As the elevator rose up, smoothly gliding up supported by electro-mangnetic waves, I stood silently in the stagnant air. It was just colder than comfortable, making the white hairs on my porcelain skin stand on end.
I saw myself in the glass in front of me, pale, short white hair, plain blue clothing and a muscular build. My eyes, the same colour as my mother's, blue. I was her favourite son, a genetic malfunction.
The elevator stopped moving, silver doors sliding open smoothly. A mechanical voice spoke to me as the white light hit my eyes.
"Crypt number, 7359727."
I stepped out onto the polished white marble, elevator doors closing behind me. My eyes adjusted to the bright light, and I observed the scene around me.
The silence was deafening.
The bodies in each tank floated in their preservative glass coffins, suspended in cloudy liquid for their eternal slumber.
This is what we did now.
Burying people in the ground and cremation had become illegal hundreds of years ago, now we preserved our dead in tanks of Formaldehyde, on floors in a central high rise, so tall it skimmed clouds.
