A boxload of us are winched up the sheer side of the cliff. A thousand metres of empty air below us. The rope swings like a snake held aloft. The creature in the box chitters at us. We don't know what it says.
The roots of the tower extend down the cliff and spill out onto the land below. Gulls whirl in circles below us, passing it's black foundation. The tower itself extends past the edge of the cliff, into the sky. That is where we are bound. Us and a million other slaves.
We must finish this project of theirs. We don't know why. We don't know what the tower does. We don't even know if it is a tower. But we know what happens when we don't obey. So it will be finished.
Paddy Dobson
8th February 2022