thefriendlyorc

When I entered here, a recording asked me, “Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? No, says the man in Washington; it belongs to the poor. No, says the man in the Vatican; it belongs to God. No, says the man in Moscow; it belongs to everyone. I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose…Rapture.” I heard this as all manner of sea creatures fluttered about me as I stood in a sphere of glass, steel and fire. A city was what I saw amidst the sea, it was comparable to New York in size and brightness. As the sphere cracked open, I too was submerged, in darkness. I heard sc