Zan Fong Go Home Now

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A dreamy, squint-inducing WHITE pervades the screen. Vague shapes move in the void. A faint rustling noise. Could be heaven, or... INT. FOXCONN FACTORY FLOOR, SHENZHEN, CHINA - DAY The "dreamy white" dims and dissolves, revealing a sterile workspace where high-end electronic products are being made. We pan down a line of pint-sized factory workers wearing white hooded dust suits, blue masks, and goggles. Their lightning-quick hands resemble those of competitive Rubiks Cube solvers. They are assembling cameras. No chit-chat, only the soft rustle of plastic parts clicking into place. At the end of the line, sans mask and goggles, stands an inexplicably Caucasian worker much larger than his colleagues. A big brown beard blooms out of his face. This is ZAN FONG, mid-thirties. He is a long way and a long time from home. He picks up a finished camera, snaps a photo of himself, checks the image display, then places the product into a transparent box. He repeats this action mechanically. IMAGE DISPLAY: Zans frumpy mug frowning into the lens. INT. FOXCONN CAFETERIA - A LITTLE LATER A thousand Chinese factory workers in white undergarments eat a simple meal of rice and root vegetables. They slurp and chatter noisily. Zan eats silently and unsmiling, some rice caught in his beard. Someone OS cracks a joke and Zan, with a delayed reaction, attempts to join the laughter. Hes ignored. EXT. FOXCONN PROPERTY - DUSK A long line of factory workers in civilian clothes sift through security. Once through the metal detectors, the lines converge into a giant amorphous mass. They migrate across the property towards employee housing. TWO YOUNG WOMEN pass by Zan Fong, giggling.

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TWO YOUNG WOMEN (simultaneously, in Mandarin) Good night, Zan Fong! ZAN FONG (in badly pronounced Mandarin) Goo...good night. INT. FOXCONN DORMS - A LITTLE LATER Zan Fong sits Indian-style in the corner of the room, attached by headphones to a small television on the floor. ON TELEVISION: A grainy image of a bald, frowning Chinese man standing in front of a chalkboard. He appears to be giving an English lesson. In the back of the room is a small, noisy electric fan. Around the fan sit four DORM MATES wearing nothing but stained tighty-whities. They eat noodles and drink rice wine, joking aggressively with each other. One of them, DINGBANG, walks over to Zan Fong holding a half-eaten bowl of mushy noodle mess. His heavily stained buttocks pushes into frame. DINGBANG You can finish my noodles, Zan Fong. ZAN FONG No thank you, Dingbang. Dingbang hesitates before joining back with the others. DORM MATE #2 (hushed) Does he ever eat? DORM MATE #3 Only lunch time. DING BANG (loudly) Its amazing how one who eats so little can be SO fat. The dorm mates laugh nervously. Zan Fong turns up the volume on his program.

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INT. FACTORY FLOOR - MORNING The workers shuffle into their places on the floor. Zan is about to assume his position in line when he is yanked away by a SUPERVISOR. INT. SUPERVISORS OFFICE - A FEW MINUTES LATER The supervisor is in his 20s, small but ferocious looking. He looks through a file, presumably Zan Fongs. Zan admires the caligraphy on the wall while he waits. CALIGRAPHY: Treasure Your Life (Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.) SUPERVISOR Weve got a big problem here. Do you have any inclination? Zan looks confused. Either he has no inclination or he doesnt understand the Chinese word for inclination. SUPERVISOR (switching to English) Okay...so why dont you tell me what you think your job is. ZAN FONG I test the uh... (miming a flash with his fingers) ...the flash. The supervisor raises his eyebrows as if to coax a further response. ZAN FONG And the image display. SUPERVISOR Yeah, exactly, you take the picture. But thats not finished. Theres a quite important third step, do you know? Zan makes a dumb face. The supervisor whips out a camera to demonstrate Zans job to him. SUPERVISOR You push the button. Okay good, flash. You check the display. Okay good, image. And then... (CONTINUED)

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Zans dumb face has not changed. SUPERVISOR Yeah, this is the big problem right here. Next step YOU DELETE THE FUCKING IMAGE!!! Zans dumb expression is startled right off his face. SUPERVISOR Do you have any idea what serious shit you and I are in? Even if my superior shows me uh...mercy, I will be demoted certainly. Zan is a deer in headlights. The supervisor goes back to the file. SUPERVISOR Youve been an employee for five years, but how long have you been on photo duty? ZAN FONG Six months. The supervisor whips out a calculator. SUPERVISOR Yeah, exactly. So thats uh...3,600 units per day. Multiply by 150 days. The supervisor slumps over, depressed. His face in his arms, he begins to cry and wail about his ruined career. Zan stares up at another piece of caligraphy on the wall. CALIGRAPHY: Love And Honor Your Family Who Supports You EXT. SHENZHEN TRAIN STATION - THE NEXT MORNING Zan stands on the platform, one hand guarding his bright green fanny pack, the other hoisting a large laundry bag full of his personal affairs. Across the tracks, he sees his ex-supervisor standing on the opposite platform. Hes holding a cardboard box filled with his personal effects.

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The two stare each other down until a train can be heard approaching. Not knowing what else to do, Zan waves pathetically. After a moment of thought and a heavy sigh, the supervisor waves back just as the train barrels between them. INT. TRAIN - A LITTLE LATER Zan sits on the train, clutching his fanny pack with both hands. A LITTLE BOY stares up at him, mouth agape. Hes astonished by the size and color of Zans beard. Zan stares down at him and smiles warmly. ZAN FONG (in bad Mandarin) D-do you want to touch? The MOTHER of the little boy becomes frightened and pulls her son over to a different seat. Zan is crushed. INT. ZAN FONGS FAMILY HOME - EVENING