annashay 
This story is by Lailee Metcalf and was part of our 2025 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.
Future Factory was known as the cruelest subterfuge of the Ta-ji and Quanhai war. None went without suffering of some kind in war but the misery of the Future Factory workers was deeper than most others. Though the battle plains were bloody and harsh, at least you could see the sky.
The Future Factory workers had forgotten the sky. They had forgotten hope. In a land torn by battle, the children from thirteen to eighteen were all in grave danger of being claimed for the Future Factory. That’s where our story takes place.
The young workers began their day with the customary war news. They listened with wide, hollow eyes as The Master told them of the world outside.
Their beloved Ta-Ji had lost the latest battle due to a shortage of cannon ammunition. Quanhai weapon production was up 15%. Only the lazy young were to blame for such a devastating defeat. They needed to work harder.
The teens nodded their heads in shame and trudged to forges and conveyor belts and wheelbarrows and wood piles. Every day, they worked in the same smoky gray world.
No one forced them. They didn’t complain. All knew people who had died in that war. Each weapon they didn’t produce was another life on their hands. They worked hard for their country.
Rhyse was no exception.
He hated everything about the Future Factory. The way it suffocated him, the shells of people that he spent all his time around, and what he had become. But had he been offered freedom, he would have stayed.
Why?
At nineteen, his older sister joined the war. She was killed the first day by the brutal warriors of Quanhai. Rhyse would work as long and hard as he could, for her sake. As though it would bring her back. A hopeless goal for a hopeless place.
Today was different though. A new worker had shown up, so instead of working like he should, Rhyse was forced to show her how to do her job.
“This is the fire,” he said, bluntly. “All you have to do is keep it hot enough. Are you capable of that?”
She rolled her eyes.
Eyes that still had life in them. Rhyse looked away. He had seen his hollow reflection enough to know what had been taken from him. The daily drudgery would drag that from her too. Piece by piece.
“I can do that. My name’s Viri by the way. What’s yours?” she asked.
Rhyse didn’t bother to look back at her. “Doesn’t matter.”
She snorted. “Right, and we’re only worth our weight in weapons too I’m guessing? Or is it the amount of work we get through per day that—”
“Chatty today, are we?” a chilly voice asked. The Master.
“Just showing her the job,” Rhyse said, quickly, head bowed.
“Well that’s just grand innit,” The Master said with a sugary voice, his fingers brushing the gun on his hip. “Then when you finish we can all play ring-around-the-rosies till we all. Fall. Down. Get back to work!”
Rhyse kept his head down until The Master had gone, shrinking back from the gun. Then returned to his station. Hammer in hand, he started pounding, but a tap on his shoulder made him pause.
He shouldn’t have looked.
“What’s your name?” Viri whispered. “Please?”
He sighed. “Rhyse.”
***
Work went fast when the fire was hot enough. The heated metal was more workable than when it was cold. Which meant that Rhyse was extremely annoyed by Viri.
She flitted around the factory, talking to the other workers. It seemed she could be everywhere but the furnace. He was the only one who cared though.
Viri’s genuine interest and concern for all she interacted with made them feel more like the people they had been. Instead of machines. Naturally, that was everyone.
Rhyse stuck a sword blade into the furnace but when he took it out again it wasn’t a workable temperature. A glance showed Viri deep in conversation with one of the paring workers. With a groan, Rhyse trudged across the factory floor.
“Hey! I need your help with the fire, remember?”
Viri turned from her conversant. Rhyse was surprised to find that he knew the paring worker. It was Ella. His neighbor from before this awful place. Based on her hollow cheeks and dim eyes, she had been there a while.
The sight of her filled his mind with a yawning blue sky. his sister laughing his ear. A girl waved from across the lane.
Rhyse shook off the memories. They had no place here.
“Rhyse, have you met my friend Ella?” Viri asked. He nodded. Ella’s eyebrows shot up as she took in his face. Viri smiled. “Maybe this place isn’t so bad after all?”
Rhyse shrugged, “it gets worse.” Ella nodded but didn’t say anything. Viri’s eyes narrowed. “It is worse Rhyse, worse than you know. But the people are only half the problem.”
“Sure,” he mumbled and turned away. The furnace was waiting.
***
The Future Factory felt like it had changed. Or maybe just the people. At the center of it was Viri. She had a gift for bringing people together and giving hope that was desperately needed.
The teens had never seen a way forward besides work, war, and death. Their futures hadn’t changed, but now there was some meaning in life. Many found comfort in knowing they were not alone.
The only problem was The Master. While The Master had shown no disapproval of friends when the workers had no inclination to have them, he was now an active and formidable adversary against what the workers were building. He had only given chilling warnings so far but punishment would not be far behind.
The way he drummed his fingers against the gun barrel and eyed you was consequence enough. Guns were new technology that few could afford and the workers were not eager to see it in action.
The threat of The Master deterred many from the companionship they so desperately needed. Viri was determined to put a stop to this. Tonight she had called a meeting between all the workers. Spread by word of mouth only.
Rhyse waited at the door to one of the cot rooms, ushering in all those who came. His heart was pounding in his chest. All the faces looked ghostly and shadowed in the dim light provided by a single lamp. Everyone was well aware of the risk.
Less than a two-hundred of the factory’s four-hundred and five had shown up when he quietly closed the door. Ella was one of them.
Rhyse went to stand silently beside her and she gave him a wide eyed stare. He understood the unsaid meaning. This could go horribly wrong.
Viri stood at the front of the room. “Shhhhhh.”
The crowd leaned in to catch the sound. Viri offered a wide grin, despite the fear in her eyes.
“I’m sure you are all wondering what I called this meeting for,” she whispered.
There were nods throughout the crowd but no one dared make a sound.
“First, I want to welcome everyone who came. It means a lot to me that you showed up. I would love to talk to each of you individually but we’ve become short on time. I can no longer afford to be delicate about things, so tonight I’m going to say things flat out. Everyone knows why they’re here right? To support Ta-ji the best that we can?”
There was a quiet hum of agreement and pride.
A tear streaked down Viri’s face. “That’s a lie.”
The truth is that I was sent here undercover by Ta-ji’s leaders to tell you that this factory is not what you think. You do not make weapons for Ta-ji, you make them for the Quanhai. And unless I can get you to stop, then Ta-ji will lose the war.”
“No,” breathed Ella. “That can’t be right.”
Similar cries went up through the rest of the crowd. Viri looked in sorrow at her friends.
“You must believe me. Your families are suffering because of the work done here. If we don’t band together then–”
A shot rang out and Viri dropped, limp. Ella copied the motion, crumpling on the ground with sobs that Rhyse’s ringing ears could not make out. His heart sank.
The Master stood in the open doorway with a gun and the smile that never reached his eyes.
Rhyse forced himself to look at Viri’s body. A beautiful thing that The Master had destroyed.
Viri had come like a phoenix, burning hot and wild. She was dead now, but looking around Rhyse could see the hope that had risen from her ashes. That alone was worth fighting for. He pictured his sister.
“Come, children,” said The Master. “Do your work for our country.”
Rhyse stepped forward, shaking slightly. “You,” he said, “are a liar.” And others stood with him.
