SARAH
Clutching a cardboard box of personal belongings, Sarah gazed up at Sulwyn Tower, her former place of employment. People-shaped blurs rushed around her. Somewhere, in another dimension, cars honked, engines revved, and hip-hop blared from a souped-up Sunfire. Sarah craned her neck. It was impossible to see the entire building from her perspective. She would have to be satisfied with the optical illusion of the building’s two sides converging. But even this sight eluded her gaze. It was blotted out by the retina-searing glare of the mid-day sun. Sarah remembered hearing on the radio about how astronomers had discovered that sunsets lasted thirty minutes longer if you watched them from the top floor of Sulwyn. The tower was that tall.
Why, she thought, attempting to flag a cab, is Sulwyn so enormous? Sure, with the land shortages, it made sense to build up rather than out. But four hundred stories? No residential buildings were that high.
Screech!
A taxi cab swerved into a nearby parking spot. Sarah weaved through the crowd. Balancing the box on her hip, she reached for the back door. A young man reached for it also. iPod wires dangling from his ears, piercings glinting, thin lips set in a firm, serious line: He was an archetypal angst-ridden teen.
“Sorry I-” she began.
“Take it,” he said.
“What?”
“Take it.” He opened the door. “I’ve got all day.”
Sarah gaped at the teen. She hadn’t expected such courtesy, not from a boy that looked like he belonged in a punk rock band. She felt a strange pang of guilt as she slid into the backseat. Before she had the chance to say “thank you”, the teenager shut the door and faded back into the blur of city.
“Where to ma'am?” said the cabbie.
“Main Street Station please.”
The engine roared to life. Sarah watched Sulwyn Tower shrink in the rear view mirror. Fresh out of university she had envisioned Sulwyn as a beautiful landmark, as a sign of hope and progress. Now, it loomed in the distance, like a shiny middle finger raised for the sole purpose of demeaning people like herself: the unemployed have-nots of the world.