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Monday

Mom, Dad, I'm back...

Wait, you're...?

Hey.

That you? Ole' Gantt's boy?

No wonder he sent me out here.

Look at you, your eyes glued to your terminal. You couldn't fix a washing machine before the clothes dry.

I'm waiting for a job offer.

Hmph.

Young people like you always want to go out, leaving us old folks behind. Then we waste big bucks getting other people to fix things when they break down.

It's crazy.

Good thing you've still got me.

Hey, you dropped your wrench!

Stop standing there like an idiot and give me a hand.

Fine, fine, I'm coming.

Ouch... I bumped myself...

Look at you, always messing up.

*Sigh*...

Oh? Junior's back?

Hey, Jon, no need to come all the way to fix our lock then, just let Junior do it!

I—

You saying my hands don't work anymore?

Let me tell you, I can fix that old lock of yours even if they're trembling like a leaf!

C'mon, I just wanted to spare you the trouble, that's all.

This kid couldn't fix his way out of a matchbox.

Just sit tight, I'll be over when I'm done with this.

I know how to fix locks. Maybe I should—

Don't you dare look down on old people, kid.

I'm not, Uncle Jon.

Hold on, I'll come and help after I put this down.

Tuesday

Hey there, Junior! You're back again!

Yeah, I <i>did</i> promise to fix the stuff.

What's this thing hanging here, Uncle William? Some kind of toy?

Oh, that?

It's from when my wife had just given birth to our daughter. We were both too busy to play with her, so we hung up a toy using some springs.

The spring kept it swinging for ages whenever I closed the cabinet after coming back to fetch some stuff, and she used to love that.

So I got in the habit of closing the door hard, to make it swing even longer.

My little girl's all grown up and earning her own living now, but I guess my habit stuck. It's been a few years since I last saw her. Bus tickets don't come cheap, after all.

But seeing this little thing reminds me of her, so I like to get someone to come fix it from time to time.

Hold on, let me lubricate this a little more.

I'll also add a small shock absorber here, and it'll last way longer.

At the end of the day, though, it's still a bad habit.

At least I'm doing well enough here with my wife, eh?

Uncle Jon, you dropped your screwdriver!

...Kid.

Are you throwing shade on my work?

Of course not!

But it'll last longer this way, and you won't have to come fix it so often.

...Guess your eyes ain't <i>that</i> bad.

You can tell?

I used to help out in the factory when I was little.

Just, you know, helping Mom and Dad pay my tuition.

It was that big production line. Maybe you even saw me there.

When you were little?

Hmph... My hands weren't for holding these tools when you were little.

Old Jon used to—

(Inhales smoke)

*cough*...!

Beep.

'From Mama John's...'

Oh... it's just an ad.

Stop daydreaming, kid. We're working.

Er, alright...

Wednesday

How're the legs, Old Jon? Your hand still hurt?

Meh, not great, not terrible.

You did okay yesterday, kid. Try fixing this one today.

Alright.

This lock... it's all worn and battered. Even if I fixed it up, it'd just break down again sooner or later.

Why don't you buy a new one?

Ah, you wouldn't know since you've been away all these years.

My wife went to work in one of the nomadic cities. Says she's gonna make a fortune there before she comes back.

I keep the old lock around so her key will still work when she does.

Sending stuff by Messenger ain't cheap.

Not worth it just to send a key, and it's not like I have anything else to send either. Plus, she wouldn't be too happy about me wasting all that money on mail.

So I just keep my nose to the grindstone. Take things one day at a time, you know?

...I see.

But couldn't you get a new lock made for the same key?

With what money?

Not many people know how to make locks, and the price... Well, if I had the cash to spare I'd rather save it anyway.

Well, this won't be easy... let me take a look.

You went to a famous university, didn't you, Junior? Let's see your work!

Famous university, huh...

(Inhales smoke)

A bright future for everyone!

Beep.

(Looks at terminal)

Getting distracted again?

Well... it's hiring season, and a lot of companies are recruiting.

...Not that I've gotten any offers.

Don't worry. You're a good kid; it'll turn out alright in the end.

So eager to leave, though?

Yeah.

I want to learn new things and bring them back.

...Not a bad attitude.

Just don't forget where you came from.

Hey, you dropped your screwdriver again!

Thursday

Junior! Is it really true?

You made me a brand new lock? Wow!

Well... it wasn't too difficult.

(Silently smokes a cigarette)

Guess I really am getting old.

After all these years fixing stuff for us, this is the first time I've heard you say that, Jon.

(Silently smokes a cigarette)

Wanna help me out, kid?

Sure, with what?

I have an old piano at home.

Oh!

This is a nice piano.

But it doesn't look like it's been played in a long time.

Yeah...

The old man opens the fallboard, filling the air with dust.

Fingers mottled from decades of working with machine oil press the keys, and dull, out-of-tune notes come out.

It's been decades since I last played it.

I still remember playing in big concert halls, filled with folks who came just to hear me.

The old man plays a string of notes with trembling hands.

The sound of rustling cloth comes from inside the house, and an old but joyful voice speaks.

'Honey, is that you playing?'

You heard me, Marge?

Why don't you come out and dance?

Out-of-tune notes come from trembling fingers, the shell of a light-hearted dance.

The old woman lifts up the edges of her skirt, and starts dancing on tiptoes.

While she doesn't have much in the way of form or training, the old man cannot take his eyes off his wife's every little step and turn.

Gantt Jr. watches the scene with bated breath.

I looked everywhere for a doctor who could cure my hand, but eventually I gave up.

So your hand is...

Imagine getting a job, then realizing on the first day of work that you've forgotten how to do anything, but you still remember everything else.

You remember the hard work, the glory, the achievements, but there's nothing left.

My hands couldn't press the keys anymore, and I couldn't bear to look at a piano again, not even a single glance.

No wonder you had that expression on your face when I said you might've seen me sneaking into the factory to help out when I was little.

Mom and Dad said everyone knew I was working there against the rules, but nobody said anything.

...They never said anything about me either.

When I couldn't play anymore, my agency came after me, demanding a penalty fee that I had no hope of paying.

Who knew they hid all those terms and conditions in the contract? I wouldn't have been able to pay it even if I spent the rest of my life performing.

So I hid from them here, in the dark corners of the warehouses. Then I met Marge.

She hid me, fed me, and told me how beautiful the sunset outside was.

So this piano...

I went back a little while ago and snuck it out from the old warehouse.

I thought I'd never play it again... but Marge has started to lose her hearing.

So I've been taking job after job to make the money to get it fixed while she can still hear it.

When I said I didn't care for your work a few days ago... I didn't mean it, kid.

Can you help me fix the piano?

I'm afraid we're running out of time.

But I've never fixed a musical instrument.

It's okay, sweetie, no need to force yourself.

We'd all end up like Jon used to be if we obsessed over fixing it. I keep telling him that it's the present that counts.

I'll always remember the tune, even if I can't hear anymore. It's not the end of the world.

Still, I'll try my best. Let me look into it.

I was just thinking...

If I went through the same thing you guys did... I don't think I'd have been able to carry on.

The moment that I found out I couldn't play the piano anymore, or that I couldn't hear anymore, I'd have given up on my goals in life.

I can't imagine what could keep me going.

But what I just saw from you two... it really touched me.

Gantt Jr. gazes at the sweat on their two aged brows.

Sorry if this sounds offensive, but... if a broken star can continue to shine in the night, why can't I?

Heh. Counting on you, kid.

Friday

I can tune it myself. The problem is the parts. Some of the hammers don't move anymore.

Let me see... must be the lever action here.

Do you have a pair of curved nose pliers? I want to adjust the screws here.

Here, a new spring.

Okay, leave it here. This is the hammer, right? It's supposed to bounce back like this?

Exactly!

Sorry, I need a break... Why don't you stay for dinner, kid?

(Marge will eventually lose her hearing, won't she?)

(How long will these repairs last?)

You heard me, Marge?

Why don't you come out and dance?

(Fixing the piano won't help much, if things end up the same anyway.)

(If only Marge could <i>see</i> the sound from the piano...)

A little fowlbeast down shouldn't affect the sound of the strings.

An attachment here won't affect the tone either.

I don't know if they'll like the color, but it's the same shade of blue as Marge's skirt that day.

It won't be easy finding the same dye, and I'm not sure about my artistic talent... but everyone likes feathers and ribbons, right?

Gantt Jr. presses a few keys, and an elaborate device conducts the resonance of the strings to the feathers and ribbons outside, creating a beautiful arc.

The first rays of dawn shine through the windows and onto the piano.

Whew—

I hope they like what I did.

Saturday

Would you like to try it?

I didn't change anything that was already there. I can easily remove it if you want.

Sorry, it's an idea I had last night, so I just gave it a shot without asking.

(Presses a key)

No, kid... It's beautiful.

Did you choose this blue for the ribbons on purpose?

It's the color of Marge's eyes...

(Plays a song)

The lights shine bright in the factory tonight♪

Like the sunset when I spoke my love to you♪

I can hear it, honey... I used to sing this song when I got off work.

You would follow behind me like this...

(Dances in lithe steps)

Gantt Jr. feels like he is seeing the couple in their youth.

Jon in a tuxedo, Marge dancing to the tune, her skirt spinning in the factory.

(Did I finally achieve something?)

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.