Post by Deleted on Sept 16, 2012 19:33:26 GMT
10 years later.
2023, november 11th, London.
I woke up slowly, my eyes blurry after restless sleep.
I turned over in the bed, to check on my wife. She wasn't there, must have given up on waiting for me.
I sighed and sat up. I decided to look at my rusty, metal bedside table and clicked a few things. I had woken up before my obnoxious alarm at least, so I danced my fingers around the surface of the table to turn that off, ad ordered the toaster to begin toasting some crumpets. Amazing system, this table was.
Looking around the roomy apartment, I eyed my picture of Eric sitting there on the windowsill. It was an old photo, taken back when people still printed out photo copies a decade ago rather than use entirely digital copies. It was the only one I was allowed to have of him his after it's death, and it showed him and I laughing at a party I had long since forgotten.
Later, I got dressed for work and buttered my pre-toasted bread, reading the newspaper during those precious few minuets to myself in the morning. Nothing new. All anyone ever cared about these days were updates on the spike, not the robberies or murders or anything else important, or, indeed, interesting.
I grabbed my stuff and headed outside into the run down building of which my apartment was part of, and headed down all the stairs until I finally reached the gloomy days.
And there it was, my work place, visible from the moment I stepped outside.
The spike.
3 years ago it had fallen from space with seemingly no indication, no approach, a massive, sprawling tower that many to be an alien spaceship. It had landed right in the centre of the english channel, bringing an impressive diameter of 40 kilometers in length and over 100 km in height, reaching up through the atmosphere. It crushed several islands and also landmass, including ports, of both Britain and france and now, due to it's impressive size and glowing lights, it's visible from nearly anywhere in europe.
So now for 3 long years it had sat there, ominously. But the problems it brought didn't end there.
Upon it's arrival the sky had turned a permanent black, acidic green clouds swirled around in the sky like a vortex, and now there was no weather besides a thin mist that rolled around during the invisible daytime. There were no stars, and no sun. This meant that most crops couldn't grow and food distributers were either put out of business or forced to sell synthetic foods, and processed meat now that livestock had to be raised on similarly synthetic foods and grass.
As usual when standing aboard. the superway train, so fast that it could take me to the spire in only about an hour. As usual when on the train, I felt a chill. It wasn't the perfectly unnerving climate, it was just a feeling that ran through me every time, like a ghost stroking me all along my back.
Everyone around me looked grim, as they had done for a long time. They were either on their phones or trying to stave off inviting sleep. This was why I always stayed standing up, and watched the analogue channels repeating the same shows, or news reports stating progress on a space program that would never come. We would never leave this planet, thats all there was to it.
People complain that the spike messes with weather, or killed thousands of people, messed up the economy and is the reason we eat crap each day. But the real problem is none of those things, or even the loss of satellite channels.
The moment the spike fell, we lost all contact with space. We cant see it and it cant see us, all orbital satellites, telescopes, probes- might as well be gone. There's no space. Shuttle launches have ended with death and failure- they simply don't return after they go past the black sky barrier. Some people have said that this is a barrier created by the spike- if you ask me, I would go for something far more illogical but nonetheless cannot be disproved- I say the spike erased the universe. Or, maybe it transported the earth into an entirely new dimension. Either way, I don't think space exists anymore. I always tend to imagine the very worst possible scenarios.
Eventually, I reached the bottom of the spike. The train was able to just drive straight in, very convenient for me.
Getting off at the Spike station, I looked around at the grimy scenery. The spike definitely looked like the inside of a giant submarine, maybe something punk or horrific sci-fi. At least, thats how I thought of it. It used to be covered in many blinking lights of different colours, but they had long since broken or burnt out. The bottom too had been flooded by the sea water, and as such some of it was very weak and had to be maintained lest it destroy even more by collapsing on the land a second time. This, however, didn't worry me too much.
I took a retina scan, ID check, and a hand print and PIN input at the front gate, which led me into my offices.
Here was where I spent most of my time, in my job as a security guard. And by hell, I may not be a looker, good at talking, acting, making stuff, or being a salesman- if there was anything I knew how to do well, it would be protecting humanity by sitting down with my feet up, and pretending to work as I either played tetris or took naps. It was something I prided myself in.
I walked down the corridors that matched the rest of the spike and headed into my small office on the left. It was my own space, no 'colleagues', no time constraints, no worries. Just me and a few screens watching the explored floors of the spike for activity. I had been working here since only a few months after the spike first landed, and I had never seen anything resembling activity. For this job I was paid alarmingly well, but I had been feeling guilty, after all, all my company truly did was capitalize on the fear the spike brought to mankind, and post jobless people like me here to create an illusion of protection for whatever could possibly lurk inside this alien artifact. Nothing, absolutely nothing, but nonetheless we always stated that something strange was spotted and reported to the media with our tripe. My company is called the 'Spike Intelligence Department' or SID, after all.
I guess I shouldn't worry too much though, at least we're playing it safe even if we could stand to do something helpful every now and then. I wouldn't mind doing something helpful just once in my life. Or leaving the office to go home to my wife more often, instead of taking long shifts comprising often of all nighters, meaning I don't go home for days at a time. But it's probably worth it, I couldn't ask for a much better existence for my pathetic self.
Hours passed, interchangeable, I was in complete and timeless stasis as the screens burned their images into my eyes.
Suddenly, the screen flickered. I narrowed my eyes, and put my feet down. I poked the screen and enlarged the image. There. I had found it, on my specific screen that I, and I alone was charged with watching.
Something worth reporting to the guys in charge.
2023, november 11th, London.
I woke up slowly, my eyes blurry after restless sleep.
I turned over in the bed, to check on my wife. She wasn't there, must have given up on waiting for me.
I sighed and sat up. I decided to look at my rusty, metal bedside table and clicked a few things. I had woken up before my obnoxious alarm at least, so I danced my fingers around the surface of the table to turn that off, ad ordered the toaster to begin toasting some crumpets. Amazing system, this table was.
Looking around the roomy apartment, I eyed my picture of Eric sitting there on the windowsill. It was an old photo, taken back when people still printed out photo copies a decade ago rather than use entirely digital copies. It was the only one I was allowed to have of him his after it's death, and it showed him and I laughing at a party I had long since forgotten.
Later, I got dressed for work and buttered my pre-toasted bread, reading the newspaper during those precious few minuets to myself in the morning. Nothing new. All anyone ever cared about these days were updates on the spike, not the robberies or murders or anything else important, or, indeed, interesting.
I grabbed my stuff and headed outside into the run down building of which my apartment was part of, and headed down all the stairs until I finally reached the gloomy days.
And there it was, my work place, visible from the moment I stepped outside.
The spike.
3 years ago it had fallen from space with seemingly no indication, no approach, a massive, sprawling tower that many to be an alien spaceship. It had landed right in the centre of the english channel, bringing an impressive diameter of 40 kilometers in length and over 100 km in height, reaching up through the atmosphere. It crushed several islands and also landmass, including ports, of both Britain and france and now, due to it's impressive size and glowing lights, it's visible from nearly anywhere in europe.
So now for 3 long years it had sat there, ominously. But the problems it brought didn't end there.
Upon it's arrival the sky had turned a permanent black, acidic green clouds swirled around in the sky like a vortex, and now there was no weather besides a thin mist that rolled around during the invisible daytime. There were no stars, and no sun. This meant that most crops couldn't grow and food distributers were either put out of business or forced to sell synthetic foods, and processed meat now that livestock had to be raised on similarly synthetic foods and grass.
As usual when standing aboard. the superway train, so fast that it could take me to the spire in only about an hour. As usual when on the train, I felt a chill. It wasn't the perfectly unnerving climate, it was just a feeling that ran through me every time, like a ghost stroking me all along my back.
Everyone around me looked grim, as they had done for a long time. They were either on their phones or trying to stave off inviting sleep. This was why I always stayed standing up, and watched the analogue channels repeating the same shows, or news reports stating progress on a space program that would never come. We would never leave this planet, thats all there was to it.
People complain that the spike messes with weather, or killed thousands of people, messed up the economy and is the reason we eat crap each day. But the real problem is none of those things, or even the loss of satellite channels.
The moment the spike fell, we lost all contact with space. We cant see it and it cant see us, all orbital satellites, telescopes, probes- might as well be gone. There's no space. Shuttle launches have ended with death and failure- they simply don't return after they go past the black sky barrier. Some people have said that this is a barrier created by the spike- if you ask me, I would go for something far more illogical but nonetheless cannot be disproved- I say the spike erased the universe. Or, maybe it transported the earth into an entirely new dimension. Either way, I don't think space exists anymore. I always tend to imagine the very worst possible scenarios.
Eventually, I reached the bottom of the spike. The train was able to just drive straight in, very convenient for me.
Getting off at the Spike station, I looked around at the grimy scenery. The spike definitely looked like the inside of a giant submarine, maybe something punk or horrific sci-fi. At least, thats how I thought of it. It used to be covered in many blinking lights of different colours, but they had long since broken or burnt out. The bottom too had been flooded by the sea water, and as such some of it was very weak and had to be maintained lest it destroy even more by collapsing on the land a second time. This, however, didn't worry me too much.
I took a retina scan, ID check, and a hand print and PIN input at the front gate, which led me into my offices.
Here was where I spent most of my time, in my job as a security guard. And by hell, I may not be a looker, good at talking, acting, making stuff, or being a salesman- if there was anything I knew how to do well, it would be protecting humanity by sitting down with my feet up, and pretending to work as I either played tetris or took naps. It was something I prided myself in.
I walked down the corridors that matched the rest of the spike and headed into my small office on the left. It was my own space, no 'colleagues', no time constraints, no worries. Just me and a few screens watching the explored floors of the spike for activity. I had been working here since only a few months after the spike first landed, and I had never seen anything resembling activity. For this job I was paid alarmingly well, but I had been feeling guilty, after all, all my company truly did was capitalize on the fear the spike brought to mankind, and post jobless people like me here to create an illusion of protection for whatever could possibly lurk inside this alien artifact. Nothing, absolutely nothing, but nonetheless we always stated that something strange was spotted and reported to the media with our tripe. My company is called the 'Spike Intelligence Department' or SID, after all.
I guess I shouldn't worry too much though, at least we're playing it safe even if we could stand to do something helpful every now and then. I wouldn't mind doing something helpful just once in my life. Or leaving the office to go home to my wife more often, instead of taking long shifts comprising often of all nighters, meaning I don't go home for days at a time. But it's probably worth it, I couldn't ask for a much better existence for my pathetic self.
Hours passed, interchangeable, I was in complete and timeless stasis as the screens burned their images into my eyes.
Suddenly, the screen flickered. I narrowed my eyes, and put my feet down. I poked the screen and enlarged the image. There. I had found it, on my specific screen that I, and I alone was charged with watching.
Something worth reporting to the guys in charge.
