Quentin Faust

Introduction

"Who are you?"
"Leave me alone"
"Who are you?

The monotonous beating of the machine went through his body, as it did day after forsaken day. The factory itself still looked like a prison. The atmosphere was industrial. Around him only shades of grey. Everything looked gritty down in the pitt. His fellow workers were, like himself, covered in foul black shards of metal. The machinery filled the air with an inhumane scent. There were rats everywhere, though no one seemed to pay them mind. There was no sound but the thumping and humming of the machines. Conversations where not allowed on this level. Quentin was able to ignore the voice for the most of the day. It had the annoying habit of asking it's troublesome questions while he was dreaming of better days.
"Who are you?" It asked him. The voice seemed to come from inside his head, and had always been there.
"I am Quentin"
"Who is Quentin?"
"Quentin is the observer"
"Where is this observer?"
"It is inside my head"
The voice went away again. Quentin figuered that it meant the anwser was wrong. Because of his monotonous work, he was able to have lengthy interviews with the person inside his head. Nobody seemed to notice the fact that he, sometimes, lost his concentration. But then again, who needed something as silly as concentration when ones only task was to hit a big red button to the rythm of the immense, pumping machine in front of him.