In which I wax philosophical

I'm chewing on a cracker watching the morning light hit the streets. Is it the morning already? It felt like the sun just went down. It felt like the night passed in minutes. In the darkness, the streets changed position, like a strange game of musical chairs, and the only one left standing after the music stopped was me.

Sorry if I'm getting a bit too depressed. This place is getting to me. I haven't received any more notes from "A" -- whoever they were -- and I've been conserving the food they left me. Water isn't a problem -- my room is equipped with a small washroom, including sink. I don't know where the water comes from, but it's clean.

Sometimes I look out into this city and feel that it's amazing. It's everything I dreamed, everything I wrote in my little science fiction stories, a gleaming metropolis of the future. And sometimes I look out and feel like it's a cruel joke, a city without people, without animals, without sounds echoing or smells wafting, a city devoid of everything except its structures. A hollow city.

Sorry about all that. I just had this great feeling of ennui well up and I had to let it all out.

Sam Norton