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Scuffed. Worn. Used. The once white lino was marked and damaged beyond repair. Trodden time and time again. Suitcases; prams; shoes – all left destruction in their wake, whether or not this was intended remains unclear. Busy. So busy; people running; people screaming and shouting; babies crying. Everything was in motion; nothing was still.

High above the commuter chaos, a huge black screen with bold orange geometric letters and numbers shining like starlight, bright and illuminating, in the inky black darkness. Numbers appeared to show times with zeros and nines and eights and sevens. Letters spelled out the names of places it seemed; where they'd been or where they were to go?

Ahead, a barricade. A clear divide between the large bustling hall and rather narrow platforms. They appeared to open and close in time with the hurried people tapping a little card onto a bright sunshine yellow circle – an egg yolk which was slightly raised out from the rest of the dull, grey, filthy columns which held the barrios erect.

Beside the black screen, a large circle with three arms bouncing around its face at various intervals, ticking as they did so. From behind the barriers a massive grey torpedo hurtles into view from an elliptical void of darkness and screeches to a halt about 10 meters away from a forest green circle with the face and tail of a white mermaid embossed upon it above a glass window.

Around the hall, many other glass-fronted structures stood proud with people in shades of grey and black walking in through large transparent doors empty handed and reappearing under giant illuminated signs with cups and paper bags all covered in logos. Chairs and tables were dotted around them near the structures, metal and cold and lifeless though, despite this, some even seemed to be linked to the old walls by thick strong steel chains; did someone think they were planning an escape? The tables were all covered in a mass of junk and rubbish.

Overhead. The squeak as a silver metal cuboid flew down a shaft from the heavens towards the earth. A sliding door opened, gaped wide. A young man mostly in jet black stepped out onto the floor. His eyes wondered; his mind elsewhere. Brushing a light strand of hair out of his light blue eyes as he began to walk.

His eyes suddenly fixed.

Time to go.

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About The Author
Mitzi Danielson-Kaslik
About This Story
16 Apr, 2019
Read Time
1 min
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