Sunday, October 26, 2008
The sun is setting. Tired men and women are leaving work, fighting the rush hour traffic as they flee to their homes. Street lamps flicker once or twice along the slow university streets before striking a warm orange glow. The buzz of machines began to die as the work day comes to a halt slowly from the construction site. Little white hats of construction workers bob and weave around the maze of fences as the make their escape--a tiring day is finally at an end. A slow dust cloud rises from the dusty plains, reaching toward the last traces of sunlight as they streak across the sky. It blows and curls, becoming one with the night; a final sigh, a death knell sounding the end of the day. There is nothing... Except...
The eyes of Wallace Industrial Design Building, the gaping sheets of glass littering its facade, burn bright with incandescent light. Tired fingers and sore backs work within, melting plastic and sketching furiously. When all others have retired to their beds, letting out long deep sighs that seem to say, "Ah, what a relaxing weekend.", the ants of Wallace continue to build. Design, sketch, build, tear down--The dreaded cycle that keeps the ants entranced, the hypnotic spell that keeps them thinking that if they can just go for one more day, life will be worth something.
That moment is not far off, however.
Weeks of work have piled up to one cataclysmic moment, a moment that holds promise of an eternal salvation, the 89.5 rounded up, or the damnation that is Eastman's disapproval. The odds seem to be piled against the ants, working tirelessly, is their nothing and no one that can help them succeed?
There is one.
Birthed from the sins of inferior products, fueled by the shattering of acrylic sheeting, tempered by Windex and Lysol, he emerges--a lone hero; resistant to screwing, heating, chemicals, pressure, and scratching. He is a light in darkness, a hope in despair, and a force that will change the Wallace ants' lives forever.
He is Spectar-Man.
Posted by Unknown at 8:32 PM