Dr. Azod Trick, Ph.D. was a brilliant inventor; he lived in a city. Which is quite funny really, because who doesn't? Those who lived in rural and suburban areas that preferred that kind of life. The street where Azod lives wasn't particularly active; in fact, no one was there.
He could see the tall, glinting city skyscrapers in the center. Home to thousands of denizens walking this way and that, hustling to get to where they're going. Almost like the beautiful, but chaotic New York City. The sidewalks, narrow and crowded, were as busy as a hundred marketplaces, people trying to get through. Furniture, goods, and people hurried past, voices raised in annoyance and shouts of greeting. Shopkeepers yelled out their goods or services, proclaiming what they were selling in a way strikingly similar to French creole. Art, architecture, and sounds were unmatched by any other city in the world, but a maze of endless buildings and people crowded together so tightly it was almost impossible to move at times. The tall, glinting city skyscrapers hovered on the horizon. The buildings were layered like a wedding cake, each one falling back as the next one popped up. Azod hadn't been to the center in many years, and he had expected it to change, but it was still a sight to behold. He could tell. The city life would taste like money no doubt like they were made from gold or silver. The skyscrapers would also taste like they were made from gold or silver in a way that was hard to articulate. And every morning, the tall, glinting city skyscrapers came into view against the rising sun behind them. They reached up in a multitude of shafts and pointed spikes that pierced the sky in a multitude of directions. The morning sun cast a warm orange glow across the skyline, and Azod could feel the heat coming off of the buildings as the sun rose higher. They stood like a cluster of giants against the rising sun, blocking their passage to the center city.
But Azod remembered what it was really like when he first arrived here at Krye City. The commercial district bustled all day and night, smack dab in the center of downtown. Neon lights hummed along the streets like a hive full of busy bees. The constant flicker and glow of advertising signs flashed heavily seductive messages (for products that existed– and soon-to-be-made ones) to anyone who cared to notice. The gridlock was a daily grind; it was hard to go anywhere. It would be easier to just stay home. And Dr. Azod Trick did just that.
Azod, however, resided outside of the city limits. And while here in the outskirts--nothing. No lights at all. In reality, the street lights were shut off due to lack of budget, and now it smothered the area in a cloak of darkness. At night when the sun would go down the streets were desolate and empty as the sky above. Even if there were people, they would be too far away to make out. A glint of light in an upper-story window of a nearby building in the center– most likely a place of business– made him think of a distant star. The nightlife was interesting and exciting, with stars all around. So much you would lose track of counting. But if we are being honest with ourselves, complete darkness for a long time and living alone and stranded ourselves is not good for one's sanity. And Azod was the perfect example. Azod wasn't crazy. But he was damn near close.
The warehouse where he lived (a style of living he'd chosen over the last few years—a place to work on his inventions and build things, but not so much a home), had started as a building that housed a steel mill, that includes stamping and bending and forging operations as well as a finishing shop. Then in late 1965, this operation was transformed into the second-largest manufacturer of fiberglass floats in the world. But in 1980, the company was completely reorganized into an Owner-Operator Corporation. Next, the facility was operated by the Ware family (A rather wealthy family that lived in a penthouse of an apartment complex on the corner of 6th and PREP street) until mid-1999, when the facility and property were sold to Krye Park for an estimated $66 million. But at last, after years of stalling (essentially, that's what it was) the building was finally demolished and rebuilt to the city's needs in early June 2012. To serve as a manufacturer of digital technology. Now it was nothing; currently vacant save for the presence of one person.
YOU ARE READING
A Silent Lullaby
Science FictionThere are 5 sections, each with a different perspective, the main idea is that there is a scientist who is really crazy and made this machine. It was a music box and the only way it works is if there is a person inside it.
