Story #279 - Unionized

Unionized

The whistle blew and Renny Delcar took a moment to stretch, arcing his back as he tried to work out kinks that had developed over the last eight hours on the assembly line floor. All around him, workers and friends did the same, each hoping the second, lower-toned whistle wouldn't blow and that they would get a chance for some shuteye. Renny couldn't be sure, but he guessed that it had been at least a day and half since their last rest break, something he knew put them well ahead of other companies in the area, but did little for the cramps in his legs – he wasn't getting any younger.

A low groan of protest went up as the second whistle blew, followed by the buzzing of the PA system.

“Back to work, now. Anyone found not at their station or not performing as expected will be taken to the break room.”

Renny had to laugh at that. Once, years ago, the break room had been exactly what it sounded like, but now it was just about the worst place in the factory to be. Anyone found “slacking” or not adhering to one of the hundreds of rules the company laid down could be taken into the room, and when they came out they were typically shaken, if not entirely bruised. No one had been killed by the thugs the company employed when they were hauled into the room – yet.

Anger surged at the thought of Sol, his best friend, being called up to the room for taking five seconds too long to get back to his station. Though most of his bones had healed over the last six months, there was a haunted look in the man's eyes that told Renny he wanted to avoid the company's ire at all costs.

He could always quit.

That thought brought a strained smile to his lips, but he was careful not to make it too broad as he twisted on another metal fill-cap at the small workstation in front of him. Even if his productivity did not suffer, seeing levity on the floor was the perfect excuse for one of the foremen to smack him in the bask with a vibro-whip, and the last thing his spine needed was more pressure.

Quitting was a dream most of those in the plant had, but they knew full well there was no chance they'd find work anywhere else. Jobs had become scarce and then nearly impossible to find in the five years since the war, and no company was going to hire a worker that had walked away from his last job – that was tantamount to encouraging laziness and sloth. The last vacation he'd taken into the city, two years ago, he'd heard rumors about a colony of free men to the north who had gone back to hunting and gathering, shunning progress and the price it brought. Renny had been tempted, but with his wife and son depending on every check he sent home, there was no way he could break free. He had a responsibility.

A wave of tiredness washed over him as the unending line of parts moved past and onto the next man in the chain. He had no idea what they were building or why, but presumed it was for a defensive purpose. The government had no official ties to the company, but it was easy to see their influence on little things like rank structure of the higher-ups and how thick the red tape was to get a promotion. Sleep was something he needed to keep working, but if there was way he could simply press on without having to lie down in a room full of fifty sweaty men all using bunks recently vacated other shifters, he'd take it. Sleep, when it came, brought dreams, and waking brought the crushing disappointment that they had not been real.

“Here.” A gruff voice said from behind him, and he turned. A folded piece of canary-yellow paper was shoved into his hands; the weekly company newsletter. It was funny, in a sick sort of way, that those who ran the factory still tried to encourage camaraderie, still tried to pretend that they weren't keeping a gang of poorly-paid slaves, ones who had no choice but to work or die.

Renny was about to toss the letter in the trash when he noticed a small mark on the lower inside corner of the page. A closer look showed four words written in a hasty hand “The Union is coming.”
A quick glance down the line and he met the eyes of the man that had given him the newsletter, who nodded. Rumors about the Union had been swirling for months – one of the guys had managed to weasel his way into a library in the city and started doing some research on labor action on his last vacation, and hadn't been shy about spreading it around. He'd disappeared shortly after he opened his mouth, but the notions he'd been spouting took root in the minds of more sensible men. To Renny it all sounded like a pipe dream; corporations did what they wanted and workers had to fall in line. That was the way it always had been, and the way it always would be.

An hour later and he was in the rhythm of his work, subsumed by the mindless task that made the time roll by. He was so caught up in his role it took him a moment to register the noise. Screaming.

A thunderous detonation sounded behind him, ringing off of the steel walls to pound at his ears. He spun, dumbfounded, and saw the encouragement platform the company had erected in the middle of the shop floor tumble to the ground, the two armed guards on top of it leaping to safety as it struck. Five men from the line pinned them to the ground and took their weapons, while the man who'd been handing out newsletters climbed to the top of the metal husk that had been the platform.

“Brothers!” He cried out, raising his arms. “Unite!”

Renny took a step away from his station, a eyes wide and excitement rising, but fear chasing his heart. A glance around showed hope flaring across the shop, faces lighting up and heavy arms lifted – but how long could it last?

- D