File: 1268898899280.jpg (1 MB, 1500x1500) Image search: [Google]

1 MB, 1500x1500

Is this decent?


Every day there's blues skies and the same white cotton tufts of clouds that would crawl across the plasma screened dome in a predetermined path. When first implemented it was a nice change of pace from the dull eggshell white of the hull but after a month of it the residents would crawl from their bunkbeds and peer up from their steaming coffee mugs and hope to see an overcast or maybe a cluster of dark clouds flirting with the false conception that it could rain. Rob Cosgrove had once asked one of the many young computer engineers of his flock why they always had the same goddamn blue skies and happy little puff clouds gliding across the dome. The kid engineer referenced that the psychologists thought that gray clouds could bring about cases of depression in New Dublin. So Cosgrove went to the shrinks and he asked them if they believed monotony would bring more cases of depression compared to a few gray clouds in the false sky every once in a while. They looked at him dumbly and then collectively had a grand conniption and fell into a vapid argument of which famous and ancient psychotherapist said what and they quoted and pouted and rubbed their temples and stroked their goatees at each other in annoyance. The Caliph left the quacks to their work and decided to visit the farm otherwise known as Section 3B otherwise known as estrogen island otherwise known as don't go there during the cycle. On his way to the EM tram he spotted a group of students who had dyed their mandatory white shirts and shoes with stolen food coloring. With authority he demanded who had stole from the people's pantry and who devised such an affront to the city. The students knew enough not to incriminate someone for the act of thievery for it would come with the punishment of expulsion and would be jettisoned back to earth in an uncomfortable one seat shuttle that had a chance of failure once it hit the thick part of earth's atmosphere. Only few knew that the few shuttles that disintegrated were built for failure and were reserved for only the worst of the worst. Mainly pederasts and promiscuous wives that had broken the heart of a man of worth or a man with a friend in the docking bay who enjoyed compromising shuttles with a miniscule hole with a plasma torch. The students were also smart enough to give up the name Joe Filio in order to get the ornery old man of fifty five away from them. Caliph Cosgrove the third of greater great lakes told the punks to let their friend Filio know that he is to report to the his office. He then turned heel and strode off in the direction of the tram. When he reached the terminal which was only an archway that displayed the minutes and seconds of the tram's arrival in bold red light there was a line of white waiting for it and with a salute Cosgrove walked past his citizens and cut to the front. The tram crawled up screeching and squealing and the doors opened and released the stench of recycled air and sweat.