New York City, the city that never sleeps. Oh, the reasons that people give. But we know the truth. As the citizens of the city fall asleep, one by one, the eyes begin to open. First a few, then hundreds, then thousands. Of course, there are always eyes open, and the beast controls them all. It’s hands and feet, toiling away, working towards…what? No one knows. But it’s always working. Almost like a machine. Creator. I survived, got out. But I still feel the pull. It draws you towards it. I resist most times. But occasionally, when I’m thin-willed and unable to control myself, I often awake in a dirty motel room on the outskirts of that God awful city. The first thing I always sense is the smell. Rotten. Decaying. But there’s nothing to be done. By the time I awake, whatever task that was required of me is finished. And the worst part is, I’ll never know what I did. Or why. Oh, if only Susan could have survived. But the city took her from me. I was too important. That’s why I left. And why I came back.