Skyscrapers generally tower over all other buildings
in the area. That seems to be the
point. Buildings tall enough to “scrape
the sky”. What is the point then of
building a skyscraper that comes up short?
Well, in a city that’s slow to adapt, its only fitting. The laughing stock of the skyscraper world,
it only makes sense that it resides in a city that only finds fame in jokes
now.
In the back of the 10th floor restaurant,
in the little brother of skyscrapers, the dishwasher is making plans. Not for escape, like so many others has. Exodus has come and gone, but he has no plans
on leaving. “We can rebuild. We can change the fate and course of this
place. This place can be great
again. We don’t have to keep moving in a
circle all the damn time.” His
co-workers were used to rants like this.
They always just nodded in agreement, then one of the cooks would start
talking about whatever random girl they were chasing after, or their latest
drug induced escapade. With a look of
resignation, the dishwasher reverted back to his work, lamenting to himself
that there may never be the necessary motivation to move forward.
The rundown monorail was always a bit of a sore
subject in this area. Costly and
ineffective, the relic was very representative of what the city had
become. Failure to adapt led to the
demise of a once great city, and their attempt at mass transportation was just
another reminder of that sad fact. The
conductor sits alone up front, chain smoking during his whole shift. Addicted to some of the most unsavory vices,
the conductor had long ago given up his dreams.
A future that had once risen above his downtrodden home, he was now only
left to wonder what could have been. The
fires in the “Paris of the West” may have been put out, but no one bothered to
rebuild the ashes. Such is life.