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She had never seen the sky before. Not once. And now here it was, the complete blueness and color of it ashonished her. It wasn't what people said, a big mesh of colorful smoke. No, they were iggnorant, for it was more like a huge blanket painted in with white, and scented with fresh air. The air! How it was no longer thick with the smog, and stench of the city. No longer humid on hot days, and dry on cold. It was a huge dream pressed onto the world's face, protecting it from whatever lay beyond.Most of them had retreated below deck, muttering about the things their parents had told them. It was what everyone was told.
Thats why we created the smoke, to block the sun and that useless sky. It started fading a long time ago, its worthless, the smoke it better.
Whatever they said, she would never believe it. Her parents were right, the smoke, that lay above the city every day of every year, was a mistake. It didn't have a purpose. People didn't know what they sky looked like, or did rather, so that is why they didn't miss it.
'But if they were the ones standing on this deck,' Guinevere thought to herself, leaning againest the plastic-coated desk rail. 'And how the ocean looks. It's so ... touchable.'
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