Double You, Part One

Note: This is how it felt to be paranoid and twentysomething in the dawning century.

The chrome factory stood monolithic amidst a wasteland of skeletal trees and cracked clay. Red brick pillars belched plumes of black that darkened the sky.

The factory had a rectangular entryway. The shadow of an emblem was smeared along a girder overhead. A new logo was painted beside it: a blue and white smiley face with red stars for eyes.

A rusty escalator led the way inside. At its base, a walled pen miles wide was filled to the brim with humans. They had arranged themselves in orderly lines. Many discussed the greatness of the factory. Their enthusiasm was nearly uniform.

A young woman in shabby clothes approached a line sideways and cut toward the front. An older woman caught her by the elbow and squawked in protest. Others gave their strength and flung the young woman aside. She tumbled in the dust and clambered away. The older woman smiled and moved ahead of her helpers. A yellow daisy on her hat fluttered in the wind. A dozen people now stood between her and the escalator. She was minutes away now.

“Do you know what happens in there?” she asked the man in line before her.

“Not really,” he said, “but everyone says it's great.” He was forty-something and clean shaved. He wore a white dress shirt over blue jeans. Sweat stained his armpits, but he did not stink. The smell of the yard overpowered everything.

“I haven't met anyone who knows yet,” said the woman. She frowned and looked over her shoulder. The younger woman had rejoined the line some distance behind. She's cut in front again, the older woman thought. At least she hasn't cut in front of me.

“Maybe nobody knows for sure. We'll know when we get there,” said the man, and scratched his afternoon stubble. A buzzer rang and another person, a little boy, stepped upon the escalator. It lurched into motion and carried him twenty feet to the top where he disappeared behind an automatic metal door.

“Oh well,” the woman said. “We stand united in ignorance, I suppose.” She giggled and twiddled a button fixed to her purse strap. The button was printed with the starry eyed logo.