The next day arrived in Saad's life, and it was a repetition of his usual routine. He groggily reached out for his phone, his fingers tracing the cracked screen. The shattered glass was a stark reminder of his financial situation. He couldn't even replace it since rather than spending it on phone, he had more important things he could spend money on. It was a lifeline to the world beyond his cramped room, even with its fractured screen. Saad set his alarm for the factory shift and tossed the phone aside, resigned to its imperfections.
Fatigue weighed heavy on his eyelids as he drifted off to sleep, the allure of the VR game briefly forgotten. Dreams danced on the fringes of his consciousness, abstract and ephemeral, like promises that always remained just out of reach.
The harsh blare of his alarm clock pulled Saad from slumber at the unforgiving hour of 5 in the morning. He sighed, begrudgingly acknowledging the importance of the moment. Despite the allure of the VR world, some things in his life were non-negotiable. He couldn't, for example, neglect his daily prayers.
Saad had a complicated relationship with his faith. He knew he should never skip prayers, and he felt guilt when he did. It had become a strange habit to join his roommates for the early morning mosque visit during working day and yet on his off days, he always missed on the prayers. The guilt would stay there but also forgotten somehow.
As he was washing his face, he gazed at himself in the mirror.
He was a 23 years old man and truly he was the epitome of average. His slightly dark olive skin tone was unremarkable, as were his coarse black hair and brown eyes. He had an average height and an average weight, lacking the bulging muscles that some of his friends at the factory sported.
His face was adorned with a light stubble. He touched the rough skin and sighed. Perhaps he should have shaved last night before going to sleep but he didn't have time and energy to do so right now. On his right hand, he wore a cheap red carnelian ring with a golden band. It held no special meanings. He had seen his uncles and father wearing it and in young age, he always thought of just how adult like it looked. So he had gotten one for himself. Something that perhaps looked cheap in others eyes, was precious for him.
His life was devoid of satisfaction, a series of days that blurred together in monotony. But he had never contemplated it deeply while living in his village. There, that was the life almost everyone led. Some might live a little better, but most of them were trapped in the cycle of a simple, struggling existence, like bottom feeders scraping the remnants of a meal.
However, everything changed when Saad came to Karachi, a sprawling metropolis that dwarfed his village in every way imaginable. His eyes were suddenly opened to a world that had seemed impossibly distant before. The news on TV spoke of hotels on Mars and the establishment of colonies on the Moon. It all sounded like tales from a distant universe, not the same world where he lived.
Saad was bewildered by the stark disparity. How could people inhabit the same planet but live such vastly different lives? It was as if his country was stuck in time, immovable and unable to progress. He knew about virtual reality; he had read about it, heard about it. It was a massive industry in the rest of the world, a source of entertainment, business, and even education.
But for people like Saad, it was a luxury reserved for the wealthy, something they spent money on to have fun. Yet, Saad had become obsessed with the idea, reading about the vast possibilities and the fortunes some people earned through it. When the biggest and most flawless VR game had finally launched, he couldn't resist the temptation. He had to get it, even if it meant sacrificing other things.
As these thoughts weighed on his mind, Saad returned from the mosque with his roommates. They had breakfast at a roadside stall, a small ritual that broke the dullness of their lives. While Haroon engaged in small talk, Amir blatantly ignored Saad. It was a source of constant frustration for Saad, especially so early in the morning. With his mood soured, he trudged off to the factory.
In the factory, he was just another machine operator in a garment assembly line, a cog in a vast industrial machine that churned out clothes for the world. It was a life of repetition, devoid of excitement or fulfillment, much like the one he sought to escape through the virtual world of the game. At least that world gave you a chance to relive and redeem, unlike the real life.
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Saad's shift started at 6:30, but he knew the unwritten rule - arrive early, work harder. By 6:20, he was already seated at his station, ready to begin the repetitive task of sewing. The factory floor was a cacophony of noise, the rhythmic clatter of sewing machines filling the air. It was a dimly lit space, illuminated only by the harsh fluorescent lights that dangled from the ceiling, casting stark shadows on the rows of workers.
To his left sat Zafar, a fellow villager, while on his right was Farooq, an older man from Thatta who seemed to have made it his personal mission to enforce workplace discipline with a constant frown. Farooq had an air of unnecessary strictness about him, and his piercing gaze made speaking feel like a transgression. The ever-present hum of machinery seemed to amplify the tension in the room, making conversation a rare and cautious affair.
But Saad had struck a quiet camaraderie with Zafar. The two shared their dreams, complaints, and moments of a much needed breather, even if it was under the watchful eye of their supervisor. Their whispered conversations often revolved around life beyond these factory walls.
On this particular day, Zafar couldn't contain his curiosity. He leaned closer to Saad, his voice barely audible above the clatter of machines. "Saad, have you heard about that new game, the VR one? I saw an ad of it on the TV and they are importing so many of these here. They say, you can actually earn money from it."
Saad hesitated, unsure of how much he should reveal. He had taken out a significant loan to buy the VR set, and the monthly deductions from his paycheck were a heavy burden. He glanced around the dimly lit factory, making sure Farooq wasn't paying them any mind. "Yeah," he replied, keeping his voice low. "I've heard about it. But it's just a game. I doubt it's worth all the hype." In the end, he had chosen to lie.
Zafar nodded, a hint of caution in his eyes. "You're right, Sad. We should be careful with our money. You never know, it might be a scam. And even if it's not, just because some folks make money from it doesn't mean we can. It's all just those rich people's schemes. They want to make our youngsters gaming addicts. Life is plenty difficult as it is."
Saad agreed with Zafar's reasoning, though his heart ached with the knowledge that he had already ventured into this expensive virtual world. He couldn't help but wonder if he had made a grave mistake. But quickly shook the thought off. He wasn't going to think so pessimistically.
The hours crawled by, and lunchtime provided only a brief break. The factory floor was a sea of workers, each focused on their task, the clatter of machinery and the rustle of fabric a constant backdrop to their lives. Saad's mind remained in the clouds, yearning for the comfort of home. The work felt more arduous than usual, every stitch weighing him down.
He couldn't shake the feeling of needing to escape the dust and the relentless grind of the factory. The air in the factory was thick with the scent of fabric, a mix of sweat, dust, and the sharp tang of chemicals used in the sewing process. The floor was perpetually covered in a fine layer of lint and thread ends, creating a gritty, grayish layer that seemed to infiltrate every nook and cranny. He realized just how bleak everything was.
By the time the clock struck 3:30 pm and his shift ended, Saad couldn't take it any longer. He almost bolted from his workstation, almost knocking over his chair in his haste to leave. Without a word to his coworkers, he rushed out of the factory.
Saad retrieved his bicycle from where he had parked it and pedaled furiously through the dusty streets. The relentless rhythm of the pedals, the wind against his face, it all felt liberating. He had had enough of this world of monotony and dust for one day. Today, he needed an escape more than ever.