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The emboldened words shouted out of the page. The sentiments of a billion had been condensed into a single phrase.

Markus wiped the sweat from his bleary eyes with his oily hands, making them worse. He cursed, wiping his hands on the damp apron around his waist - picking up the freshly printed posters as he did so. They felt so warm, so fresh in his hands that he longed to put his exhausted cheeks down upon them, and drift into oblivion. It was the seventh day of the mobilisation, and whispers were already spreading in through the great iron doors of the Printer's press from the outside world. The new requisition was huge - at least a million pages of this new bill - and the staff had been working overtime. Markus longed for the past days when he could step out into the fresh air of the upper decks again, instead of being confined to the suffocation of the ink and rolling oil, the grease and the huge cartridges for the presses. He heaved the drying pages out and left them on the rack, and stared up at the tiny hole in the tiled walls' eaves, a glimpse of sunset sneaking in. The building rumbled as an Arvus strolled skyward overhead.


A gaggle of haggard Grenadiers hustled passed Graf; their peaked caps jaunty, faces grim. By the look of the respirators around their necks, and the direction of their stumbling step, they had just come down in the shuttle from the orbitting frigates. The huge spire of the Elevator stretched away from the horizon in the distance, the mens' faces set away from it. Something was happening up there, something big. Graf remembered his fighting days, and the dog-tired shuffling through every waking hour that pervaded those sepia memories. All Graf knew was that the shadows in the sky were growing more numerous every day, that the whispering and the hustling of the city was becoming more conspiratory, and that the Grenadiers - seemingly everywhere - were growing older. He knew where the young ones were going. As the poster boy stretched on his tip-toes to spread the bright red new bills on the sagging wall, papered thick with yellowing posters, Graf chuckled. He'd seen this before.


sA

Interesting, and I can only guess at what is actually happening. But then again, that is the point isn't it? Fantastic work.

Cheers, dude

sA

This looks promising indeed I must say, so keep up the good work