He sat at a bench, in a well-lit room, with his brows furrowed in concentration. Hidden speakers played soft music and the environmental units blew fresh, cool air. On the bench itself was a pile of soft yellow clay on a square of white canvas.
There was a knock at the door. The man started, and looked up from his work.
"Come in," he called, the least note of irritation apparent in his voice.
The door opened and a young man came in.
"Hello, Jovan, I just came to return your book--" He broke off as he saw the object on the bench. He exhaled in a long, slow breath.
"It's here," he said in awe.
"Yes," Jovan said. "The request arrived this morning. It's the first this month."
"I am sorry to have disturbed you," the young man said apologetically. " I could have dropped the book off in your arrival slot, but the sun was so fine today I decided to walk." He laid a textchip on the bench. On its top were the words See Spot Run.
"That was the finest book!" the young man exclaimed. "It made me feel so..so.."
"Happy?" asked Jovan, smiling a little. "Yes, it has that effect on me as well. There's many more in the rack. Borrow all you want. I've read them all. "
The young man left, excited, and Jovan turned back to his work.
Several hours had passed when Jovan sat back with a sigh of satisfaction. Then he carefully gathered up his work, and went into the other room. He laid it carefully on a low glass table and went back into the other room for his shoes, which lay beneath the bench. He put them on, and then carefully taking up his work, he went out the door.
Outside, the sun was shining brightly, and Jovan aquinted. According to the weatherpaper, the day after next was scheduled for three hours of rain. It would be welcome. He walked across the grass to the railway. Pressing the call button on the box, he waited until a car whizzed up and stopped. Its door opened with a hiss, and he stepped in and sat down, carefully cradling his work.
"To the Capitol," he ordered. The door closed and the car whizzed away.
After a short ride, the car slowed, and then stopped. The door opened, and Jovan stepped out. Before him was a huge building, windowless except for a small square opening directly in front of him. He approached it.
Pressing a small button next to the window, he waited. After a moment it slid open.
"Hello," Jovan said nervously into the blackness beyond. "I have completed your request."
A man appeared at the window. He was wearing very dirty clothes, stained with black material, and a foul, metallic odor emanated from him. He gestured for Jovan to come closer.
"What was your request?" the man asked.
"The request was for this, sir. Ash-tray." Jovan carefully placed a small, yellow clay ashtray on the shelf of the window.
"Were the directions sufficient?" the man asked, examining it critically.
"Yes," Jovan answered nervously.
After a moment, the man looked up and smiled. "It is good work."
Jovan flushed with pleasure. "I can do this ?"
"Yes. Make one of these every day, and deliver it here. If you need more supplies, ask here as well."
Jovan was beaming with happiness. "Yes, sir, yes! I will do this."
"Very well," the man said. The window closed.
*** *** *** *** *** ***
Inside the building, the air was thick with the smell of oil. Machinery thudded and long lines of trucks waited to carry the goods being manufactured there. Through all this walked the man carrying Jovan's ashtray. Near the back of the building was a large table, with tools. The man placed the ashtray on the table, and smashed it to bits. He swept the fragments into a waste can.
Outside, life was perfect. It was so perfect, no one had to work. No one had to think. After pleasure, there was nothing, and so, to Jovan, the Work was the life.