text: This is beginning - Kinda like the Introduction He lay in the dark lighten crevice, while thoughts bombarded his troubled mind. He was cold and miserable and alone in the world surrounded by the void which challenged his weakening heart. All his aspirations had been stripped away from him and he had nothing remaining to bind him to life; too much a craven to do the final deed he sat in contemplation. I wonder what is wrong with me, why the faiths have chosen to punish me so? Bliss for too long had been absent from his abode, and he now began to realize that perhaps he would not be remembered, he realized the insignificance of a single individual. Sitting there alone he wished to himself that if only he could close his eyes and live in the legends of era past instead of the technological nihilism he was trapped in things would be different. His body ached from laying down, his eyes burned, he was ravished by famine, and yet lacked the will to get up even though he could easily solve these problems. The weight of his insignificance was cumbersome to him. The miniscule dwelling, he had managed to secure in city block 923 sector 7 was inadequately furnished, and lonesome but it was all he could afford. Crammed between several similar dwellings block 923 or as antiquarians might have called it floor 923 mostly consisted of disenfranchised. When he left the protection of his family a few years prior Scott had figured that this would only be a temporary lodging. He was under the impression that if he worked hard and concentrated all of his energy in advancing his knowledge that he would gain renown. Reality had stripped those ideals from him. Now he mostly lay in bed during the time he wasn’t laboring for credits wondering when things had taken a turn for the worse. These kinds of things aren’t supposed to happen to people like me. I was fated for greatness, I was special, wasn’t I? Perhaps not, the nagging voice in his minds ear replied. His home had no windows, only the grey aluminum walls. Grey walls reflecting on a grey soul tossed aimlessly to and fro upon a little mattress that passed for a barely adequate resting place. His body debilitated he dose off to the humming of the only other thing that in the room; the screen. And so were the on goings of Scott from Sector 7 Block 923... monotony. Forced to wake up to the insipid tune of the alarm, and pretend for his co-workers that everything was alright. Pretend that he was stable, and sound of mind. The façade held up, but behind those dull black eyes was a wearisomeness that only grew stronger, and as he sat there surrounded by screens, typing meaningless numbers, and answering pointless inquires it dawned on him for the millionth time like a strange deja vu I am surrounded by idiots and automatons, and his despair only grew larger. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who was feeling this sentiment. Dissention was growing amongst the sectors. Too many had already been disenfranchised by the rapid changes amongst the different sectors and it wasn’t clear how long peace would last. It hadn’t even been that many years and already things were falling apart.