The Factory

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The 

scent of corn flakes fluffed from the serial bowl.

 
A face on the back of the milk box ‘Have you seen me? “ What away to wake up, Rooster on the Special K box and a missing child’s mug shot.

 

Hangar’s on the Riverfront stacked with I-beams of Aluminum, the odor of spent koch is rich in the taste of the water.

 
Ingesting the Nureal-LINK it only takes seven seconds to reach the stomach lining.
 
AMEEDO BLACK then consumes the regulated nutrient, enough until the dose of 1/2 DAY ONE INC. CORP, 
 
Ameedo, washes his spoon, bowl, cup, and retires his milk to his small propaned fridge, stocked with One. INC. CORP, modular sustenance.
 
There is room for nothing else…one small ice tray…covered in freezer burn.
 
HARO GENKI sprinkles nori on a tiny habitat. Exact same cup that Ameedo owns only Haro’s filled with dirt. A infraction that could cost him.
Haro leers at the cup of soil, slowly opening up. The top layer breaks under the dimly lit kitchenette. Haro’s hand covers his mouth as the juicy blood worm niggles the seaweed. Writhlery around the nipple nosed silky pauses focuced on Haro.

 

Bloodworm slithers under ground. Haro removes his hand from his mouth, his eyes beaming like a little kid.

 
DESTINY RIPPLE-WIND in the ONE INC CORP housing facility. preparing her day as those fore mentioned.
Destiny uses ash as eyeliner.
She aligns pebbles in the likeness of the FOUR CORNERS which are a hope of a time passed.
Her hair (which is at the OIC approved lenegth) Silently ,she hums to herself then stopping to feel her heart. Destiny closes her eyes and nods to the tribal beat in her minds eye.
 

There she takes wings and sails.

 
BILLY JOE prepares his freshly starched WHITES. In a darkening silence his metohd is that of a mechanic, tighten each button of brass thru a single loop ofbrad. The ritimal is prcise to the dawn of before.
 
Billy Joe pauses his performance cocks his head to the side and peers. Notices a minute speck of debris statically clung to his uniform. Pecking it off with his finger. A scent waffles his nostroils instantly. In his minds eye Billy Joe is barefoot in a shitshack with dirt slippers. Ivy envolpes the moldy infested wood.

 

The hum of mites munching and the sutle wobble of wind moving the creek,

 
Fastening the last brass button Billy Joe afixes his posture and inhales.
 

” THE LEGISLATOR IS TO BLAME” Bk. VII: CH 15 ARIS”

 
WINDSOR, CANADA is just over the border from Detroit.
 
It’s over the Ambassador Bridge or Under the Tunnel.
 
ARIS Head Quarters based in Windsor, Canada and is a techniclogics firm. This small firm is all internal. ARIS has many thinktanks, but at the moment.
 
Focus is on Q. H. P. (Quantifible Human Prediction) **QUBECE, HOTEL, PAPA**
 
IWI IO grips her Nureal-LINK revealing keloids on her knuckles. Flaps her tounge out and throws the metallic pill into the back of her throat. Gritting her beautiful smile, inhaling a stale gulp of air to force the pill down her throat. A cup of water sits before her.
 
IWI IO then dips her three finger tips into the cup. Then moistens her tounge, dips again and touches her fore head a small tear of water runs over the bridge of her nose.