The droning of machinery, whirring of blower fans, dull banging of shovels and pickaxes, and the yelling foremen, drifted among other else, making up the din of an industrial workplace. It was a place of sweat and dust and noise where minimum wage earners scramble for meager crumbs in exchange for bodily pains and lifelong illnesses.
Roy inhaled a lungful through a particulate mask, reused over and over due to lack of financial budget allocated to the workers' safety. He knew the higher ups were heartless scums, thieves in gilded suits that pocket every cent they could. To them, the lives of bottom feeders were akin to stray dogs, inconsequentially disposable. Even a gangster boss cared more for his underling.
Corporate slavery is alive and kicking, alright.
"Roy," a ragged voice called out.
"John, what's up?" Roy asked wearily behind his stinky mask, discolored by fumes, and by his own spit and sweat. He pulled the damaged pickaxe to his side, squeezing every vigor to sound well.
John, the site supervisor, sighed in his unshaven and wrinkly face as though he was a crumpled paper, then drawn with features to look like a man. He looked older than his actual age.
"Instructions from the construction department," John began, "we're doing overtime today until all trial pits are dug."
'That's half a kilometer long trench!' he protested inside. 'Don't tell me we're doing all ten holes before calling it quits for the day, and they just started after their lunch break.'
Roy's face soured. His parched throat ached, begging to flood it with water. Just now he realized he had not rehydrated for an hour despite the terrible heat index.
"Sorry, but the inspection's tomorrow, can't afford to delay this any further," John said apologetically. His shoulder slouched in probable shame while furiously rubbing bullets of sweat off his face.
Roy couldn't really blame the man. Just like him, John was also a dog at the mercy of his superiors, albeit a better fed one.
John rummaged his pockets, pulled a few bills, counted some with his eyes, then furtively shoved a few to Roy. "Buy yourselves some cola and bread," John whispered. "I'll treat you to a better meal next time once we receive the bonus."
There's no 'we', Roy thought. Never did any helpers like him receive any bonus or extra remuneration since they joined the company years ago.
He quelled his anger that threatened to explode into a violent tantrum. Roy has a mouth to feed, and a rough altercation now would surely end up badly, leaving him jobless. Moreover, he shouldn't aim his misgivings at John, after all, the man's nothing but kind to them. Though Roy was well aware John was just dangling some carrots to prod them into work, but a carrot is still a carrot nonetheless.
"It's fine, boss," Roy consoled. "I don't need a meal but when your wallet gets a breather, let me borrow some." He grinned.
John let out a chuckle, one that's so crass you'd confuse it for a grimace. "Sure kid, now get your ass moving." He slapped Roy by the shoulder before sauntering to another worksite.
Roy eyed his surroundings vigilantly as he deftly folded one bill, then pocketed it in his safety vest.
"Hey!"
Roy swiveled his head to the side where a young man stared at him with scrunched brows. A shovel with a chipped edge settled over his shoulder while cradling a hard hat in his armpit, trying to act menacing, yet he looked comical in his blonde dreadlocks. His dark skin, colored like the burnt bottom of a kettle, sparkled under perspiration.
"The hell are you looking at me, Siddiq?" he asked, annoyed.
"I saw that," Siddiq said, suspicious. "Don't forget to share later, you get me? Remember, we're on the same team." He beamed, pridefully showcasing his set of bone-white teeth.
"You're doing OT as well? They haven't paid us the balance for the last two months, you know?"
"Don't overthink, we'll get it in a wink," Siddiq reassured with a pat on Roy's shoulder. "Or not. Thing is, my brother, what happens, happens. Don't beat your head against the wall over stuff you have no control. Who knows, they might credit everything in one go, that would make my wallet fat for once."
Roy genuinely admired Siddiq's optimism. Amidst all the hardships that wears down one's hope, he was still able to smile from the bottom of his heart as if he could fend off even the craziest storm with his will alone.
"Yeah, brother, really convincing coming from someone who has caught gonorrhea several times," Roy sneered, contempt evident in his eyes. "Get your shit cleaned before preaching to someone." He then continued, "And who knows, we might get nothing at all, wasting all our efforts in the end."
Siddiq shrank over his remark. Roy then added, sprinkling salt to injury. "You get yourself checked, brother Siddiq. I'm sure the clinic won't mind treating you over and over again. At this point, you're already a regular there. "
"That's why you're still a virgin," Siddiq retorted. "Life's fun when you take risks, your pecker ain't gonna get hard all the time, I tell you. Strike when your rod's still hot."
"Shut up," Roy barked. He brandished the pickaxe into the ground, and said, "I'm going out for a while. If John asks, tell him I'm out to buy something."
"Got it, don't forget to grab some of Linda's specialty as well, you know how Sankar and Kumar like it so much. Also, if you could buy Fant-"
"Sure, sure." Roy waved his hand in the air to dismiss Siddiq's barrage of demands.
"..and beware of the butcher!" Siddiq warned in his low voice through the haze of dust.
This gave Roy a pause, dwelled over it for a second, then threw it at the back of his mind. Deaths around here were as common as food spoiling, but the media has a penchant for fancy monikers, beefing up their stories with uncanny villains.
Finally, He scuttled past the plastic barriers, leaped over hedges, and away from his work premises.
The feverish vibe of the city dropped over Roy. Fancy looking boutiques and labyrinthine shopping centers lined the streets, bitterly reminding him of the things that were out of reach. It was as though it was another world altogether, exuding with life and hubbub vastly different from his bleak work chamber that trapped their poor souls into an exhausting cycle of exploitation.
He bit his lip, feeling more insignificant all of a sudden. A sense of defeat doused him like sand over fire.
A group of students, primly clothed in lavish uniforms, walked past Roy. They threw sidelong glances on his way, laced with disgust. Roy ignored them. His overall stained with muck and grime was a testament to his struggles. Cowering away in shame meant he had let the world have its way. Although he had to admit, he envied their wealth and the privilege that came with it.
Roy wondered how it would feel going to school, sitting in a room with other students, then goofing around with friends after class. It only took a moment to expel the thought, such reality was but a dream. Like the clouds in the sky, they seemed within grasp, but the moment you reach out, there's only air, and the feeling of emptiness.
***
~ Siddiq is the kind of man who often steps on dog shit and would just laugh in return. 'God provides,' he often chants. He's an optimist who worships karma and believes his misfortune is his path to success. Roy still keeps his watchful eyes when they're together, though. After all, any kind of shit stinks. ~