He lay there, unable to sleep, 2 hours in, and the hab seemed smaller than ever. He worked tirelessly and without rest every single day to afford not to be deemed as ‘unproductive’. For those, individuals had the distinct and subtle honour of joining the military. Either as servicemen on the massive starships that linked the broken worlds and ruined star systems of the consortium together, or serving on the frontline as the rank and file infantry that were so commonly lost, then forgotten about. It was a brutal life, endless work supplanted by the endless war needed to justify such a monumental task.

Every waking moment he thought, a dozen different border skirmishes started and stopped amongst rival powers in places so far away he didn’t even know what their people looked like. He was stuck like that, staring at the ceiling, in that depressive bubble, spiralling. At least when he held fear for his superiors he could concern himself with consequences, he gave value to what little he could provide! Now he had rendered himself apathetic in his thoughts, and hardened in his resolve.

He returned from his cycle, again and hurried down the long corridors of the residential megastructure, there were people watching, of course, but like they were born to, they faded into the background. He rapidly swiped through the options on the small screen mounted on his wall, the ‘materials’ he had ordered were due to arrive in 2 hours, so he would keep himself awake until then.

He considered that it had been a fair bit, as in ever that he had wandered the bustling halls of the city he resided in, never taking the time outside going from point A to point B, and there was nothing stopping him from doing so. So why not?

He once again exited the building, his grey cladded boots taking him among the habitual route before he stopped, and departed in the opposite direction. As he wandered, he took in the variety of wondrous and beautiful sights present within

the generous and loving government he worked so hard for. Grey, dark grey, light grey, grey with a tinge of beige, and many other wildly similar sights.

He descended the massive stairwell connecting the platform he was on to another, nearly identical platform, past two patrolling militia members and through an exposed walkway, in which he saw the vastness of his home.

The point where he looked stretched out beyond the reaches of his eye, his point

of view sandwiched between too buildings; one he assumed was for production based off the distinctive sound of machinery within, and one he assumed either residential or administrative given he had no context as to what it would be. He saw that he was located within a massive cavern which seemed to stretch infinitely in all directions.

The ceiling of this space was simply more grey infrastructure, a mass of shifting concrete and blinking lights. While wondering why this one expanse of space was so empty and not built over itself a thousand times like everywhere else, he received his answer. He heard it before he saw it, a low whining pitch that seemed to grow in volume as it approached.

It was moving parallel to him, but from a large distance that stretched over kilometres. Seemingly from nowhere, although most likely from a logistical orifice from out of view, a gargantuan agglomeration of metal and steel glided into the

range of his eyesight. It dwarfed the surroundings, towering over an energy plant he had missed earlier, the silos darkening from the growing shadow the cargo ship produced, from its back end emitted waves of fire propelling the looming metal beast forward. It was one in a parade of many, this wide expanse was in actuality a lane for the lifeblood of the city to flow, an endless conclave of food, machinery, and men.

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Slightly disheartened by the sheer volume of what he was seeing, and his place in it, he continued on, keeping in mind to look for a place he could find to safely start his work. So he trudged on past the expanses of factories and offices and residential zones. Until he, lost in thought, ran face-first into a broad back

smelling faintly of ash and cinders. Looking up, he saw a towering man? Woman? Person, who was staring dead ahead, a grim look portrayed on their admittedly ugly visage. He followed their line of sight past a crowd of workers, noting an official, guarded on both sides by massive centurions, giving a small talk.

“Citizens, I am here today for a simple purpose, to ascertain your individual quality, and what you may contribute to society as a whole, and I have done my best to do so.”

There were no murmurs from the crowd, nobody was dumb enough to entertain such an idea, not with the guns and cameras of the centurion recording them. The gathered crowd waited on bated breath for an announcement they knew would be negative. The man continued, his voice carried out in a monotone hue.

He was dully dressed, keeping in the theme of productiveness, his clothes

conformed in a manner of trench coat tightly buttoned up with beige slacks and gleaming, pressed black boots. Upon his oversized coat proudly rode several stars of commendation. The man himself had a face nearly lost in modifications to match the endless competition and one upping present within the higher ranking of the administration. An action which the toadies and lackeys had chosen to follow as well.

His face was a mess of steel and circuitry, from the top of his head ran pulsing glowing blue cables down the length of his back and disappearing into the coat as if a sick parody of a ponytail. The depths of his eyes had become pitch black with a crisscross of golden lines in a simulacrum of veins, the dilation of his pupils replaced by the expansion and contraction of the lenses of a camera; his mouth was forlorn and had become a mess of interlocking metal plates upon which jutted out a metallic speaker. The man continued his speech, his silence had only been a pause for dramatic effect, as well as to satisfy his own ego.

“We have found your best efforts or, lack thereof wanting. Your products are both increasingly and consistently falling to a standard previously thought unthinkable,

due to these repugnant results, several changes shall be made in how things are run. Firstly, and most important of all, high speed machines which are still in the development phase shall be brought in to increase both productivity and competition, given that shift slots shall now be more contested. As such, only the highest productivity citizens may be allowed access to work.”

The man continued on for some time about this and that, but AED-#210-31570 was no longer listening, he had heard enough, the idea that they were bringing in machines to supplant workers was a joke. The wars must be getting worse if they were ‘drafting’ citizens by stretching the pretense of productivity even further. Having considered his trip finished, he turned around and head home, hoping that two hours had passed. On the way back to his sleeping quarters, he finally found what he had been looking for. An out of view space, with no visible security, it

was a dead end alley that ran for 10 metres before abruptly ending. Everything was coming together.

He returned home to a package on his front door, two brand-new cylinders, gleaming in contrast to the gloomy lighting of his hab stood waiting for him. He filled them up halfway with the paste, took a pill to keep him going, then poured in the different oils.

After days of anticipation and weeks of worry, it finally came time for him to start what he dreamed of, he grabbed the bottles and tucked them into a bag before setting out. After a fair bit of anxious, arduous walking, he finally arrived before the wall he had chosen.

And so he got to work, coating the walls in the mixture of oil, diluted with nutri-paste and water, he started finger painting, or hand painting for lack of a better word. Reaching in different containers to mix colours, ever drawing inspiration from the mural that started his path in the first place.

It stood out, what he was doing, shining amongst the grey sameness. What he was creating was something not ever seen before, it was new, it broke the status quo made him wonder and think and dream and imagine. He continued, long trails of red blending with yellows as he continued to mix and add and change, he was attempting to draw a person. A person of conflicting colours all melded

together on a grey background. As he finished and took a step back to admire his work, only one thought ran through his mind.

“This… is terrible.”

It made sense, as much as he hoped for it to be a masterpiece like the mural, the first rendition was awful. It would be expecting a bit too much if an untrained,

uneducated worker using materials one could barely describe as paint began creating photorealistic work on his first day. But he had time. Time to learn, to grow, to improve and innovate. Each wall, ceiling, and floor in this city were the canvas, and he was the only artist.