Josh Harker's A New Day

Josh Harker was walking through the cold and windy streets of the city, in this very early morning of January 2020. Today was as cold as usual, but he did not mind. All his attention was focused on his steps. Only 65 to go until he reached his working place, he counted. Every day, he counted them and every day they didn’t changed. Same thing with his job; every day he would do the same thing, during 7,5hours and was paid the exact same amount, every two weeks. Barely enough to cover his rent and food, and the little bit amount left he hid in his stash for his daughter Stacy, so he could send her to Europe, where life could be better for her.

His job consisted in standing in front of a hydraulic press and picking up parts as they come out of the press; the only challenge consisting when the machine was malfunctioning, he was able to fix it, and fix other’s machine. He had worked there for 5 years now, but since the war, he was lucky he still had a job, despite how shitty it was.

Today, although, a lot of things were going to change for Josh Harker.

[To be continued.]

As the day went forward, Josh noticed some kind of hidden commotion among the foremen. He looked at his friend Ellis, who was working at the exact same replica that he was working on, only making other parts. Josh knew little of what was really going on in the factory: that they were actually producing precision parts for weapons that would later be assembled in a secret room, hidden below the factory. The foremen were a part of this plot to produce and sell firearms to various groups, military and non-military. They were in for the money, and didn’t care.
As Josh went to the bathroom, he had the not-so bright idea to try and follow one of the foremen, a short yet very strict Asian man, as he went casually through the factory. There was a lot of noise and he didn’t bother to look behind him, so Josh went confidently on with his journey.
The foreman went to the unloading bay, as the reception worker unloaded a truck, using a forklift, and went into the office to talk with the trucker. The pallets were full of boxes or containers that looked the same as all the others they received everyday: either powder for parts or mini-parts they needed to “embed” into the parts they were producing.
They closed the door behind them but Josh went into the adjacent room, which was a bathroom and he could hear them talk.
“This is the last of it. I’ll come back in three days to pick up the weapons. Be sure it’s ready, this time.”
“Sure. Who are the buyers this time?”
“The Namastians.. So don’t fuck up!”
“Shit. All right. I’ll put my best men on it.”
Shit..let Josh out. He tried not to be too noisy as he made his way back to his working place.
But he wasn’t lucky as they came out of the office at the same time.
“Hey you! How come you’re not working?”
“Uh.. I just had to use the bathroom.”
“Why did you use that one? You have stalls over there!”
“Well, you know.. I’ve been having some gastric problems. So I advise you not to use it for some time…”
“Yeah whatever. Go back to work!.. Asshole..” The last word was muttered but Josh heard it.
There was some sweat beads on the foreman’s forehead. Shit. Josh said within himself, using the same curse word again. Why in hell are they fucking with the Namastians?. Josh knew that the Namastians were not people you could just run into unharmed. You could compare them to nowadays Yakuza mafia. Little was known about them, except that they were the descendants of the former. And that they could be anyone, now the blood didn’t matter no more.