He strode through the streets hurrying past cars, passing pedestrians who gave him strange looks. They looked at him curiously for a moment before looking away and continuing on with their day.
It shocked him. How unconcerned they were. How unconcerned they were with the world they lived in. They were like robots. They lacked emotion, any feelings, any raw intelligence. They did what the powerful told them, willingly, contentedly. They didn’t care what was going on. As long as they were alive, as long as they survived.
He hurried faster and faster needing to get away from the powerful, needing to escape. He passed food trucks dispersing bland looking hot dogs and hamburgers, with customers below paying whatever price was required, not considering whether it was worth the price or not.
He glanced back behind briefly before continuing to stride away. He needed to get away. As quickly as possible. There was no other option.
It was difficult, if not impossible to escape. The city was made entirely of glass. All the buildings were of glass and mirrors, reflecting everyone and everything. Everywhere he looked he saw a reflection of himself, his hear grimy and greasy, his t-shirt and jeans splattered with sweat, his hands dirty, his eyes fearful of what could happen if he didn’t get away. He needed to get away.
There was nowhere to hide. They were always watching. There were cameras everywhere. One little peak at the cameras and they could see his reflection in many different places at once. They could follow his every movement, follow his path. They could see where he is, and then predict where he will be.
There was nowhere to go. He felt like he was in a maze, a maze that contained an endless array of glass buildings. It was a frightening thought but he needed to keep going, keep moving.
He crossed the street, running across a red light, just avoiding getting hit by a car, the driver inside emotionless and uncaring of the incident. Reaching the other side, he reached more glass buildings, more reflections. It was unending. There was no escape.
He used to think it was cool and exciting being in the city, the shiny city, the city glittering from the sun, the people bustling back and forth. But now he knew it to be a lie. The people were numb. Numb to emotion, numb to feeling, numb to everything. And the powerful had made them that way. And the people didn’t notice, didn’t care.
He continued on, forging his way through, looking for some escape. He scanned around him, but there was nothing different anywhere. It was all the same. The same buildings, the same reflections. There was no way out.
Suddenly he heard a shrill sound. It sounded like a faint whistle. And then he felt it. Something slammed into his back knocking him to the ground. And then the pain arrived. It was excruciating.
He began to stumble back to his feet, the blood gushing out of him. He needed to escape. His head felt dizzy, he felt unable to move properly, his legs not quite working. Then he heard another whistling sound. And he waited for the end.
