Aurora Borealis. A trillion tiny ionized particles blasting into the planet's magnetic field at terminal velocity. Gusts of ions exploding into streams, rivers, torrents of colour, carving channels across this semi-dark, urban sky.
And I, nestled at the foot of a hydroelectric tower, my eternal company in this landscape of constructed aloneness, look up, transfixed, into a cascading sky. A rumbling, clanging, squealing freight lumbers by to the north, speaking of endless labours in ever-changing yet blankly equal worldscapes of trees and buildings, mountains and rubble. Above me hangs a billowing, wave-strewn canopy, blue-green like a tropical sea, a silk parachute rising on a warm, June breeze with children running underneath and balls bouncing overhead.
A wall of flames rises to the north-east, crackling as it consumes the swathes of low-density box industry and faceless, identical houses and endless asphalt cemeteries. It leaves the moraine untouched. I hold out my hands, warming my palms in the red glow of this atmospheric conflagration. I see Wonderland slowly consumed; twisted, flame-wracked steel frames collapsing in on themselves and a mountain of blackened concrete oozing, melting, gushing through vendor-lined promenades to lap at the shores of adjacent subdivisions. I see an inferno rushing down the road to Barrie and beyond, consuming the needle that delivered thousands of cancer cells into the wilderness. A fireball gushes through this hundred mile long Swiss tunnel, petrol trucks and camper vans exploding while others, thrown hell-bound into reverse, tumble off the roadway to be swallowed by the remaining forests.
The lines are buzzing, and quarter-loaded passenger carriers glide silently overhead, their navigation lights blinking like a message struggling through an ocean fog. Another train rumbles by, passing rusted rumours and complaining about the cold. Cars and trucks and glowing buses power back and forth while I sit here waiting for them to all keel over. And I'm tired of waiting. The aurora fades, withdrawing back into the safe comfort of icy space as ruffled, doilly clouds sweep in to slow dance over the waning moon. The towers, still standing forever motionless, unflinching, reminding me that I still don't know what I'm waiting for.