There was a deafening sound to the silence brought by the darkness of the morning. It was pitch black when my alarm clock awoke me, and forced me to surrender under its authority. I threw off my cozy comforters, brushed my teeth, clothed myself, and embraced the day like any other.
As I walked through the narrow streets towards my way to work, the soles of my shoes stuck to the road—a mere result of the dampness in the air due to the clashing and thundering from the night before. I brushed past “Dave’s Dazzling Donuts” and “Carl’s Creamy Coffee”—my usual breakfast places—in order to ensure that I would not be late for the factory. It usually opened at 5 am, but due to the arriving Christmas season, Mr. Buckley required the workers, also known as me, to open at 4 am. My hands clasped the steel handle of the large glass doors, preparing me to enter the workplace; however something inside of me was preventing me from doing so. I noticed the sound of my heartbeat, quiet yet loud, like a fist pounding on a door. As I began to get lost in my thoughts I heard someone behind me clear their throat, urging me to move forward. I closed my eyes, then opened them again, and found myself walking towards my required position.
As I began to work at my station, I looked around at the machines, creating their clones of the original product, making sure each one looked exactly the same as the one before it. I reached over to take a closer look at one of them, but suddenly the conveyor belt jerked forward, causing me to lose it, among many. Everyone around me had their eyes glued to their machines, ready to take action towards any unwanted movement. I glided my thumb over the buttons of my machine; red, black, green, blue, yellow, orange. Which one was which? That, I did not know. All that I knew of was that the green meant go, and the red, stop. It was all I had been taught.
*Squeak Squeak*
“No!! Stop! Why won’t this machine stop?” I frantically ran my eyes as fast as I possibly could through every button on the machine, and yet nothing was working. The forklift kept throwing the products off the belt, disrupting the entire cycle. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I struggled to find the right button, yet no one came to help me. Why would they? I wasn’t worth the effort, it was no use, at least that is what I had been told. As the laughs began to become apparent, I slammed my fingers on the buttons harder, as if it would make a difference.
“What are you doing?!” The higher level employees came running towards my station, yelling at the top of their lungs.
“You have the lever on the wrong side of the line! Were you not listening during your training session! You have big ears don’t you? Why can’t you use them? And your eyes are far enough apart; can’t you see how to manage the machines? Everyone else can do it properly, why can’t you? Go home!”
I shrunk back, feeling the burning sensation on my cheeks increase due to the embarrassment I couldn’t help but intake. I ran out of the factory with all my might, and felt the hot tears escaping from my heavy eyelids. The cold brisk air took a hold of me, showing me the thickness of my breath. I stood outside the giant glass doors for a few minutes, shivering in the overwhelming pain that I couldn’t absorb. My heartbeat coming to a pace as slow and as quiet as a peacefull death. I began to make my way back home, feeling more alone than ever.
As I stood in my bathroom overlooking the sink, I couldn’t help but feel the urge to desperately look at a mirror. As a part of the set rules created by my society, I was forbidden to look at any mirror I came across, as it was considered an egoistic display of behavior. For once, after all these years of being alive, I wanted to see why others thought of my appearance the way they did. Was I really that ugly? I was told that the shape and the contents of my face prohibited anyone from continuing to lead a happy life. Was that true? It must be, or else why would one make such comments just to simply lower one’s interpretation of himself? I was ugly, and I had no other choice but to accept it.
The next day I once again went to work knowing that I would be ridiculed; however I realized that it was better than not going at all. As I resumed my duty back at my machine I could hear the distant whispers surrounding me, as if enclosing me into a tight space. I decided to stay focused on my task, rather than become intoxicated with the criticism being said about me. I placed my fingers against the buttons, as a measure of security in case of another mishap. Besides the noise of the machines, and the silent words begging to be said off the workers tongues, the day was a quiet one. My back ached, longing for a massage, and my hands cramped, due to the grip I had on the machine. I walked home in my black clothing, anxious for the moment I could take off my clothes and take a long hot shower.
I sat on my bed, gazing at the TV as I watched the same show for the 5th time in a row that week. It was 10 pm and my eyelids were forcefully closing on me, pressuring me to fall asleep. My hand slid towards the remote control and I pressed my last button for the day, allowing myself to release all my stress.
The next day I started off for work a few hours earlier. I decided to practice my skills before anyone had the chance to make fun of me. As I continued on my regular path, I noticed that it had been closed off because of the construction the workers were conducting. I came upon a new route as a result. As I walked into the factory I noticed man standing at my station.
“Hi…can I help you?” I asked curiously.
“No. Sorry for invading your personal area, I was just observing all the machines, and they all seem alike.”
“Oh! Surely mine is different. I have trouble starting it every morning and the rest of the workers get along just fine. I’m positive that mine has some sort of difference.”
“Well you’re mistaken because just like the products these machines make, they are also clones of each other.”
“I see.”
The man walked away with his head down, as if he had just shared some heart-breaking news with me. Confusedly, I returned back to my position and took up the task of starting the
machine. As I began to lift the lever, I noticed a bolt missing from a part of the machine and decided to go upstairs and look for another one. Wandering up the stairs, I noticed a dimly lit room, almost secluded from the rest of the world. I hesitantly took a few steps towards it, noticing the creaks created by my footsteps. I peeked around and saw the unimaginable in the center of the room; there was a mirror standing against a black table.
I walked my way through the empty room and sat upon a chair closely intact with the mirror. As fearful as I was, I opened my eyes, and instead of seeing just myself, I saw an irrelevant man surrounded by an enclosing grasp of society.