Daydreams Incorporated

Upon a great desk it sits; in the center of a magnificent office, day after day. The scratching of a pen breaks the silence; delicately scrawling signatures across the surface of its pages, the ink cascading into rows of letters and numbers, determining where the money will flow. Pages of blank cheques and notepaper, bound together tightly in a small black booklet, would be leafed through and dictated in various amounts every second Thursday. The golden lettering almost seemed an insult to the scant sums their lines held.

However, this Thursday is unlike the others. There seems to be a different air about; as if all has been set right within the world. The pen is grasped tightly, and with a near revolutionary fervour it attacks the book, swiftly scribbling out numbers in quantities that have never before graced its sheets, nor those of its predecessors. With each new cheque the amounts become more grandiose in size. For close to an hour the pace never lets up, until finally the last autograph is inscribed and the pen re-inserted to its stand. The book is grasped tightly whilst one by one its papers are carefully torn from its contents and stacked neatly in a pile. Upon being placed on the secretary's desk each is assigned it’s individual envelope which bears the name of the intended recipient. Finally, each is transported to the break room and sorted to its corresponding slot.

As these events occur, on the opposite end of the factory a worker is caught in the midst of a daydream. A woman of slender build, medium height and somewhat timid in stature, Emiline stands adrift amidst her own mind. She fantasizes a house atop a hill, where she can grow a garden and flowers; of her small children laughing and screaming in delight as her husband chases them round the yard. Her imagination has begun to run free as she revels in the idea of having the time and energy to put towards her desires. She envisions the money to chase her passions- not worrying if her family shall go under should she stop working or shift careers. Her husband is stuck in the same loop as she; forced to spend his days working out of town in order to pull in enough cash to keep their heads above water, forced away from his family for weeks at a time to keep food on the table. It isn’t that either of them make particularly bad money- in actuality they make a decent amount more than their less fortunate friends- but with an ever increasing, and seemingly endless, barrage of expenses and bills coupled with stagnant wages, every year seems tougher to survive than the last. With every flip of the calendar those dreams seem to pull slightly farther out of reach, always in sight but never able to fully be grasped. Moments caught musing have become a more frequent event with the passing of time, reality never seeming to compare; the alienation of herself and her labour becoming ever more apparent. In fact, it seems the majority of her working day is spent in a daydream longing to be anywhere but her present position.

She has no decisions, no control over what she produces nor how her labour is spent, another ‘cog in the machine’ as it were. Ironic, the notion crosses her mind, that despite helping to assemble several vehicles a day, two weeks' pay could never afford to buy her even a single one. She pushes the thought aside and reaches for the remote to haul the next automobile up the line. Her mind rewinds, whisking her away to happier places, ones where she has control and can wield the true power of her potential.

A sickening thud directly overhead brings her train of thought careening back to reality. Her gaze is directed upwards where it is at once captivated by the sight of the rigging arm which has snapped in half; causing the top end to smash into the post directly to her backside- and is now dangling precariously mere inches above her. Infuriated yelling interrupts her state of shock, shifting her sights to the angry footsteps of an irate manager storming towards her, howling out her name.

“Emmeline!” his bellows resound throughout the entire factory, “Em-mel-line!” All work has come skittering to a halt, as she feels the gaze of every other worker as if it were searing into her flesh.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! I was yelling your name, do you not realize how close you just came to dying? A near miss report is the last thing I wanted to be spending the rest of my day filling out for christ’s sake! Grab your things and follow me. Now. We are doing this report and then you are done for the day.”

‘Brilliant,’ the thought crosses her mind, ‘so because their stupid machine broke and nearly killed me, now I have to cut my hours short when I already knew this paycheque was going to be tight. How the hell am I going to be able to cover the bills next month?’ She drops her head and sullenly follows him into the office, not daring to raise a fuss lest her job be subject to increased scrutiny or possible termination.

‘At least I can enjoy the sunshine for the rest of the day instead of leaving my shift in the dark’ she contemplates to herself. Trudging out of the office, she meanders towards the building exit. Before reaching the door she takes a detour through the break room, strolling towards the cubby labeled with her name. Reaching inside, she snatches up the white envelope, jamming it into her pocket before sauntering through the lobby and into the outside world. Stepping out into the daylight, she pauses briefly to bask in the sun's rays. It feels as though it had been decades since she had been able to last enjoy natural light rather than the yellow glow of her home’s light bulbs or the intense beams of the factory.

Glancing around, she attempts to remember where she parked her vehicle. Upon a brief inspection she notices it in front of the building, striking out in a very obnoxious fashion. Her “beater,” as she lovingly refers to the depressing pile of metal and rubber, is in strong juxtaposition of the machine situated in the stall to its immediate left. Caught off guard, her jaw starts to drop in awe. She begins to ponder how anyone working here could possibly afford such a work of art. In fact, she doesn’t seem to recall ever even having seen one before.

“You like the ride?” a voice from behind interrupts her thoughts. “Cost me a cool $200k,” the man continues without allowing her a chance to respond.

“Bet it would take near 15 years to buy one of these babies working here.”

To her, the words slide off his tongue as if they are drool leaking from a mutt’s mouth. Before she can firmly come to grips with the disgust that has taken hold of her, he proceeds to attempt his hand at flirting. Reviled, she takes a step back before sharply retorting, “I’m actually on my way to meet my husband.”

“Oh that’s nice, say doll, have you ever seen Fiji? I’m on my way to the airport in a few moments, the only reason I’m here was to sign some checks for my Pops, and grab the new contracts for my company. How’d you fancy an adventure?” he continues unabashed, as if her voice had been a mere buzz in the background. She declines more forcefully and steps in the direction of her car.

“Whatever bitch,” he snarls before jumping in his ride, slamming it into reverse and squealing out of the parking lot.

----

Pulling into her driveway, an exasperated sigh escapes her lips. Contemplating what bills she will have to delay paying this month, her hand reaches inside her pocket and wearily withdraws the envelope. ‘That’s strange, seems a bit heavier than usual,’ she ponders, tearing into it. She notices an extra piece of paper sitting within. Unfolding it, her eyes begin to wander the page.

‘To the concerned party;

Chances are, I have never made your acquaintance. Allow me to introduce myself, I am the founder of this company of which you find yourself employed. Two of my closest companions and I started this business nearly 60 years ago. We risked our entire life savings to build something we could leave to our children, and which we hoped would leave our mark upon this earth. We poured our blood, sweat, and our tears into this project, and our hard work paid off. We were able to profit incredibly from our venture and amass wealth none of us had dreamed possible.

However, as an old man’s time draws near, it has given me great time to consider the legacy I’ve built. At what toll have I amassed my fortune? This ‘empire’ I have constructed- I did not do so independently. I employ hundreds of workers- at this plant alone. Worker’s in my company who have also poured their blood, sweat, and tears into it to see it become what it is today. While I sit upon my ‘throne of gold’ as it were, how do these workers fair? At their expense I have grown fat and lazy, my bank accounts full. Yet where has it left me? I lie upon my deathbed, father to a spoiled and arrogant child who doesn’t understand the meaning of hard work, with no amount of money being able to extend my life.

With that I have decided to attempt to rectify my wrongdoings. In this envelope you will see a cheque which accurately represents the amount of profit your individual efforts brought to this company over the course of the last month. Going forward, every cheque will accurately reflect your contribution (taking into consideration costs of upkeep and the like have been removed). I did not come by this wealth alone, I no longer see why I alone should reap the rewards. I cannot undo what I have done, but before I die, I wish to attempt some form of atonement...’

The letter continues for a few paragraphs, however her hands have begun to shake so violently, it falls to the floor. Heart pounding so fast in her chest she is sure it will explode, she pulls the cheque out and gazes at the numbers. A little over $20,000.00.

Tears pouring down her face, she stumbles backwards, hand clasped to her mouth in utter shock. Muffled laughter pours out from the depths of her body. The profound realization of just how much this would change her life has begun to take hold. No longer would she need to rent her home- she could afford a down payment and purchase her own. The hopes of her garden and of being a complete and whole family- previously separated by distance, were no longer meager fantasies, but real and material conditions unfolding before her very eyes. A life that was truly her own, where she could have control and not worry about how she was going to feed herself or her children. Dreams no longer have to remain merely that, for the first time in her life she feels able and as if she has the tools to realize her fullest potential. Destiny unfolds before her, for suddenly it was within her grasp, the future was infinite in possibility…

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...Alone upon a great desk it sits, its pages lying blank and unfilled. Every second Thursday the pen scribbles punitive amounts within its margins, hastily and without care; dictating to the workers the minuscule sums their hourly wages allot. Across the factory the fantasies of a worker remain merely that; the imagination of a distressed soul longing for better, as she hauls the next car up the line.