in friendly formality though and soon once again you are reading your paper.

“I want the scented shoe black as well, but don’t think I won’t hesitate to send you down to the arcades if you let a single black stain onto my skin.” The man’s voice is gruff, but a moment later it’s much gentler. “What’s the matter cinnamon?”

The little girl speaks quietly, “Why are so mean to them daddy?”
The a very loud silence, and you know the man is looking straight at you with a hint of fear. When you don’t lower your newspaper, you hear him sigh and speak gentler still to his daughter.

“It’s because they’re not people honey, not real people like us.”

“, Does that mean they are mean?”

“No, they are slaves, they are to obedient to be mean.”

“Then why are you mean to them?”

“It’s not ‘mean’ when I talk to them like that, we are the elite and they are the slaves there is a difference between us, they are meant to be treated different then real people.”

The young girl didn’t argue farther but made a noise that sounded like she still didn’t understand.

You hear her dad nervously scoff and know that he is still looking towards you uneasily. But eventually he speaks again to his daughter,

“Cinnamon think of slaves like dogs.”

The young girl is silent for a moment, and she starts giggling, likely at the mental image. The dad started to laugh to and from the side of your vision you could see him reach down and start tickling his daughter, adding to her frantic laughter.

After a little while they grew tired and stopped but the daughter went back to what her father said, “A doggie like spot?” She asked still a little breathless.

“Exactly like spot.”

“But I’m not mean to spot.”

“No sweetie your never mean to anything, but you treat spot, differently don’t you?”

“Huh?” She asked quizzically

“Well let’s see do we let spot eat with us at the table at supper?”

The girl laughed, “No”

“Do we dress spot up and send him to school?”

She laughed again, “No”

“Would you ever kiss spot?” The father made a big kissing noise.

“Eww, icky.” The girl said but she couldn’t stop her giggle, “Daddy you’re silly.”

“And would you ever marry spot?”

“No!” She said laughing still.

“Well then you shouldn’t do that to a slave either, not to be mean but because it just isn’t done, shouldn’t be done.”

“Hmmm” It sounded like the girl was almost completely swayed, “But you still sound so mean daddy.”

“Why, because I talk like this.” He put on a comically gruff voice, you hear his daughter playfully pound on his chest giggling.

“Do you remember when spot jumped on the couch, with mud on his paws?”

“Mommy was solo mad.”

“Exactly, and when I told him to get off I had to yell like this not only because I was mad, but because he’s a dog and he’ll get confused if you don’t talk like that. And it’s the same when you tell him to sit, isn’t it hunny? You don’t just go sit you have to go sit or else he won’t get it. Same with slaves, you have to order them right or they won’t understand.”

The daughter was silent in thought and the father spoke again,

 “You know what happens to people who do nothing but give their dogs treats, their dog never listens to them, wrecks the house, get fat and lazy, and pees on the sofa. But I guess the opposite is true too if you are mean just to be mean a dog, or slave will just get confused and never learn.”

“The best way is to rub their noise in it when they are wrong, teach them to follow orders with obedience, and give them a treat or head pat only when they really earn it.” Out of your peripheral you see him look down at the slave shinning his shoes, “Good job spot.” He said. The girl laughed. The slave did not look up.

You feel the brush on your foot go away and you look down to see the slave backing away and your shoes black but shining brightly. As you step down you see the little girl reach up and kiss her ## on the check,

“I get it ‘papa’.”

Her ‘papa’ kisses her check back as she giggles more, you can see in his eyes that he knows she’ll grow up to be a fine member of society one day soon.