666 Reads | Published about 4 years ago
As I cross the street I can see in bright neon the projection.
"No frills high thrills! Star Girl the movie!"
The narration shouted from a speaker with great enthusiasm yet for all the colors and neon plastered through the city walls all I could hear was the silence of the crowd.
In that particular day it was raining if I am remembering it right. So there was no idling the streets that night, just the sound of heels clicking on the asphalt and the rain hitting umbrellas.
I stopped and starred at the hologram really hard. Something in it called to me.
I used to go to college with that actress. She doesn't look like she does in the Hologram, well, perhaps now she does. But they changed her nose, her eyes. And I'm pretty sure her lips weren't as full as the hologram shows. They modified her, made her into a sculpture to be worshipped, a sign of beauty, of perfection among the neon lights.
And I hate them for it.
Hell, I hate us for it. I hate me the most.
We let them do this. This fake crap, this aimless wandering, these unnatural lights blinking across the city begging us to consume more fake crap.
They took our city and made it artificial.
They take our citizens and sculpt over them like clay.
We are free to choose on this city, but they hold all the options.
This was when I decided I had enough. I threw my System Identification Number into the mud.
My old slave wage self was dead. All there was left to me was to run among the shadows from now on.
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