Far above a dark city a party is pumping. There don’t appear to be any stars in the sky. On the dark horizon, red slashes hazily blur and flicker. Little white dots slowly ascend above the clouds. As a single thread these lights draw into the city they apparently become quicker, crisscrossing each other between the monolithic buildings. They thread between sky bridges and sometimes curve down for kilometers. The ground is lost between the gargantuan buildings. The city is like a hole with unfathomed depths.
At the party people wear breathing masks, up this high there is little to no air. Their bodies writhe in motion to strange beats. They don’t feel the biting cold. Every now and again the floor shifts and changes, it looks transparent, as if there is nothing underneath them. The image has crystal clear clarity. One of the girl squeals with fear and delight, grabbing at her grinding partner, she feels as though she’s falling. Or maybe flying. Then the feeling is lost when the image on the floor shifts and spreads into multiple colours.
The guy she had grabbed stepped back laughing, holding her. His elbow nudges a bottle that had been sitting precariously on the edge. It fell, spilling its contents. The liquid surrounded it. A blue hazy field stretches out in between the great gap, slowly spreading out to surrounding buildings lower down. The bottle falls through it, the liquid surrounding it instantly disappears as it hits the blue field. The bottle continues past the safeguard. It lazily whistles as it plummets through the air and suddenly explodes on one of the trail of lights. On closer inspection the lights seemed to belong to flying chunks of steel, curved and sleek. No windows were apparent on the shell.
The shards of glass spun off in different directions. Spinning and fluttering away on their own trajectory and story.
Far far below this drama of inanimate objects a boy walks on a well lit street. Above him the towering buildings fade away into blue. The feeling of claustrophobia is lost with the hologram of bright blue skys, complete with clouds and occasionally birds. The streets are clean, and are populated souly with foot traffic and stalls, selling various appliances and foods.
Micas is wearing his “leave me alone face”. His bald head and grubby unbuttoned trenchcoat, reminiscent of an archaic time, push between the crowds of people. A girl with jet black hair and crazy pink and green streaks in on side, and short cropped hair on the other falls into step with him. A black stripe below her left eye, of the same width as her eyelid runs down her check. It ends in a point halfway down her neck. “Nice look Caelum,” Micas mumbles to her “Very 30s”. “Thanks,” Caelum smiles “That’s what I was going for.”
To be continued… Here as a matter of fact.
