[Year 22 | 2274-75]
“I’m sorry, Artur.”
“I am…Artur?”
“You are. And my name is Dr. Simril. Do you recognise me?”
Artur shook his head.
A tear welled under Dr. Simril’s natural eye as he looked at what remained of his son on the operating. After more than two years of work, less than half of Artur’s face remained, and approximately seventy-five per cent of his son’s body has been converted to machinery. It was a work of art.
Artur started his job with YutopiCorp the next day. A Corporate Synergist, designing propaganda for the Wasteland. Artur used to love art. Now, Artur doesn’t know what art is.
Pages: Page 1, Page 2, Page 3, Page 4, Page 5, Page 6, Page 7, Page 8, Page 9, Page 10, Page 11, Page 12, Page 13, Page 14, Page 15, Page 16, Page 17, Page 18, Page 19, Page 20, Page 21, Page 22
wastanley.com 