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 10^th 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.