Two days ago, they were still on farms in Bedford, still in the chicken farms of Scranton.
Now, they were on the dinner tables of Pittsburgh's workers.
"Dad, I want roast chicken." Sam looked at the blackboard, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"We're having beef."
Nathan declared with a grand wave of his hand.
"Beef will make you strong. We'll get a salad too. You're a growing boy."
The father and son picked up their trays and moved along with the line.
In the kitchen, several chefs in spotless white uniforms bustled about.
They ladled generous spoonfuls of stew over mashed potatoes, the thick gravy steaming.
At the end of the serving counter sat a black card reader.
Nathan took a card from his pocket.
It was a stiff blue card. The front was printed with the Pittsburgh city seal, and the back read: "Pennsylvania Industry Alliance Member Card."
He tapped the card on the sensor.
BEEP.
A number appeared on the screen: -20.00 credit points.
