“No.” I shake my head as he nods his in unison. “Yes,” he whispers, placing his hands against my chin, the coolness of his skin biting into the warmth of mine. He turns my head, my gaze landing on a toy that resembles a doll, but its mouth is split too wide, teeth carved into a pointy smile.
“They still make joy,” he sneers playfully. “But no one remembers what it feels like.” He pulls away, dragging my body towards him until I’m standing and walking down the rows of conveyor belts. His boots crunching plastic beneath them, the sound blending into a sickening beat.
The fake snow grows thicker, the smell shifting from the pleasant burnt sugar into something like snow. I hold my hand up, catching the white flurries, only to notice it’s ash, not frost. The sound of children laughing catches me off guard, my bodyfreezing in place as the high-pitched sounds burst from the speakers. The sounds garbled, distorted, playing in a loop before fading into static. All the screens that adorn the walls, cut to my face, flashing on every screen.
Older. Wrinkled with hollow eyes.
“Coming soon,” my voice chirps. “Porter AI—Santa in every home.”
Mmm… My future has never looked so bright. I scoff at the sight. I would never abandon my parents' dream. Porter Toys is built on family values and hard work—human hard work—and art. Not this. I wouldn’t.
A shiver travels down my spine, and my stomach turns. The screen zooms out, not playing another commercial but a funeral broadcast. A black coffin sits in the center stage, framed by lights. The company logo hovers behind it, gold against the dark, and crowds gather.
The corner of my lip lifts into a smile that quickly fades when I notice they aren’t mourners, but robots. They cheer when my recorded voice plays a pre-scripted eulogy, reciting my father’s words.
“Hard work pays off, buddy.”
Neno stands beside the coffin, hands clasped behind his back. “They kept your voice at least. No children. No wife. Nothing,” he says. circling the casket, inspecting the small window that gives him a glimpse of what I’m sure is my corpse. “Do you think they will use it to see the next model?”
I open my mouth to respond when a mechanical Santa rolls down the belt, his face is mine, mouth open, and the familiar jingle spills out from the small speaker inside it. “He sees you when you’re sleeping…”
I take a step back.
Then another…
My knees wobble, threatening to give out under me. There’s movement behind the screens—something presses outward, distorting the pixels until they crack into hundreds of my smiling face. The image glitches as their mouths move in unison.
“Joy is life. Joy is life. Joy is life.”
The chant grows louder until it shakes the ground. The earth splits beneath my feet, swallowing the belts, the mountain of toys, and the light. Neno watches me from above as the factory collapses into itself. His expression isn’t cruel anymore—only tired.
“Every empire ends the same way,” he calls from above, the light casting a halo around him. “Buried in what it built.” With a flick of his wrist, the sound of a metal door slamming fills the air. The sound is a loud bang.
Final.
Deafening.
Sealing everything in darkness, with me still falling with it. The ash and plastic float around me. The smell of burnt toys fills my lungs, suffocating me with its stench, and the laughter booms from every direction, drilling into my psyche. When I finally hit the ground, I stare up at my own coffin being rolled into a furnace. My body jolts upright, every instinct in my body screaming to stop them from burning me into nothing.
To oblivion.
“NO!” I shout. “Stop it. I’m alive.”
Neno bellows a laugh, the sound morphing into those fucking bells.
TICK! TICK! DING! DING! TOCK!TOCK!
His figure blurs before me, like a glitch in the matrix. In unison, dolls chant, “I’m your best friend.” My hands clasp over my ears, trying to silence the sounds. Sweat rolls down my temple, settling around my neck. “Are you?” Neno’s ghostly voice rumbles through the haze.
“Am I ?” I question mindlessly, “Am I what? I’m sleeping.” My response earns me another thunderous chuckle. “Are you truly sleeping, or is this your purgatory?”
My body snaps out of the trance, lurching myself towards the furnace. My body just goes through the coffin before the door slams the furnace shut. “Ho,ho,ho,” Neno taunts as I look down at my hands… I'm nothing.
Invisible. A blur of someone from the past.
The lid closes, and the banner above it burns until it reads:
The flames roar, devouring everything in its path, and somewhere inside the inferno, a bell tolls once.
