Confessions of a Partially-Reformed D-MISE Agent 10/11/17

Of all the destined eye sores in the city, that dreadful domed amusement park was the worst, in my opinion. I don’t know what they meant to accomplish, but it was a mess from the start. If Langston hadn’t been keen on using it as a controlled area to test out Star Dog’s autonomy in his own little playground, I doubt it would have secured any funding.

The biggest problem is that there was no direction. I watched as it began construction on a leveled area where a huge firm had just gone under. The demolition caused a perpetual dust cloud hanging on the horizon of the city. I watched as the equipment filed through the streets like a militia on that sweltering hot day. It was a rare day off for me, and I watched from the outdoor cafe of a tiny bistro off Main Street. It had been packed inside, and I just wanted a lemonade, so I settled for one of the few metal chairs that had been in the shade and thus not super-heated by the relentless sun that reflected off every ivory glassed surface. (A part of me wondered if the original constructors of Prism City had once conspired to bake their citizens with their layout and choice materials.)

As I watched the dust cloud rise as the building collapsed under the control of mega machinery, everyone else joined in, turning from their newspapers, tablets and other devices, to shield their eyes as they watched the onslaught of our atmosphere. I mused, looking at it, wondering if that was how the dinosaurs had felt.

I don’t know who was in charge of designing the amusement park, but I have to say I understand why it was never given a formal name. It was never truly opened to the full public, getting only so far as invited guests before it became derelict and forgotten. It was a mashup of eras ranging from medieval to Victorian England, from the buildings to the shops, and even to the actors who had to dress and talk the part. Bless them and their bottomless patience. Apparently, they didn’t have much choice. Last I saw, many had taken up residence there. I imagined many of them had lived in housing complexes that were zoned for the new luxury apartments, and that was the beginning of the end.

I stopped going over there. The laughingstock had been eclipsed by the poverty and desperation, and I felt sorry for everyone who called it home. I wished I could have helped. I wish I could have introduced them to the doctrine that D-MISE carries, and give them a new lease on life like I had been given, but After was getting closer, and the Ark was getting fuller.

I couldn’t risk it, so I looked away.

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