The Dream of the City by Andrés Vidal Read Free Book Online

ordinary. Soon, Montero stood up.
    â€œComrades,” he began with a hoarse voice, “we are here today to lay out our strategy. We’ve been striking now for two days. Two days of success!” Murmurs of approbation rose up. “Everyone has heeded the call, all the workers are united. But now it is up to us to decide the next step.”
    â€œThe next step is to negotiate, no?” one of them asked, unsure. “Wait for the bosses to sit down and talk with us, that’s what the strike is about!” he said, turning toward the rest, looking for the approval of those gathered. Various voices agreed.
    Montero raised a hand to restore calm.
    â€œYou see, what I’m trying to say is, how many days can we go on like this?”
    â€œHowever many it takes, goddammit!” Ramiro bellowed. He was known for his warmhearted, but rather coarse character. Amid their laughter, they hissed at him not to talk so loud.
    â€œLet’s be honest,” Montero said, walking through the room. “We can’t hold out indefinitely. The owner doesn’t want to budge. It would set a bad precedent. He would rather lose money because in the long term, that hurts him less than giving in to our demands.”
    â€œFucking bourgeois!” someone clamored.
    Montero steeled his gaze. Dimas seemed to see a cruel edge in it.
    â€œThen it’s clear what we have to do, right, Rubio?” he asked.
    Montero turned to an old militant from the Workers’ Solidarity union who’d later joined the CNT and had promised to help them with the organization of the strike. Rubio climbed up on the crates and coughed before he began speaking; he always liked to weigh his words. He kept his voice down, but vocalized clearly so everyone would understand him.
    â€œYou are the real motors of the business and the real generators of wealth. The overseers, the owners of the means of production, will not hand over the surplus value unless they are obliged to do so. Clearly the strike is one method, but it’s not the only one. We should be prepared to raise the intensity of our struggle, to apply more pressure, so that the owner won’t be able to see any way out of this conflict besides sitting down to talk. That means we need to think very seriously about carrying out direct actions.”
    â€œWhat actions would those be?” Arnau asked, standing beside Dimas.
    â€œRough up the boss!” Ramiro blurted.
    Rubio shook his head.
    â€œNot the boss, the machinery. Rough it up, as our comrade says. Sabotage the machinery.”
    An uncomfortable silence arose. They all knew that to take that step meant to risk a confrontation where they could end up the losers if they weren’t careful. Montero took the floor again to rally the people there.
    â€œDon’t be afraid, reason is on our side; we are not criminals. We’re just wrecking the machinery to let them know that we’re in this ’til the end. We have to set a date, and if it goes on past it, we have to do something. I propose that if the owner doesn’t respond to our complaints in two days … then we act!” he exclaimed, raising his fist.
    The workers began to argue among themselves about how soon it would come to a head. Some looked dismayed at the idea of anything that could put them in danger. Montero insisted on doing it as soon as possible, but finally, after Rubio’s mediations, they agreed to let Sunday and Monday pass as well. If nothing had changed, then on Tuesday, March 16, they would all show up at the workshop first thing in the morning. Montero, who had a copy of the key, would make sure it was open. All would go in together and they would go after the machinery.
    After coming to this agreement, they called the meeting off and left in a staggered order. Daniel Montero waited to be the last to leave. He looked nervous and was pacing through the room. Dimas was surprised by how, all of a sudden, the