Don't go off a cliff
Malevolent spirit long dormant
But now birds died in flight
Electricity raining from the sky
Take covered behind thinly veiled glass
But it was necessary
The world remained dark
"There goes another one", he muttered walking alone on the street. The sound bounced off the buildings as the smell of ash hovered. "Must be the fifth this week", shaking his hat down over his eyes he walked silently through the night. Gracing the sidewalk, hearing the crunching of his work shoes over the gravel in a hovering movement, barely making noise as he walked he glanced up. More apparition then man his eyes crossed paths with a young girl, shimmering across the sidewalk.
"Hello Mister, nice day wasn't it?" she asked with a slight curious smile as she passed by. Her white dress blinded him as he tried to get a peek at her face.
"What was that?" glancing back at the white figure barely tilting his covered head, stopping under a dimly powered street light.
"Nice day wasn't it?" not turning to see him. "I ask myself that question every day and felt like sharing the good will". Getting more up beat the more she spoke rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.
"Well then do you know the answer to the question?" smirking under his coat, "I mean it's kind of redundant don't you think, it's always nice if we do our job right."
"Well then does that mean you're happy?"
"No I am not, I'm not doing my job right", taking steps away from the very curious girl he started to walk down the street not seeming so empty anymore.
"Well then do you really know what your job is?" she smirked herself starting to dart down the streets taking skips as she stepped over the clean uniform sidewalk. "If you think you do are you really aren't all that happy?" He stopped under the next light turning around to ask.
"Of course I do" he snickered turning around to see no one. Strange, he thought to himself. Of course I do, don't we all. The blazing inferno of the house doused by firemen was beginning to die down. The Orange on the horizon began to die down making the smell of burning paper and ink less prevalent. Smelling the cold night air for another whiff of that burning poison a police car stopped next to him.
The cold black colorless vehicle stood there. Lifeless and empty unlike the life filled cars of the decades past. A monotone voice echoed over the intercom of the car catching him by surprise. "Sir your name, identification number and intent" it demanded in a robotic wisp of air.
"Name William Whitman, 2167, I'm going home from the communications bureau". Peering into the dark window that only reflected back the pale face of a man tired from a long days work. He admired himself in the mirror checking his growing stubble around his chin and unkempt hair hanging over the sides of his head.
"Mr. Whitman," it replied with no sort of intent or tone, "You must hurry home the curfew is active in ten minutes". Nodding his head and tipping his hat into the car camera he continued down the street, finding his cold heartless house next to the dozens of identical ones on his row in living district One-hundred ninety seven. Entering his house, the door creaking behind him, he threw his coat on the floor into a pile of older coats. Lying down onto his couch he reached his hands up into the air, spreading his fingers out trying to grab something he could not see. "Useless, Useless he muttered". The Phone rang startling him.
"Hello?" He answered in a joking manner, "you know the office closes at-" cut short by the ominous buzzing at other end of the line.
"Mr. Whitman could you step outside?" said the anonymous voice at the other end of the line. He dropped the phone leaving it ringing in his head. He stared at his door as it lay there rusting from the inside, mocking him.