PROLOGUE
Harper's lips are cherry red, her teeth are white her hair
is deep auburn brown, straight, today wavy. She sits legs
crossed wearing an orange blazer and matching pants, and
white t-shirt, plays with the red bangle on her left wrist,
and taps her cream designer heels together- a nervous tick.
Harper oversees the factory from afar- high above, unnoticed
on a cloud. She is poised, elegant, firm.The angel to watch
over us, but to her she was no angel. She could only pretend
that she wasn't fading away- checking the day, the time, the
moment. It was Saturday Evening, August 31st. Today marked
one year since my death. I am Paralee Simon and I was a
factor.
I was a member of the art collective. Phaldrom was known for
its combing cultures, and appreciation of art. 22 city
boroughs of unintentional separation based on class, nation,
beliefs. But at the Factory those lines were invisible. I
felt like one of the united, we all had dreams of making it
big in the arts and it was our time.
The Factory was many things to different people. To me is
was an art association, a place to conceive my paintings, to
Harper is was a studio to work on her creations novels and
plays, to Jane is was a stepping stone to a long journey of
success. But the the Factors, it was their workspace, their
home, something to be apart of and accepted as they were. To
me, it was a place of communion, my religion.
The regulars called themselves the Factors because it
sounded like they were accepted into an exclusive club.
Everyone wants that. But we all shared similar goals.
Create, sleep, eat, create, get noticed, get paid, be
accepted.
Jane was famous now, the rising star of the underground film
festivals. From the production district of Arkademe where
all of the high class art productions took place, the opera
and theatre companies, the ballet stages, the film studios,
arenas. Jane was in that world, she bought her way through.
We named the loft after Andy Warhol's Silver factory. I
could say it was all our ideas or I could blame Jane for
enforcing the Andy Warhol, Edie Sedgwick fantasy. In Jane's
mind, she was Edie Sedgwick, and Harper was Andy Warhol.
and I was Onedine, Ultra Violet, or Nico.
Harper and I knew it, we were too young to see how
unoriginal the idea was. Jane was quite different during
that time, in fact she did remind me of Edie. what people
thought of Edie, people thought the same of Jane.
The Factory was fated, out of control, to be Jane's infamous
crash site. In little of no time, a group of 10 become
became 60 to 70. Jane enlisted any young artists with a
dream, druggies, thespians, singer,s Broadway stars,
playwrights, poets, and experimental painters. People, I've
never met were drafted, and united under one roof.She made
the money from trust funds, and rich high rolling access,
she gave most of it away, supplying the factory demand for
years. But We'd get a cut for every factor success. Every
time someone got paid, so would the Factory.
The collectives were thriving. The Business for arts was
sprawling. Artists, musicians, actors could find work and
get paid. People were demanding talented singers, musicians,
"artism" and actors to entertain the nostalgic adults who
could only dream of being expressive. The adults lost that
ability, now we were going to bring it back.
The council wants us to contribute to society, but then what
what becomes of the aesthetic purpose? What becomes of those
who wish to create to express, and not to contribute? We can
change that. Freedom vs control. change vs stagnate. to
maintain, or to evolve?
We are the inspired next generation, factors of change. We
are the factors.
YOU ARE READING
The Factors
Teen FictionIn the fictional nation of Phaldrom Island, a young traveler, Brianna Lars, becomes apart of an Andy Warhol inspired art collective known as The Factory, during a time of political and societal controversy that threatens to change lives of the next...
