Tag: dystopia

The streets are dark and desolate at this time of morning,
The cold wind whips up dust and discarded plastic.

A street pumper hovers into place, and dirty yellow hoses are ejected,
Ground bolts secure the machine as it empties its tank.

The operator is dirty, pale and unshaven,
Puffing vape smoke into the cold air.

A dim white light from inside his visor illuminates his bearded face,
His expressionless eyes following a lone passerby.

The blue glow of the walker’s umbrella cane is distracting,
Its light reflecting in puddles and across wet window glass.

Clad in a long, unassuming black coat,
The pedestrian walks on, passing beneath the superstructure of a building and into a narrow lane.

Posters of desperation and entertainment cover the walls,
Layered one over another in a chaotic collage of Central City life.

Phosphorescent kanji graffiti adds another glowing layer to the passage,
While a narrow slit of white light spills from a doorway onto construction waste and broken pavement.

Rain puddles shimmer amongst the chaos,
Catching sudden bursts of colourful neon as advertising signs buzz and alternate overhead.

The reflections flicker across the walker’s dark glasses
And briefly illuminate their otherwise expressionless face.

Stepping from the lane onto the main street,
The walker waits.

Two teenage punks on illuminated hover scooters
Zip silently past.

The walker crosses the street
And disappears back into the shadows.

Soon, the journey ends.

A large black metal door stands ahead.

Unlike the surrounding walls,
It is completely free of graffiti.

The wind catches the pedestrian’s coat.

For an instant, beneath the black fabric,
The outline of weaponry is visible.

The walker stops.

Dark glasses are lifted.

A thin red retinal scanner beam passes across the face.

A soft electronic tone sounds.

The display changes:

鬼 Guǐ (Ghost) – Syndicate
Member 32549
Entry granted.

The locks disengage.

The heavy door opens.

The pedestrian disappears inside.

Behind them,
Central City continues to wake.

Another day begins.

Another workday
For the Guǐ Syndicate.

In this metropolis the sky is made of constant rain-soaked night,
Reflecting neon, shines in puddles and on pale weary faces,
The city streets are crowded, as people escape cell-like apartments,
Some shelter under awnings, or huddle, begging in doorways,
Many face the rain beneath illuminated umbrellas, or dark hoods,
People are the landscape, they pack pedestrian bridges and fill arcades,
They shout from balconies above, fighting to be heard,
Shady deals are made in the sprawling city’s dark corners,
Under skyscrapers covered in illuminated signage that pierce the clouds,
The narrow street markets burst at the seams offering their wares,
What you can’t afford to buy, you must trade to obtain, or steal,
Becoming overwhelmed is easy, commercials float in the sky,
Digital advertising, posters, speakers, announcements, music, sirens,
A million plus sounds all echoing at once,
The darkness delivers exceptional sensory bombardment,
City stench is pungent, street cooking combines with vehicle fumes,
Litter lines the streets, stirred by slow ineffective street sweeping vehicles,
Busy crossings speak and beep, police with LED batons direct traffic,
There’s nothing you can’t get here on the black market, crime is rife,
Life here is sickening, unemployment is high, and desperation fills the air,
There are red-light districts, body modification districts, and worse,
Everybody here is hustling just to stay alive, this city eats people up,
Homeless die silently in alleyways, addicts overdose on pavements,
It’s one of the last remaining fully intact cities following the machine war,
This is Grove Zero (G0), Central City, the murderous heart of the new colony.

*Excerpt from 'Infinite Black: A Grey New World'.