Typology:
Speculative Cultural Facility Design

A CLOCKWORK ORANGE

The day started like always—though, on this particular morning, I remember waking up a bit earlier than usual. My place is a one-bedroom apartment on the east side of the city. It's not too spacious, but I must say, it’s cozy. I got out of bed and slowly made my way toward the kitchen to fix a bowl of oatmeal. As I walked down the narrow hall, my shoulder brushed against the walls. I felt unusually tired, probably from running a few miles around the lake the day before.

As I stepped into the kitchen, something outside caught my eye. Through the window, I saw a white powder accumulating on the side of our building. Snow? That would be unreal for this time of year, I thought. I moved slowly toward the balcony—and immediately saw that the sky was completely covered in a thick layer of smog. The sky was orange, and the sun looked dark, almost hollowed out.

Looking down, I realized what I had mistaken for snow was actually fine bits of ash, falling softly and blanketing everything outside. I began to cough. Across the street, shadowy figures appeared and disappeared in the haze. A garbage truck rolled by—its lights blinking—dragging one of those large, green, industrial dumpsters. The lighting on the machine looked strangely sophisticated, futuristic even. Somehow, overnight, the entire city had undergone a silent but dramatic transformation.

Then my phone rang back in the bedroom. I ran to it. It was my wife. She was out of town on a business trip and was calling to ask if I was seeing what she was seeing from her hotel window. Neither of us had ever witnessed anything like it. She asked if I was going to work. I told her I didn’t know—I had been laid off a few months ago. She laughed gently. Then she asked if I could bring in the clothes hanging on the line. I said, “I will.” She told me she loved me. I replied, “I love you, too.” Then she hung up.