Overgrowth by Kagami Smile

It's been a while since we held raves in the Overgrowth districts. There's nothing quite like slamming concrete with soundwaves, and we'd do just that. Convoys of trucks, driven deep into the districts and positioned in vast underground car parks, lined to face the foundations of the structure; speakers primed. We'd bear the brunt of the force, cocooned in our brutalist nest, awash with frequency and intense, deep vibration. Some took to the towerblock, laying across staircases and hallways, soaking each thud into their core. Local habitants, what was left of them, would arise from their beds, hanging out over their apartment balconys, catching the sheets of white noise and and the distant hum of drones on the night air. Transporter ships flew overhead, belching out a thick soup of fumes and taking tons and tons of waste to one of the five landfill sites at the edge of the district, as the city met the shore. We would be gone by sunrise, there wasn't much on offer in these parts. But tonight this was our playground. The first of the evening's cracks set into the surrounding architecture; some of the crowd got covered in a fine dust.


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