The Occupation of Emerald City: the Worker
“The air smells like body odor and it seems to cling to my greasy skin. Goosebumps pop up on my bare arms. The mattress in the corner is divided in two by a thin strip of light shining through a crack between two of the window boards. When I sit on it, there’s no metallic pop of springs, only the soft groan of air escaping the cushion.
I sleep intermittently with my arms wrapped tightly around my chest, wake up in darkness, rub my eyes. I rub my eyes with my knuckles every hour, just to see the shower of white sparks.
At some point, a soldier dressed in black fatigues walks in and the light behind him burns my eyes. He leads me back out into the clean-smelling hallway. It looks like an elementary school hallway, with long red-painted stripes running along the otherwise white walls. There’s a single fire extinguisher between two of the doors, which are spread out at five-foot intervals and covered by a sheet of metal held in place by thick round rivets.
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