The beginning.

The smoke curled into fantastical shapes as Little Timothy watched enchanted by it. It was everywhere. The smoke slowly enveloped the alley in which he stood. "Another building brought down ", thought Little Timothy. He quietly headed home from his routine evening stroll. The way Neon city is slowly encroaching upon the slums reminded him of the way in which water slowly absorbs anything which is smaller than the volume of the water. He walked slowly since he had no intention to get home any minute sooner and face a barrage of rather depressing sights, smells, and swear words. He looked up in the sky to see a zeppelin with an advertising of a new kind of depression medicine that promised to " make all your negative thoughts go away ". Little Timothy is a curious boy of ten who is one of the first one to ask questions in class, and irritated his already irritated parents with multitude of questions.
Little Timothy's life has been rather short and depressing story so far. His one highlight of the day is to open his bedroom window at night and look at Neon city if the smog permits it. When the horizon is clear of smog, he looks awestruck at the giant buildings, the breathtaking bridges; and at night they appear in his dreams. He remembers with fondness, and disgust his trip to Neon City. The sheer number of people that were there struck him. He had seen stores that were bigger than his house. Roads that were so full of cars it seemed that the cars had grown out of them. Buildings those were so full of lights that they blinded him. Buildings that were so high that you could sprain your neck trying to see how tall they were. Light was everywhere in this city. Only in some parts of the city were not well lit. Whispers could be heard in the dark there. In the well-lit areas, there were no secrets and no whispers, only noises loud enough to drown out the thoughts inside your head. This paradox excited him. He could not wait to tell his friends what he had seen. He recalled having to wait for hours in this building that his parents called a bank. They spoke of it with a slight mixture of anger, disgust, and fear. He remembered standing in a line and watching the long queues watching the ceiling. Even the ceiling had lights. Lights that hypnotized him and this led to him thinking about one day having enough money to live in his city of dreams.

Twenty years later.

Shouts can be heard. A man is running. A shot fired. The police come. An arrest. The feeling of disillusionment now gripping his body like a python squeezes its prey. Somewhere inside, a desire for revenge is sparked. A spark that would soon turn into a smoldering rage .