Episode 1: 06:59, Morning in the Plastic City

Episode 1: 06:59, Morning in Plastic City ‘Click, tick…’ … Click, tick… … .'

The sound that filled the quiet room was not the ticking of a mechanical clock. It was an extremely dry and regular friction sound made by smooth ABS plastic gears rotating in precise engagement while maintaining a tolerance of 0.1 millimeter. One-room room #302 on the 3rd floor of a modular building with 32 studs width and 32 studs length, located in Yeonhui-dong, Seodaemun-gu, Seoul. In this strange yet lovely world of plastic miniatures, where everything is arranged in a perfectly rectangular coordinate system measuring 8 millimeters wide and 8 millimeters long, the minifigure Han Do-yoon, a 29-year-old office worker, was lying straight on a white single bed brick measuring 6 studs wide and 12 studs high. The 2x2 yellow desk alarm clock brick tile placed at the head of the bed had very clear numbers printed in black silkscreen ink. [06:59]

There are exactly 60 seconds left until the alarm sounds. The tips of Doyun’s yellow plastic fingers twitched slightly. His hands, bent into a C shape, were perfectly optimized for holding cups or bag handles, but they were a bit clunky and hard for smoothing out the soft feathers of a blanket. However, deep inside that hard plastic skin, the hot, sticky blood and weary soul of a 3-year K-office worker who had to fight the war to go to work every morning were vividly pulsating. 'There's just one minute left.'

Doyun started counting backwards in his mind without opening his eyes. Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven... …

That cruel yet sweet minute before the alarm sounds. Like all office workers in the world, for Do-yoon, the last 60 seconds of dawn were the only absolute sanctuary of the day, completely isolated from the company's standards and the boss's nagging. His hair was firmly fixed with dark brown, glossy plastic injection molding, so it wasn't even a single tangle when he woke up, but the brain cells in his head were already overheating, tangled up in thousands of complicated work packets. Doyoon's studio in room 302 was small, but it was the culmination of perfect modular engineering.

The walls were made of 1x4 sand green bricks that were firmly interlocked in a running bond structure, and the ceiling molding was tightly surrounded by very thin 1x8 white plates. All of the furniture was hand-assembled by Do-yoon, looking at IKEA-style plastic assembly instructions when he was just starting out. On the wall-mounted bookshelf were neatly placed the 'Introduction to Modern Marketing' tiles and 'Consumer Psychology' 1x2 bricks, which he had studied all night long during his college years, and on the corner of the bookshelf stood a cute 1x1 orange Dolhareubang mini figure prop that he had bought at a Seopjikoji souvenir shop during his vacation to Jeju Island last summer.

The window frame was made of a dark brown 1x4x3 frame, and the draft blowing through the gap in the frame contained the cold static electricity characteristic of plastic materials. Doyoon truly loved this small room. Although the cruel bill of 30 million won in deposit and 650,000 won in monthly rent was strangling his neck every month, this 32x32 stud space was the only land where he could exist as himself. The world of plastic was a cold paradise built on the illusion of immortality.

The blessing of a polymer compound that does not age or become sick and wrinkle like humans, does not irritate bones when exposed to rain, and does not rot even after 100 years. However, even the minifigures living under that immortal shell were subject to their own cruel aging and wear and tear. While going up and down the stairs and clinging to subway handrails tens of thousands of times every day, the ABS resin in my knee joints was chipped into tiny pieces, spewing out white plastic powder. The C-shaped clutch power of my fingers has become looser over the years, and now, when I hold a heavy briefcase, I often drop it to the floor without realizing it.

Lego City's class structure was also thoroughly standardized. The figures of executives from large corporations living in the penthouse of a high-rise glass tower assembled with hundreds of thousands of bricks in Teheran-ro, Gangnam, were decked out in the latest chrome-plated suits and shiny glossy hair pieces every day. On the other hand, low-level minifigures living in old prefabricated row houses in Yeonhui-dong or Sillim-dong had to survive each day in a narrow room made up of faded used bricks. Although it was a toy in form, the intensity of the competition for survival that took place within it was more severe and fierce than any other hell in the human world.

‘Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! 'Beep beep, beep beep!'

Finally, a digital beep indicating 07:00 erupted from the red 1x1 circular translucent brick at the top of the alarm clock. Without a delay of 0.1 second, Do-yoon lifted his right arm vertically and bent it 90 degrees. 'widely!'

His C-shaped palm hit the push stud at the top of the alarm clock. The loud noise stopped immediately. It was the triumph of a perfectly conditioned reflex that had been repeated thousands of times every morning for the past three years. Doyoon bent his waist to 90 degrees and raised his upper body up on the bed. A light friction sound like ‘squeak, pop’ rang out from the plastic joint area. There was no need to worry about suffering from spinal disc herniation or back muscle pain like humans do, but plastic parts also tend to become loose or wear out over time, creating subtle gaps.

In particular, because I had been working overtime last month and was hunched over while reviewing 10,000 lines of an Excel spreadsheet, the joints between my pelvic parts and leg joints were gradually creaking and complaining of fatigue. He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked down at the floor. The studio floor, covered with light brown 2x2 smooth tiles, was sparkling cleanly without a speck of dust. Morning sunlight began to seep in diagonally through the cracks in the window. The sunlight that passed through the transparent 1x2 window glass brick broke into a spectrum of yellow and orange, casting a long, warm rectangular shadow 16 studs across on Doyun's bedroom floor.

Doyoon sat blankly at the end of the bed and stared at the edge of the sunlight. “Ha...is today finally the day?”

A soft sigh escaped from between Doyun’s square lips. The classic two-dot black eyes printed on his yellow cheeks and the gently curved corners of his mouth always wore an expressionless smile, but the inner feelings hidden behind that smile were shaking violently like the sea before a typhoon. 25th of every month. A fateful day that touches the hearts of 10 million office workers in Korea. The only reward obtained by pledging blood, sweat, tears and shame, ‘payday’ had finally arrived. The morning sunlight seeping through the bedroom window created a mysterious texture the moment it touched the plastic surface.

The smooth ABS resin emits a unique, subtle gloss when exposed to light, but also reveals very shallow, fine scratches. Those flaws were like a medal showing that a perfect manufactured product fresh from the factory had finally acquired a ‘sense of life’ by permeating into a person’s life. Doyoon rubbed his palm on the surface of the white 4x6 tile that served as a bed sheet. The tiles that had held his body temperature all night were now lukewarm, and the air in the room was filled with the sweet, spicy smell of chemical fibers that came from a freshly opened plastic toy box.

Outside the window, I could already hear the dull metallic friction sound of the National Railway Line 1 train bricks rattling across the rail plates. The city was blowing its wake-up call. It was time for all the minifigures in the world to get up from their assembled beds and go to their standardized workplaces to survive for the day. On the wall opposite the bed was a white Lego perpetual calendar measuring 8 studs horizontally and 6 studs vertically. Each date was neatly printed in black numbers on 1x1 square white flat tiles, and the holiday tiles glowed bright red.

In the middle of the calendar, at the top of the tile with the 25th written on it, there was a very special part that Doyun had personally inserted. It was a dazzling golden star-shaped stud with a diameter of 3 millimeters. Doyoon sat on the bed and stared blankly at the little golden star. Just one day out of 30 days in a month. For the remaining 29 days, it was 261 hours of labor, enduring verbal abuse from the boss, staying up all night due to unreasonable revision requests from clients, and enduring the crushing hell of a crowded bus. The energy of all that shame and tears was condensed and the only golden fruit that finally bloomed was that star.

“I just have to survive for one day. The moment that star falls into my bank account, everything will be rewarded.”

Doyoon clenched his fists. It was a hypnosis towards myself, a mirage of the only oasis to cross the harsh desert of today. Doyoon got up and headed to the bathroom. The bathroom was a compact prefabricated space measuring 8 studs horizontally and 8 studs vertically. A small silver chrome-plated faucet brick stood upright on a sink finished with white 1x1 round tiles. When Doyun flipped the faucet lever upward, the blue translucent 1x1 round bricks (Water Studs) that came down the pipe poured out with a 'Usussusu—' sound and filled the white washing bowl. Doyoon cupped his hands and scooped up a handful of cold water drop bricks. The smooth, cool feel of the plastic beads touched his cheeks. ‘Charrr—’

A refreshing stimulus that instantly takes away the sleepiness. He rubbed the drop bricks on his face and looked up at the mirror. In the silver glossy reflective sticker tile attached to the wall, the face of Han Do-yoon, a 29-year-old assistant manager, had lost all the freshness of a confident new employee three years ago and had faded due to chronic fatigue and stress. A fine, thin scratch on the right edge of the forehead. It was a glorious(?) scar that I got when I bumped into the edge of a telephone pole while sending Manager Park Man-soo, who had become awkward at a company dinner, in a taxi last winter.

Every time he looked at the wound, where the yellow paint had slightly peeled off to reveal the white plastic underneath, Doyun felt a pang in his heart. Why do we have to wear down each other's edges in a world with such rigid standards? In this cruel plastic society, where anything that fails to combine perfectly with other blocks is treated as a 'defective product' and thrown into a recycling shredder, how many studs can one's value be measured in? Looking at the mirror in front of the sink, Doyoon began another ritual he performed every morning.

It was a matter of checking the connection status of the ‘Hair Piece’. A cylindrical stud with a diameter of 4.8 millimeters rose from the center of the minifigure's head, and a dark brown glossy parted hair part was tightly fitted into the stud. If you wear it for a long time, the friction inside the studs may weaken, which could lead to a catastrophe where your hair falls off when the wind blows strong or you get hit by a crowd of people on the subway. Doyoon grabbed the hair part with both hands and pressed it firmly.

'Click.'

I felt a perfect fit along with the sound of air escaping. He took out a plastic comb specifically for minifigures from the drawer and brushed his neat parted hair once more. Even though it was just a piece of plastic that did not let a single hair move, neatness on the way to work was the minimum armor and etiquette for office workers to face the world. He brushed his front teeth by inserting a white 1x1 round toothpaste tile into a toothbrush brick. The mint scent filled my mouth, refreshingly washing away the dull fatigue that had lingered all night. Doyoon opened the lid hinges of the black briefcase he took out from under the bed and carefully inspected the internal storage.

Inside the narrow bag, which was 2 studs wide and 1 stud tall, the five essential items that supported Doyun's entire work life were stored in a perfect Tetris structure. The first is a plastic employee ID tile with the title ‘Brick Corporation Marketing Team 2 Assistant Manager Han Do-yoon’ and employee number 2023-0482 printed precisely in 0.1 millimeter font. The second is a 1x1 translucent pink cylindrical lip balm brick that you take out and apply whenever your throat feels dry. The third is a 1x1 silver USB memory tile that stores 32GB of compressed business reports and competitor analysis data.

The fourth is a white 1x2 soft toilet paper tile for Doyun, who suffers from rhinitis. And in the deepest secret compartment, there was a small treasure hidden that was not shown to anyone. It was a brown mini-book tile in the form of a palm-sized leather binder in which Do-yoon had been sketching scenarios and movie storyboards from time to time since his college days. [PROJECT: FILM OF MY LIFE - A movie where I am the main character]

He would open this little book, Brick, in an empty room every night, and imagine that one day he would get out of the corporate world, become a great movie director, and inspire the world. As long as the secret dream tile was firmly seated inside the bag, he was able to maintain a firmness that would never break even in the face of the harsh winds of office life. After finishing washing his face, Do-yoon opened the closet door. Inside the closet, five sets of torso parts of the same design that matched the company's dress code were hung side by side. A business suit piece with a white shirt collar on a dark navy blue background and a bright red tie across the middle printed like a sharp knife without an error of 0.05 millimeter.

Doyun took off the torso of his plain pajamas T-shirt and fitted the torso of his navy blue suit, which resembled a combat uniform, into the pelvic pins of his lower body until it made a clicking sound. 'Click.'

Perfect combination. In that brief moment when the upper and lower body became one, Do-yoon's mind was forced to change from Han Do-yoon, a free natural person, to Assistant Manager Do-yoon Han of Brick Corporation's Marketing Team 2. He grabbed a black rectangular 1x2 tile from the dresser drawer. It was his latest smartphone prop. When I pressed the power stud on the side, the green LED backlight on the front of the smartphone tile turned on and the familiar main screen of the mobile banking app blinked. [KB Kookmin Brick Banking - Han Do-yoon Customer]

[Withdrawable balance: 14,280 won] “……14,280 won.”

Doyoon's pupils shook as if an earthquake had occurred. Just 29 days ago, on the 25th of last month, where on earth did the 3 million won monthly salary evaporate? Jeonse loan interest of 750,000 won, student loan repayment of 350,000 won, credit card payment of 1.4 million won, management fee of 180,000 won, communication fee of 80,000 won... …

The salary did not go through the bankbook, but rather it was a wisp of smoke that passed through the highway toll gate called the bankbook at 200 kilometers per hour and disappeared. Bank account balance 14,280 won. The amount is not enough to cover the cost of lunch and coffee for the day. If the company's salary deposit notification did not ring on time at 11 a.m. today, he would not even have money to buy a meal ticket for the cafeteria during lunch time and would have to fill his stomach with mixed coffee from the cafeteria. Doyun came out to the kitchen and opened the door of the 2x4 mini refrigerator. Inside the refrigerator shelf, 1% low-fat milk in a transparent glass bottle brick, a yellow triangular 1x1 cheese slice brick, and a sandwich tile with an expiration date of today were lying lonely.

Doyoon took out the sandwich and placed it inside the 1x2 microwave brick. When I turned the timer stud, the interior light turned yellow and made a quiet buzzing sound for 30 seconds. 'Dang!'

The warm sandwich had the savory scent of butter and the salty smell of ham. He sat down on a chair at the small dining table next to the sink and took a bite of his sandwich. The texture of the crispy bread and the flavor of the soft cheese lingered on the tip of my tongue. Although his bank account balance was only 14,280 won, a freshly warmed breakfast provided him with the simplest and most honest energy to get through the day. “I’ve eaten, so I should cheer up. After today, I can have delicious pork belly and a glass of soju.”

He drank the milk in one go and neatly placed the empty cups in the sink. Doyoon sighed deeply and stuffed his smartphone into his pants pocket. And I picked up a black plastic briefcase from under the bed. When I clicked the bag handle into my C-shaped right hand, I was completely ready to go out. Before opening the front door, Doyoon stopped once again in front of the shoe cabinet mirror. He held his chin with both hands and checked the angle of the corners of his mouth. An office worker's smile should not come from the heart, but should be a precisely set facial mechanism to reassure bosses and customers. Two dots, one line. The sadness, anxiety, and glimmer of hope of youth in their 20s are hidden in that simple and simple expression. Doyoon opened his chest wide. “Let’s go, Han Do-yoon. If you last just today, you’ll get your salary. If you last just today, the film will make money!”

He vigorously turned the front door handle. The heavy oak colored suspension front door of 4 studs horizontally and 8 studs vertically opened smoothly outward. Along with the cold morning air beyond the hallway, the sound of the horns of tens of thousands of plastic cars filling the modular alleys of Yeonhui-dong and the busy footsteps of minifigures on their way to work began to roll in like waves. Morning in Plastic City, rolling like a giant conveyor belt. Assistant Manager Han Do-yoon's first steps were taking powerful steps toward the heart of that ruthless gear. Doyoon stood in front of the front door and checked once again the binding of his leg joints instead of his shoelaces.

Left leg forward 45 degrees, right leg back 45 degrees. A bipedal walking mechanism that moves the pelvic pins across the axis each time you walk. The modular city's sidewalk blocks were densely paved with 2x2 stud tiles, so if you took a wrong step, there was a risk of getting caught in the grooves in the soles of your feet on the protrusions of the studs and falling. Therefore, skilled city minifigures would learn a unique walking method of gliding, with the tube grooves on the soles of their feet perfectly level with the studs. Doyoon turned on the entrance intercom screen. The CCTV footage of the alley already showed numerous minifigures holding briefcases walking quickly toward the subway station.

A parade of giant toy soldiers, all wearing the same standard clothes and walking with their arms waved at the same angle. However, in the hearts of those expressionless plastic dolls, each had a family to support, a dream to protect, and the joy of the payday they would face tonight burning like a flame. Doyoon grabbed the doorknob and took a deep breath. The curtain on the commute to work was rising. When I closed the front door of room 302, the 'clunk' sound of the lock brick echoed in the hallway. Doyun started to go down to the first floor using a spiral plastic emergency staircase with a handrail.

Every time I passed the landing, the busy morning routine of the neighborhood minifigures was vividly conveyed through the gap in the door. In No. 201, the sweet lullaby sound of a young mother giving her newborn minifigure a 1x1 translucent baby bottle brick was heard, and in No. 102, the bustling sound of a mid-sized construction company foreman figure carrying a hard hat and searching for a shoe horn was heard. On the sidewalk block in front of the villa entrance on the first floor, the building manager, a white-haired old man, was holding a red broom prop and carefully sweeping away the plastic leaf tiles that had fallen overnight.

“Hey, Assistant Manager Han! Are you going to work today too? The weather is quite chilly, so fasten your collar!”

Doyun bowed his waist to 45 degrees in response to the grandfather figure's warm greeting. “Yes, old man! Good morning. Thank you for your hard work today!”

Even though it was a combination of plastic parts standardized to 0.1 millimeter units, the affection and warmth of the neighbors filling this small alley was deeper and truer than any other warmth in the human world. The moment he left the front yard of the villa and walked out onto the main street in Yeonhui-dong, the refreshing, cool breeze of the fall morning gently caressed Doyun's plastic cheek. let's go. Today, I will compete fiercely, sweat honestly, and confidently watch my own film. His yellow smile, sparkling under the morning sunlight, shined brighter than any huge building.