Page 49 - Self Talk

The building looked like an airplane hanger, a huge windowless steel shell with a cement floor, a couple of partitions dividing two bathrooms with no ceiling and a break room. A square-shaped platform perched on stilts in the center of the floor, high enough for someone to keep an eye on the action below.
Row upon row of little engines zipped out a chorus of synthesized music in perfect unison. The shrill staccato masked the sound of dozens of whirring fans, which stirred up the sweltering heat.
A hundred or more women in bright blue smocks, hunched over and arms akimbo, fed pieces of baby blue pinstriped fabric into black sewing machines. No fancy knobs, dials
or gizmos on these machines. They were stripped clean
and juiced up for industrial sewing. Zip, zip, two side seems