We All Shine On

Chapter 1: A Day in the Life

April 6, 1980

Time for another day at work, I thought as I ascended the cement stairs that led to the top level of the ugly brick building that my workplace was part of. I worked at Snapshots Studio, not at all one of the most prestigious locations in Manhattan. But it was how I made my living.

I hauled my bag full of equipment up until I reached it. Floor 8. I checked in with the secretary, Ernst, who never looked especially pleased to see me. "Oh... Miriam..." he said in his heavy accent. His father was a Nazi sympathizer in World War II who escaped Germany after the fall of the Third Reich almost 40 years ago, when Ernst was just a boy. He was obviously resentful of the fact that I had a better job than him; not only because I was a Jew, but because I was female.

I brushed past Ernst as quickly as I could, cocking my head to show him that I didn't care what he thought of me. Then I entered my little office, a small room next to a huge glass window from which I could see the tip of the Statue of Liberty's crown and torch. Several developed photos from yesterday sat on my desk, along with a myriad of paperwork. I groaned before starting to sort through the formidable stack of work.

When I wanted to be a photographer, I expected something more glamorous than taking 'professional' shots of babies for their parents or of businessmen for their company's advertisements. But that was life, and that was how I was going to make a name for myself. If there was anything my parents taught my sisters and me, it was that I had to work hard because the world wasn't fair.

I heard a knock on my door after an hour of filling out papers and not taking a single photograph. "Come in," I ordered.

"Miss Ruben, there will now be a brief meeting for all Snapshots photographers in Mr. Pirelli's office," informed Kendra, a girl about my age who did the odd jobs around the studio. She was one of the nicest people here, and very beautiful, with ebony hair, dark skin, and a dazzling smile. I guess we were both outcasts around here. Women, and ethnic minorities.

I got up from my work and walked down the corridor into the board room, where my boss, Giorgio Pirelli, was sitting in his fancy chair, "the throne", as it was called by everyone at the workplace. The other fifteen-odd photographers of the studio were also at the table when he spoke. "Good morning, employees: I have an important announcement today."