The rising sun pours into the alley, illuminating dark patches of wall and exposing the entire complex like a rock being lifted off a swarm of bugs. My hands remain resting in my lap, the night's frozen sting melting in the warmth.
The road ahead of me is barren, aside from several craters; there isn't anything daring enough to brave the streets and risk the consequences. The ceiling of the metropolis leaks the sun through, dodging monumental jenga towers. The web of buildings through the sun's path line up so that this alley is one of the few graced by daybreak.
All the others are kilometres away, and already occupied. I judge it a good time to get down from my elevated position, and begin shuffling off the unpowered neon tube sign over the path. I crawl off the sign to a protruding edge and duck my head as I slide down the grungy pipe.
At the end of the slope, I catch myself on the rim of the ratty tube that worms into the building, needing to use a bit of strength to wriggle through. The light leaves the upcoming room as I shove my body through the way, the brightness blinking in some places with the rock of my hips crawling through. Upon reaching the other side of the tube, I raise my arms to the surrounding inner wall, and push myself into my bedroom.
The bedroom is barely even that. It's just a cramped, dull wardrobe that's been sealed shut, only accessible through the corrugated foil pipe that cuts into the metal wall. It's only one of hundreds throughout just this building, all filled to the absolute maximum with people like me.
The only thing that lies anywhere is a mirror. I stole it from somewhere, after I lost my own and before that building I found it in got bombed.
My meager form floats to look into the mirror. The face that appears remains straight. The smile wrinkles have all but faded. My hair lies on the side of my head, far too loose to possibly have it standing like it used to be.
My eyes remain dead and glassy, as I poke at my chin, and somberly feel spiky stubble that has swarmed my jawline. "Who are you?" I murmur to myself.
My knees rub with pain into the wood floor, more than I've ever felt in the before times.
Like a cracked glass of water, my gaze drips into the ground.
Rabbits. Bees. Rabbits. Bees. Bees. Bees. I hear bees. They're everywhere. Swarming my lungs, puncturing my psyche, leaving me rotting in place. Bees. I can hear them. I can hear them.
Outside.
A fractured smile covers my emotions. "Ha. Haha.." I turn to my mirror again. It has some metal rims with dainty bolts small and dark enough to imagine them as tiny little holes.
Holes that bees can come out of.
In the mirror, my face warps and morphs into a terrifying creature with several mandibles and growing bulbous eyes.
"I can hear them."
"The bees." I snort in laughter before stopping again. "They're outside!!" The tone of my voice jolts up and down. "Hah! Hahaha! HAHAHAHAH!!! THEY'RE OUTSIDE!! THEY'RE GONNA KILL US!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!"
I rock in my seat and howl in painful hilarity.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! HAHAHAAHAHAAHAHA!!!"
One last drop of water, and I discover I dozed off again.
Is anything real anymore? I hope not. When things are real I feel them. I didn't feel those laughs. I heard them. They came from someone who can still laugh.
The bees.
The bees. The bees.
They're outside. I can actually hear them. I really hear them outside. Coming to kill us all. It's not funny. It's what makes my teeth gnaw against each other. It's what freezes my hunched figure.
YOU ARE READING
Dimension Of Perfection (And Its Flaws)
Science FictionIn a world of perfection, Hector Heckin' Damon is the opposite. Desires to sin plague his life, until he's transported to a world in which those who sin are discarded as Undesirable. Now stuck in an alternate version of Craftworld, Hector tries to u...
