A story about... Overpopulation © 2000 Damon Diehl, Marg Frey, Greg Gbur, Bryce Graves-Hurst	BRYCE
			GREG	DAMON & MARG
				MARG & DAMON
			MARG	DAMON & GREG
				GREG & DAMON

And then I looked down. Down was the worst part, because down didn't stop. I leaned over the edge, because these things tempt you. Much like the way our building repeated on and on into horizon, it also repeated downward, over and over. I felt glad that I'd gotten placed in one of the rooms near the top of the enclave, and near the edge. How did the people in the middle even know where they lived.

I shrugged my shoulders and continued on toward the entertainment complex, refusing to look up again. Refusing to acknowledge the things that I knew were watching me, monitoring me, and wondering why I did what I did.

The complex was surprisingly active, although nothing compared to what it was like in the "day". I guess more and more of us were getting restless.

People weren't meant to live like this. I didn't care what the block mayor told us. It was his job to make us 'happy', pointing out that noone ever died of disease, noone was ever hungry, noone was ever alone. To be fair, all of those things were true. But I would rather go hungry than eat the gray food cubes that passed for our staple diet. My life before the complex was brief and a long time away, but I was sure eating was supposed to be enjoyable. I also vaguely recalled a thing called privacy, but forget how it really felt.

I tried to shake it off, knowing the maudlin thoughts were only because the drugs tended to wear off this late in the night before I got my breakfast dose. There would be more at the entertainment complex. Like Mayor Bradley said, if I let it bother me, it was my own fault I was discontent.