Inner Worlds

She strode through the threshold and into the pristinely clean room. As the heavy metal door slammed shut behind her she paused in the center of the room, gleaming metal racks all around her. Breathing in she savored the smell of industrial-grade cleaner and walked over to the storage unit built into the wall. She slid the door open revealing the mirror and a rack of standard-issue clothing. As a samurai from feudal Japan donned armor for battle, she reverently fitted the uniform around her body. She stared into the mirror. Her eyes gradually unfocused as racing thoughts began to consume her. 

Her work was hard and messy. Often overlooked, derided, considered undesirable. Viewed as being performed by the unskilled dregs of society. She knew the truth, however. Unskilled? Laughable. She was an artist, the Picasso of her profession. True, her art would never be displayed in a gallery, but her mastery of it was no small feat. She’d like to switch places with a so-called ‘Titan of Industry’ and see how they’d do. 

It may not be the most glamorous position but someone had to do it. This was a necessary means to the society’s limitless ends. What would happen to their precious productivity if her work were to suddenly cease? There would be utter chaos in the streets. Really, she should be hailed as a hero, the white knight of fairy tales who constantly rescued the village from the dark clutches of lethargy. 

On the other hand, perhaps she was more of a seedy drug dealer. After all, her position really only existed to supply the society’s growing addiction. The people didn’t care where it came from as long as they got their fix. Much like a drug cartel there were dark sides to this industry that were all too casually overlooked. The shady business practices, abysmal working conditions, and lack of oversight to name a few. She’d have thought that the environmental impacts alone would have caused some members of the society to at least curb their usage. It did not. Her job was more necessary than ever.

Despite all this she actually liked her job, and she was good at it. As good as any of society’s leaders were at whatever it was that they did. A loud ringing shook her from her reverie. Her eyes refocused on the face in the mirror. Into the fray once more, she thought. She took a deep breath, straightened up, and turned on her heels, ready to perform her vital functions for the day. 

A thick plastic curtain separated her from her workspace, and she quickly pushed through it. Immediately she was met with all the familiar sights and sounds. There were tools and machinery lining the walls on either side of the narrow corridor. She walked to her station for today, and stared at the sleek, shining machine in front of her. She would have to work fast or the whole operation would be in jeopardy. The loud grinding to her right stopped, and that was her cue to begin. Like an astronaut performing emergency maintenance on the life support systems she dove into her work. 

Sweat formed on her brow as she quickly pulled the lever out of the machine that had made the alarming grinding sound just moments before. The dark brown powder was piled nicely in the metal scoop attached to the end of the lever. She grabbed a heavy tool and crushed the powder flat. A seasoned thief attempting to break into a safe she carefully fitted the lever into the gleaming contraption. When she felt the teeth had found their marks she jammed the instrument up and turned it to the left, locking it into place. 

Now she was a squid in the murky depths of the ocean, all ten arms shooting out to catch her prey. Arms flipped switches, turned dials, and placed containers perfectly to catch the dark sludge that would soon seep from the machine. The machine itself had sprung to life. It rumbled, rattled, and sounded like it might come apart in front of her. Undeterred one of her free arms reached down into cold storage and pulled out a jug of cold liquid that would be vital to success.

On one side of the machine the mad scientist began to mix a chemical concoction into the appropriate receptacles. She switched to the other side of the mechanism as the hot slurry started to drip out. She carefully poured the cold fluid into a stainless steel container and raised it to the engine. She grabbed the shining rod protruding from the unit and plunged it into the cool liquid. As another knob turned the scientist's eyes gleamed and steam shot from the apparatus. If she fumbled here it would mean failure. 

She snapped the steam off precisely as the dark brown deposit stopped dripping. The previously cold liquid now bubbled. The machine fell silent. Heat radiated from it and a bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. Her ceramic crucible perfectly captured the searing muck, not a drop wasted. With the crucible in one hand and the bubbling steel container in the other, she began to pour them simultaneously into the chemical mixture. Like an alchemist rendering gold from molten lead, all the ingredients came together. 

Another successful mission, she thought as she carefully sealed the containers. Slowly, she zoned back into reality. “Two caramel macchiatos!” she yelled. 

“Nice work Alli,” her supervisor said, “Keep them coming, we’ve got quite the rush this morning.”

A bell rang as another customer entered the coffee shop. The line was almost out the door already. Alli didn’t mind. The big rushes were her favorite part of the job. When the orders were coming fast there was no time to stop and think, all she could do was act. It was the perfect opportunity to get lost in her work, in her own inner worlds. 

With the back of her sleeve Alli wiped the sweat from her brow. As another customer stepped up to the counter and placed their order, Alli prepared herself. Order received, Allie thought, robotically. She started up the coffee grinder and dove back into her work, something of a machine herself.