I 

A light breeze touched my cheeks, waking me up to the cold winter. Nothing had changed overnight. Life was still miserable. I sighed. I had nothing; no warm clothes, no money, no home, and no food. Every day was the same, just walking around until I found leftover food to eat and once again, falling asleep outside, wherever I found a place where no one would bother me. 

My life depended on finding people, begging for money out on the cold streets, but when I escaped into a few hours of precious sleep, I wanted to be invisible. Today was no different from other days. I woke up, shivered, and made my way to the corner of the street where I begged for money. As always, I didn’t make much. The few coins in my palm at the end of the day were only enough to keep me barely alive. A slice of bread, a cup of tea, or a raggedy cloth to stuff into my coat to keep me warm was all they would buy.

Evening was approaching, so I started to pack my bag. A cold wind was already biting at my face. I was thinking about where I could find somewhere warm to sleep as a man approached. He came closer and closer until he was standing in front of me. Without speaking, he dropped a hundred-dollar bill into the little basket I used to collect handouts. He leaned forward, taking a close look at my face and hands before he said, "You look cold and hungry young lady. Would you like to work for me and change that?" I was more than surprised, I was scared.

Lesson number one of the streets. Trust no one. But it was so cold and the money was so much that I felt grateful as well as fearful. Tears dripped down my cheeks as I struggled to answer him. So many questions went through my head; why would a man like him need me? What did he really want? Could I trust him? As if he read my mind, he said softly, gently, kindly, "Don't worry, it's just simple factory work. All you need to do is stitch book covers every day." 

The cold wind began to whistle as he waited patiently for my reply. I was already shivering in the cold. I knew I might not make it through the night if I didn’t accept his offer. As the wind bit at my face and legs, I decided I didn't care to ask any more questions and quickly, but reluctantly, accepted his offer. From his coat pocket he took out a piece of paper and a pen.

“Read and sign this,” he urged. 

I read the contract quickly, it said:

-----

1. You must be at your workstation in the factory, every day, by 9:00am. You will work from 9:00am to 5pm with an hour’s break for lunch.

2. Your dorm room, food, clothing and all necessary items for your comfort will be provided to you at no charge.

3. You will be paid $1000 per day at the end of every shift

4. After a month you must leave. 

5. This work will be done in absolute secrecy and any leaks will lead to consequences.

SIGNATURE:

-----

I could barely believe my eyes as I saw the second and third terms of the contract. A warm place to sleep? Food and clothing? And more money than I’d ever seen in my life? My hands were like blocks of ice in the cold, but I managed to sign the contract. The man then reached for my bag and my hand, and escorted me to his car. He seemed to be caring and genuinely concerned about me, so I settled back into the car seat without any more suspicion. We drove for a few hours, but I couldn’t say where we went. I fell asleep in the warmth, and the rocking motion and comfort of his car. 

We arrived at an enormous building that appeared to be a factory. He  got out of the car, walked around and opened the car door for me. I grabbed my bag and got out. Then he handed me a key with a number on it.

“Have a good evening,” he said, smiling and nodding towards the building.

“You’ll find your apartment, everything you need, and a schedule and a map of the building in your room. Your room number is on your keyring.” He tipped his hat, and got back in his car and drove away. I walked into the building. Despite its size, it was very quiet. I found my room quickly. Once I entered it, I dropped my bag in shock. It looked like the brightly lighted homes I passed on the streets—homes that I never thought I would see inside, let alone live in. There were fresh flowers and a huge bowl of ripe fruit on a table. I picked up an orange and peeled it as I walked around the small apartment in astonishment. I ate the orange, then an apple. I took off my coat. It was so warm. As I looked around, the sleepiness I felt in the car returned. Sleepily, I wandered into a small room. My own bathroom? I quickly stripped and stepped into the shower. The water was so hot and comforting. I cried as I let it wash away my tears and months of dirt and grime. When I finally stopped crying, got out of the shower, and dried off, I decided to get a hold of myself and go to bed. I had another piece of fruit, and walked over to the huge feather bed. I climbed onto it cautiously. It felt like pure bliss after sleeping on the hard ground. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

II

"Briiiiing--Briiiing--Briiiiing!" I woke up to an alarm, not a cold breeze or a rat walking over my face. I took another shower. After months of grime and living on the street, there was still dirt to be scrubbed away. I changed into the clothes that were hanging in the closet. A note on the table told me food was served at the dining hall—to just follow the map. I headed out early to have breakfast. I expected to see my fellow workers eating, but no one was there except me. There were benches and tables lined up for people to sit, but I was the only one. I briefly wondered if I was late, and where everyone was, but as soon as I smelled the food, I was too hungry to care. I had barely gotten enough to eat living on the streets, and I had been hungry every minute of every day. I looked around for the source of the food. Instead of workers dishing out food, there was a system where you could press a button under a picture of a meal. I pressed the button under the food I wanted to eat and a little elevator opened, my food was served, all warmed up. I could eat as much as I wanted; it was so good that I ended up almost feeling sick from eating so much of it. I was excited to see such advanced technology and I thought to myself that I have lived too long out on the streets. The factory was right next to the dorm, so after breakfast, I headed to the factory right away. 

III

When I arrived at the factory, a weird smell stung my nose as I entered the manufacturing area. It was fishy and overpowering, familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. The stench of it made my eyes water, but I put on a mask hanging with the white jacket I was given to wear by a masked supervisor. He pointed to an open sewing station and I went and sat down. There were other workers too, and I realized with a jolt that this was the first time I'd seen people since I arrived at this place. I figured that they lived in another dorm and that maybe I was the first to move into my dorm. I tried to talk to them, but they wouldn't answer me, they just stared ahead blankly. Their faces were emotionless. They moved slowly and purposefully as they went about their work. I was glad I knew how to operate a sewing machine. Other than another masked employee who showed me how to assemble the covers, no one offered to help. I was left on my own to figure things out. We all sat in silence, waiting for something. As soon as 9:00am hit, more people came in. In their arms were boxes, full of... something. It looked a bit like leather, but it was damp and rough. When I touched it, I felt like I was touching a raw chicken, sort of bumpy and slightly slimy. I looked to my side and saw that the other workers were stitching their semi-leather looking pieces together, then placing them on top of a conveyer belt in front of us. The belt whisked the assembled pieces away with a quiet hum and a soft clicking sound. 

The material was soft and squishy, but I soon I got used to stitching it. We had a lunch break but no one spoke. We ate silently in the cafeteria until another bell rang and then we returned to our workstations. It was all very odd. At 5:00 pm, the man who escorted me here came to the factory floor and ordered us to return to our apartments. When I arrived at my room, I straight away laid down on my bed, tired and weary and smelly. There were many questions I wanted to ask about what I was doing, but there was no one to ask about it so I kept the questions to myself. 

Every day I continued to stitch, and to keep my head down. I never spoke to any of my fellow workers. When I became bored I mentally counted the money I was making and thought of how I would spend it, where I would go, the clothes I would buy, and where I might live. Weeks passed and I was close to finishing the month the contract stated. There was not much change since the beginning of my job except for the fact that I finally got used to the smell. No one talked to me and there was still no one at my dorm. I would be disappointed to leave such a nice job, but I would have made enough money to restart my life in the city, so I was satisfied. 

IV

My last day of work came and ended. There was nothing special about it at all, except instead of telling us all to return to our dorm rooms, the man came into the factory and told all the workers to pack their bags and prepare to leave the next morning on the bus. Elated, I went back to my dorm and hurriedly packed my few belongings. However, as I was counting up the money I had made, something came into my mind; what had I been stitching? During this whole month of working, I hadn’t been able to get this question out of my head. So I decided to find out before I left. That night, I snuck out of the dorm and headed for the factory. My heart was pounding fast but I felt like I had to do this, I had to know the answer. Slowly, I turned the factory door, and took a step into the factory. The door wasn’t locked, and surprisingly, the conveyor belt was still active. Nothing was moving down it, but I followed it until I arrived at the end, where it disappeared behind a curtain of plastic strips that bounced and moved as the belt passed through it. Stretching my hand out, I parted the curtain and stepped through it. I was scared but I couldn't leave now. All I could hear was my breath and my pounding heart as I stepped into the darkness. I couldn’t see anything, but moved slowly forward until I bumped into something. I didn’t know what it was, but I still screamed in fear and started to panic. Before I could recover, the lights came flickering on. 

V

I dropped to the ground in terror, and my brain seemed to stop. I could think of nothing, my mind went blank. All I could do was stare at the man walking towards me. It was the same man who had brought me to this place. He smiled and said, "Why, who do we have here?" The stitches, the smell, and the emptiness; Suddenly I understood. The other dorm rooms, the other workers? They were the pieces I’d been stitching. I’d been sewing human flesh.

I fell to my knees and vomited all over the floor, tears starting to run down my face. I begged and begged the man, "Please...Please...PLEASE," the only word that came out was "Please." The man smiled; "Beautiful isn't it? People these days... they're like robots. They wake up, go to work, come back home, sleep, and repeat the process. It was good right? That's what you've been doing for the past month!" This man was crazy for sure, he was out of his mind. He continued, "I'll ask you this one more time. Was it good?" I replied, "No. No. No, it wasn’t..." But the truth was... I did enjoy what had befallen me. Unlimited food, a nice room, and a job. Was I going crazy? How could I admit such a thing? Before I could finish answering, the man started talking again, "To everyone who came here, I gave them a choice; a choice to leave or stay. The only price to stay was a small stitch. What's your choice young lady?" I looked up at his face. The smile was still there, only this time I saw the psychopath behind it. I wanted to leave this place, but at the same time, I didn't. It was then, my past came into mind; Homeless, hungry, and cold; things I never experienced since I arrived here. Suddenly I knew the answer, as he seemed to know I would. "he...he...ha ha ha ha ha!" I laughed at myself for thinking such an idea. I couldn’t hold back the flood of laughter as it echoed through the factory.