the human factory

No one has a use for me if I’m not producing. I am a thing, much like a pile of wood or an idle computer. If I move my parts into mechanisms, then use those mechanisms to produce a worthwhile product, then my existence can be justified. I am a human factory.

I have a physical body of course, which houses what I have been genetically given, shaped further by my environmental conditions. This consists of my baseline emotional composition, the physical place on earth I choose to exist and the fuel I choose to use. When a product is finalized and given to those who have use for it- that is the best product I can produce at the time it was given.

If I am not producing in great enough quantities, or up to an expected quality, then I am redesigned. Each part of every mechanism is accounted for and it’s importance reevaluated. The part may be discarded, moved, rearranged, refashioned into a new part, or allowed to remain in it’s original function. Then I, the human factory, produce again... and the product is, in theory, improved.

Sometimes, an outside force like a human willingly or unknowingly sabotages me. Other times, I may forget regular maintenance like lubrication and the re-tightening of parts. Sometimes a part is exhausted, breaks, and needs to be replaced. My machinery seizes, and I can not produce momentarily. Everything needs to be repaired. It’s takes time. But less time on each new occurrence than the one before it.

If I take time to wallow, If I take time to grieve; my machinery will rust from idleness. When it is used again, it will have been weakened and break. If this happens too often; If I cannot produce efficiently, I will be rendered obsolete. So when you, the human being, tell me, the human factory, to take it easy, to let it go, to settle down, to take a break, to stop working for any reason, you are asking me to render myself obsolete. I would ask you to render yourself comatose, but you already have.