In recent weeks, I’ve been working on something that has me excited for the future and thankful to finally being moving forward with this journey. Stay tuned for more information in the coming weeks. In the meantime, allow me to tell you a tale that was inspired by the novel, 1984. This is the Assemblyman.
Enjoy.
In a large factory, an assembly line stretched as far as the eye could see. The products assembled on the line varied dramatically depending on the day. Yesterday, the three thousand assemblymen assembled bicycles one piece at a time. Last week, it had been a curious device with a trigger and a long shaft that none of the assemblymen would have recognized as a rifle. Today, it was a simple three-foot by three-foot box, assembled like a jigsaw puzzle one piece at a time. Assemblyman 274 didn’t recognize it for the busy work that it was. Keeping the body occupied was an important factor in maintaining order, not that 274 thought much about it. In fact, his mind was utterly blank as he applied a thick layer of glue to the unfinished box in front of him. The box moved along the line, where Assemblyman 275 inserted the wooden jigsaw piece into place, covering his gloved hands in sticky glue in the process.
The hum of the conveyor moving the assembly line steadily along was the only sound in the factory. That was until the sound of wooden jigsaw pieces clattering to the concrete floor echoed throughout the large space.
274 snuck a glance down the line to his right, doing so without moving his head.
A dozen workers down the line, a tall assemblyman crouched awkwardly to pick up the pieces off the ground. His hands moved quickly, piling the pieces on the table of his workstation. The area was littered with wooden jigsaw pieces. 274 looked away as guard 87 walked briskly in the direction of the assemblyman with his hand grasping the handle of the rectification rod attached to his belt.
274 stared straight ahead as he applied glue to the next unfinished box. The sound of solid wood meeting bare flesh caused him to cringe involuntarily. The screams of the tall assemblyman echoed throughout the large, empty space.
Waves crashed on the shoreline of a sun-soaked beach in an undisclosed location. Knox had set his woven beach chair close enough to the water so his toes would be tickled by each incoming wave. He closed his eyes, taking in the crispness of the water on his parched skin. A few seconds of bliss later, and it was over. Another would soon replace it if he was patient enough.
A seagull squawked repeatedly somewhere overhead. His moment of tranquility interrupted; Knox opened his eyes. The flying rodent in question was circling overhead making an obscene racket. A larger seagull, obviously as annoyed as Knox was, flew by and delivered a peck to the noisy bird. The squawking ceased.
A buzzer sounded in the factory from a speaker mounted to the wall, signifying the end of the working day. The final wooden box had reached the end of the assembly line seconds before the buzzer went off. This happened daily, regardless of the time, though without a clock in the factory 274 had no way of noticing the discrepancy. Simply, the workday wasn’t finished until the work was finished.
274 stood in unison with his fellow assemblymen. They exited the factory, walking in a single file line. Sky blue painted the walls of the hallways as they walked, as if they were walking through a sunlit park surrounded by trees, rather than in a building surrounded by concrete. Being outside would have been quite upsetting for 274, as he hadn’t felt the warmth of the sun upon his skin since he came of age. Those memories were supposed to be suppressed, though he had cordoned off select memories. He could only draw upon those memories during the hours when They thought he was asleep. Try as he might, he couldn’t bring anything forth any other time.
The line slowed as they entered the cafeteria. The concrete walls were painted white. Concrete flooring had given way to white tiled flooring, with a large red arrow indicating the direction the line was to move, despite not needing the help. Large tables with bench seats lined the room. Each person procured a tray, which they put a bowl, spoon, cup, and napkin on.
274 watched as a spoonful of beige mush was dropped into his bowl by a slack-faced woman wearing a hairnet on her auburn hair. A similarly slack-faced man pressed the nozzle on a dispenser, filling his cup with a cloudy liquid that was supposed to be water.
Meal in hand, he followed the line until they arrived at the empty table near the end of the row. He waited for the table to fill, then they sat in unison. Spoonful by spoonful they ate the mush with slack faces, staring into their bowls all the while.
The sun was setting as Knox got out of the beach chair. He knew he should move the chair away from the water, lest the coming tide wash it away. Of course, that had never happened, so he walked away, leaving the chair where it lay.
It was a short walk to the cantina where he dined every day. He followed the wood slats on the boardwalk that conveniently led from his beach spot to the cantina. While he walked, he gazed at the remaining blue in the sunsetting sky.
The cantina was a small building, if it could even be called a building at all. It had a deck constructed of heavily weathered wood that somehow managed not to splinter his bare feet. There was a canopy overhead, made of bamboo and palm tree leaves. It was open air, so Knox could enjoy the sunset while he dined. A bar constructed of bamboo ran the length of the cantina. There were a dozen tables, though he never saw anyone else sitting at them.
He was greeted with a smile by an olive-skinned bartender. She was as mysterious as she was beautiful. The rays of the setting sun seemed to find their way into the cantina to shine off her black hair. Her crimson lips reminded him of an apple, both begging for a touch from his lips.
Sitting on the bar in front of her was a plate of freshly caught fish, rice, and grilled vegetables. It was the only way he would eat mushrooms. The beautiful bartender—whom he still didn’t know the name of, even after all these years—seemed to know that without him having spoken so aloud.
He returned her smile, grabbed his plate, and took his seat at his usual table. He watched the sunset in silence.
After dinner, 274 stood, again in unison with his fellow assemblymen. As they exited the cafeteria, each deposited their tray and utensils into the appropriate slot in the wall, where each would be washed and readied for tomorrow’s breakfast service.
In the hallway, the walls had changed from sky blue to black. The lighting had also dimmed, signifying the coming of night.
He shuffled along, following assemblyman 273 until he came to a door marked 274. Each of them stopped at the door with their number written in black lettering. A buzzer sounded when everyone was in place. In unison, they opened their doors and entered their sleeping quarters.
Inside, all the rooms were the same, industrial and void of personality. The walls were unpainted concrete, the floor was the same. A bed with a green wool blanket and insufficient pillow was mounted on one wall. There was a toilet and sink in the corner.
274 took off his gray coveralls and hung it on one of the two hooks by the door. There was a matching set of coveralls on the other hook, ready for him to wear tomorrow. When he arrived after work tomorrow, there would be a replacement, as there was every day.
The lights went out as he climbed into bed. 274 lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting.
It was a short walk from the cantina to the small bungalow where Knox slept each night. He enjoyed the sound of the tide washing along the shore as he walked. It was a fine evening for a walk.
The bungalow had simplicity in mind, as he didn’t require much. A place to rest his head, simple as that. There weren’t walls, as he had never been bothered by anyone during his stay in this tropical paradise. A hammock hung from the rafters of the roof. He climbed in the hammock and was quickly asleep.
Images of his childhood flooded 274’s thoughts. They came out of nowhere, as they did every night. One second his mind would be curiously blank, only to be replaced by thoughts or memories from his childhood. He had tried to draw upon more recent memories but had failed. Everything from after he joined The System seemed to be off limits.
In the memory, it was 274’s birthday. His twelfth birthday, to be exact. It was an important milestone for those living both in and out of The System. His family was of the latter group, though it didn’t matter. In The System or out, they would find you when you became of age. His parents were also of age, obviously, though had been deemed unworthy—or was it untrustworthy?—of a transition to a life within The System.
He knew they would come for him on this day, like they had for his brother two years prior, also on his brother’s twelfth birthday. He hadn’t seen his brother since. Yet, he willed it not to happen. Other children whispered about an omnipotent deity in the sky watching over them. They did so with an eye on the instructors in the reformatory, knowing if they were heard the punishment would be severe. 274—his parents had given him a name back then, though he couldn’t remember it now—hadn’t a notion if such a being existed, but on his twelfth birthday, he did something he hadn’t done before. He prayed to this deity, asking to be saved.
Later that same day, he could curse the deity with tears in his eyes as he was ripped from his mother’s arms.
The memory was replaced by an image of a sandy beach. It was a curiosity for one reason. 274 had never been to the beach, therefore, it wasn’t a memory. Then what was it?
He fell asleep still pondering the answers.
Knox awoke the next morning feeling as he did every morning, surprised by his surroundings. It was as if his mind went somewhere else while he was asleep, only to awaken back in his body. By the time his feet hit the wood planks of the cabana, his bearings were back. The view of the sun rising over the open ocean didn’t hurt either. Instantly, he knew it would be a good day.
He walked to the beach wondering what he had done to deserve this paradise.
If 274 had a functioning mind, he would have wondered what he had done to deserve the hell he found himself in. Each day was a mirror image of the previous day. The only thing that changed were the voices of his fellow assemblymen screaming in agony as they were beaten. It was a mindless existence, while his mind had been with him the previous evening, 274 had the brainwave that was exactly what The System had in order.
Breakfast was the same beige mush he had eaten the previous evening for dinner. Luckily, he didn’t have the consciousness to wonder whether it was freshly made or had sat out all evening, only to be reheated come morning, or what in the hell the mush was made from.
Instead, he ate while staring into his bowl. His mind was void of thought.
Knox ate a refreshing omelet with cheese and peppers for breakfast in the cantina. When finished, he walked to his usual place on the beach. His beach chair was untouched by the tide. He sat, wondering what he should do today, then did nothing.
As he sat on the beach, doing nothing, something happened that hadn’t happened before. Yet for some reason it happened on that day.
Knox fell asleep.
Assemblymen 274 looked around the room with utter clarity for the first time in…well, he wasn’t sure how long. Probably since that fateful day twenty years ago when he was taken from his mother’s arms. Wait, he wasn’t supposed to be able to remember that now. That memory was locked away, sealed behind an impenetrable door. Yet, remember it he had. If he could remember, that meant he could think, truly think for himself.
An unfinished wooden box passed along the conveyor belt in front of him, waiting for the glue so 275 could insert the jigsaw piece into place. It passed without an application of glue from his brush. This had occurred for two reasons. First, 274 had been stricken motionless by his sudden ability to think for himself. Second, he recognized the wooden box for what it was, a useless piece of wood that was only meant to keep the assemblymen busy between important jobs. Idle hands are the devil’s playground, as his mother had been fond of saying when he was a child.
Another box passed in front of him. Again, he didn’t apply the necessary coat of glue. Assemblymen 275 glanced in his direction before putting the piece into place without glue. 274 knew it didn’t matter. The System likely had a disassembly crew that would break the boxes apart, leaving the jigsaw pieces ready for another use. 274 knew this just as he knew the name his mother had blessed him with at birth.
Something struck the back of his head. Blackness engulfed assemblymen 274.
The bright florescent lights of the factory hurt his eyes as he stared at the ceiling from the ground. There was a throbbing in his head, the back of which was sticky with his own blood. Despite the pain, there was a clarity that had never been there previously. Something had happened while he had been unconscious, a merging of two entities, once thought to be separate from each other and oblivious of each other. Now those entities were one, never to be separated again.
“Assemblyman 274, stand up!” guard 87 ordered in a commanding voice that had never been defied.
He stood slowly, as the pain in his head caused the ground to sway on its axis.
“Assemblyman 274, you may resume your work. Take your seat.”
Blood dripped from the thick end of the rectification rod still held tightly in the guard’s hand.
“No.”
Guard 87 struck with both speed and ferocity, hitting him in the stomach. The blow brought him to his knees. After a couple deep breaths, he stood again.
“Assemblyman 274, retake your—”
“My name is Knox,” Knox said, sealing his fate.
Thanks for reading. Until next time, remember to follow your dreams, even if they terrify you.
Stephen M. Roth
