As she sat on the pier, Haylie tried to count all the hovercars and hoverships flying in and out. But it was so hard to concentrate with the loud fans of the windmills whirring. As her legs dangled over the side of the pier she could feel the winds of the hoverfans, and could hear gears grinding.
Suddenly, two large hands grabbed her and pulled her up. Their owner had a harsh voice,
“How many times have I told you not to go near the piers? You could fall off, and there would be no way to save you. And I would be responsible.”
But Haylie was defiant,
“I’m not going to fall off! I hate all the guardrails and fencing everyone puts up. I feel trapped… I am trapped. Trapped on a giant hovering island. This city, as it’s called.”