Dreams of Complacency

Short story about a man with one singular task and his desires to achieve happiness.

A small rectangular object rode along a quiet conveyor belt. It’s color, black as ebony, contrasted from the white featureless machinery throughout the factory.

The object made its way to a worker who waited for its arrival with a sophisticated looking device in his hand.

The man grabbed the dark object, used his tool to drill a hole into the side, then placed it back down on the belt to continue its journey.

The object would go on to be passed along, melded, and evolve until it became the finished product it was meant to be.

The man however, would remain in place.

At his post he stayed, as he continued to grab identical black objects from the belt, drill holes into them, and place them back.

He hadn’t the slightest clue what the next step for the object would be, nor what the final product was. All that concerned him was his one job.

He repeated the same actions with machine like accuracy and speed. But, this was to be expected from one of the top Perforation Technicians.

The bronze badge pinned to the right side of his shirt labeled, ‘P.T.’ glistened as he swiftly drilled a single hole into each object when they came to him.

On the left side of his shirt the name, ‘Ray’ was written in a small, but clear font.

‘He’s one of the best,’ Other workers would say.

‘Even better than his father was,’ Some of the older workers would remark.

 Ray paid no mind to the comments of others. His full attention was usually on his craft.

Ray spent countless hours improving his skill, ensuring that he always made the cleanest most centered holes. Even in his younger years as he attended perforation school, he spent much of his off time invested in additional studies.

Many would say that perforation ran in his blood, that it was his passion, that he lived breathed and sweat perforation. However, this was not the case.

‘It’s not like perforation means everything to me,’ He always thought. ‘Rather it’s simply all I have.’

Although his hands expertly made holes at breakneck speeds, they did so with little passion behind them.

While he spent his days working, it was not uncommon for him to be immersed in his own thoughts.

‘They say life a series of choices,’ He thought as he worked.

‘I heard someone years ago say that your position in life is due to the choices that you yourself have made. This however, cannot be true. If it was true, surely no one would live an unhappy life, correct? Maybe what decides your fate is the choices you make based on the options available. These two things may sound the same at first glance but upon closer inspection, they’re very different situations. The first implies a much larger freedom of choice. You’re presented with a blank canvas and are free to fill it with what you see fit. In the second, the canvas you’re presented with has already been filled in. You may have the option of filling in a small section or deciding a color here and there. But in the end, what you end up with is a painting that has been for the most part finished for you before you even began.’

Black objects ceased appearing along the conveyer belt. In their place came similar shaped green colored blocks.

The colors of the incoming objects changed every so often with no clear pattern. This was one of the many things that happened daily inside the factory. Ray remained ignorant of the reasons for why this was done. He felt it was better to focus on the task at hand. Letting his mind wander into something outside the scope of his work could cost him dearly. To work at the level he did, it was necessary to keep his attention on his one singular function. This however, did not stop his thoughts on life. With his cadence undisturbed, he continued his monologue.

‘Indeed, the choices presented to me were that of the latter example. I did not choose this line of work out of the many things a person could do. I chose it out of the options presented to me. Had I been given the freedom to truly do what I wanted in life, I would probably not be here. There were times I wish I had the opportunities some others had. I see people pursuing their dreams, working in jobs they love, and telling the rest of us to do the same as if we were all as lucky as them. No, I was not that fortunate. I couldn’t afford to dabble in things that weren’t guaranteed to work out. I instead decided on a path that I believed would take me the farthest and gave my all to travel it. However, I can’t help but wonder. Wonder what I will see when I finally reach the end of this path. Will I be able to turn around and admire this road I’ve taken? Will I be able to reflect upon my travels and think that it was a journey worth taking? Yes, this path may take me far, but will I be satisfied with the destination?’

The device in Ray’s hand hissed as it drilled into the objects.

As his thoughts continued, he began to slow his pace. His movements, although still sharp compared to those around him, appeared to be less certain.

The colors of the objects shifted to a shade of red.

‘To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing. Every night I go to bed wondering if I'm wasting my life away doing this. And every morning I struggle to get myself out of bed. This can't be how humans are meant to live. We should be more... I don't know, well rounded. The letters P.T. are shown on nearly all my paperwork. Sometimes my occupation will be the only thing on a document. I don't want this to be what my entire life amounts to. I don't want to be known as just some Perforation Technician. I don't want to perform a function like some cog in a machine. I don't want to make a product. I want to make art!'

Ray's hands stopped.

The last sentence he said in his head even surprised himself.

Was he truly that unhappy with his life?

No, this was not the case, he felt.

Ray wasn’t particularly unhappy. He had a steady job, didn’t need to worry about there being food on the table, and overall liked their work.

But he wasn’t satisfied.

‘I’m not unhappy with my life. But, I’m not happy either. Am I ungrateful for wanting more? Is it truly such a greedy thing to desire a life that’s less empty? Perhaps this is how everyone feels deep down. Maybe life is just a constant never-ending pursuit of unattainable happiness. Even so, I must try. If the way to happiness is an endlessly expanding sky, I will soar as high as I can go. I refuse to spend my life looking up from the bottom, wondering how far I could have gotten. It might seem greedy, but that’s just how humans are. Humans are meant to take things as far as they can go, not to just sit complacent and die.’

With a new sense of purpose, he refused to make another hole. He felt liberated, like the shackles of his own design were finally removed. However, this also came with a sense of uncertainty. Now that he was going to go against the system and refuse to do his job, he'd likely be tossed out of the city if he can't find a new one quickly enough. Although, this no longer mattered to him. All that mattered now was that he did something with his life that he could be proud of.

Ray looked at his watch. It was about time for his work day to end. His last work day.

Like it does every day, a drone flew towards Ray from the distance. He already knew the drill. The drone would deliver him his credits for the day and provide any updates he should know about.

However, this time would be different.

He would tell the drone that he was finished with this job starting today. It would be the first time he ever said anything to the drone beside ‘Yes’ and ‘Thank you.’

The drone slowed down and descended until its camera was eye level with Ray.

Ray’s heart was racing. It felt as though he was watching his own actions through a glass. He had never done something so bold and against expectations. But today was the day he needed to make a change. He needed to finally grow his wings and ascend beyond this life of mediocrity and predictability.

Ray took a breath preparing to announce his resignation, but the drone spoke first.

“Congratulations!” It said in a voice meant to mimic a human male.

“We’ve been watching all of the hard work you’ve put in. As a result, we decided to promote you to Sr. Perforation Technician. Outstanding work, Ray! Keep it up!”

Two slots opened on the drone’s body. From each slot came mechanical arms holding rewards. One arm held a credit chip that contained Ray’s pay. The other held a silver badge with the letters ‘Sr P.T.’ engraved on the front.

For a few seconds Ray simply stood there. Neither he nor the drone said anything as the sounds of the factory continued blaring in the background.

Ray wordlessly took the badge and credit chip from the drone and turned away.

Along the belt beside him came objects covered in a shade of blue.

The drone flew off in the other direction, likely to deliver news and money to other workers.

'Humans don't have wings,' Ray soberly thought as he made his way to the exit.

'It's safer on land.'