Story

Dear Chloe.I fear my days are numbered in this vile city.

Each day starts in the same grooling way. Loud sirens from the refineries echo from miles away but still manage to wake everyone in my apartment block followed by a wave of obnoxious heat that strips the paint off all the surrounding, already tarnished walls.

I can barely shower in the morning due to our level 20 water restrictions. Lord Mayor Williams So, the descendant of John So, has installed new water saving technology. Pumps that refine septic water into a drinkable substance, but I wouldn’t really call it water. He also upgraded water meters to be able to switch off my usage of what little usage we’re allowed.

Not only are the trains so packed you can barely move, they don’t stop, and I have to jump out at my station and prey for a safe landing. When I make my way towards the exit I’m bombarded with these new machines that the were created by merchants to sell their wares, but have gone corrupt and are now so pushy that they box you in and you can’t get out. I’m so sick of being offered a mix of condoms and clams.

When I finally make it outside alive I have to cross the Yarra, which is a task in its own. All the old bridges are now made of some weird light substance that turns on and off at a flick of a switch. Well if only they responded to our input, but it’s more like they do it when they like, as if the bridges have a mind of its own. About 6 times out of ten I’m crossing a bridge and it turns off.
If I’m unlucky enough to fall off, I’m welcomed by cold and repulsive stench and substance that almost glues to my body. While swimming down stream to get to the bank, as there are no ladders to pull yourself up and out, I have to avoid the giant cyborg squid that has made the Yarra its home. I remember one instance that it grabbed my ankle and dragged me under. I found the courage to open my eyes in the dark and dank liquid only to see it’s many limbs hanging onto dead patrons and large objects like trams and rubbish bins.
I somehow managed to find one of the cyborgs remaining organic eye and gave it a nasty jab with the knife that I carry for self protection.

When I’m finish cheating death and have crossed the Yarra, I stroll casually into
work. I still can’t believe what I’m forced into doing for a living, I have to build and maintain those crazy sprooking robots that attack passengers on the train platforms.