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Joined: Sep 18 2007, 02:03 PM

Jan 27 2008, 02:16 PM #1


People. In this modern day and age, they're everywhere, billions of them crowding the world and living their lives. In 2013, the world population is estimated to be about 7.173 billion, and it grows ever larger every day. People. Constantly multiplying, filling every small town, larger town and metropolis, filing through streets focusing only on their destination, surrounded by other people, equally focused on their destination. Occasionally, they'll bump into each other, exchange irritated glances, and then simply go on their way. Some trade words and currency over counters and bars, exchanging polite and friendly smiles, and then going on their way. Others gather in groups, chat and catch up over drinks and snacks. But most of them, most of these 7.173 billion people, are strangers, and will remain strangers for the rest of their lives. In a world full of strangers, it must be so easy to slip away, to disappear in the masses never to be seen again, yet if you cry out, so many people are going to hear you. They say that no gathering of people is more like this than the big city, and Bishop City, MA is no exception.

It is a city filled with strangers, approximately four million of them, going about their mundane or not-so-mundane lives, each day meeting new strangers they'll never meet again, but also meeting friends and loved ones, people they'll cherish for the rest of their lives. It isn't so much unlike any other place you've ever been, really; governed, ruled, policed, inhabited, corrupted...separated. There is no caste system in Bishop City, no one telling you that because of your financial situation, social class or political significance, you must stick to this area, while someone you might know belongs in another, better or worse, area, yet the city is remarkably...divided. The lines are not often clear; they bleed into each other as unofficial borders must, but those who have lived there a while know the score. They know how their society is arranged. Divided into four, it tries its best to keep the classes apart: The lowest of the East, the commoners of South, the business sector in the North, and the rich and powerful flourishing in the West, a sort of high-class suburbia for the 'lower' people to look upon in envy. So they try to separate them, so they try to keep them all orderly and arranged, organized into de facto residential segregation decided by financial and political means and power.

Try as they may, however, they cannot keep the strangers from interacting, they cannot keep the people from going where they please. Every day, these people, the strangers, cross into different sections of the city and meet other strangers, different strangers. They might all be people, but no two are the same, everyone stands out, even if they seem to fade into the background at first glance. It's easy to disappear in Bishop City, but it's even easier to be found again, by strangers. And little by little, strangers turn into acquaintances, little by little, the borders bleed just a tad more, little by little, step by step, they move towards a different future. If it is brighter or darker, no one can tell; for some it may be one, while for some it may be the other, but they all have hope for the future.

What hopes do you have for the future?
Call me Mr. Flabbergast.