windft

The old man switches over to a delicate tune.

What are you thinking, kid?

I was thinking... maybe I should go into the factory tomorrow... the production line... I've been thinking about it...

Oh, sorry, I'm babbling.

I was thinking, maybe I could do something about that production line... the line that Mom and Dad always worked on.

I remember staring at the conveyor belt, lifting up the stuff as it came along, turning it over, and putting it back if it passed inspection. It was inefficient and exhausting.

I want to modify it. Tomorrow.

Weren't you waiting for a job offer from someplace else?

You're planning to stay here, then? What about the factory owner?

No, I'm still waiting. I still want to leave.

Then...

I've just always wanted to make changes to the factory.

Actually, it's my whole reason to keep pushing forward.

...I thought you young folks went out just to make more money. I thought you didn't care what happened to old things like us who stayed behind.

You're different from the others, kid.

Not really...

The old man stops playing.

What I want the most is just to make money, climb the ranks, and get into a good company. I resent those who took away my opportunities. That's the kind of ordinary guy I am.

But when I was fixing that lock, Uncle Mason said he didn't want to change it, so his wife could still use her key when she comes back. I've heard a lot of stories like that.

'Don't worry, I've already eaten.' 'These pants still look trendy.'

Truth is, we don't have a choice. We say those things to make ourselves feel better.

I started out just wanting to learn some tricks to make things easier on the production line.

Make my parents' workload lighter, so we could make more money and live in a bigger house.

It's enough that you haven't forgotten that.

I've been thinking, though. Should I deny everything I've worked for and not help other people, just because I haven't gotten a job offer from an outside company?

(Smokes quietly) You wouldn't be the first person to back yourself into a corner.

I would've died alone out there, if not for Marge.

I was too obsessed with the process. That's why I was acting like that when I got back a few days ago.

It was a simple question, but I trapped myself in a corner.

He lets out a self-deprecating laugh, but there is a glimmer in his eyes.

If I modified those production lines, Uncle William might have the money to buy a ticket to see his daughter, and Uncle Mason might be able to send a new key and who-knows-what-else to his wife.

He breathes out.

I won't be able to help you out the next few days, but I'll be back once I'm finished at the factory.

You're such a good kid...

Marge could not hear what the two were saying. She leans by a window, watching the sunset, then turns around joyfully when Jon starts playing the piano again.

She takes Gantt Jr.'s hands.

Don't just stand there, sweetie.

Come on, while I can still hear the sound of the piano, while I can still dance, while the sunset still lingers.

Let's dance.

The lights shine bright in the factory tonight♪

Like the sunset when I spoke my love to you♪

Beep.

*Bzzzt*

Huh, guess I left my terminal at home.

15 unread messages. All ads. Last checked... 3 days ago?

I forgot about it for that long?

Haha...

The stars are shining so bright.

What should I fix tomorrow?

Gantt Jr. lies down on the bed, aching from a whole day of work.

He stares at the ceiling, where some of the paint has begun to peel off.

He closes his eyes and soon falls asleep.

In his dreams, he has taken over the operations of the factory. Everyone has new uniforms—including those hard hats worn by the workers on the posters—and lives in warm and spacious homes.

He turns over, a smile on his face, and knocks over a jar of medicine by his bedside.

Beep.