Jamie Trinket sat motionless on the beige living room couch. It was 6:52 AM and the shades were closed, though planes of light made their way through. There were many tasks to complete today and the early sun was hurting his eyes. All work was nauseating. He\u2019d been sitting on the couch for fifteen minutes now in a deeply anxious state. Directly ahead of his open right iris was one-third of the kitchen counter, segmented by the door-frame-with-no-door. On the green speckled countertop was Jamie\u2019s French Press\u00ae. It could make coffee for three.<\/p>\n
Jamie was staring intently at the Press\u00ae. His eyes had begun to water six minutes earlier. The lid this morning was stainless steel but he could have sworn it was usually a black plastic. He tried to remember what he\u2019d been looking at yesterday morning without success. He closed his eyes and opened them again; the lid was stainless steel. Jamie\u2019s head felt jagged and like it was short-circuiting. Is that\u2026 mine? <\/em>Jamie thought. He wasn\u2019t sure if he owned it or he was dreaming. I don\u2019t have a stainless steel\u2026 lid. <\/em>These were the only options. Jamie Trinket rose from the sofa and put his left Fila Moccasin forward, then his right and eventually passed through the door-frame-with-no-door, which Jamie did not refer to as a door frame.<\/p>\n The Press\u00ae was empty but at that moment looked like it was being used. The lid was secure and the plunger a third of the way down; there was, of course, no substance inside. Jamie slowly moved his right palm toward the stainless steel lid. For some reason he expected it to burn him. It was, instead, cool to the touch, almost sharp. He lifted his hand up and saw the fingerprint from his pointer sweated onto the steel lid. He felt a little more like he owned this Press\u00ae and regardless he was going to make coffee.<\/p>\n Jamie was anxious basically because he didn\u2019t remember buying the stainless lid \u2013 and also why is it smooth or how come my reflection is multiple hues and everything else that makes stainless steel beautiful but scary and worrisome \u2013 but it looked nice, his fingerprint was pretty and wet on the lid and it worked and he needed coffee so.<\/p>\n Somehow the water was in the kettle and the kettle was on\u2014the toggle was lit up orange from the inside; Jamie reached for the remote in his wicker basket which was not actually wicker and turned the television on. It was nearly seven and about time for the \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0section of GMA. The talking heads would greet him and his fellow humans, risen early for largely similar reasons. Jamie had to go work today; it was not raining, he could walk.<\/p>\n \u201cGood Morning America!\u201d<\/p>\n The wall behind the television was a dark and subdued green. Jamie owned this apartment and painted it whatever he liked. The wall was green but turned white at either corner. Jamie could paint whatever he liked. Behind him was green, too, flooded until it reached an angle.<\/p>\n \u201c\u2026 \u2018s right Jenny, a fine Tuesday morning we have ourselves. The commute\u2019s alright today folks. Lines are clear. Takes some stress off the start of your day, huh! Haha. Morning Paper, coming up.\u201d<\/p>\n Jamie began pouring the water over ground beans. They sizzled darkly and Jamie did not think about his PeaceCorps\u00ae experience in Ethiopia. He had watched a French Press\u00ae instructional video last night that he had seen before; he tightened and relaxed his palm and gently altered the position of his fingers so the water spiraled around the beans and into its pregnant center. Jamie took his Vivance\u00ae. He couldn\u2019t work without it.<\/p>\n The BAPE\u00ae travel mug came out of the cabinet.<\/p>\n The coffee was nearly ready.<\/p>\n Jamie had to go to work today.<\/p>\n ~~~<\/p>\n Why even work anyway?<\/p>\n Claire was awoken by the sound of Phoebe rolling a wooden train on her floor above. Thomas the fucking\u2026 unbearable. It was 6: something. She pushed herself up and rotated her torso to face Andrew MacDonald, smiling with eyes closed and head pointed up to the crown-molding that racestriped their blue ceiling. It was beautiful in \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0today, Claire could see a lighter blue through the slightly open blinds. She tried not to think about the 8 train this morning.<\/p>\n Claire Dedicazzo did like not understand how she hasn\u2019t ended it after twenty years at Blueprint Marketing. It had been roughly eighteen fiscal quarters since she had been excited to walk into BP. Her most recent order of business had been with Guy Fieri. They put his face on notepads, and it sold decently to the meme-infatuated-middle-and-high-schooler, especially in \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>, actually, but they didn\u2019t know why. This morning she was meeting with Tanya, a somewhat lower executive with the official title of Manager of Asian Music-related Stuff, or MAMS. It was to be productive.<\/p>\n Phoebe was still scratching the wood with Thomas\u2019s wheels. She detested the tracks; at her age she couldn\u2019t push the train stably, and resorted to clawing the wooden locomotives and running them back and forth on the floor. Andrew was still asleep. Claire got out of bed and walked up the stairs to grab Phoebe. She passed her husband\u2019s painting and thought of his unemployment. He hadn\u2019t started painting until he had time on his hands. She lifted the two year-old onto her shoulder and made her way downstairs flatfooted, and slow.<\/p>\n Claire\u2019s coffee was ready, she had it set on a timer last night. She dropped it into a mug carefully enough as to not splash Phoebe, and paced back into the bedroom where Andrew lay still. Phoebe made sound and moved her arms in Andrew\u2019s direction, so Claire put her down to Andrew\u2019s right and began to get dressed.<\/p>\n Andrew slowly awoke to Phoebe\u2019s contact.<\/p>\n \u201cBaby?\u201d He mumbled.<\/p>\n \u201cYea?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou coming home like usual today?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMmmm.\u201d She was putting on a necklace, really more of a chain. \u201cI think so. I don\u2019t know what would keep me later.\u201d<\/p>\n Andrew smiled. \u201cCool.\u201d Phoebe was nagging at him. He would have to make her breakfast soon. He resisted the inevitable image of looking through the morning paper for employment. Phoebe had crawled onto his stomach and he picked her up.<\/p>\n \u201cMommy\u2019s going to work!\u201d He exclaimed to Phoebe, who giggled. He brought her down to his face and said, \u201cSo you can eeeeeat,\u201d before kissing the top of her head.<\/p>\n Claire kissed both of them and walked out of the house and into her Prius\u00ae. She backed out and turned around. BP stood ahead of her in its golden armor, and she put her hand up for the glare. Why even work anyway? <\/em>she thought. It was Thursday, almost at the end of it, and Claire already felt a pull towards her front door, back to Phoebe. What am I going to do today? <\/em>Claire sped her way to the gated exit. Some bullshit K-Pop star? <\/em><\/p>\n \u201cSome kid wants a fucking T-shirt somewhere.\u201d She was speaking to herself at this point. \u201cOhh my… ughhh\u2014\u201d Her foot weighed down on the acceleration \u201c\u2014I don\u2019t\u2026 care.\u201d The Beyonc\u00e9 in the background was coming from her phone, it automatically connected to the Prius\u00ae and she didn\u2019t know how to change the music on the car-screen. It was not the right mood.<\/p>\n The \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0skyline looked gorgeous in the lightening blue engulfing the city, but Claire barely registered it. BP\u2019s golden offices were visible from the drive in and Claire had developed a habit of avoiding eye contact. She thought of Phoebe instead, as she often did when driving, and her wispy yellow hair that was thickening quickly. She thought of Eggo Waffles\u00ae and tap water. She thought of paychecks.<\/p>\n The workday was quickly approaching in Claire\u2019s peripheral vision. She slowed down to exit onto Grand Street behind another white Prius. She turned left at the light for easier parking, and plus the weather would make it worth it anyways.<\/p>\n On the third floor of EasyPark\u00ae she could peer up at BP. The walk to it would take no more than nine minutes and she would be early still. From the outside, EasyPark\u00ae looked like a box of windows covered by half-opened blinds. Claire walked to one of the concrete guards in front of her and rested her hand on it, supporting her diagonal body. Her head just barely touched another barrier and she breathed deeply. She could not see anything like this. She willed a lush grey tapestry into her head, and it came, sort of. Her eyes were still open; this was the best part. Next year her and Andrew and the kids were going to go to Yellowstone. Claire moved her hands beside her head and took another deep breath, shuddering as she exhaled. She pulled back; BP loomed in gold in front of her. She squinted at the glare on her left as she walked into the elevator and headed down.<\/p>\n As soon as she had left the structure the Juul\u00ae came out of her bag. Claire hit it with force, inhaling so intently that the nicotine crackled. The golden BP Headquarters towered a few blocks away and she exhaled vapor into the world, onto the image of BP in front of her. She hit it again as her feet started to wobble, and she struggled slightly to get the Juul\u00ae back into her purse. Her vision was a little harder to keep in one place, and there was a buzz in her hair. She began to smile.<\/p>\n Claire turned the corner onto Pepper Street, where the Apple\u00ae store was. There was a swarm of people around it. She almost couldn\u2019t make out the front of the store until she remembered which glass wall it was from her last visit. She was acutely aware that Apple\u00ae had recently released a phone that could get you into your house if you also bought their lock system. The crowd of people was flooding into the street, and it was unclear if they were even letting anyone into the store.<\/p>\n Intrigued but cautious, she walked towards it and to the right, determined to get around and stay on time, but the headrush distorted her depth perception and she walked directly into a man pushing his way into the behemoth of a line. The sleeve of Claire\u2019s cardigan was caught by the man\u2019s fingernail as he attempted to compress his way forward and Claire was yanked beside him. He was trying to make his way to the front of the crowd right outside the doors, presumably where the line began. Claire\u2019s cardigan was no longer caught on the man\u2019s fingernail but now she was inside the scene, more people had come to take the man\u2019s spot when he left and she didn\u2019t see a way to get out peacefully. Claire was terrified. The crowd released shrieks and pained exclamations and it was moving like a gargantuan Gospel Choir. Claire\u2019s legs began to shake and she moved her arms closer in towards herself. She clutched her phone in her hand, a phenomenon she only just noted.<\/p>\n Claire began screaming. She did not want to miss this meeting with MAMS. She howled almost to the point of freeing a tear, but stood up straight, took a deep breath and turned around. Her arms were out in front of her at 90\u02da angles, and she lowered her face behind them as if in the ring. Claire darted forward against the grain, desperate to get to BP before eight. She squeezed her way through a foreign couple and a pair of skinny identical twins, but was met with resistance when she tried to dodge a tall, fat white man who was screaming with his arms out and fingers curled. Illuminated on the right side, his half-beard glistened in the sun and light flood into his open mouth, drying his already-chapped lips. Claire thought it looked like all his heft was coming from the earth, like he was born out of the soil, and she pictured him eating the sun whole as she rebounded off his thick, elastic chest and into one of the skinny twins behind her, knocking him forward and losing any barrier between herself and the concrete, and Claire looked into the clouds as her body tipped lower and lower, and screamed into the sun like Him, its flames like Phoebe\u2019s hair and just before Claire hit the ground she knew she was Phoebe and Phoebe was Apple\u00ae and Apple\u00ae was the earth and the crowd was Andrew and the fall was just part of it.<\/p>\n ~~~<\/p>\n What a damn glorious day to be awake.<\/p>\n Joseph Sterling was making toast and full of sprite. He had thirty seconds left \u2013 he\u2019d timed the different levels of the toaster to extreme precision \u2013 and used the extra seconds to put his weight on blind-cord and pull them all the way up. The sun was naked and speaking directly to the residents of \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>, giving them life and stable breathing and energy.<\/p>\n Joseph hasn\u2019t needed energy since retiring from Baird, but laps up all he can. Today he was headed out to Mount \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>, just a few hours north of the \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0border, for a hike. It was something he\u2019d always wanted to do. Since retiring he\u2019d done a good deal of traveling, but had never made his way to the National Park at his doorstep.<\/p>\n The butter went on the bread easily because Joseph had taken it out twenty minutes earlier. He\u2019d always been an early riser, though for the past decade he\u2019d found it hard to entertain himself in the morning light, given jogging or tennis was no longer an option.<\/p>\n He put grape jelly on his toast and ate it fully-dressed in front of his floor-to-ceiling window. He thought about Connie, who never got to share his post-career free-time with him, and rubbed his wedding band while he bit his lip. But he was still going up to Mount \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>, and it absolutely would not rain today, and he deleted another section of toast.<\/p>\n Joseph Sterling wore GORE-TEX\u00ae and a synthetic blue top and grey hair like shingles and tried to spend as much time as possible outside. He looked to the wall on his left, where a photo he took of \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0Canyon hung, a canyon he could no longer risk scaling down. He looked out the window again; it never got boring for him. Joseph lived in \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>, a somewhat exciting neighborhood at the bottom of \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>. He was about five-hundred feet away and right in between FOX20 and Facebook. He could see the river through that slot. To his right was Deutsche Bank and to his left was BP, reflecting and distorting its surroundings in its metallic golden skin. Today, at its bottom was a dark blob that Joseph didn\u2019t particularly notice. He walked back into the kitchen, left his plate on the counter and went to retrieve his hiking boots and socks\u2014and also his driving shoes and socks. Soon his shoes were on and everything else was in the backpack. He simply couldn\u2019t wait to get to the mountain.<\/p>\n At 7:50 Joseph left the house. The recently-redone elevator brought him to ground smoothly, and he walked through his marble-floor lobby onto Pepper Street, where a mass of people were jostling around the Apple\u00ae store. Joseph, immediately ticked, took a deep and fast breath, glared down the crowd as a whole, and walked towards the front with his hands in his pockets. His car was parked on the other side of the crowd and it was too dangerous for him to walk around them \u2013 they would not heed the street to cars, and a complex, self-governed intersection had become of Pepper Street. There was a blockade of Genius\u00ae Employees standing in front of the glass doors, separated from the \u201cline\u201d by a wooden police barricade that was riding up on their stomachs and destroying their Genius\u00ae polos. Joseph compressed himself on the building\u2019s side and slowly stepped closer to the Geniuses\u00ae. He tapped the nearest one on the shoulder.<\/p>\n \u201cMight I get past?\u201d<\/p>\n The Genius\u00ae looked up at Joseph with an open mouth that was panting. \u201cWhat was that sir!?\u201d<\/p>\n Joseph leaned closer. \u201cMight I get past!!?\u201d<\/p>\n The man nodded in comprehension. \u201cSir there\u2019s no way we could get you through!\u201d<\/p>\n Joseph now understood the blob at the bottom of BP\u2019s reflection. He couldn\u2019t see over the first few heads in the crowd and found it difficult to make out any words from all the sound spewing out mouths. Nevertheless, he heard the Genius’s\u00ae scream over the noise and was furious. He violently pointed around the crowd to his Tesla\u00ae and screamed \u201cmy car is over there!!\u201d<\/p>\n The Genius\u00ae was being yelled at by someone in line who had put his foot on the barricade and was actually pretty close to the polos. Apparently they weren\u2019t open for another six minutes. The man in line lost his balance and fell back into the crowd, whereupon the Genius\u00ae turned to Joseph and shouted \u201cthere\u2019s just no way we could get you across! You got to walk around!\u201d<\/p>\n Joseph tapped his left foot. He screamed at the Genius\u00ae, \u201cYou should really organize a better line!!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s that!?\u201d The Genius\u00ae cried.<\/p>\n \u201cYou need a better fucking line!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not my store!!\u201d<\/p>\n Joseph stared the Genius\u00ae. He needed to get across; he was too scared of the chaotic traffic. He continued looking at the Genius\u00ae until he shrugged and turned back to the crowd, at which point Joseph got very close to the Genius\u2019s\u00ae cheek, and screamed, \u201cYou fucked my day!!!\u201d<\/p>\n The Genius\u00ae did not react. Joseph was empty and almost didn\u2019t believe what had happened. He just could not do the traffic at this age. Joseph turned around and shuffled the twenty-five feet to his building and stood for the door to open.<\/p>\n \u201cForget something, Mr. Sterling?\u201d The doorman asked. Joseph walked past speechless, and headed down the lobby towards the mirror at the end, where he watched the oldest tear he possessed explode on the marble beneath him.<\/p>\n ~~~<\/p>\n Jamie left his shithole of a place on Trench Ave at 7:15. It took about twenty minutes to get across the river, and though his Genius\u00ae shift didn\u2019t start until 8:00, they were preempting the crowds for the next few days and making sure no one tries to break in, which Jamie thought was more of a security-oriented job but whatever.<\/p>\n Jamie heard the M rumbling under the street a few blocks behind him and ran to the train station on the upcoming corner. An image-with-text for Injury Attorneys appeared on the left-half of its designated advertisement space, and an ad for the KeyPhone\u00ae on the right. He hustled down the stairs and made it into a car.<\/p>\n Almost everyone going into \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0was dressed corporately. Jamie noted an army of black and blue blazers with checkered shirts underneath. Some wore trinkets around their necks, others didn\u2019t. The white and red blazers dotted throughout lent some vibrancy to the car. There was an advertisement for Dunkin\u2019 Donuts in front of Jamie and a man playing flamenco in the back. Jamie had to go to work today.<\/p>\n Half of the new Thundercat album later, Jamie exited onto Grand Street and made a left onto Pepper, where a mass of people seemed to be getting somewhat physical. Jamie was immediately uncomfortable and a little nervous. He walked on his toes over to the few Geniuses\u00ae who had already formed a sort of blockade behind the wooden police barrier. He nodded to Alex, who had his unzipped hoodie over his polo, and stood next to him with his hands behind his back. Already, Jamie was shaken up and would have done anything to leave.<\/p>\n After a few minutes the police barrier had been pushed into them and was putting pressure on the Geniuses’\u00ae livers. Jamie couldn\u2019t breathe easily and felt a wave of panic come, then subside, thankfully. BP\u2019s offices stood no more than a hundred feet away. From his angle, its wrapping-paper reflected the crowd as a kind of misshapen rectangle. Jamie\u2019s phone buzzed and he got a little excited. He tried to look through the golden windows, to see the green inside, but couldn\u2019t. Instead he saw \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>\u00a0and its other green-infested-structures. Jamie wished badly he could walk to work with the blazers from the train.<\/p>\n At 7:59, the crowd and Jamie were more on edge than ever. Jamie Trinket had finished dealing with an old man who wanted Jamie to like lift the guy across or something which just infuriated him, and someone had nearly gotten across the barrier during the interaction and the whole thing felt like Jamie was personally responsible for all these people\u2019s well-being when they were in the vicinity of the store\u2014and just one minute before opening, a man only inches away from Jamie screamed, \u201cCan you open up fucking please!!!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOne minute, sir!\u201d Jamie shouted, tapping his Watch\u00ae, immediately after which the man screamed and sent a right hook hurtling towards Jamie\u2019s head. Fist collided with skull and the first third of the crowd heard it. Jamie instantly felt nauseous and pressed his hand as hard as he could on the side of his head, where it was indented; he moaned and turned around to face the glass as the other Geniuses\u00ae tried to hold back a suddenly more violent crowd even though they ostensibly had only forty seconds to wait and Jamie thought about his paycheck, and the legal, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0shit his friend Tyler was pushing, and the tiny apartment where he lived without closets, and he thought about the Nikes on his feet and the morning news and the sandwich shop on his corner and it all translated into movement, Jamie\u2019s right arm began to swing back for energy, and then hitch forward into a right-hook, he was taking almost identical form to the man who had just punched him \u2013\u2013 fist hit glass and the pane shattered around Jamie\u2019s knuckles, he was bleeding as soon as it happened and the pane broke into bigger sections at the top before it all crashed onto the sidewalk around Jamie Trinket, who began bleeding from every possible pore while the crowd rushed around him and through his opening.<\/p>\n THE END<\/strong><\/p>\n When I started this project, I wanted to write about one-dimensionality and alienation. I think I did both of these things, but I found along the way that I had the potential to focus the story around potential revolution. This note should help explain how those concepts manifest themselves in the text. I won\u2019t point out every point at which there is explicit philosophical reference, but I will highlight some areas that should help the reader to think critically about the rest of the story.<\/p>\n Marcuse\u2019s concept of one-dimensionality is complex, but for our purposes can be said to be a structuring of society that molds the individual into an instrument that can move capitalism forward. For instance, we think of our lives as free when we choose the jobs we apply to. Yet that is just a type of freedom within capitalism. We’re free to choose the job we work, but are not at all free to not work. Capitalism is a unique system for Marcuse, in that it prevents any type of thinking that can transcend capital. We can no longer imagine a scenario outside of capitalism, because it has saturated so deeply into our skin. Our thought is \u201cself-limited\u201d (Marcuse, One-Dimensional Man, <\/em>17) by the material conditions we were born into. This is one-dimensional thinking, when all of society thinks in terms of the current economic order.<\/p>\n In the story, Jamie\u2019s character most explicitly thinks one-dimensionally. Disregarding non-one-dimensional-related (but important nonetheless!) information, he wakes up, consumes a drug that will allow him to be more alert and productive (coffee), watches a morning news program that casually reinforces the place of work in society, and takes ADHD medication. These elements of the superstructure are what inform the nagging line, \u201cJamie had to go to work today.\u201d It\u2019s also interesting to note that Jamie doesn\u2019t consider himself entirely conventional, represented by his different colored walls, but still thinks for the sake of capitalism. The inclusion of rebellion in the structure of the State is well documented by Marcuse.<\/p>\n Jamie is alienated from his labor, but less so than Claire. Claire works only because she has too, now. She has children to raise and an unemployed husband. Her job is not intellectually satisfying and her interaction with other humans only involves relatively silly business deals. It\u2019s here that the story\u2019s focus on the seeds of revolution is explicitly revealed.<\/p>\n Claire tries to get to work on time but is interrupted by a crowd of customers for a corporation she probably works with. Not only is she prevented from being timely, but we don\u2019t know what happens to her when she hits the concrete. If we assume the best and she\u2019s fine, Claire would have been less productive that day because of another corporation that is organized around the same economic end. Claire would hopefully recognize that this whole process is ridiculous, that she\u2019s not even performing as well as she can because of the system that she works in. She then has incentive to rebel. And if we assume the worst, the crowd of people outside the Apple store would hopefully wake up to this thought, too, but for their case, the system is so ridiculous that it has killed someone without meaning to.<\/p>\n Joseph is also interrupted by the system he lives for. He worked most of his life so he could retire and spend his time how we wanted, and when he tries to do so, is barred from enjoying his leisure-time by a mass of capitalists. Society has made him wait too long to be able to live a self-regulated life, and he cannot physically get passed the crowd. Joseph, too, has incentive to rebel.<\/p>\n Also, Jamie works directly for Apple but is getting abused by the corporation. When Jamie gets punched, he realizes the one-dimensionality of his thought, and the superstructual elements that condition his thinking to revolve around the structure, that of capitalism. Because of the pain he\u2019s experiencing, Jamie has had enough and rebels against the company. What happens next is up to interpretation.<\/p>\n Finally, and I hesitate to write this because it seems pretty obvious in the story, the conditions that capitalism creates allow for its own (potential) destruction. Apple has just come out with the “KeyPhone” and, and we can infer that they encourage the long lines in front of their store before opening. Each character is fed up with capitalist society because of the conditions capitalism has created. This is a little different with Jamie, he is essentially the\u00a0petit bourgeoisie,<\/em>\u00a0but on this issue, I will let the reader grapple by themselves.<\/p>\n\n TEDDY REINER A STORY ABOUT THE SEEDS OF DESTRUCTION Jamie Trinket sat motionless on the beige living room couch. It was 6:52 AM and the shades were closed, though planes of light made their way through. There were many tasks to complete today and the early sun was hurting his eyes. All work was nauseating. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":8609,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"builder_content":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/pl314-spring19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/443"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/pl314-spring19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/pl314-spring19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/pl314-spring19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/8609"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/pl314-spring19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=443"}],"version-history":[{"count":36,"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/pl314-spring19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/443\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":639,"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/pl314-spring19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/443\/revisions\/639"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/pl314-spring19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=443"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}<\/h3>\n
<\/h3>\n
AUTHOR\u2019S NOTE<\/em><\/h3>\n