When I was a boy, I looked at the night sky, still being shadowed by those clouds. Thinking to myself that, "One day, I will see the stars up-close. To live with those stars, so distant, yet so near." Once I grew up, I knew such a dream was fanciful. Yet, just yet. If seeing the stars again was a dream more realistic, I would wish for that instead.

---

It was the afternoon. Or the morning? See, the only real way to understand time was to understand light. If it was dim, it was probably morning. If it was lighter than dim, it'd probably be afternoon. But if it was dark, it would obviously be night of course.

Hal awoke from some piercing sound outdoors. Probably the construction of some new building. He opened his eyes, but he doubted whether they really were open. Stumbling across his creaking wooden floor, fondling nearby walls and awkwardly grabbing anything he could grab to help stabilize himself.

He flew to his barely visible window blinds, fondling it for a while before pulling them open.

It hurt his eyes. Just for a moment, but the great mundane outdoors could not maintain their siege. So gray, so bleak. However colorful the cars were. The buildings and whatever fashion those people wore, it still looked gray and bland under the vast cast sky.

He groaned, he sighed.

Stretching, he continued to open each and every window. With each passing opened window; his room began to lighten, slowly and slowly yet. Soon, his room was as bright as a lightish dark gray.

Sprawled on the floor was dirty laundry, so many pieces of paper, china, and materials for whatever project he wanted to partake in. He fumbled down to his bedroom, more confidently than before. Grabbing the watch from his beside table.

2:07 PM

What time did he sleep yesterday? When he slept, it was still dark outside; unless of course morning was just creeping in. He could not remember. He was a civil engineer, working at the large downtown municipal hall. The Big George. It was called as.

Though the greyness instilled this mundane, listedness amongst the people. The architect who designed the Big George did not care, reflecting the sky with it's blocky, brutal edges. It was the ugliest building in Hermapolis, even if it towered over the many already tall buildings of Hermapolis.

He looked from outside his window, peeking out to the streets once more, now from his bedroom view. Right down that long, dark, highway; the imperial essense of the the height limit breaking building of the Big George was as beautifully foreboding as any other day. Hal wasn't alive when it was finished, even his parents weren't alive when it was finished. It was probably the most ancient building that Hermapolis could offer. He smirked, thinking about a quote from a book he had just read (still lying on his bed).

We lurk within the shadows of it's presence; so monolithic, and so ancient that anyone who looks at it will be at first disgusted. Then, the second, the third, the fourth. Then finally the fifth time you awake to see that building, standing so ominously and so defiantly in our gray world. Awe.

Hal's worked as a civil engineer for six years now. Entering and exiting that building was a daily occurrence, but he could not get rid of that feeling. Of awe. He left his eigth-floor apartment; presumably, his navy blue suit, his trusty briefcase, and watch.

The hallway, was lit up by the natural light that the hallways gave, however shallow and soft the light of the sky was. Any color the carpet he was stepping on, he would not be able to guess. For the only colors his eyes could see were gray and black.

At the end, he entered the elevator.

The insides pretty lit up compared to the outside world. It was probably once again out of hundreds that he's thought of it. The concept of it.

That man has become hedonist to the sensual indoors. In Hermapolis, no-one wants to stay outside. Why would they want to stay outside when the inside world offers more colors for your eyes to look at, more people to conversate; and more dreams to follow.

The outside world has nothing to offer to us. Magnificent buildings from the outside look even more so extravagant from the inside. Many buildings being built then had no windows, no pleasing-to-look-at designs, only one door. And only one entrance.

Tuk, tuk. The mechanical sounds of the elevator played almost rhythmically, he tapped his boots in response. Patiently waiting.

Reaching the bottom floor, he headed for the outside at a dash. There were almost no people in the lobby room. Only the busy receptionist lady cleaning up her makeup under the soft haze and gloom of the warm yet bright lighting. "Heading off!" Hal called off to her.

"See ya' Hal!" She gleefully said before returning to her cleaning.

The outside world.

So different from the inside. In the streets, there were a couple of fast cars, no-one was slow. The pedestrians on the walkways were going mach-1 with their fast pacing. Hal didn't understand why people had the urge to waste energy just to get out of the limelight of the grey outdoors.

Checking the time once more, it was now 2:48, he was already four hours late, but what's another hour more? He chuckled, thinking that.

He took a second to digest his surroundings, before stepping foot into the light grey pavement. All their heads looked down at the ground, unaware of their surroundings, yet so aware of their space at the same time. If he could look up at their faces; Hal bet that their expressions were as listless as the sky was. It was the curse implanted in their city that it's inhabitants were infected by.

Except him.

Hal wandered the streets towards the Big George, taking his time, slowly dodging all the fast passerbys with ease. It was a holly jog for him. Whilst everybody had their heads down, he had it up and looking at the skies.

Hermapolis' buildings soared the skies, darkening the streets more so than it should. It limited the breeze to reach the bottom streets, but if everyone stayed indoors, why bother solving that problem? It wasn't a new dream. For him to see the blue skies once more.

When he was a child, there were two moments when he had saw the sky. At night and with he and his mother were at the top of the world. The peak of the Big George. Only once, only that time. Only that singular moment in history, in his history. Had he saw the sun, the blue sky, and the limitlessness of that blue horizon.

It was so cold up there, yet the frigid mattered not a single bit. The view, the view was what mattered. At the top of monolith, there was color. The grey concrete skyscraper had color. It was orange, a orange hue. And his mother…

He wept, thinking of her from that moment once more. A single tear turned traitor, brushing it away.

The color of skin. The color of true skin. The electronic hums of the insides of these buildings. Each and every color that one could see indoors could not have been replicated the same like at that great beyond.

Hal thought it was impossible to see that moment from his childhood once more. So much more unattainable after his mother's death. And his father's disappearance. He was alone, he was left the same way the sun and the heat that eminated from it had. Stripped away.

Hal and his mother had practically been stealing that moment. Only the rich and powerful could have been able to see, to observe the sky, unlike them; the poor commoners without any chance to see the blue hum of the true world.

Busting the door down, the Red Circle's guns were pointed straight at the two of them. His mother's hand gripping tightly on Hal's smaller fingers. Feeling the skin, absorbing the sunlight and the breeze.

Hal enjoyed that moment with his mother. But a sharp, deafening screech ruined it all. His hands were let go, and someone whispered to him. Was it his mother? Some other woman? He could not remember anymore it was really just that long ago, but word for word he committed it to memory; "See above the skies. Don't imagine the gray. Look at the actual skies. Look at the blue."

Hal was looking away, he was looking at the sun, not behind him nor his mother. Only the tough grasp that planted itself on his hips made him look the other way.

Hal wanted to cry. But at that time, tears could not have flown. It shouldn't have had.

A single puddle of blood, so close to the edge where he and his mother had stood upon so galliantly looking at the sun. "Mother?"

*

As he neared, he couldn't help but look and observe the crowds of people running up the steps of the Big George so swiftly yet so organized and unison that their shoulders weren't even touching under that immense urban-likedness of a crowd.

He waited, a little more. He waited, more and more. A quarter of an hour had passed before he could have entered. Frankly, he can't walk the same way as those robotic workers. He saw from the crowd that some where even his close coworkers. It depressed him a little that his friends were also being hypnotised the same way by the gray hue of the clouds.

Tip-toe, tip toe. Inches away from entering the foreboding monolith. The crowd started to lift, almost as if a storm had passed and was now heading away. He didn't understand why, but he rolled with it.

"You."

You?

He turned around. He was in the shadow of the little overhang from the entrance, she was in the light of the skies, that vast gray. He stopped, trembling. Not speaking. She took one good step with her leather boots, and one other step; hiding around that white hair of hers. Was the prettiest face he's ever seen.

"What is your occupation?" She questioned, softly and a tad monotone.

It took a second, before he realized. That silvery white hair, the blackest suit he's ever seen. Perfectly ashen skin. It could not have been someone from his level of work.

He bowed; "I am a civil engineer, ma'am. I work for sector-a."

"Then you must be pretty well paid." She took another step, so close to him that he could feel the heat from her breath. "Say. 8:00 PM, floor six-hundred. Sharp."

She exited, out from view. He turned swiftly around, to the entrance. She was gone.

As quietly as she had entered his eyes, she'd disappeared as mystical and quiet out of them. "Floor six hundred." He muttered under his breath, a wave of people rushing past him, not hitting him whatsoever.

He quietly leapt and joined the crowd inwards the harsh lighting of the Big George. Smiling.