Post by Eldran on Dec 27, 2010 2:31:29 GMT
Mike wandered the streets for quite some time, the sun still slowly rising over the horizon. Buildings lined the sides of the streets, but there were no signs of life, reinforcing his suspicions that this was no ordinary city, and that there were no existing residents save for those who had arrived today. But who would build a city for no-one to live in? He shook his head. His personal philosophy dictated that everything happened for a reason, and he drew comfort from this fact: there was no way this city just 'happened'.
Eventually, he came upon something resembling a supermarket, only it was far larger than any supermarket he had ever seen. Intrigued, he went inside. His communicator beeped loudly as he crossed the threshold, making him jump. He took in the scene: it seemed perfectly ordinary - aisles stacked with goods of all types, signs displaying what was there, even a checkout, though it was unmanned. Mike reasoned it must be a more advanced version of the self-checkout machines he had seen in various supermarkets back home.
Home...he quickly shook off the sudden feeling of crushing sadness that momentarily gripped him. A reason. Everything for a reason. He began to pace the aisles. His footsteps echoed in the silence of the vast complex. Reflections from the hundreds of built-in bulbs in the ceiling that lit the building draped themselves on the dark, shiny floor, giving Mike the impression that he was walking on stars. Everything about this city seemed to have a hint of the ethereal.
He reached a junction in the maze of shelves, and paused. To his right, various bakery products. To his left...the aisle stretched away, but at the end he saw the unmistakable shape of a guitar. He headed for it. He loved playing the guitar, though he was a mediocre player at best. At least if he found himself at a loss for what to do in this mysterious new place, he could always play. He reached the guitar, and to his delight saw that it was one in a large room, full of guitars and various other instruments. Scanning the room, he noticed that there were no brand or maker names on anything. He frowned slightly, but nevertheless picked up a pale, wood-finish acoustic.
He strummed a few chords experimentally. The guitar was excellent, and the sound carried well in the noiseless supermarket. He began to play; a slow, improvised melody, rising and falling with his thoughts as he played amongst the urban stars. He sighed. Music was all well and good, but he was going to need a place to call home if, as seemed likely, he was going to be spending a long time in this place. Securing the guitar to his back with a leather shoulder strap, he made his way back to the exit.
He approached the checkout machine, then suddenly realised he had no money with him. Furthermore, upon closer inspection, the guitar was revealed to have no price tag. The only visible means of interaction with the machine was some sort of scanner. After thinking for a minute, Mike gave up. He'd have to come back when he knew how to pay. Leaning the guitar against the counter, he made for the exit. His communicator beeped loudly again as he exited, stopping him in his tracks. Could it...? It made sense. He quickly re-entered, picked up the guitar, and passed his communicator in front of the scanner. It made a rising, affirmative tone, and Mike smiled again. It might be a strange, new city, but at least things made sense.
He stepped outside, guitar slung over his shoulder by the strap, his spiked hair ruffled by the gentle breeze. The rising sun tinted the windows of the city a brilliant orange-gold. A lone piece of paper danced in the breeze, heading towards Mike. He reached out and plucked it from the air. He inspected its blank surface, before releasing it into the wind once more. It paused, hanging motionless in the cool air, before resuming its sunlit dance. Mike followed it with his eyes. It twisted and turned, twirled and pirouetted, a graceful waltz in the nothingness. Mike's gaze then focused beyond it. He saw a towering block of what seemed to be apartments a short distance away, partially obscuring the rising sun. If he was going to have anywhere to call a home in this place, it'd be best to start his search there. He walked on down the road, his shadow taller than himself, towards the sunrise and the highrise.
[Could no-one reply to this please, it's intended to be a solo piece.]
Eventually, he came upon something resembling a supermarket, only it was far larger than any supermarket he had ever seen. Intrigued, he went inside. His communicator beeped loudly as he crossed the threshold, making him jump. He took in the scene: it seemed perfectly ordinary - aisles stacked with goods of all types, signs displaying what was there, even a checkout, though it was unmanned. Mike reasoned it must be a more advanced version of the self-checkout machines he had seen in various supermarkets back home.
Home...he quickly shook off the sudden feeling of crushing sadness that momentarily gripped him. A reason. Everything for a reason. He began to pace the aisles. His footsteps echoed in the silence of the vast complex. Reflections from the hundreds of built-in bulbs in the ceiling that lit the building draped themselves on the dark, shiny floor, giving Mike the impression that he was walking on stars. Everything about this city seemed to have a hint of the ethereal.
He reached a junction in the maze of shelves, and paused. To his right, various bakery products. To his left...the aisle stretched away, but at the end he saw the unmistakable shape of a guitar. He headed for it. He loved playing the guitar, though he was a mediocre player at best. At least if he found himself at a loss for what to do in this mysterious new place, he could always play. He reached the guitar, and to his delight saw that it was one in a large room, full of guitars and various other instruments. Scanning the room, he noticed that there were no brand or maker names on anything. He frowned slightly, but nevertheless picked up a pale, wood-finish acoustic.
He strummed a few chords experimentally. The guitar was excellent, and the sound carried well in the noiseless supermarket. He began to play; a slow, improvised melody, rising and falling with his thoughts as he played amongst the urban stars. He sighed. Music was all well and good, but he was going to need a place to call home if, as seemed likely, he was going to be spending a long time in this place. Securing the guitar to his back with a leather shoulder strap, he made his way back to the exit.
He approached the checkout machine, then suddenly realised he had no money with him. Furthermore, upon closer inspection, the guitar was revealed to have no price tag. The only visible means of interaction with the machine was some sort of scanner. After thinking for a minute, Mike gave up. He'd have to come back when he knew how to pay. Leaning the guitar against the counter, he made for the exit. His communicator beeped loudly again as he exited, stopping him in his tracks. Could it...? It made sense. He quickly re-entered, picked up the guitar, and passed his communicator in front of the scanner. It made a rising, affirmative tone, and Mike smiled again. It might be a strange, new city, but at least things made sense.
He stepped outside, guitar slung over his shoulder by the strap, his spiked hair ruffled by the gentle breeze. The rising sun tinted the windows of the city a brilliant orange-gold. A lone piece of paper danced in the breeze, heading towards Mike. He reached out and plucked it from the air. He inspected its blank surface, before releasing it into the wind once more. It paused, hanging motionless in the cool air, before resuming its sunlit dance. Mike followed it with his eyes. It twisted and turned, twirled and pirouetted, a graceful waltz in the nothingness. Mike's gaze then focused beyond it. He saw a towering block of what seemed to be apartments a short distance away, partially obscuring the rising sun. If he was going to have anywhere to call a home in this place, it'd be best to start his search there. He walked on down the road, his shadow taller than himself, towards the sunrise and the highrise.
[Could no-one reply to this please, it's intended to be a solo piece.]