“A long time ago, you could see stars from anywhere on earth” Ben woke to a documentary blaring unreasonably loud out of his old TV. The speakers had busted a while ago and right now and like always, were crackling and popping under the strain of another ridiculous documentary about ancient times. The government continuously plays these ridiculous documentaries every morning as if they want to remind us what we missed out on by being born too late.
He is not sure why he turned his TV up so loud, he was a drinker and he was scared of sleep.
After the war everything fell to shit and the government turned into a shell, barely holding onto its last vestiges of power. Apparently he’s lucky that his house is fortified from the gangs and mutants of the night, but he isn’t so sure.
He still gets the occasional night terror from his days in service, perhaps they will never stop, perhaps that is the real reason he doesn’t want to go to sleep.
He doesn’t need rest anyway, his job at the mechanics isn’t really a job anymore. The new flyers don’t need mechanics, they just need computers. He can connect an analysis wiring loom in his sleep so he might as well do it, at least there are guards at work.
He climbs up off his couch with his head ringing and bumps the remainder of his speed, government issued, then slips into his mechanics overalls.
He limps outside and slides into his old Mercedes. Grizzled and worn, he looks in the mirror and grimaces, I am absolutely terrifying. He is sure the crew laughs at his old Merc but they would never laugh about it to his face.
Driving to work he wonders what it would be like to drive a flyer, they have those stupid wings, I’m sure they’re useless … I like to work on my own car, my own way, not this new age crap… what’s with the colour anyway? Beige? they got to be kidding themselves. Arriving at the garage he gets out, looks up and thinks, I don’t need to go that fast, the new flyers were zipping through the air like big beige flies and Ben needed to get inside.
He begins to open the door but it doesn’t budge, he is the first one there. Ben grabs the crowbar out of his boot and walks around the back.
The owner won’t give him a key. Ben knows why, vets are unstable and he has always been slightly unhinged.
Ben had a job at 7:30 which is in ten minutes and if the place wasn’t open by then he could lose his only commission this week. He finds the loose window and forces the bar into the gap, pries it up, he hears a click and climbs in, opens the connecting door, then rushes towards the roller door and lifts it up.
A flyer indicates left-down and drops into the garage.