“Any questions,” Hannah asked her group as she stood to the side of the large, wheeled dry erase board, pivoting her head around quickly to look out at her people. “Yes, Charter?”
“Um, just an aside, one-on-one when we break,” he said, to which she nodded. She scanned the crowd of packagers once more, then clapped her hands and told them all to head to their sections. Bright and bubbly, always full of a nervous, almost manic energy, she made a beeline for Charter once everyone started around her to their areas.
“Hey, what’s up, Charter,” Hannah asked with a smile.
“Um, actually, I just wanted to take the chance to say thank you,” he replied, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly and looking down at the concrete floor. “For all the help, when I started here, and for, um, always being encouraging.”
“Hey, not a problem,” she said, patting him on the arm, yet not moving away just yet. “That’s part of my job, buddy! But I’m sensing a ‘but’ here, so what’s up?”
“Yeah, um, I’m leaving,” he said with a shrug. He looked around, spotted a couple of Process Assistants from his team glancing their way before scuttling away to their people. “I just, I wanted to say thanks before I left.”
“Oh, like, now? You’re just, you’re done,” Hannah sputtered, leaning slightly away from him, her smile faltering quickly.
“Well, yes,” Charter said. “It’s nothing personal, but everybody who’s put in a two week notice gets walked out of here within a day or two, so I figured, why bother with that nicety if it isn’t returned in kind, you know?”
“No, no, I totally get it,” she replied, now actively backing away from him. “Just, ah, remember to turn your badge over to someone at the front security desk, and they’ll let you out of building once you’ve got your stuff from your locker. And hey, best of luck in whatever you’ve got lined up, bud, it was good having you here,” she concluded, wheeling away from him now as if he hadn’t even been much of a consideration point.
Charter considered, uncharitably, that the only reason she seemed even vaguely put off was that she now had to figure out who to plug into his spot on the packaging line. Though not a kind thought, it gained traction as he made his way back toward the entrance of the facility. By the time he handed a towering security guard his badge and led the man to his locker, it had firmed in his mind as the only sound explanation for her sudden turn of attitude.
But this wasn’t really all that surprising, he surmised silently as he headed to his car in the parking lot, the eyes of the guard burning on the back of his head all the way. Ganges treated its level 1 associates like easily replaced cogs in the ever-grinding machine that it had become. From his second week at the facility, Charter had felt fortunate to have made acquaintances within his own department and the IT group; it insulated him from the oppressive weight of the ever-present cameras and constant reminders that employees had to make rate or face write-ups or termination. If not for this handful of comrades within the building, he would have left a long time earlier.
But as he headed not for home, but to the bank to complete his loan paperwork, Charter considered that this realization was not unique to him, but shared with anyone who willingly left Ganges’ employ.
**
The facility wasn’t overly large, and even with both assembly lines fully operational, it still left Charter with a peculiar sense of being incomplete. Then again, it had only been three months since he finished signing the paperwork for the loan; he shouldn’t be surprised, he thought. There was also the fact that his first complete shipment hadn’t yet been completed. Between adjustments to the equipment and a workforce that was short-handed, comprised mostly of acquaintances and hobbyists who he’d been friendly with online for a few years, he wasn’t going to get the first batch of Robokin completed for at least another couple of weeks.
As he sipped his second cup of coffee, he listened with a grin as the first machines were fired up. Looking through the broad office window, he saw a trio of his people moving along the lines, getting things started for the day. He had no blinds for his office, an intentional choice that he hoped would be seen for what it was, a mindful signal that he could always be approached.
Charter came out on the production floor as the rest of his team made their way to their stations, the first set of Robokin moving down the lines to be completed for assembly. The complicated articulation points on the robots’ arms, lets, ankles and wrists were best assembled by hand, causing the belts to run empty for several minutes before they were loaded once more. Moving easily in and out among his people, Charter made easy small talk with them as he helped out in assembling the toys.
It was repetitive work, but the end product, in his mind, was more than worth it.
**
“This is bigger than I expected,” Charter said as Dominick planted his hands on his hips, a broad smile splitting his face. “And God knows we could use that. How many units shy are we right now?”
“About a hundred, twenty for each store in the Seventh Territory,” Dominick said. It had now been almost six months since the Robokin first hit store shelves, and they had been more successful than Charter could have even hoped. Gordon’s Goods had put in a request to carry the remote-controlled robots a month ago, a limited trial run; they had sold out at each location in less than a week. Now, the department store chain was requesting enough of the hottest new toys to hit the market in order to carry units in at least one store in each Territory they had locations in.
“Okay. I’ll reach out to UPS and see if they can give us another over the road run just for the Seventh,” Charter replied, looking over the printout on Dominick’s clipboard. “Who’s this,” he asked, turning the clipboard around and pointing to a store name on the printout that he didn’t recognize.
“Oh, yeah, that’s a little comic book shop in Renier, about two hours south of here,” Dominick said. “I used to live there, you know, and I still know some folks in the area, including the owner. He asked me if he could get a few to carry in his shop. I understand if you wanna nix that, though,” the larger man said awkwardly.
“No, no, we can definitely send him a few. How many do you think he could take,” Charter said, moving to his desk to pull open his shipping spreadsheet.
“Five or six,” said Dominick. “I could drive them myself, keep us from having to pay for shipping, maybe?” Charter typed in a couple of notes to the day’s report, then nodded at his head of shipping.
“You want to head out now, then?” Dominick gave him a thumb’s up and headed out of the office, allowing Charter an unobstructed view of the assembly lines. He had a new design running now, the first expansion of his brand, and he felt a surge of pride as he saw his people happily chattering among themselves as they worked.
Charter thought for sure that nothing could bring him down that day. Yet, as seems to be the law of the universe at large, this feeling would only last until the other shoe dropped.
**
As he headed out to his car, the same rickety old Camry that he’d been driving for the last three years, Charter paused, spotting a man in a long black duster with a messenger envelope in hand approaching him across the small gravel parking lot. The winter weather was mostly done in the region, though some dustings and chill days still clung strong.
“Excuse me,” the man in the duster called out, half-jogging toward the toymaker. “Are you Charter Manfield?”
“Yes, I am,” Charter replied, extending a hand out of habit. The messenger, rather than taking the offered handshake, pressed the envelope into Charter’s palm and stepped back.
“You’ve been served,” said the messenger, looking apologetic. “I’m very sorry, Mr. Manfield.” Without any explanation, the messenger wheeled away, jogging back to the very edge of the parking lot, where a long black Town Car idled. Charter watched as another fellow, nondescript at this distance, opened a rear door for the messenger before stalking back around to the front to pull the vehicle away at speed.
Charter climbed down into his car, turning the engine over before opening the long beige envelope to pull out the binder-clipped papers inside. The cover sheet puzzled him for a moment, requiring a second read-through before he recognized that the pressure he suddenly felt in his chest stemmed from an anger he had seldom experienced in life.
The cover sheet was a Cease and Desist Order, signed off on by a judge, and issued by the Legal Department of Ganges, Inc.
**
At first, Charter hadn’t wanted to get an attorney of his own, thinking that he couldn’t afford to indulge in expert legal advice. However, the brother of the fellow who owned the comic book shop in Renier turned out to be an attorney, and he’d assured Charter that he would take no money for his assistance. Six days after receiving the Cease and Desist Order and having to reach out to all of his people and tell them that operations were temporarily suspended, Charter now sat in a thinly carpeted office, Spartan in design and layout, on one side of a long table, the attorney seated beside him.
Stanley Reisling did not strike an imposing figure, a stout, dumpy fellow whose hairline had not receded so much as fled in full retreat when he reached his early 30’s. Yet for all of his unhealthy physicality, the man wore a suit that Charter recognized as high-end, shoes that were polished to an almost mirror shine, and on his left wrist Stanley wore a genuine Rolex watch. Frumpy he may look, but the man had clearly enjoyed success as a practitioner of Imperial law.
They were waiting for Ganges’ representatives to make their way into the meeting room, a stalling tactic that Stanley had assured Charter he needn’t read into; with a company as massive as Ganges, it was likely that they had several meetings like this one to conduct on an almost hourly basis. “Think of it as a good sign that they aren’t coming to us immediately,” Stanley said quietly. “That just tells me that they’ve got a lot on their plate.”
“Here’s hoping you’re right,” Charter replied, tapping his foot impatiently. It was another ten minutes before a pair of slick suits, a man and woman who looked like they’d been cut from the same soulless, corporate cloth, came slithering into the sparse meeting room, binders tucked under their arms. Brief introductions were made before they took the seats directly across from Charter and Stanley and laid out their initial papers for quick reference.
“So, Mr. Manfield, we understand that there’s some confusion on your part about the Order,” said the male half of Ganges’ team.
“No confusion, Steve,” Stanley said, answering on Charter’s behalf. “Not so much as disbelief. I’ve been over your initial Cease and Desist, and just wondered why there’s no inclusion, anywhere in its text, of a narrative explanation for the Order being issued. Your people didn’t think that would be relevant?”
“Actually, Mr. Reisling, we assumed that Mr. Manfield would know precisely why the Order was being issued, and why it would hold,” the female half of the Ganges team said with a false grin. She pulled a stapled packet of papers out of her binder’s front pocket and slid it across the table at Charter. Sensing this was a tactic he should not indulge in, he held still, allowing Stanley to snatch up the papers and look at them.
“And this is?,” Stanley asked.
“A copy of the Employment Contract that all Ganges associates sign before they’re brought onboard for hire,” the female attorney said evenly. “On the third page, you’ll see a section labeled ‘Development and Invention’.” Stanley turned to the third page, taking the time to read through the mentioned section carefully.
“You said this is a copy,” he said when he was finished. “Do you have a copy of the contract signed by my client? Or the original?”
“That would be at the Processing Center that Mr. Manfield was employed at,” said the male half of the Ganges team.
“Well, until I see that, signed by my client, I’m going to have to assert my client’s right to return to production of his product,” said Stanley, tossing the contract copy back across the table as he rose from his seat. “Charter, you head to your plant and wait for me, I’ll go ahead and get you a stay order from the Regional Court.”
Charter enjoyed the expression of irritation worn on the faces of Ganges’ legal serpents all the way to the plant.
**
Unsure of how much time exactly he had, Charter personally helped Dominick and his two shipping assistants get the last of the UPS trucks loaded up with their shipments of Robokin figures, repeatedly checking with the brown-uniformed driver that their method of stacking was still acceptable.
When the last of the boxes was loaded in, the driver slid his rear door shut and jogged up front, pulling away out of the garage space at the rear of the plant at speed. Charter let out a long breath of relief; Stanley had called him half an hour earlier to warn Charter that Ganges’ legal team had arranged a meeting for noon, and without allowing them to go into details, Stanley had agreed and hung up.
“Why didn’t you ask for details,” Charter had asked as he made his way through the plant.
“Because if I don’t know, then I can’t let you know, and you can take whatever action you need to with what time you have until the meeting,” the attorney said, his tone one of ‘it should be obvious’. Checking his watch, Charter saw that there was still a gap of two hours until he had to meet with them. He text messaged Stanley to confirm that they were to see Ganges’ people at the same office building downtown as they had a few days earlier, and when he got the confirmation, he headed back for his office.
Using the PA system he’d had installed at his desk, Charter thanked his people for their efforts, and told them to go ahead and shut down for the day. He assured them that they would all be paid for a full day’s work, and with that promise in hand, he saw his folks move through the shutdown process with joyful gusto. In less than half an hour, he sat alone in the tiny production plant.
He had a suspicion that they might be shut down again for another week at least.