Synthetic Journal -- Day: 10,911
Time: 03:45
Zone: Sustainable Growth


Dim, grease covered light bulbs held in place by metal cages (to restrain them from fleeing?). Always a stretch of darkness between the light from one bulb and the next. Occaissionally, where sections of ramp were bolted together, slivers of light shot up from beneath us.

In the dark you could barely tell that the tunnel curved slowly to the right as it made its slow descent. Nadja moved quickly despite the darkness. I could barely keep up. Somewhere far behind us the slow moving doors clanged shut.

Exhaust fans, pneumatic lifts, compressed air, random fits of distant thunder that hummed through the soles of my feet as we raced down the ramp.

This may have been the first time since infancy that I have been subjected to an unfiltered assault on my olfactory senses: oil, grease, hydraulic fluid, steam, mildew, over-cooked capacitors, ozone.

I kept thinking there were three of us and found it jarring when I'd realize that Nadja and I were the only ones there. "The NeverMind." she said at one point, reading my thoughts.


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