Encased in my own little world chemical bouquets released into my helmet filling my nostrils and exploding about my head in puffs of red and manufactured confidence. Control was the path to salvation and our senses had been harnessed to ensure we never forgot the roles to which we all belonged. My cortex buzzed as Central streamed statements and coordinates, articulating our landing and mission whilst reciting Hail Marys to the glory of Production and the onward march of Progress. The skiff rolled and bounced atop updrafts from the giant smoking stacks as we weaved down low between the giant fetid tower blocks lancing darkly up into the purple sky. I grimaced and wondered how I had got to this place and point in time, gripping hard at the hull for security as the boat dived and spiralled south. All I had ever wanted was to be free, to command some respect and receive some dignity.
Words: Sam Mee, Published: 28 January 2016