Part One: “Mary Wollstonecraft”

“John, for the last time. My daughters name is Fanny, not Farny.” I chirped

“Really?” asked John Locke through a mouth full of biscuits.

“John…” I said sternly, casting a withering glance in his direction

“Look, Mary, I-” a colossal shudder cut him off and sent his plate of biscuits clattering messily to the floor. I looked up just in time to dive out of the path of a falling chandelier, crashing in a neat circle around a screaming John Locke. Crouching hesitantly to my knees, I scanned the surrounding room for other hazards and saw none.

“What the hell was that!” Screamed a distraught John Locke.

“Earthquake maybe?” Although inside, I doubted any earthquake could feel quite like that.

“Do you hear something?”

“John what are yo-” I don’t even finish my sentence before John sprints to the door and throws it wide open.

What lay beyond were towering buildings of stone and hundreds of strangely dressed people crowding the churning cobblestone streets. Confusion was plastered across John’s face as he stood steadfast in the doorway, plainly staggered at what he was seeing. There was an overwhelmingly terrible smell, but also the pleasant smell of fresh pastries; the deafening shouting of street vendors mixed with the soft hum of dozens of conversations. The cobblestone streets were cracked and slick with the same frigid rain that was quickly drenching our clothes. A white smoke seemed to rise from a fast moving metal boat on a large river. Yet no one seemed worried it would sink. How strange? Small children, ribs visible from hunger played shirtless in the wet street amongst other, more stout men, with umbrellas and strange patches of hair over their lips.

“John, where are we?” I asked, a tremble slipping into my voice. A chill breeze blew my unkempt hair across my flushed face as he refused to answer, plainly still in shock at what he was seeing, and honestly could I blame him? No less than ten minutes ago we were sitting pleasantly on plush red chairs in the dining room of my rural country house, pleasantly discussing nonsense and eating strawberry biscuits. And just as sudden as a bolt of lightning, it had all disappeared.

“You two shmazes!” a large dirty man who was  easily 6’3” bellowed from close behind us, “Did I say you could take a break!”

“I’m sorry?” I questioned, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“You b***h.” he barked, “I should have you fired just for being out here!” he said barreling toward us, his thick gut plastered to his shirt from the rain. “If I ever catch either of you outside again, I’ll have your heads!”

“Please there's been some sort of mistake.” I said, spinning around to try to reason as he shoved us through a doorway. “We don’t know where we are and we ju-” The dirty man slammed the door in my face, so much for hospitality, but at least we were out of the rain. I felt a light tap on my shoulder from John, and turned to face the room we were now in.

“What the fu…”

Part Two: “John Locke”

I had not said a word since arriving in this strange place. And had done little more than tap on Mary’s shoulder to garner her attention. The room we were standing in now must have been hundreds of feet across and housed row upon row of strange machines, each machine producing a spool of cotton thread. The people working the machines looked worse than even the slaves in the Americas. Each person held a dismal, hopeless expression while dust and dirt caked their torn and disheveled clothes that wreaked of sweat and urine. Small shoeless children no older than twelve darted between the rows of machines, using their small nimble fingers to fix any problems with the spool. “What happened to these people?” I heard Mary ask from next to me, visibly startled by what she was seeing. I couldn’t disagree either. These poor people looked worked to exhaustion, and were in no means to be employed in these conditions.

An ear splitting scream cracked the air from three rows over. “My hand!” a young woman at her machine was yelling, yet no one around her seemed to give the slightest care. No one gave the barest glance in her direction, even as her hand was still caught in the gears of the machine. Finally the large dirty man from earlier stomped angrily in her direction. He reversed the gears of the machine as she gingerly pulled her deformed hand from it, whimpering all the while like a wounded animal. He then vigorously grabbed her by her hair and dragged her out a small side door, all the while she was letting out primal screams claiming she was fine. “Why is this happening? Why are these people letting this happen?!” I heard Mary beg desperately from my left.

“I don’t think they have much of a choice.” I mumbled mostly to myself.

“This is not how a government is supposed to be run! Is no one listening to us!”

“Mary I don’t think were still in 1790 anymore.” I murmured, “Look at the calendar to your left… 1840…”

“How can that be?”

“You two!” the big dirty man roared from across the room, re-entering from the door he had just dragged the screaming woman out of. “If I have to tell you to get back to work one more time, so help me god I’ll-”

“We’re on our way!” I blurted out. “Mary trust me, I’ll find us a way out.” I uttered just quiet enough for her to hear.

There were two unoccupied machines a few rows over, one of which, had just minutes ago been occupied by a woman whose life would never be the same. We both sat down at our machines, and pretended to study them. “Mary this isn’t run by the government.”

“Then why hasn’t the government stopped this!?”

“I don’t know,” I said sighing tiredly, “They might be profiting off of this. Look, the machines are producing spools of cotton.” I returning my gaze back to the bizarre machine in front of me as Mary continued to study the room. The wood and brass still dripped with thick red blood that had dotted some of the pristine white cotton. I took a deep breath and put on my glasses. “How do you work?” I whispered to the machine, studying its foreign design.

“So just to clarify,” Mary stated suddenly,  “We were somehow transported to 1840, where people live in theses large, dirty, cities, and work pointless and dangerous jobs, all the while the treatment of these workers is completely unjust for this environment?”

“Seems like it.” I stated drowsily, not breaking focus from the machine. Although I would never admit it, I had been feeling nauseous, thirsty, and tired ever since I arrived in this strange place. Taking into account how unsanitary the city is, along with what my doctor had said to be low levels of stomach acids, there was a good chance I had Cholera. A cold sweat broke out at the back of my neck, either from the disease or my nerves.

“This is not right, the world is supposed to be a free world with a few laws. Not a strict world with few freedoms! These people are sacrificing their libraries for nothing in return! I nodded. “John are you feeling well? You don’t look good.”

“I’m… fine.” I said weakly in between breaths. Damn, even talking was getting hard.

“John we need to get you out of here, you look terrible.”

“She’s right sir,” Said a voice from my close right. “But what are you gonna do? Our 12 hours isn’t even close to being up yet.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Mary asked from my other side.

“My name is Daniel, but that hardly matters. You can’t leave.”

“And why not?” Mary asked, tense agresion seeping into her otherwise neutral voice.

“Because Charles will kill you.” he said nodding nonchalauntly towards the large dirty man from earlier.

“Really?” Mary asked sarcastically.

“Yep, seen him do it myself just last week,” Daniel said smugly, “Knocks you down and drags you right through those doors, the same doors they just dragged poor Linda through.” Daniel nodded again pointedly toward the double doors where the screaming woman had been dragged out of not long ago.

“I don’t care, he wouldn’t dare harm us!” Mary stood up frustrated. “Come on John we’re leaving.” She said, grabbing hold of my arm and dragging me, arm over her shoulder, toward the exit.

“Ohhhhh, where do you think you two shmazes are going?” Charles said, stepping in front of our path.

Part Three: “Mary Wollstonecraft”

“I’m taking my friend here away, and there's nothing you can do to-”

“SHUT UP B***H!” Charles roared, lashing out and slapping me across the face. Without my support, John fell helplessly to the floor. “AND YOU!” Charles growled, turning his murderous gaze toward John, who was now lying weakly on his hands and knees. “You don’t seem to be in working condition anymore. I’ve had enough of you.” Charles unleashed a monsterous kick hard enough to break solid stone, and connected squarely with John’s jaw. John’s head snapped back with a loud crack, as blood sprayed from his nose and his body fell limp to the floor, his face devoid of color and his cold lifeless eyes gazing back into mine. “Get rid of them both.” snarled Charles, his men grabbing me by the shoulders and tossing me and John both out the double doors and into the pouring rain. My breath fogged in front of my face as I got up to my knees, facing away from where John’s body was sprawled. I looked up into the sky, my tears mixing with the rain and streaming down my face as I screamed helplessly from the cobblestone streets.

Part Four: “Daniel”

I had warned them hadn’t I? I thought signing and returning to my work. Two more poors souls sat down in the open spots next to me and fumbled with the spinning jenny. No one disobeyed Charles. There was no democracy here, no freedom of speech, and no freedom period. There was equality in the sense that men and women were treated equally terrible. But I had warned them, I reassured myself again, I had tried, but they simply wouldn’t listen. Too freethinking. Life was simple here. Make cotton thread, don't injure yourself and don’t do anything else. “Life is life.” I muttered, returning to my work once more.