Unproductive Progression

The future had come. Endless chambers of cold lights and pre-fabricated possessions created a norm no one felt part of.
One small council of a great metallic city met.
“Daily accidents again,” reported a hard eyed man, “sicknesses, absences.”
“Lines can’t continue this way,” said a stiff lady, “we’ll hear from higher up soon.”
“No one’ll be excepted,” said a shaken, elderly male.
A young girl took a breath, “what if we asked people? Found out what they need? What’ll help them be happy?”
The council members fell back in their chairs; it can’t be that easy. . .can it?

© 2015-2021 Rebecca Glaessner


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