"Bennelong thus wark fer yars now. Don't gets no better. Don't stop larkin the sum. Always, always. Youse jus wark right frew and be done fer wark. No time for lateness. Wark, wark, wark. Ya can see it whenever ya like. All day, everyday. And you don't have to leave the house at all."
"It's not the same and you know it," replies Ilit as he hooks up the nutrient mixture to the feed. "Not since they started bottling it all up. There's no point in living history if you can't breathe it and bleed out your lungs from the infected spores and bacteria in the air. Too sterile. Not fresh enough."
"Perservaton," gurgles Wyn, nodding as the drip starts its way through his system. "Saved all frum ourselves. Fer ar own gud. Collective gud."
nature is best experienced through ticks and mozzies
"Nothing's the same since they cut it up with lasers and reticulated the splines. Everything's in reliquaries, slabs of masonite or hard light projections.
"It still looks exactly like what it's supposed to though," Ilit looks out the window - which is actually less a window and more a square painted on the wall with a refractive light flicking through "outdoor" scenes - and sighs.
"It's all locked down and the only way for us to go about the day is to put on this damn façade and smile about touring the fake dimensions.
"The committee spreads its cheeks and pinches us our daily loaf, of which we all are programmed to ask for more, and we lick the corners of our mouths. They call that trophallaxis in the animal kingdom. Animals face each other when they do it though. Or at least that's what's on the documentaries shown to us."
"Bora-ring! Everyday ya say the same. When ya don't do it yerself and let others do, don't complain."
"This was not my idea of preservation."
Written on Friday, 5 November 2010