Chapter One: Morning

Finally after 2 years with out Windows accessories I am back into the real world with Windows Office. This might not seem to significant BUT it means I can access some old Word documents that I had written years ago. Included in this are 5 chapters of a book I started and will now be able to finish... as soon as I finishing writting Mindi's paper on Muhammad (actaully fun!) But in celebration of getting Windows back and of creative writting... I am going to post the first chapter of my Book: The Down Side of Absolutes. This is the tenative title and a tentative first chapter... but too my many readers, ENJOY!

Chapter One: Morning

The sun crept anxiously over the eastern water, silhouetted by the remarkable buildings or the west shore. Dancing sunbeams reflected off the glass casings in a beautiful ballet of illumination. The varied buildings were like crowds of tall, short and stout spectators for each building, playing off each others light; dancing back and forth like wild children. The magnetic masquerade tramped on. Crowded buildings grew brighter, as the day began. Until they glowed like great individual torches protruding from the sleeping city.

Clouds listlessly rolled over the city, not anxious to rain, or snow or even give shade for that matter; they were simply passing the time. Like the buildings, the clouds danced in the lazy blue sky. Underneath the clouds, the sun glided softly, tickling their bellies with incandescent colors. If anyone could have remembered things like cotton candy and fluffy down pillows, they probably would have compared them with the passing clouds. But no one notices the clouds anymore. However, clouds still billowed boldly in the brilliant sky and the sun danced off auspicious buildings.

The silence of the morning was mesmerizing; you could feel the fresh breath of the day taking in new life. Opportunity is almost as thick as butter in the morning; you can reach out and cut chance with a knife. There is a saying that no one remembered “The early bird catches the worm.” It had no meaning in Omega20025, for there were no birds that fluttered in the open, no worms at all and every one woke up at the same time. However, when it was first introduced in the late 1600s when language came about naturally, it meant, “Success comes to those who prepare well and put in effort” Here, since success was measured by the collective, everything was prepared for you and no effort was required, it was deemed use less. Though, it was still a true principal that those who prepared well and put in effort were successful.

Dust particles hovered graciously in the air of 22914’s room, magnified by the morning sun. They danced slowly, suspended like stars in the night sky. A glass wall faced the eastern sky, and the sun pored in, lighting the white room. The room was simple. Everything was stone white, white walls, sealing and floor. There were no pictures of family, or adventurous vacations, in fact there were no pictures at all, only a black symbol in the center of the Northern wall. The room was deeper then it was wide and far at the western end was a single bed. It stood about 12 inches off the ground and was the purest white imaginable.

The bed had one sheet on it for the room was neither cold nor hot. The sheet rapped peacefully around the bed’s occupant who slept quietly in the morning sun. His face was long and soft, patient and passionate, bold and meek. The sun burnt all the way to the back of the room, atop the bed and onto the face of 22914. His pink lips curved up at the ends and his thin cheeks matched his lips in structure. He seemed to be smiling, but one could never tell. His eyes moved violently behind their lids, up and down, side to side. One eye lips twitched and then relaxed. 22914 rhythmic breathing pounded on.

Next to the bed was the only other furniture in the room, a night stand. On the night stand were four items; a clock, a book, a glass of water and a white pill. The room was empty, other then these four items, the bed and the night stand. The dust that freckled the air did not last long enough to settle onto the floor or the bed. They would dissolved before they had a chance to rest.

The morning etched on, and the sun flew higher in the sky. Long shadows faded into slivers, small stumps of the once great majestic black clones that tore across streets and up the sides of buildings; shadows of trees that moments before towered over a hundred yards now hid under the leaves of their master. The clouds lost their magic and the dance of the sunbeams ended.

From the earth rose the terror of industry, like ravenous wolves devouring beauty. Its anger for the morning filled the sky with black, grey and brown. Hovering monotonously like a guilty conscious and asking no forgiveness. Then, as though it had never been there the sun was gone, lost behind the dark mirage. And the city grew dark with rage. Rage, because it had lost the sun. Rage because the dance was over. Rage, because it was cold and had forgotten the hope of the next day.

Now shadows consumed the city. Dark corners hid irate memories. The only light came from new crude bulbs that flickered in the darkness. The darkness obsessed over the light and took every opportunity to blot it out. Penitent city workers replaced the lights only to find that more had been mercilessly emptied by the darkness. Cold dark building that once had blazed proudly in the morning sun, now hung like cold beaten stone over the city.

22914’s room was stale and bitter with the darkness. The light had not changed anything, only tried to burn its memory. 22914’s clock read 2:29 TM, then clicked 2:30 TM and like all the clocks in Chicago, beeped.