Lately, I’ve been writing a work of allegorical fiction alongside my students. Knowing how much I love writing fiction(!), this project is just what my writing needs: a push to get me outside my comfort zone.
Today I’ll share the first installment of the story I’ve written. Full disclosure: it wouldn’t be nearly the quality it is without the input, guidance and advice from my students.
Enjoy.
It was an ordinary day in the settlement of Juventa, a town nestled in an isolated valley among the foothills of the Cogora Mountains. The people had lived there since well before anyone could remember.
If you visited Juventa, you might think it was an ordinary village. You’d see people living in simple homes along stony walkways. You’d see gardens full of fruits, vegetables, and ornamental flowers. You’d see fields and farms and a central square with a marketplace.
But Juventa was far from ordinary. Some towns run on solar energy. Some towns run on coal or gas. Juventa ran on the brainpower of its children. Their imagination was so strong and forceful, it was enough to keep lights on and machines running. Like each generation before them, kids worked in the factory until they reached the age of eighteen before moving on to their adult careers.
On this ordinary day, Greta got up, had a simple breakfast, put on her blue and grey uniform, then said goodbye to her parents and made her way to the factory at the center of Juventa. It was, by far, the largest structure in the settlement, a brown, two-story brick building with thick chimneys emerging from the center. The kids from the night shift were just beginning to stream out, pale and exhausted.
“Hey, Greta. Nice clothes. They one of a kind?”
Greta rolled her eyes and turned to face her best friend Milo, dressed in identical fashion. “Ha, ha,” she retorted. “Nice joke, Milo. You just think of that one?”
Milo shrugged and said, “Can’t help being so hilarious.” He put his fist up like a comedian’s microphone and added, “He’s here all week, folks. Don’t forget to tip your waiter!”
We’re ALL here all week, thought Greta dimly. Every week. Every. Day.
The two friends trudged into the factory along with the rest of Juventa’s children. Ranging in age from five to eighteen, they filed through the front doors. Greta was eleven years old, so she knew the routine well: go to her individual ThinkStation and set up for the day. Her ThinkStation was just like the dozens of others: about three feet square, with a chair, her Imaginarius video monitor, and a special helmet. A voice crackled over the loudspeaker:
“Good morning, young Juventans. This is your supervisor Mrs. Angorio. Welcome to another beautiful day. When you turn on your Imaginarius, you’ll see that today’s ThinkQuota has been raised, which means we’ve got high goals for you. All breaks other than lunch have been suspended, and we will operate outside of standard hours to meet our goals. To stimulate your thinking, we have added two new options to your WonderList. You’ll see them on your opening menu. And now…let your imagination soar!”
Greta shook her head, weary of tired catchphrases and false excitement. Still, she put her helmet on, then tapped her Imaginarius to find that day’s ThinkQuota. Another high power quota, she sighed. Don’t people know how hard this job is? Greta reviewed the WonderList, browsing the options. She skipped the new offerings in favor of her favorite exploration: the sandy beach.
Instantly, the Imaginarius snapped to life with an aerial view of a white sandy beach with turquoise waters lapping at the shore. As the camera zoomed in, the sounds of seagulls, wind and waves flowed into Greta’s ears. She imagined herself there: warm, calm, surrounded by the vastness of nature. As she did, she felt the familiar buzz of the electrodes humming to life under her helmet, pulling her thoughts away from her and into the central transformers. Greta was so immersed in her own mind that she missed the call for lunch, only stopping when Mrs. Angorio’s voice interrupted her meditation:
“Thank you, young Juventans, for another strong day of work. You are free to go home.”
It was only then, after Greta shut off her Imaginarius and removed her helmet, that she realized how stiff, sore, and tired she had become during her shift.
“Man, you were really into it today,” said Milo.
“Yeah,” agreed Greta. “There’s something about the beach that gets to me.” She rolled her head to stretch her neck. “I just wish…” her voice trailed off.
“…you wish it were a real place. I know. All of us do. That’s why it’s so powerful, you know. That’s how we keep the lights on.”
Milo and Greta continued on their way home, when a voice called to them. “You know, it wasn’t always like this.”
Soapbox: The Way I see Things 