The Hum of the Backup Generator

Dear Delyara, It is 1:12 AM, and the backup generator behind the warehouse has just kicked in for its weekly diagnostic cycle. The walls of this tiny cabin are vibrating with a low, deep thrum that rattles right through the soles of my boots. I’ve been trying to map out a content schedule for our user submissions on a scrap piece of graph paper, but the rhythmic shaking makes it hard to keep a straight line. Out here, when the city goes quiet, these mechanical noises become your only companions. They remind you of how automated everything is, how easily a person can get caught in the cogs of a system that doesn't care about your dreams or your degree. I stood up to pace the fence line, just to let the freezing night air shock my lungs and break the spell of the machine.