The work on the assembly line is a torturous affair.
You are endlessly repeating the same thing, never knowing when it will stop, with only one item after another on the conveyor belt needing processing.
Alex, expressionless and mindless, stuffs piece after piece of meat into the meat grinder.
In the beginning, he fantasized about saving enough money to buy an artificial lung and getting a better-paying job, or imagined becoming Johnny Silverhand, blowing up Huangban Tower and winning the beauty.
One week
Two weeks
Three weeks
His mind gradually grew numb, even imagination became a luxury.
Despite only having a bit of cybernetics installed, he felt like he had become a machine on the side of the conveyor belt, endlessly repeating the same action, never knowing when it would end.
After all, machines don't need thoughts.
