I sat in my house; my mask still not released as the workday was not yet over. The perspiration on my face was far greater than it was in the heat of The Hot room. I wanted to take it off, I wanted to get out. The ticking was offbeat in my head and began to irritate me. Tears joined my sweat and pooled at the base of my mask. With my mind sifting through each piece of metal that was conveyed between my work station and the completion pile, I could not recognise any mistakes nor rule breaks. My completion rate was an unshakable 100% as each time the green light flashed my product was finished. My brain twitched and the ticking distracted my train of thought. I sat down on my bed and began counting along with my clock, its cogs turning and small engine chugging each second and smoke releasing each minute. There were exactly 2 hours and 57 minutes and 35 seconds, 34 seconds, 33 seconds. The mirror in the corner of my room stared at me awaiting to see my face. I did not care for vanity but my curiosity to see the face of an ex-worker compelled me to continue counting. The words of the Chamber workers stung but also created the same excitement I had when I built machines. There would be no curfew for me. I would be able to see my machines in all their glory. The ticking was severely unsynchronised to my counting, the ticks were getting slower, slower even than the seconds I counted.