Prison - Prolouge

         The young man looked out over the city from the cliff, watching the billowing clouds of smoke pour out of the factories as if they were breathing beings of metal. The city itself was mainly one massive factory, save for a small north wing, where the people who were fortunate enough to have a job lived. Other people who were not so fortunate lined the streets, heads down and waiting for death to pluck them from this miserable life. No longer human beings, they were simply devoid of all signs of life that a normal person should have—happiness, love, a smile. Nothing more than souls that were confined in cages, awaiting their time to be freed. Such was the modern day that the people found themselves trapped in.
         Gleaming light blinded the man as the sun rose from its slumber, and proceeded to start another cycle in the sky. However, no one in the city could see the sun, for the umbrella of dust and smoke hid it from them. They were as blind during the day as they were at night.
         Soon the city came to life, such as an anthill does every morning. The workers ran about, hurrying to their workplaces and getting ready for another grueling day in the hot factories. The soldiers guarded the city, keeping a lookout for anything suspicious, whether it be from outside the city, or inside it. The last to awake was the Queen—stepping out from her palace, she moved throughout the city, making sure to inspect all. Any who were deemed incompetent were removed immediately and thrown onto the streets. No fight ensued, for the people knew that it would do no good to raise a fist—they would simply be executed to make an example to the rest.
         Climbing down from the jagged cliff, the young man made his way to the city gates. Gigantic doors made of steel, they were embedded with spikes every few feet to ward off any would-be attackers. Yet, just as they kept intruders out, they also kept the people of the city in, making sure that they were firmly within the Queen's iron-grip.
         None of this deterred the man as he stepped forward and called out to the gate guards who lined the city walls, with one guard every few feet. Wary of everything, they took the utmost caution in dealing with him. The guards came down from the wall, and approached the man. Their uniforms shined in what little light there was, illuminating several badges and their cleanliness. Any newcomers to the city were to be searched thoroughly upon their arrival, and any belongings they had were confiscated and taken by the Queen.
         Freed from the guards inspection, they hurried him through the gates. The gloomy doors shut behind him, and the man felt for the first time in his life what fear was truly like as he set foot in the city known under one name—Prison.


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