We sleep, we eat, we work. That is mankind, like ants in a hive. There is nothing else.

If you do not work, you do not eat.

If you do not eat, you stay asleep.

Sometimes I wonder what would be so bad about never waking up again, lost to the ephemeral dreams that would give way to manic despair.

The Tower in the center of our metropolis shines like a beacon in the smog. The highways weave around it, suspended in the air, hovercars rushing past with places to go, money to earn. Everyone must be moving, because to stop would contemplate death.

My family celebrates my ascent by painting our walls red, by hanging colored strips of paper in our windows. Our neighbors flood the house, offering quaint dishes they could spare. We celebrate around the fire underneath our awning, lights hung to remember the stars.

I begin my career in the Tower tomorrow. Assistant Specialist to Data Modifications. It is a great honor, and I will be able to aid my family by sending them money.

“Ky, I am so proud of you,” my grandfather says, patting me on the back. He turned down a position at the tower when he was my age, to become a mechanic instead.

I smile. He has never said many words to me – those are good words to keep.



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