* * * * *
Hour 2: Just outside the wind rages past. The blinding light and endless supply of cotton blowing by reveals the desolation of the world beyond.
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I have but one companion, but I fear that he may have been in this place too long for he doesn't seem surprised by the intense heat, surveillance cameras, or hard physical labor which has been thrust upon us.
* * * * *
Hour 3: Finally, we are able to keep up with the machines and can take a short break before beginning again, but someone must've taken taken notice! They forced us to stop and wait until we were behind again. "Take a little break." sneered the bell. I can almost picture it's evil grin.
* * * * *
Hour 4: My companion wonders if I know of a place to go horseback riding in Kansas. Silently I fear that the heat may be affecting his head. "I'll look it up." I assure him. Cling to whatever hope you can, my friend. Maybe one day you'll be free to ride horses.
* * * * *
Hour 5: Starvation has become a problem here. The only source of food is from an evil machine on the other side of the plant. It is full of all sorts of sugary goodies, but few offer any real sustenance. Even so, if I don't eat something soon I may perish.
I put in my last dollar bill and pressed the appropriate buttons eagerly. The machine clicked and whirred as the food approached the drop zone. Then... nothing.
One corner of the plastic wrapping was caught under the spiraling finger of the machine. Through the glass I could tell that it was barely holding on. I tried to tip the machine, to rock it, but it was bolted to the wall in numerous places. Again, I sensed that evil grin. It was the same as the buzzer telling me to stop so the machines could back up the work load.
* * * * *
Hour 6: The blinding sun finally gave way to a full, ominous moon and tensions run high. In this run-down work place even the machines themselves thwart any feelings of real progress. At one point half of the mechanics of machine two broke down and now we have to manually swap out the material. Machine three is also starting to break down this way, but for now only needs a bit of a boost every cycle. Soon I fear that the overseers will bring out chisels and hammers so we can cut the metal by hand.
* * * * *
Hour 7: The wind outside has stopped completely and out there in the dark the air begins to cool, but inside the great machines relentlessly produce searing hot pieces of metal to be unloaded and palletized by hand.
The quiet serenity outside feels like the calm before the storm. I know what comes next. Soon plagues of insects will swarm the building looking for food.
* * * * *
Hour 8: I bet you thought this would be the end, didn't you? Unfortunately things are not always the way you perceive them. Why work a measly 8 hours on your day off when you could just as easily work 10? Bug density, that's why. It has increased in both quantity and mass. Here comes another swarm. I've gotta go!
* * * * *
Hour 9: It is finally starting to feel cooler. Even up next to the gigantic lasers it almost seems... comfortable. Is there really a break in my luck or is my mind finally starting to go?
Meanwhile, my companion is over on his side yelling obscenities. I handed him a list of phone numbers to call for horseback riding earlier, but even that glimmer of hope must not be enough. I fear that he may have finally lost control.
* * * * *
Hour 10: I was a fool to find hope in the drop of temperature. Where before the bugs were a mere nuisance, now they have become a health risk. They come in droves looking for the heat of man and machine alike. This is my last hour one way or another. 2AM is just around the corner.
* * * * *
Freedom: Finally made it out and back into the air conditioned world. Quite honestly though, I'm really not sure if my companion will ever recover. Either way, it's time for a mini, geeky, celebration for surviving. Here's to all those other people who escaped from relentless machines:
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