The atmosphere weighed with boredom as Lord Sypress surveyed the morning meeting in front of him. Situated around the jade embedded table were eight men, including himself, with the dynamic logo of his company engraved in the center. Grand letters were etched upon the centre: Sypress Textiles. The middle aged man could not wait to start his travels to Yorkshire that afternoon. To be free of the tension of London, the deep thrumming imprinted in the landscape.
“Lord Sypress.” He was jolted from the tranquil scene and once again placed under the tension of the day. “We await your confirmination to adapt the latest technology in the factories.”
Lord Sypress glanced at his empty tea cup, and gestured for the idle servant. “What risks are present if we were, to do as you say, adapt the machinery?”
“By implementing this technology, we will be able to increase our textile production drastically, but we may use up three quarters of our current assets. To recover the issued costs would take around two years.”
“Very well, install the new system.”
An associate of Lord Sypress asked timidly, “Would you care to go with us to the theatre for an afternoon show, John? There is a beautiful actress that has recently become the attention of the masses. Her lips are as red as blood upon snow.”
“Alas, I cannot endorse my time in enjoyment this afternoon, as I am due for a trip to Yourshire. I’m afraid I cannot experience such beauty along with you gentlemen.”
“The pity, I hear the theatre has raised their standards of afternoon tea to Earl Grey, imagine that!”
“My dear boy, you are yet too young to experience the true elegance of the theatre. I shall now take my leave.”
The carriage clashed with the dirt road, as Lord Sypress sat placidly within the compartment. He looked disdainfully at grimy children playing outside the outskirts of London. He would not let the sight dampen his mood, he advanced upon to Yorkshire, where as tossing the anxiety of the city far behind him mattered more than a few obscenities.
The gunshot shattered the afternoon serenity as the rider was launched from his seat. Lord Sypress, startled, gathered his wits quickly and ran from the site. He launched himself out of the carriage and ran deep into the woods, leaving the scene of assault. Blood pumped in his face as he thought over the ambush. There appeared to be no one following. He allowed the failing light of the afternoon sun and the darkness of the forest engulf him into concealment.
“Water…” the villagers found the battered man at the outskirts of their rural village as the man begged for water. They could feel him failing, and they rushed water to his cracked lips. After guzzling the remainder of the water, the man fell slack.
Lord Sypress arose slowly, with the help of villagers aiding his side. He suddenly jumped back, as if the very touch of the grubby fingers defiled his nature.
“Where am I, why am I here?”
“Hello, we haven’t introduced ourselves yet, we are a village located in the outskirts of Yorkshire and travel between us is limited. My name is Krepsly, and what is yours, fine sir?”
Lord Sypress was about to claim his title when something from his unconsciousness forced him to a stop. Perhaps they have connections with the luddites, where as the very claiming of his title would put him I great peril. I will find a way to escape here as soon as the chance presents itself.
“John Sypress, Sypress’s the name,” hating his name without a title he imitating the country slur that they spoke, “I’ve lost my carriage and my way home, would it be possible to find any form of transportation?”
“In good time, Mr. Sypress. I’m sure you will be willing to lend us a hand in the farm work? Tis not that tiring.”
“How tiring?”
“Backbreaking.”
Lord Sypress was in agony as he was drenched in his own sweat whilst plowing through the hard earth of rural England. He could not imagine how he was unlucky enough to land in such a dire position. For four weeks he had scraped the earth with crude tools for no particular profit. He looked towards a hut, a hut, and saw a child there, holding a basket. Interested, he put down his plow and approached the child.
“Hello sir, would you care to buy an apple, tis only 2 pence.”
As he paid the young boy, he was suddenly over come with a sense of nostalgia, as the child reminded him of his dead son.
“My dear boy, what is your name?”
“Henry, sir.”
“What do your parents do for a living?”
“Let me show you around this village.”
Sypress walked deliberately after Henry’s hasted steps.
“Our village was once rich, well from what I’ve heard, richer than the current state. Our trade was making clothing, and very good ones in fact. Then machinery was implemented into factories, and we could not compete against the cheap and efficient manufacturing of the factories.”
“This is not the fault of the ownership.” Lord Sypress interjected.
“My father always said that if anything was created by machinery, we might as well give ourselves up. As people we should create with our inspiration, a trait that machinery lacks. I feel much safer wearing something woven from the delicate hands of a real person than the metal claws of mindless frames.”
“Where is your father now?”
“He died over year ago in a laboring accident. Our village dislikes machinery a lot, and…”
“Henry, speak no more.”
Krepsly and a number of villagers gathered around them, and beckoned Henry to leave, whom scampered off nervously.
“We have been studying you and we have to admit we trust you, as you have demonstrated dedication to your work. We are going to ask, are you willing to join us? We are luddites, I am sure you have heard of us, and we serve Ned Lud, against machinery.”
“What is your most recent plan?”
“We plan to destroy the textile mills at, coincidentally as your last name, Sypress textiles in Yorkshire.”
“Surely it is not the fault of capitalism and logic that is to blame!”
“Of course it is, with the inventing of these blind frames of wood and steel, our friends and families are forced to work in hazardous occupations, and I believe it is the time to rise against this conspiracy.”
“That is not logical at all.”
“Why must we be logical? We are human beings, and are endowed with the senses that non other than humans can experience. Why should it be logical, when tradition is enough to make us enjoy our brief stay upon this world? Human life, should be cherished, not used as a mere tool for market gain. Human life, should be enjoyed, which we have been able to do so for the last decades. Human life, should be used, for the sake of other humans, so we can all experience the wonders and beauty of the world we mutually share.”
A deep silence masked the intensity of the blood thundering in Sypress’s skull.
“I will consider.”
“In this case, feel free to write to your family and if you require transportation, we will provide it.”
He walked slowly towards his resident, and looked the run down village, imagining the echo of joy and stability lost in time. He reached for his door and pushed it open, shaking his head. Unacceptable.
He sat down at his desk to write a letter to warn his company against the attack, when a faint breeze brought the smell of summer lilacs into the room. He looked out the window, watching the afternoon sun settle upon the distant mountains. He saw children, grimy in their worn clothing, playing in the dying sunlight. This was beauty, incomparable to the vain theatre he attended, the high class tea he drank. It was the honest life of the common people that shed real beauty, underneath the theatre of nature. It cannot be seen, nor bought- it had to be experienced. John Sypress put down his pen, replacing it with a plow, and walked out into the setting sun. He didn’t look back. He never did.
1
1. a) Which main topic does the artifact relate to:
Class division.
b) Which other main topics does it also relate to:
Human Ingenuity and expression through art.
2. Why did you choose this artifact, and how much time did you spend creating and/or processing it:
Well, I wanted to "experience" writing like Tennyson or that sort.
3. What insights and understanding have you gained from the creation and/or processing of this artifact
Tried to mash up everything I knew so far so its good review.
4. Does this artifact reflect your best work and/or ideas Why, or why not
Well....I tried XD
5. Rate this artifact on a scale of -5 to 5(0 is neutral) for the following 4 criterion:
a) Impact on the quality of your Portfolio
5, I like the story.
b) Impact on your level of happiness/enjoyment
Creating is always fun, 5
c) Impact on your learning
The research required was not that intense, yielding less information being learned. 3
d) Level of creativity and originality
I think its pretty creative. 4
6. Any additional comments.
Obviously I need factual feedback.
